Page 20 of Dealing With Drak

Well, good.

After moving slower than necessary for a few too many minutes, we approach the porch steps, and I go still, looking up to take it all in.

“No living things,” Drak reports from behind me, and I let out a held breath.

Still, I don’t make a move to go inside. Not just yet.

“It is a fascinating structure,” he comments, coming to my side to get a closer look. I see his head shifting from the corner of my eye, taking it all in. “Different from the other hu-nim dwelling.”

The sorority house he means. “Yeah, well, that place was a mess before we moved in. This one has been used as a family house for generations, so it’s been kept in better shape.”

Drak hums, absorbing the information. “Should you like for me to go in first?”

“No,” I answer immediately. I’m not scared to go in. I don’t need Drak to check it out for me. Taking a deep breath, I force my feet to move. I just need to do it.

Drak doesn’t move with me, and my heart starts to beat harder.

“Come on,” I grit out through my teeth. “Let’s go in before there’s no sunlight to see in there.”

I can practically feel him grinning behind me. “A wise idea, Mean One.”

The porch steps creek loudly under our boots, the old wood still sturdy enough to walk on. When we get to the door, I don’t hesitate for a second more. Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around the cold metal and twist. It budges without effort, the lock not being used.

“Anybody home?” I call out, cracking it open. “You should probably make yourself known unless you want to be shot!”

Drak rumbles with laughter. “You are too kind, An-nana, warning those who may be lurking.”

“Well, on the off chance that anyone hiding here is someone I know, we should probably exercise some caution,” I return dully.

His head dips in understanding, white hair bouncing with the action. “Very wise.”

Allowing the door to swing open, I check the ground for wire traps and eventually decide that it’s safe to pass the threshold. Drak follows my every move, not feeling the need to lead and take over. Drak is perfectly content being a soldier. He’s never ignored a direction from Marrec or Terum. Offering me the same respect that he does them is one of the reasons I’m finding it harder and harder to be rude to him.

“Still nothing?” I double check, but begin to walk around inside.

“No heartbeats,” Drak answers, eyes scanning the space surrounding us. “No heat, no scents… we are alone.”

Nodding, I try to relax and calm my racing mind. The house is a bit messy, but nothing too out of the ordinary. I’m guessing when they abandoned me, they left this place behind just as easily. Maybe they came back once and awhile to regroup, but never stayed. Only my father would see the zombie apocalypse as some sort of cosmic challenge, instead of something to run and hide from.

“Well,” I mutter, walking in a circle around the main floor with Drak following my every move. “This is it.”

“It is nice,” he replies easily. “You lived here all your life?”

Unfortunately. “Yes, the property has been my family’s for a long time.”

“Ahh,” he rumbles in understanding. “Shall we check the next floor?”

Shrugging, I agree. “Sure.”

As we pursue through the second story, nothing sticks out in an obvious fashion. There’s no written notes hanging on doors or obvious clues that jump out at me. When we get to the third and final floor, my stomach twists. At the end of the hall, my bedroom door stands there, taunting me to have a look.

After my first semester of college, coming home felt disturbing. Like every time I came and went, less of me existed here. Now that I’m twenty, I couldn’t feel more disconnected from the eighteen-year-old girl who moved out to go to college. That Anna would never believe I joined a sorority, let alone that I loved being in it before the world went to shit.

Straightening my shoulders, I stride across the wood floors and shove open my door, barely stopping it from crashing against the wall. I don’t need Drak to worry about me because I’m slamming things.

My room is pretty much how I remember it. My twin-sized bed is made up with blue blankets and a chaotic bookshelf sits next to it stuffed full of hunting magazines and old textbooks. The paint on the walls seems to be chipping, but that’s not new either.

The whole room isn’t much. My family never had money to spend on things that a teenage girl might like to fill her room with. There’s no excess of clothes, purses, perfumes, or any sort of collectibles… aside from the small pretty stones I’ve kept and the homemade obsidian knives and arrowheads on my dresser.

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