Zombie Killer Squad: Chapter Eight
Zombie Killer Squad
Captain Anderson sure loves to talk. My mind drifts; I’m too tired to follow every word, exhaustion pressing in from restless nights. I should speak to Val about these nightmares, about this dragging fatigue-maybe she can help. Around me, Common B fills with crew and the hum of popcorn machines Helen set up. She always finds a way to make things better. I let the warmth and buttery smell steady me, grounding myself in small comforts while Warren’s speech rolls on. “The lab offered some vital information, including our next destination: a barrier island off Virginia’s coast. It seems a strong lead to ground zero.”
I rub my face and peek at Val, who is failing to stifle a yawn. She catches my gaze and gives me a thumbs-up. “I hear my pillow calling my name.” She whispers to me.
I notice Asher staring at me, and guilt stirs. I glance away, still unsure how we stand after our conversation the night before. Even with our interaction at lunch, I can’t shake a shift in our dynamic. The tension lingers between us, making me anxious about what might come next.
Warren’s eyes wander about the room. “I know it has been hectic these last few weeks. I see the effort you all put in every day and I can honestly say that I am overflowing with pride. Keep at it because our hard work is paying off. With that, I’ll wish you all a good evening. Thank you.”
Rolling my shoulders, I stand and follow Val out into the hallway and to the stairwell. The meeting’s noise fades as we proceed up; our dorm is only a few flights away and comfort feels close.
Val links her arm in mine when we make it to our deck. “I got my sister back. Want to fall asleep to a raunchy comedy for old times’ sake?”
“Yeah, but I doubt you’ll last five minutes.” I poke her in the side. Val may not have been my sibling by blood, but she was by right. When my parents were killed, Val’s father took me in without batting an eye. Both he and Val treated me as though I had always belonged with them. “Family until the end,” Val’s dad used to declare.
She laughs, breaking me from my reverie. “I think you’re right, Iz.”
We wave to our neighbors as we unlock our door and step inside. The room is warm, filled with the fragrant scent of lilacs from our favorite dragon-shaped wax warmer. I blink and glance at her. “You hate lilac.”
“But you love it, and they remind me of you.” She shrugs.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, realizing just how much I’ve missed this space with my person and the safety it provides. The comfort of being home again washes over me, and I climb into my berth, feeling my emotional guard lower for the first time in a while.
Val pops a DVD into its player and presses play, and the familiar score of our chosen comedy begins.
I stare absently at the television screen, the coziness of my bed lulling me to sleep. Soon, Val snores softly in the bunk below me, and I smile. “Called it,” I whisper before my eyes drift closed.
***
I wake the following morning to the sound of the shower. My heart flip-flops: no nightmares. I glance at the clock and groan. It is only eight o’clock. Since Asher gave me a few more days off from training, I throw the covers over my head and snuggle further down. A couple more hours would be nice.
“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty.” Val exits our en-suite bathroom, a towel wrapped tight over her hair. “You ready to hit the pool?”
I huff. “Curse past me, making future me wake up at the ass crack of dawn.”
Val chuckles, yanking my blanket from over my body. “Come on! It’ll be fun. We’ll get in the hot tub afterwards.
“Fine.” I chew my bottom lip, stumble out of bed, and go to the closet.
“Oh, this is for you.” Val grabs something off her desk and hands it to me. It’s a letter with my name scratched in big letters on the front.
I blink, recognizing the handwriting. “Asher.”
Val answers, “Yes,” even though it wasn’t a question. “He slipped it under the door. I found it this morning.”
I cautiously tear it open, nerves bubbling in my stomach as anticipation mixes with anxiety. A small slip of paper is tucked inside. I pull it out and, in the same sloppy hand as my name, reads:
I’m sorry. Meet me for lunch at noon?
-Asher
Val quirks an eyebrow, not having to voice her question out loud.
“It looks like I have lunch plans today,” I croak on a shaky breath, not sure if this would be considered a date. Uncertainty mingles with hope as I mentally shake myself, trying to relax. He probably knows I’ve been avoiding him.
I sigh. Now I must wait and see.
Editor: Lucy Cafiero
