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The floor of the bathroom is cold against my bare legs, making me feel as though I'm sitting in the forest again, all alone.
When I close my eyes, I can remember it. The rough bark of the tree I'm leaning against digs into my back as rocks prick the skin of my hands. The low whistle of the wind as it chases the leaves that would be falling soon, signalling winter was coming. The overwhelming silence that made sure I knew I was the only one left. Like the world wanted me to know I was the last of humanity. Like it wanted me to realize that once I died, that was it. That was the end of not just me, but everything.
A hand brushes my bicep. My body tenses, fist curling and flying towards my offender as my eyes snap open. The person yelps and falls backwards, calling out my name as he crumbles to the bathroom floor.
My first thought is whoops, followed by maybe it was Oompa, whose ass I was supposed to be kicking in a heated game of Go Fish right now until I see that it's actually Zombie cradling his bruising jaw.
"What the fuck, Ghost?" Zombie grits out, his eyes narrowed into slits.
My fingers wrap around the hem of my shirt and twist, my heart pounding. It's a moment before I realize I didn't even answer.
"Don't touch me," I defend weakly. His eyes seem to soften at the sound.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think." He kneels in front of me, voice barely a whisper. "Did you hit your head or something? Do you want to go see Dr. Pam?"
"I'm fine." I tighten my grip on my shirt and let out a short sigh. "Not sleeping well," I admit.
"Nightmares?" Zombie guesses, and I feel stupid for not figuring he probably got them, too.
I nod stifly. "About everyone. . . before the Arrival." He opens his mouth to answer when the words tumble out of my own. "It was of my dad. He died. In the second wave."
Zombie leans back so he's sitting on the tiles, lips tiled down into a frown. "I'm sorry."
"No," I say, voice hoarse. "Sorry I told you that. Don't know why I did."
"It's nice to talk to people sometimes," Zombie says, but he's staring at his reflecting in the tiles beside my head and so I think he's trying to convincing himself of that.
My foot knocks against his own. Warmth. Human connection. Fuck, I can barely remember how it felt.
He stills and I think he's waiting for another punch, but instead I do the most shocking thing of all. I don't move.
He moves slowly, nervously. His hand moves to cup the bare skin of my knee and I tense, but relax a minute later and relish in the warmth it brings.
"You good?" He asks after a moment. I nod, averting his eyes and forcing mine to the floor. "So this is okay?
"Yeah," is my instant reply. He smiles, a short one that disappears seconds later. I wish he'd do it more. He has a nice smile.
We sit in silence for a couple more minuted. He just stares at the floor while my eyes stay attached to his hand, unable to move away.
"Can we come in here and talk tomorrow?" Zombie mutters it under his breath but I still here it. And I'm surprised by the words that come out of my mouth.
