Awake

THIRTY NINE

The next morning, Jake greeted me with his usual delighted smile and an eloquent summary of the morning's proposed activities. Also, coffee. Oh, wait – that's just a dream I had.

In reality, Zoe woke me up by dropping a slice of vegemite toast onto my upturned face. It landed butter-side down, because of course it did.

I then had to lunge out my sleeping bag – with vegemite all over my nose and forehead – to stop Paige from sticking a knife into the toaster.

I snatched it, then held the offending utensil above her head. "Electrocution!" I proclaimed. "Metal is a conductor!" My piece of toast dropped from my shoulder to the floor with a sad noise.

Jake, who was reading something at the kitchen table whilst eating his breakfast, looked up at me. A tiny smile quirked at the corner of his mouth before he looked back down at his Weetbix.

"That is some serious bedhead, Cardigan," called Zoe. "Like some full on static shit. Like, we could probably generate enough electricity to power this entire fucking bunker. You just wait here – I'll get Mila onto it. This is a breakthrough in the history of science – wake up Rao!" Zoe had already taken her pilgrimage of morning wakefulness to the other side of the room, where Rao was a motionless lump inside a sleeping bag. She grabbed the end of the bag and started to try to tug it off him.

I touched my hair. It wasn't hanging down – it was sticking out. In multiple directions. I tried to push it back into a normal shape, but it resisted. Paige picked up my piece of toast from the floor and took a bite. "Unhygienic!" I yelped. "There could be bacteria on the floor. Or, or pathogens!"

"Ten second rule, Button," commented Zoe. Rao's sleeping bag wasn't budging. It seemed he was clinging on from the inside. Zoe started to slowly drag it across the floor, like a massive, elongated cocoon.

"Leave him alone," said Mila.

Zoe dropped the end of the sleeping bag – possibly Rao's feet? – with an audible thump. It remained silent and motionless in the middle of the room. I wondered whether he was somehow still asleep. Or dead.

"Mission briefing today," said Jake.

"Ooh, exciting," said Zoe. "Are we meeting up with Team Asshole?"
"We're meeting up with everyone," replied Jake.

"Everyone, everyone?" I asked, "Like, other people in the other cells everyone?"

"Yes," said Jake shortly.

"Are there other Wakers?" I asked.

Mila snorted, "Obviously."

I sniffed. "What's the mission?" I asked Jake.

He shook his head. "Mila and I are finalising the plans. Just – wait till the briefing."

"Well," said Zoe. "Just make sure Team Asshole go in first – without guns. Wearing fuzzy bitch jumpers. And bells."

"Why don't you like Team Asshole?" I asked her.

Zoe turned towards me and opened her mouth to answer. Before she could, a muffled voice came from Rao's sleeping bag. "True love," the voice announced.

Jake choked on his Weetbix. Mila turned away, possibly to hide a smile. I couldn't read Zoe's expression, because she was a blur of dark hair and murderous rage.

She sprinted across the room. Possibly sensing danger, the Rao-shaped sleeping bag sat up, only to be knocked flat on his back as Zoe threw herself on top of him in a body slam of epic proportions. "Are you talking in your sleep, Rao?" Zoe gritted out, grappling with the area where his head should be – her hands slipping free due to the shiny fabric. "Because I swore I just heard some complete and utter dream-like bullshit coming from your general direction." Rao wriggled around like a particularly large and helpless caterpillar – but Zoe had him. "There is nothing between me and King Asshole. I am completely and utterly uninterested in that dicklord and his dick,"