Page 2 of Invasion of Sorority Z

“Hey!” I grab her arm, holding her in place. “Don’t just walk away, what the heck happened to you?”

“We’re in a zombie apocalypse, Stevie,” she spits. “What the fuck do you think happened?”

She tries to move again, but I only hold her tighter. Before the outbreak, Anna and Sarah were two of my closest friends in the house. Now, Sarah is distant and Anna is angry, but they’re still them. Anna is still Anna, and even if she’s angry, I’m not scared that she’ll hurt me for touching her.

“Anna seriously, are you okay?”

“I’m fucking fine,” she snaps, pulling her arm from my hold. “You didn’t see me. Don’t say anything to anyone, got it?”

Yeah, no. That’s not how this is going to go. “Uh, they’re all in there about to eat dinner, so how exactly are you going to avoid them seeing you?”

Her face falls, and I frown. I don’t know what she’s trying to hide, but I do know that I can help. For now.

“Come on.” Taking her wrist softly this time, I pull her toward the pond, out of view from the house. “Set the gun down unless you want it to get wet,” I instruct, untwisting the hose from its base.

Recognizing that I’m not going to take no for an answer, she does, tossing it into a soft patch of grass. I hose her down, using my free hand to rub out patches of dried muck and blood, too worried about her to focus on the feeling itself. Her hair takes longer to clean out, but she doesn’t stop me from taking my time, getting every bit of it out.

When she’s soaking wet, and all the water leaving her body and hair runs clear, I rinse off my hands and reconnect the hose. Anna looks at her rifle, like she might make a move to pick it up and leave me here without a word, but she remains still.

Not caring that it will drench my clothes, I pull her body close to mine and wrap her in a firm hug. She stiffens up, but rests her chin on my shoulder after a moment.

“How often does this happen?”

“Just started this week,” she mumbles. “But it’s getting worse. They’re only stragglers, but they’re strong, and they get closer to the fence every day.”

A chill runs down my back. “And no one knows?”

“Cayte knows,” she admits. “A little bit of it anyway. We don’t want to freak anyone out until we know there’s something to freak out about. I can handle it. I’vebeenhandling it.”

I don’t doubt Anna’s abilities at all, but if she’s coming home looking the way I just found her, wedohave something to freak out about. Our little safe haven is crumbling. We aren’t so secluded anymore. We’re not effortlessly safe any longer.

“You can stop touching me now,” Anna says, her voice becoming low like a warning. I back off, ending the hug, and she sears me with a deep look. “Don’t say shit, I mean it, Stevie. We have stuff to talk about at dinner tonight, and tomorrow we’ll talk about this as a group. But not all at once. I don’t know how stable everyone is, and I can’t worry about their mental states and guard the entire property at the same time. Understand?”

Who am I to tell her no? She just came home soaked with the evidence of how far she’s willing to go to protect us. She’s earned a little freaking trust, no matter how scared I am.

“Okay,” I say, gulping back the rasp in my tone.

She seems to find the trust she needs in return, nodding once before taking her gun and jogging back to the house. I follow slowly behind, dragging my feet with a racing mind and an anxious stomach.

I want to believe that she knows what she’s doing, and I think I do. But even if she’s the most capable person in the world to protect us, she’s still only one person. How many zombies need to come at us at once for her to become overwhelmed. Five? Ten? How many are in the forests surrounding us even now? Miles away or not, can they sense us? Are they coming for us?

I push the thoughts away, knowing that if I don’t, I won’t be able to eat or sleep. When I get to the kitchen, Anna is already changed into dry clothes and headed for the dinner table. If she can push back her emotions for the sake of the group, then so can I. At least, long enough to eat a meal.

Dinner is ravioli and canned vegetables again. No one seems enthusiastic about it. No one complains, either. We’re all aware how bad other people all around the world must have it. Even if we aren’t really sure how many people are still alive. I wouldn’t guess it’s a big number based on the fact that we haven’t seen a single soul since Anna’s family left.

The table is quiet tonight, just the faint tapping sounds of silverware fill the air as we eat, keeping any comments about the day to ourselves. Most nights, I dread the quiet meals. Hearing five girls chewing and breathing is like nails on a chalkboard for me. Tonight, I’m somehow able to tune out the offensive sounds, too stuck inside my own head to be affected.

Soft wood sits underneath my elbows, the sturdy piece of furniture keeping me grounded in place as I drop my fork. It’s my turn to do the dishes, I think. I don’t mind it, but I wish it was already done. I wish that most days. That everything we needed to do would simply be done. There isn’t really room for lazy days when you’re trying to survive.

My dad used to do the dishes, when he was actually home from work, that is. Mom would cook, and he’d clean. I liked seeing that—the two of them sharing responsibility. It’s not as romantic to share responsibility between platonic friends. It’s not romantic at all, in fact.

I don’t think about my parents a lot. I know they’re dead. They were in New York city for a work conference when the outbreak began, and I know few people survived there, if any did at all. I’ve accepted this.Grievedthem.

It wasn’t too difficult since we were never terribly close. Honestly, I always thought that they loved each other, and their careers, more than they loved me. It’s nothing to complain about now.

“We have some things to talk about.”

I know we do.

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