Page 3 of Invasion of Sorority Z

My eyes flick to Cayte, noticing a less than enthusiastic expression on her face. Cayte King is a beautiful girl. High cheekbones, pillowy pink lips, and a pin-straight bob that frames her slim face. She’s the tallest of our group. At one point in time, she was the school’s best athlete, running track with almost Olympic potential. Now she’s simply our leader. Not exactly sure how she got the role—since we didn’t hold an election—but she’s got it.

Almost each night, she sits us down and talks about whatever idea she’s spun or information she’s found to help us stay alive. She’s militant in her organization. If she weren’t so sweet, her controlling nature would likely send Anna into a fit of rage. All of us have gotten fed up with it one time or another. Well, except for Megan. Meg always just shrugs it off, blaming it on Cayte being a Virgo.

“We’re going to have to stop using the running water for a bit.”

The already silent table somehow becomes quieter as the words leave our leader’s mouth. We have access to running water because of the solar-powered spring the engineering program created as an experiment here. We use it as sparingly as possible as it is, but stopping use all together isn’t something I expected to face. I knew the solar panels wouldn’t last forever, which is why I spent so many backbreaking hours making sure the garden had a separate water source.

“What do you mean we have to stop using it?” Megan asks with a frown.

Cayte sighs. “Anna saw some people a few miles away with her telescope machine thingy—”

“Scope,” Anna grumbles. “It’s just called a scope.”

“Right,” Cayte complies. “Well, the spring makes noise when we use it, and until these people move from their little camp, we’re going to have to be as quiet as we can.”

This must be what Anna meant earlier. We have humansandzombies to worry about. My stomach flips uncomfortably, and I gulp, avoiding her eyes.

Brooke’s brows draw in. “Why?”

“Because we don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

“There are men with them,” Anna deadpans. “We don’t need them anywhere near us. Miles away is too close already.”

Right. Because Anna’s father so brightly reminded all of us how women are treated in apocalyptic situations. How they’re seen as bodies. How their humanity is stripped away. I can still hear his voice, husky and cautionary as he warned the lot of us.“Avoid any man you see, ye’ hear? People can’t be trusted when they’re desperate. And ain’t a man around anymore that ain’t some kinda desperate.”

“Aren’t we protected, though?” Megan asks, folding her arms around her waist, looking sick with worry. The feeling is mutual. “I mean, we have the… guns, right?” Her throat bobs with a thick swallow.

Anna snaps her eyes to the side, giving her a look. “You can barely say the name of the things, and you want to suggest their presence makes us invincible? You gonna kill a man, Meg? Going to look a person in the eyes and pull the trigger?”

“No but—”

“No but,” Anna mocks, mimicking Megan’s voice. “Anna will do it for us, right?”

“Okay,” Cayte says carefully. “There’s no need to fight. Anna shouldn’t have to kill anyone unless it is absolutely necessary. And if we can go a few weeks using water storage, we will. Does everyone agree? Any questions?”

Sarah looks like she’s seen a ghost and darts up from her seat. “Fine with me. I’m really tired. Goodnight, guys.” Before anyone can protest, or ask if she’s all right, she’s hurried out of the room toward the stairs.

Cayte nods at the rest of us. “All right then.”

And that’s that, I suppose.

2

Pieplant: Long pinkish sour leafstalks usually eaten cooked and sweetened.

Stevie

Before we lost power, I had fairy lights glowing to break up the stark darkness of my room. They were draped down my olive-green walls and wrapped around the frame of my bed. I’d sleep with them on, letting the low yellow hue relax around me without an issue.

It’s in the dark that I find sleepless nights.

With the little lights, I’d been able to stare up at my ceiling when sleep wouldn’t claim me. I could gaze at the patch-work mural I created and lose myself in my imagination while exploring it. The various fantasy maps still exist up there, but without any sparkle to decorate them, they’re invisible as soon as the sun goes down. And the sun goes down every night. Sometimes I wish it wouldn’t. Other times, I wish it would never rise. Not sure what that says about me, or how my mind is fairing in these conditions, but there isn’t a thing to do about it. So I try not to linger on it much.

I’ve tried a few different methods of soothing myself to sleep over the months and it’s become harder to continue. Some work better than others. Some make me feel so lonely that I wind up crying myself into the depths of unconsciousness. Softly rubbing my thighs has become my favorite. It doesn’t work every time of course, nothing does. Still, when my hands drag up and down the length of my upper legs—from knee to hip—something inside of me flips. I give myself chills over and over again, imagining that anyone else is providing me with the sensation.If only.

Reading is impossible in the dark, so it isn’t an option as it used to be. Sometimes though, I’m able to recount a book in my mind or create my own with some deep imagination work. It’s never quite the same.

Without a clock or a phone to check the time, I’m not sure how long I’ve been rolling around in bed. I’ve flipped around, switched blankets and turned my pillows over a time or two already, so I can guess that it’s been at least a couple of hours without any luck. Ripping the sound-proof headphones off of my head, I take a deep breath and rub at my eyes. Maybe I need the distant sounds of crickets to doze off. Typically, I find it annoying after only a few minutes, but not always.

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