Zombie Soap 2: Conspiracy

Sixteen

"We need to talk."

Diego dropped his tray on the table beside Ackerman and took a seat. Chatter filled the cafeteria, noise that before the apocalypse, was commonplace. Now, it felt out of place to pretend nothing everything was normal.

The joined squads sat together in a cluster, eating in silence unless it was to ask the other a question. Several of the soldiers glanced once or twice at Ackerman before dropping their heads again, shifting food around on their plates.

Ackerman didn't pay them any mind as he speared his food and plopped it into his mouth. Once he finished chewing, he set down his fork and fixed Diego with a nonchalant gaze, as if he didn't nearly kill someone in his squad that morning. "What's on your mind? Is that snowflake going to live?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, picking at his food. He hadn't eaten yet, but he didn't have much of an appetite. He wondered who labored to grow the fresh grains and whose tax dollars paid for this place before the world went down the drain.

Unable to eat, he pushed his plate aside and sighed. "Listen, I know you have your way of training the soldiers, but don't you think you went overboard this morning?"

"It's the end of the world, Castellano. Only the strong will survive, and these kids won't cut it if we go easy on 'em."

"That doesn't mean you should break their fingers just becuase they piss you off," Diego shot back, face burning with indignation. "Seriously, there's building them up, and there's bullying."

"And what would you do?" Ackerman asked mildly, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest. "These soldiers have no discipline, and they don't like authority. They'll get us all killed if we're ever in a dangerous situation."

Diego bristled in his seat and straightened his shoulders, jutting out his chin. "We put them somewhere else if we need to, but this isn't right. If we keep pushing them like this, someone will snap, and then we'll have to worry about a completely different fight. I don't want that on my hands, do you?"

"They shouldn't volunteer to fight if they can't handle it."

There was a difference between handling discipline and adjusting to the end of the world. Having survived the first wave on the front line and in close quarters, Diego didn't feel ready for the new reality.

He didn't tell Ackerman this though. His words would fall on deaf ears.

He brought his plate back in front of him and ate in silence. The morning's events haunted him even though what had happened wasn't his fault. Sooner or later, their squad would break, and Diego was afraid they wouldn't bounce back.

Neither of them said anything until Jayson sank into the seat across from them. Dark circles lined his eyes and a line creased his forehead. In less than two weeks, he'd lost several pounds, and his skin had taken on an almost ghostly pallor as his beard grew in. From what Ackerman had told him the other day, Jayson hadn't been sleeping, and it showed. He looked like death was ready to claim him any minute.

The man wasn't Diego's favorite person, but he was more likeable than Ackerman any day. And he was Taylor's best friend. Diego wanted to keep some civility between them for his boyfriend's sake.

"Hey, Jayson."

"Hi," he mumbled, flicking his gaze upward long enough to address him before dropping it back to his food. His hands trembled as they closed around the utensils on each side of the plate, hovering an inch above the table.

Ackerman rested his elbows on the table, smiling in greeting. "Hey, Recklaw. Just who I wanted to see."

Jayson glanced up, knitting his brows together. "Oh?"