Book 2: Children of Violence
Cristine her heart thumped. She could hear blood passing through her ears - thump, thump, thump-and looking down saw her red coated chest moving up and down. She even tasted textured meat that was never meant to be chew...
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Cristine pounded on Troy's front door, demanding he open up. Her knocks got louder and faster until her fist started to throb in pain.
"Troy! You lying piece of- open the damn door Troy! You got some explaining to do!"
"Sheesh, if I knew you'd come and pay me a visit this early in the morning, I would've tidied up the place."
Cristine whirled a full 180 degrees, face steeled and eyes ablaze with nothing but scorn. Below the stairs that led to the porch of the big house stood Troy, flushed and his chest faintly jolting up and down as he caught his breath.
"Y'know with the amount of times you come knocking at our door, people will gossip. And I just want to put it out there that you're not my ty-"
"What the hell did you do?"
Troy ascended his porch in a lazy stride and stood less than an arm's length away from her. She had to lift her head to meet his gaze and he felt puzzled by her iris that were large stains of wood and black pigments... their size gave it a sense of depth and tranquility. If not for the way her eyebrows were clenched together, he'd mistake her gaze as less hostile.
"Troy." The stern manner in which she said his name brought forth a laid back smirk. Troy broke the lengthened nonverbal contact and toured in the direction of his porch chair.
"It's just a simple recon trip, nothing special." He explained while cleaning his muddy shoes from the field work early in the morning.
"I said I wasn't going." Cristine bit back in defense and haughtily pulled up her nose. If she knew exchanging information with Troy would be this cumbersome, she rather trade it for the previous harassment.
At least then, he ignored her presence.
Many people looked at her with admiration and fondness. They saw her in a new light and even sat with her. Just today, some of the teens badgered her about the dead-alive, as they called the infected, and how life was outside the walls. To make matters worse, in the background her father's proud smile couldn't get any wider. The only reason she ended up in this situation was pure luck.
She was lucky to have come in contact with the pathogen, lucky to have a mentor and fellow colleagues to help uncover the basic theories behind the pathogen and lucky to have survived until now. It was luck that she found her father's journal and luck that she made it all the way here alive. Lucky she had her family's picture in her back pocket.
If it wasn't for all that, Cristine was sure she'd never even be in this place. The sheep definitely wouldn't have tolerated her. She'd probably already have a bullet inside her brains right now, rotting in the dessert like many.
"Don't worry, it's just to clear the perimeter and scout the area. Your name came up."
"Bullshit." Cristine cleared the distance in a few strong strides.
