Page 58 of Dating After the End of the World
“Fine. But this isn’t over.” He points at me, emphasizing that he means business.
“I just said we could talk about it later. That means it’s not over.”
“Oh ... okay. Cool.” He smiles.
I shake my head, wondering how many college classes he actually attended, or if a healthy regimen of booze, weed, and variations of Molly rotted his brain. Tabling our conversation, we head deeper into the lobby. The odor coming from the putrefied corpses becomes unbearable, and Greg starts to gag behind me, loudly dry heaving. I turn and grab his face, pinching his nose and covering his mouth.
“Stop that,” I yell in a whisper.
“I can’t. It’s so gross.” He gags again, so I pull my hand away, not wanting vomit spewed all over me.
“If you need to throw up, just get it over with quietly. But no coughing and no dry heaving.”
Greg gags again and nods, rushing over to a nearby corpse. He sticks his face near its rotting body and takes in a whiff so deeply, it makes him barf into its open cavity.Fucking gross.
After a minute, he gives a thumbs-up, wipes his face with his sleeve, and rejoins us.
Near the front desk, a placard on the wall indicates the different areas of the hospital.
“Look,” I say, pointing to the sign. “The ICU is on the third floor. That’s our best bet for finding the biggest meds repository. Let’s find the stairwell and head on up.”
Down the hall, a small green sign tucked up in the corner indicates a stairwell. We’re making our way toward it when Greg blurts out, “Hey, wait. This says there’s a cafeteria here.”
“You can wait until we get back to the house to get a snack,” Blake snaps at him.
“No, not to eat now. Although I am kinda hungry after throwing up. But we should stock up on food and bring it back.” The group is collectively impressed with Greg’s quick thinking. We smile like proud parents who just watched their child score a touchdown for the first time in peewee football.
“Fine, let’s split up. One duo can grab extra supplies, while the other two go for the insulin,” JJ says.
Blake nods in agreement.
“Okay, Greg, follow me.” JJ pats him on the shoulder. “We’ll head to the cafeteria.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I’m not going with Blake,” I say. “JJ can come with me to the ICU and keep watch while I search for the meds.”
“I’m not going with him either,” Greg argues. “Besides, Casey, Blake can watch your six better than anyone. He was a NavySeal, after all.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m some infectious virus,” Blake grumbles.
“Well, you are.” I smirk.
“Rock, paper, scissors for it?” Greg holds out his hand in a fist over his other palm.
“Seriously?” Blake huffs.
“Deal,” I say, holding my fist out. “Onshoot?”
Greg raises a brow. “Of course. Best of three?”
“I’m not a heathen. Obviously, best of three,” I say, pounding my fist down into my cupped palm.
My punishment for losing to Greg is crouched in front of me, scanning every inch of the hallway on the third floor. His steps are silent, and he moves with a swiftness and surety of purpose that one can’t help but be impressed with. When Blake deems this section of hallway safe, he motions for me to join him.
“All good?” I ask.
“Yeah, for now.” He slowly moves along the hallway, following the signage directing us to the ICU. “I’m really glad, by the way,” Blake whispers.
“Glad about what?”
