Page 57 of Dating After the End of the World
The biter lifts its head, pausing its meal, and looks around in confusion, unsure of what just happened. Then it spots me.
Staggering to its feet, it has a look of disbelief on its decrepit face, like it can’t believe its luck in finding such a delicious thing to eat. Its eyes go wide as it starts to run toward me. I frantically go for the zipper on my pouch, ripping on the tab, but it’s stuck. I yank on it over and over, but the damn thing won’t budge. If I use my gun, the run’s over, because the noise will bring every one of them to us. I pull out my Glock and level it at the biter, holding steady as a last resort. With my other hand, I unsheathe my knife, readying it. The biter opens its mouth and starts to emit a high-pitched scream. “It’s over if it screams anyway,” I whisper to myself.
I don’t have a choice. It’s too far away. I have to pull the trigger.
The biter’s mouth snaps closed, and it tumbles over midrun, smashing into the ground and sliding a few feet to a dead stop, chunks of skin peeling away. A large knife protrudes from the side of its head, and black blood oozes, seeping into the cracked concrete. Blake extracts the blade that saved the run from being a total waste.
As he strolls toward me, I’m already anticipating the verbal lashing I’ll receive for almost blowing the whole operation.
“I don’t know what happened,” I say, stammering over my words. “It ducked at the last second, and my star would have hit dead-on if ...”
“Shhh, easy.” Blake flaps his hands, gesturing for me to stay calm. “That’s why we work in teams. Shit happens.”
“But . . . I . . . I promised I wouldn’t miss.”
“There are no guarantees in battle, Casey.” He slaps me on the back, jolting me forward and shaking me out of my worry. “Come on. We’re just getting started, and I need your head in the game because you’re our guide now.”
“Okay,” I say with a nod, grateful for his understanding and encouragement. We head for the back entrance, continuing on with the plan.
I push through the rotating glass doors and find the space is eerily familiar, instantly bringing me back to the night I escaped the hospital in Chicago. It’s not the same one, but in a way, they all feel the same. The floor is coated in streaks of rotted black and brown, substances that look like the combination of every fluid the body is capable of producing. There are bodies everywhere, many of which were regular humans, killed and eaten by biters. Their corpses are devoid of soft organs. Stomachs and rib cages are ripped open and hollow, now acting as homes for maggots and insects feeding on the remaining scraps of bone and putrid sinew.
The buzz of flies mixes with the humming of the track lighting, still softly glowing, thanks to backup generators that are likely running on solar panels. Hospital beds and gurneys are toppled on their sides in the halls with loose papers and clipboards scattered everywhere.
Blake starts off first, taking the lead to check for any danger, but he suddenly freezes, standing in the middle of the hall like a statue that has been commissioned as a decor piece. The three of us exchange looks, unsure of what to do.
JJ approaches Blake and puts his hand on his shoulder. “Hey man, you all right?”
Blake jumps slightly, quickly looking to JJ. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”
As stressful and terrifying as this scavenge run is, this should be nothing compared to what he did in theSeals, so I don’t understand why this has him so spooked.
A whisper comes up from behind me. “Hey, Casey.”
I turn to see Greg apprehensively waiting for me. “Yeah?” I say.
“Before we head in, just in case one of us dies, I have a question for you.”
I can only imagine what this could be about, but I’m sure it doesn’t need to happen here. “Is now really the right time?”
His eyes look up and to the right before he levels to me. “Probably not, but it might be the only time.”
I sigh. “Okay ... what is it?”
“Did you tell Molly she was supposed to be just a one-night stand?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
His eyebrows burrow toward the center of his forehead. “What? Why?”
“Because you already should’ve told her. Stringing her along because you’re afraid to hurt her feelings or because you have no other options is wrong, and it’s not fair to her.”
“Well, now she won’t talk to me.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“I did. But ...” He scratches his head, sheepishly looking at the floor. “Now I kinda like her. Is that love?”
I sigh heavily. I really don’t have time for this. “Look, Greg, we can talk about this later. Right now, let’s just focus on staying alive.”
