TWENTY-TWO

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Zombie has these few lingering touches throughout the day

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Zombie has these few lingering touches throughout the day. I don't mind it, mostly, but I worry the rest of the squad will notice them. Or worse-- Reznik.

Zombie doesn't seem to care. I think physical connection might ground him, like it does for me after I get scared or have a spell where I forget where I am. I don't comment on it because I don't want him to stop.

During P&D Teacup settles into the spot next to me, as usual. She mutters something about Zombie that has my head snapping up and my eyes searching the area for his presence. I find him quicker than I thought possible, over by the dissection table with Dumbo.

Dumbo, the squad medic who slices open chests to learn anatomy, is staring at Zombie like he just told him the most insane thing in the entire world. Zombie stands with tense shoulders, eyes darting back and forth between Dumbo and the rest of us.

"What's your boyfriend doing over there, Ghost?" Teacup mumbles, hands tugging down the waistband of some jeans. I help her with a harsh yank, her hands retreating to her sides for a moment. She raises a brow at me. I glare at her. "He looks like he's about to vomit."

"Must have stared at Flint's unibrow for too long," I retort. She stares at me. I lift my hands in defense. "Alright, alright. I'll go find out what's wrong, okay?"

"Okay."

Rolling my eyes, I stalk around the edge of the table and towards where Zombie and Dumbo are. Dumbo glances up when he hears my boots, eyes widening beneath the plastic of his hazmat suit.

"Everything okay— oh, shit."

It's Tank. His lifeless body lies before us, skin pale and eyes wide open. Nothing seems wrong with him at all. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he opened his mouth and started talking right now.

Zombie whips around to stare at me, but I'm already shaking my head in defiance and glancing back at Flintstone. If he found out, he'd lose his shit.

I grit my teeth and turn back to Dumbo. "What happened?"

"He doesn't know," Zombie answers, voice thick with emotion. "You can't tell anyone--"

"That was obvious," I retort, sending them both frowns. "Flintstone would totally lose his shit."

"Exactly." Zombie, satisfied with my answer, turns back to Dumbo. "What if you cut him open?"

"I'm not cutting Tank open." Dumbo is staring at them both like they just told him to murder a goddamn dog.

"Damn right you're not," I state, and I'm already grabbing him by his arms and ordering Zombie to help me. I don't care if he's squad leader. He's not getting this under control quick enough. "We need to get rid of him."

Zombie nods, eyes distant. "Get him off this table. I don't want anyone else seeing him."

We stack him with the other bodies, by the hanger door. Zombie waits to make sure he's carted off by Squad 49 before he goes back to helping Nugget, and I go back to Teacup. Her eyes sparkle with interest as she takes in my overly relaxed stature. Too relaxed for the situation, but seemingly convincing to the rest of the squad, as they return to their duties.

"So, what was your boyfriend doing, Ghost?" Teacup asks.

"Not my boyfriend," I retort, rolling my eyes, I sent a balled up piece of paper into the proper bin with a quick flick of my wrist, then send a pocket knife into another one with one quick swipe. For a moment, I feel giddy at the familiar feeling. I actually missed practicing in the forest. "So shut the fuck up."

"Whatever. It's not my fault you guys are eye fucking all of the time."

"We do not eye fuck, you little shit," I grumble, glowering at the younger girl. She dodges my hand when I go to smack her across the back of the head, so I grab the belt next to her instead. I thrust it into her arms, almost knocking her off of her feet at the force. "Don't worry about what Zombie is doing, do your fucking job."

Teacup trudges away. "You're a bitch sometimes, Ghost."

"Right back at ya, 'Cup."

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