Rise

Analyze

"Dez, you can stare at that milk all day long, but you're not gonna topple it over. I know we live in an undead-infested world now, but at least try and stay within the realm of possibility. You don't have telekinesis," Trish jests, nudging the redhead's shoulder with her elbow as she passes by him.

"Just 'cause I haven't said anything about it yet, doesn't mean I'm not upset about you and Austin coming back so late," he answers, disregarding her comment. His gaze remains unwavering from the half-empty jug.

"It's not like you set a curfew," she shoots back.

"It was implied," he presses, firmness dripping in his tone.

"Look, we got a little lost on the way back, it wasn't like we were trying to stay out past sundown." Her voice loses its strength, gentler at the understanding that this was just his protectiveness resurfacing. She circles the kitchen counter back over to him and gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "You okay? I kinda wanted some cereal, so I'm gonna need that milk eventually..." His eyes still trained on the glass, he rests his hand on top of hers.

"This milk is fresh." He finally tears his sight away from the jug to look at her. Her brows pucker in confusion in response.

"I'd hope so..." she says, taking a seat at the kitchen island next to him. "Like I said, I want cereal." He leans in to her.

"The milk is fresh," he reiterates. She pauses, the realization striking her. A duet of gasps behind her concur. Austin and Ally, just now entering the kitchen, turn their attention to the jug of milk, as well.

"I can't believe I didn't even think about that," Ally berates herself, taking a seat at the counter with her friends. "Refrigerated or not, there's no way that milk should be fresh. You guys...didn't bring back any milk with you when you did that grocery run, right?" she asks, turning around to Austin as he walks up behind her and rests his hands on her shoulders.

"We did not. To be fair, there's been plenty of other distractions more uh...more important than, well, dairy. But yeah, that's...that's pretty weird," the blond attempts to comfort her. "I don't know, is it even possible?"

"Maybe the people who lived here had a cow somewhere and had gotten fresh milk right before they left?" Trish shrugs, trying to make sense of it all. "That's possible, right?"

"I don't think so. Milk expires after a couple weeks. Fresh milk, even faster. Trish, you've been here longer than that, haven't you? Frozen milk can last up to six months, I believe...do you remember taking the milk out of a freezer?" Ally questions the girl. Trish tilts her head, more confused than ever now.

"Right. I was here longer than that, and no—it was fresh when I got here. So that must mean...either we've got some kinda magical milk that doesn't expire or..." Trish trails off, not sure if she wants to entertain such an idea.

"...or what? Someone's been breaking in and replacing it? Maybe other food, too?" Dez shake his head. "That is beyond wild." He points at the little printed date on the jug. "Even if that were the case, who would be coming in and replacing it? How would they doing it? Why would they be doing it?" Dez cradles his head in his hands as he racks his brain for answers.

Ally turns herself around in her seat and looks up at her boyfriend, hoping he had any inkling of an answer, but he's as lost as she is. Trish twiddles her thumbs on the counter, a few thoughts on her mind, but not enough gall to speak on it. Not when it dredges up that horrific memory she'd been trying so hard to bury within herself. "I..." she begins, but immediately silences herself.