Page 68 of Dating After the End of the World
He cocks his head back, both confused and intrigued, unsure of how anything in my life could be equivalent to what he did.
“I worked in a hospital, remember? I was on shift the night everything went to hell, and when my patients started turning and people were dying, you know what I did?”
My eyes bounce back and forth, waiting for him to reply with the obvious answer, but he just shakes his head instead.
“I ran. I ran right out the exit and never looked back. I left every single one of my patients, every single one of my coworkers, every single person on my team. I left them to fend for themselves. And if I wouldn’t have run ... I’d be dead right now. I was lucky that I only came away with this.” I lift my arm, showing him the scar again. The jagged curve of someone’s teeth, like a dental mold etched into my skin that’s softened over into a paler spot, a reverse tattoo, taking the color with it.
Blake holds his bite mark up next to mine. They’re in nearly identical spots on our arms, and he looks between them both, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
“I know you’re probably right. But I’m still not proud of what I did. I didn’t even try to save him.”
“Hey.” I squeeze his arm to jar him out of his wallowing. “You don’t have to be proud of what you did. But you do have to give yourself grace. There’s no changing what happened, so you just need to be okay with it.”
He stares back at me and nods, not saying anything. I’m sure he won’t be able to easily forgive himself, but in a few minutes, it might not be a problem he ever has to deal with again. Blake tilts his head to the side to read the time on his watch. “Only five minutes left.”
“Would you prefer to be alone for this?”
“I want you to stay.”
“Okay then. I’ll stay.”
Silence fills the room for what feels like an eternity, the minutes melting away as slowly as an ice cube in a refrigerator, just a couple of degrees above where it could hold itself together forever. Blake takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
“Wait,” I say.
His eyes burst back open. “What!?”
“You said your friend lost his memories, right?” My fingers bounce back and forth in front of me like I’m visualizing my thoughts dancing around in my head.
“Yeah.”
“So he was a Nome.”
“I guess so.”
“But he was a biter when you saw him in the hospital on our run.” I’m pacing in front of the cell, trying to connect the dots in this scenario, more talking out loud than I am to Blake.
“I mean, obviously. That’s how I got this.” Blake holds up his arm, as if I need a reminder as to what happened.
“Hmmm.” I start massaging my scalp, prodding my brain to work out what I think I’ve come to realize.
“What is it? What are you thinking?”
“I saw patients turn into Nomes, and I saw patients turn into biters, but the biters weren’t Nomes, or vice versa.”
“What’s your point? We know that both things can happen.”
“Right, but what if when a Nome is bit, they turn into a biter? No matter what. Like, the additional infection instantly overloads the system and deteriorates whatever’s left, devolving them even further.” I stop pacing, letting the idea settle in.
“Have you ever seen that happen before?”
“No. Anytime I would see a Nome get attacked in the city, it was always by multiple biters at once. They would be ripped apart and eaten on the spot, so they never had a chance to turn.” A light bulb goes off in my head. The herd of biters that came and attacked the compound—it never made any sense to me. That many turning into biters? It’s statistically impossible.
“The bus!” I yell out.
“What about the bus?” Blake isn’t following, and I can tell my ramblings are more confusing than they are helpful.
“If the bus had been full of regular people and someone turned, the biter would have just attacked as many as it possibly could while all the others fled. It would be days before the survivors turned, and they’d be scattered all over the place. But”—I begin pacing again—“if the bus were attacked by multiple biters, it’d be just as chaotic with people fleeing and dying. Still impossible. Unless ...”
