Book 1: At the Edge of Misery
Cristine Daya Gerrard, a young residency doctor in the apocalypse must mend the pieces with her broken and estranged family, while fighting for her place in a community that doesn't accept her. One man in particular doe...
Tried to up my gif editing game for this chapter 😂. It's also a longer chapter than usual, since I won't be dropping a chapter tomorrow.
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While Cristine waited for Troy to return from his kitchen, since he actually went out of his way to make her coffee, she snuck a glance around his home.
As the son of one of the main founders of Broke Jaw Ranch, he rightfully enjoyed the benefits of a larger and more modern built home. She could honestly admit, to herself, that it was enviable. Since the beginning of the Apocalypse, these people had it good. The rough grinding of fresh beans in the coffee machine clamored for about a minute.
She reflexively sniffed the air and deeply inhaled the familiar and nearly forlorn scent of roasted beans. The invigorating odor, bridged the gap of past memories of irregular shifts at the laboratory. That was the moment where her need for the caffeinated drink started so that she could function at what was once her dream job.
The sound of cups and utensils, followed by steady footsteps snapped Cristine from her menial reminiscence. Her muscles slowly tightened into a semi-permanent mask of apathetic cautiousness.
From the other side of the table, that was positioned right across the half open kitchen, Troy entered the dining/living room with a plastic tray inside his hands. Today, he wore a simple white shirt with a buttoned up long-sleeved on top. It was a drastic change to his usual camouflaged uniform and the casual clothes would've fooled anyone in mistaking him of being the typical boy next door.
"You wrote down some pretty interesting stuff about the infected." To her, his comment was neither a compliment or something to be proud of. It didn't matter what she wrote down, because it was just based on observations and the chances of a cure were nil.
"You stole my journals."
"I did." Troy admitted and his smile slowly faded. To Cristine's surprise, multiple sticky notes were wedged between the papers, most likely to flip through for later.... Or now. He did exactly that and opened one of her journals at a page where one of the colored bookmark was positioned.
Troy's sturdy body slanted over the table and within his intense eyes, Cristine could see streaks of light curiosity and approval inside them. He didn't have that same spark when he heard she was a doctor, since they had more than enough medics on the Ranch. Skilled medics he trusted to treat his people before even thinking of her.
Cristine didn't want his appraisal, she had no need for it and her own orbs were as steely as they came, face cold and distrusting.
After Troy opened the first page, his eyes switched between looking at her and her writings. "I discovered some things about the dead, things that are in line with yours." His lips twitched, proud to be the one to uncover the same things as her. It gave him more of a grip on where the focus his theories next.
