Page 11 of Dyana
“Hey, Dyana?” Bryce asked, his eyes glued to the steaming hot biscuits. “Do you think we could have a biscuit? I haven’t had any since before the world fell apart.”
I nodded toward the fridge. “There’s butter in the fridge and honey in the pantry. Help yourselves. I’ll whip up another batch.”
“I bet there are some things that haven’t changed,” Jack argued. “I remember everything about you, Dyana. And I’m excited to learn things I don’t know, but you’ll always be that girl to me.” He reached for a biscuit, but I snatched it away before he could.
“Ok, smarty pants,” I said, holding the biscuit up like I was dangling a carrot. “What’s my favorite color?”
“Ohhh, trivia! I love trivia!” Bryce said as he placed the butter on the table and took a seat. His eyes bounced between me and Jack as he waited to see what would happen next.
“You don’t think I remember your favorite color?” Jack asked in amusement. “Doll, you should have gone for a tougher question.”
I bristled at the name, but my only response was a raised brow.
“I’m putting my money on sunset orange,” Evan said as he joined his friends at the table.
“Nah, it’s green. Like a jade green,” Bryce replied.
Both of them acted like this was the greatest source of entertainment ever, and considering it’s the apocalypse, it might be.
“You’re both wrong,” Jack replied. “Dyana has never been that basic. Your favorite color is the color of wet mud, but most people call that taupe.” Jack was smug as he reached for the biscuit and plucked it from my hands. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t entirely correct either.
“That was my favorite color, but now I have two. I’m rather fond of the color of blood now. You should keep that in mind.”I turned away from them and mentally chastised myself for interacting with them. I needed to be careful because it would be all too easy to fall back into how things used to be between me and Jack. There was a familiar comfort there that I hadn’t expected, but I couldn’t embrace it. If Jack ever found out the things I’d done or who I’d become, he’d run away as fast as he could, and I wasn’t sure I could handle any more heartbreak in this lifetime.
Past
A week and a half after the incident with Riggs, I entered the kitchen to get a drink of water and found several officers gathered there with Victor. On the counter was a delicious-looking chocolate cake.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I wanted to apologize for the scene I caused last week, so I baked a cake,” Victor replied.
“It’s not for you,” Riggs said quickly. “I better not fucking catch you with a piece of cake.”
I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Since the incident, Riggs lost his standing as one of the top deputies. I felt he didn’t deserve to be an officer, but I didn’t think any of them did, so that point was moot. Because of this loss in status, Riggs was hyper-focused on anything he could control. Two days ago, itwas the amount of toilet paper I used. Today, it was chocolate cake. Neither thing was high on my list of shit to care about.
When I opened the cupboard to get a glass, Victor asked, “Dyana, can you hand me a stack of plates?”
“Sure.” I grabbed a stack of plates, and as I handed them to him, he slipped a scrap of paper into my hand. I quickly slipped it into my pocket, grabbed my glass of water, and left the kitchen. Once I was safely back in my room, I read Victor’s note.
Don’t eat the cake! I laced the frosting with sleeping pills. Get ready; we’re leaving today.
Clever little sneak. If this works, most of the officers will be unconscious when we make our escape. I went around the room and organized everything I wanted to bring when we left, so I could quickly pack it into a bag when the time came. We just had to hope nobody figured it out before everyone fell asleep. In an effort to mask my excitement, I stretched out on my bed to read a book, but I never turned a page. Instead, I stared at my door, waiting for any sign that the sleeping pills had started to work their magic. How long would it take? About an hour later, there was a light knock on my door. I knew it must be Victor because none of the officers had bothered to knock. I opened the door and let him in.
“It’s time,” he announced quietly. “Are you ready? I already snuck food and my things into your truck. I also filled up the gas tank and added extra cans to bring. Even if we run out, what we have should get us far enough away that they won’t find us when they wake up.”
I quickly threw all my stuff in a bag and turned to him. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Victor put his finger to his lips and gestured for me to follow him. Just because they were asleep now didn’t mean they couldn’t be woken. If we were caught trying to escape, they would know what Victor did, which wouldn’t be good for him. We crept through the station, past the officers still in the office, slumped over wherever they had been when the pills took effect. Sheriff Finley’s office was the last door before the rear exit, and I peeked in as we passed to see him sleeping with his head on his desk.
I grabbed Victor’s arm to stop him and gestured toward Finley’s office. The only things I hadn’t gotten back were my weapons, and we would need those. Victor shook his head rapidly, but I ignored him as I tiptoed into the office. I went to the glass case where they were being held, but it was locked, and the key was on Finley’s belt. I held my breath and carefully worked them free. Victor stood watch in the doorway, casting me nervous glances over his shoulder.
I brought the keys back to the case, and it took me several tries to find the key that fit. I winced as the sound of the lock tumbling seemed to echo through the room. Luckily, most of the weapons and ammo were still in the bag I had packed them in, though it felt lighter than I remembered. I shoved whatever guns, knives, and ammo Finley had stored in the case into the bag and zipped it closed again. I took a few steps toward the door, stopped, and returned for the keys. Not having his keys would be pretty problematic for the good sheriff.
Victor cracked the back door open and stuck his head out to make sure the coast was clear. Once he determined it was, we ran to my truck and threw everything in the backseat. As we were about to climb into the cab, screams reached our ears. We exchanged nervous glances as we walked to the entrance to the parking lot and looked down Main Street toward the screams.
There was one downside to drugging the officers that we hadn’t anticipated—the lack of security. Without them alert at their posts, a group of zombies had stumbled into town and was wreaking havoc on the townspeople. I exchanged a look with Victor, and we turned and ran for the truck.
“We need to get out of here!” I said as we jumped in.
