Orthodontics in the Zombie Apocalypse

16. The Cure is Safe With Us...Definitely (2/2)

I find a marginally less-grimy place to lie down on a piece of cardboard. It's torn at the edges in some places, as if rats borrowed some of it for bedding.

I don't sleep. Mikah sidles in next to me as soon has his shift ends. "Ah, so you are awake," he whispers.

His wavy hair and shining blue eyes very nearly enchant me. Fortunately, his breath reeks of plaque and halitosis, so my focus remains perfectly intact on the important issues. We can't risk this kind of distraction. Taking a gulp of fresh air, I brace myself and turn directly toward him. "Does this mean it's my turn?"

He scrunches his nose. Oh—did somebody say swoon? "I'm sure we can spare a few moments."

"Are you horny?"

He's even cuter with the bright red cheeks, but the stuttering and choking on his words with mouth agape like a fish really neutralizes the appeal. "I-I..." he blinks at me. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I'm just wondering because you've been trying to get a lot closer recently. Plus, I'm sure you've built up quite a bit of sexual tension," I say as my hand finds its way to a particular place on his body and gives it a light squeeze, forcing a small gasp out of him, "through the apocalypse."

"Don't mean to interrupt, but it's your shift." Shaniya's looming shadow is almost as distinct as the depth of her voice. Neither are particularly great at preserving the mood, but I was getting too distracted as is.

Maybe I'm getting horny. But...oh no! That means I'm close to my period.

"Yeah, yeah," I say and stand before Shaniya notices where my hand had been placed, if she hadn't already. "What are you doing up still?"

"Kid's sleeping soundly. I got plenty through the first shift, so I figured I'd take her shift, too."

"Great." Followed by a closed-lipped smile I try very hard to make look sincere.

We sit side by side, turned slightly in opposite directions for a wider view scope. A rifle rests in Shaniya's lap and a pipe in mine. After several long, excruciating moments of silence, my eyes start to pull down, and my head tips forward as though someone dropped an anchor down from it. I jolt back up, squeeze my eyes shut tight, rub my eyes, yawn, and smack my forehead.

"Do you have feminine hygiene products?" I ask through another yawn. Sure I may be desperate to prep for menstruation, but the only reason I'm talking to her is because I need to stay awake.

"No."

"Oh." Of all people, I figured Shaniya would be prepared for this sort of thing.

"I..." she sighs and cranes her neck over her shoulder to look at me better. "I don't have a uterus."

"Agenesis?" The world comes to mind from an unknown source from long ago.

"Not sure what that is. If it means I wasn't born a woman, then yeah."

I turn my entire body and look at her through squinted eyes, like an old man trying to read a coffee shop menu hanging behind the counter. "I didn't realize estrogen treatments were that good at adding curves."

"It redistributed the fat to my waist."

"I was more referring to your boobs."

She sticks a hand into her shirt and retrieved a wad of toilet paper. "It's mostly the bra."

"Huh. Well, I guess this all makes enough sense. I would have honestly expected you to be a future-trans man instead."

"I'll try not to take offense to that because I know, for once, you're trying to be a decent human."

"Why is it offensive?"

"Well, I spent twenty years of my life feeling trapped in a man's body, trying to prove to the people around me that I am, in fact, a woman. When you say you though thought I was more likely to transition from male to female, it makes me feel a bit degraded. How many women do you walk up to and say, 'I thought you were a man on the inside.'?"

"Oh...I didn't mean it like that."

"It's all about exposure, I suppose."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Talking about my transition is difficult for people to know how to respond because they haven't typically been face-to-face with a woman like me before. They lack exposure, so they don't see things as well from my perspective."

"And me saying I expected you to be a man instead pushed back a lot of progress you made on your journey to womanhood."

"That's one way to put it, I s'ppose. It also makes me feel like I'm still not a convincing woman to everyone around me. I identified why I felt weird in my own skin when I was six years old. I have worked so hard to convince everyone else as thoroughly as I know that I am a woman."

"I'm sorry."

She gives me a sideline glance. "Is exhaustion getting to you?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"I didn't expect you to apologize."

"I'm bad in a crisis, not a bad person."

"I suppose that's fair for all of us," Shaniya mumbles, turning back around to her set direction.

Angel saunters up to us then, back straight and head held high and proud. "I got it."

Shaniya smiles. "Perfect."

"Got what?" I ask, mouth agape and brow crinkled.

"Let's just say we trusted ourselves more than Greg to deliver the cure," Shaniya says. "Good job, girl."

"People always think socks are a safe place. They are mistaken," Angel laughs and saunters back to her piece of floor.

"Shit," Shaniya says, staring wide-eyed at the crystal vial.

"What?"

She holds it out for me. A thin hairline crack runs down the length of one side. Half a drop slips out of it and falls into the dirt.

"It's gone," she whispers.

"Shit!"