Survive

Earn Your Keep

Waking up the next morning was odd. Not because we were in the bunker, and not because it was warm. It was odd because I was in an actual bed, not on the hard, snow covered ground or on a frozen couch in an abandoned house. A real bed with blankets and pillows and Curtis lying next to me. However, no amount of luxuries could get rid of the nightmares that clouded my mind every night. Sometimes I would dream of Tanya, Edgar or my father, small happy memories that somehow were created in the tail section of the train. But mostly I would dream of blood. The slaughter that took place on the Yakaterina Bridge still haunts me. The faceless guards with their spears and axes, the way one of them smiled at me still sends shivers down my spine. The memory of holding Edgar in my arms as he died would always force me awake many times in the middle of the night.

I was awakened the next morning by one of those dreams. I wasn't sure which one, but it was a bloody, gruesome dream. Wiping a hand over my sweaty forehead, I looked over at Curtis' sleeping form next to me. The bed we were given was thrice the size of the bunk we shared on the train, but we still slept like we used to, on our sides and pressed close together for warmth. I gradually removed Curtis' arm from around my waist and slipped out of the warm bed quietly, not making a sound as I tip-toed over to the door leading to the conjoined bathroom. I stood alone in the small bathroom for a few minutes trying to figure out how the shower worked. When the luke-warm water was finally coming out of the rusted shower head, I stripped off the borrowed clothes and stepped into the translucent glass stall. The room we were given had been ready before we even left the infirmary the night before. That alone made me uneasy, it was like they were expecting us to join them without a second thought. Even though that's what we technically did, it still sent an eerie feeling into my gut.

After I had finally felt clean for the first time in years, I turned the water off and opened the fogged glass door, grabbing one of the frayed black towels that had been stored up on a shelf next to the stall. I wrapped the towel around my body and stood in front of the cabinet, drops of condensation rolled off of the mirror and dripped into in the dingy white sink below it. With a sigh, I wiped away the fog and gazed at my haggard reflection. An old woman stared back at me, not a twenty-nine year old girl. I'm sure at one point in my life I had looked healthy, maybe before all of this happened when I was a kid. It's possible that my tawny brown eyes never looked hardened or distant, and my sickly pale skin was once smooth and free of scars.

Sometimes I would catch myself thinking about what life could've been like if the world hadn't went to hell. Curtis and I would've never met, same with Tanya and Edgar. I honestly believe none of us would've even known that the other existed. My father would still be alive, excited about getting to walk me down the aisle at a wedding that will never happen. Maybe I would've had kids in a real hospital, not in an icy cave somewhere in Russia. But there's nothing to do about it now. Scientists created the apocalypse, and maybe "God" implemented it.

Curtis was still asleep when I exited the bathroom, his head buried underneath the pillows and the blankets tangled around his legs. I quickly changed into the clean, albeit a little worn, clothes that were folded neatly in the dresser by the bed. I didn't like borrowing things from these people, maybe it was because of what little pride I had left. But hopefully I would be able to work patrol or go out scavenging to earn our keep in this place. The room, or rather the apartment, we were given was fairly large. It had a second room off to the right for the kids and a living space with a dusty couch and hardwood floors. I peaked inside the kid's room and saw that Timmy and Yona were fast asleep on their cots, and Edgar was sucking on his tiny fist as he slept inside his pouch next to Yona's bed. We'd have to find something else for him to sleep in, like a crib or a basket. Slipping on the jacket Ellen gave me the day before, I tip-toed out the door and closed it behind me with a soft click.