Alone

Chapter: 13 // roslyn •

I had a dream that I coasted into oblivion, and waiting for me at the end of the bottomless pit was Benjamin, my parents, and Ron. I had a dream roamers were feasting on my flesh like I were road kill. I had a dream that it was over, but it was not our victory. When I woke up in a cold sweat, my eyes glazed over with tears, my hair disheveled, hyperventilating; Enid was at my bedside, reassuring me that I'm okay, reminding me the bad dream isn't real, reminding me that I'm alive. I feel for her hand on the bed and squeeze it, her brown eyes say what she's not; she's worried. She chucks me her water pouch and a turnip, I try not to guzzle down the water, but I am longing for a drink, I could literally drink anything at this rate. Turnips aren't my favorite, but solely for the reason that I'm deprived of food and turnips are harvested for human consumption, I sink my teeth down in it and at least act as if it's good.

"Enjoy. It's high in vitamin C, helps the absorption of iron, it's a blood purifier and has been believed to treat scurvy, increase energy and cure depression." She says, smiling timidly at me from across the table. I roll my eyes, take another reluctant bite into the pearly white flesh, and mock a smile with a mouthful of turnip. "Maggie." She says quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap. "Maggie told me."

"What-" I croak, clear my throat, "what happened? We won, right?" I can't remember what happened, all I can remember; the recoil of the gun, the vibration in my hands around it, me boarding the carpool with Enid. I rub my temples, frustrated with my foggy memory.

"We're winning," she answers quickly, then quietly, "we're." as if the second "we're" was her trying to convince herself. I knit my eyebrows together, my curiosity biting like bloodthirsty mosquitoes.

"Why'd you say "we're" twice?" I probe. Her jaw hangs as if she's a perfect explanation, but nothing comes out immediately, then she sighs dejectedly.

"I wish I knew what was going on...like what's actually going on, and not just what Maggie tells me. I've been walking around with this...this bad feeling in my gut, as if something bad is going to happen. I know we blocked them in with the dead, but they've more outposts...there's only so many."

"So many what?"

"Numbers. Us."

"So what can we do?"

"We, can't do anything."

"Remember when Carl locked us in that closet?"

"This is different. He was protecting us."

"How is this any different? We can do something, we can actually help this t-"

"I don't want to talk about it today."

"Then when?" I scoff, overlap my arms across my chest in a taut manner. "When it's too late to act? When more people d-"

"Don't." She cuts in, squeezes her eyes shut and inhales the fusty air deeply. "You're shot, healing. I'll talk about it whenever the time's right. And maybe if you feel up to it-"

"I am up to it." I reply curtly.

"Maybe, I'll count you in." She pulls her chair out and stands up, starts for the door when she stops and says, "you can make yourself clean in the mansion. The first washroom on your right. There's clothes, fresh one's."

"Where are you going?" I grunt, as I grip the table and slowly rise to stand, shifting my weight between the good and bad leg. I feel her eyes on me, "I'm fine." I try to reassure her, but I can't ignore the stinging in my thigh when I firmly press my foot on the ground. I bite my lip, suppressing a groan, and hobble over to the bed.

"On second thought, I'll bring the clothes to you." She's gone before I can protest, and when she comes back she hands me jeans, a sweater, a hairbrush, and a damp rag for my face. I thank her begrudgingly, ask her where she's going again, "I've been assigned to lookout at the gate. Stay put, I will never hear the end of it if Jesus finds out you ran off." She leaves, I heave the jeans up to my waist and throw on the sweater; it fits me like a glove, almost too snug, I feel as if I could die from asphyxiation. I trade the tight sweater for one of Jesus' loose tee shirts, then I wipe my face with the damp rag and rake the hairbrush through my hair to disentangle the kinks. This only makes me feel slightly better, normal again. But there is nothing normal about having two shells in your thigh. There is nothing normal about my condition.