This Isn't the Zombie Apocalypse

24. Got It? Get It? Good

So, to sum things up: Ana was constantly dying as I constantly lived.

That didn't make much sense, but it did.

And that was confusing.

Here's a quick explanation that will hopefully make sense: Life was always tugging on Ana because she was dying all the time; Death was always chasing after me because I was alive—y'know, all the time.

We were on the wrong sides of the line.

Simply: Life wants Ana. Death wants Cal.

Do you see where this is going?

oOo

Calvin could not possibly know any of this.

He shouldn't.

But he seemed to anyway. Well, Calvin seemed to know something was going on, just not exactly what it was. He knew I was keeping my story—all this information that he could be using to his advantage—to myself for a reason.

Calvin knew that I didn't want him to figure any of this out.

Not that he would follow my wishes.

So he still stared at me oddly, the air around his brain burning as it whirred. He was trying to put a puzzle together, though he was missing several pieces. Although he did have one piece I was lacking—some little fragment that I had missed or overlooked or hadn't realized, and he didn't even know that he knew something that I didn't.

And, of course, I couldn't simply come out and straight up ask him, because then I would have to explain, and wasn't that the whole reason I never told him anything important in the first place?

So I could only wonder.

Wonder what initiated this whole puzzle piecing.

Wonder what Calvin saw.

oOo

I finally asked Calvin.

The date. Not anything that he could use. Not anything important.

While cleaning up my injuries from the dogfight and the bullet wounds and making sure I didn't die of external bleeding or infection, he told me it was April fifth. Friday.

It contained something I disliked. Something I took as a bad omen.

But it was close to something important, I could tell.

Whether it was good or bad, I could not tell.

oOo

On the night of Friday, April fifth, I had a dream.

It was almost the same exact nightmare that I had been having for ages, since Death first made the promise that I would do—since it made the foretelling promise for me—but it was slightly different.

This time, after I had fulfilled the promise—completed the task that Death knew I would do one way or another—Ana showed up and told me, "Thank you."

I found it weird, a bit odd, because I never did anything for her, probably never would besides trying to save her from a crazed kidnapper, so I doubted there was anything for her to thank me for. Not now. Not ever.

Also, Ana didn't strike me as the type of person to thank anyone, least of all someone who didn't deserve it.