Page 64 of Chaos
And he’s awake, his burning blue violet eyes are wide open and locked on me.
“Are you watching me?” I ask.
“Kinda.” He yawns lavishly. His biceps tighten under the thin material of his soft shirt, as he lifts a new water bottle from the floor by his thigh and holds it up toward me. “Thirsty? Afternoon, by the way. It’s almost dinner time.”
“Have you been here all night?”
“No.” He hides a smirk so quick I almost miss it. “I’ve eaten two meals, done PT, restuffed a hundred shells, watched an interrogation, took part in some recon, played with kids and a dog, mucked out the chicken coop, hauled water, and folded laundry. But I kept checking back. Figured I’d give you another hour before I checked if you were dead.”
I don’t answer, just watch, barefoot and confused, as he stands.
I do take the bottle though, because in addition to needing to pee, I’m thirsty again. I lift the cap and drink, embarrassingly greedy.
Water drips down my chin and I swipe at it with my knuckles, my lips tingling with the awareness that my lips may have just touched the same spot as his. “Why are you keeping tabs on me?”
“Someone has to. Would you rather it’s Yorke?”
“No.”
He tugs the now empty bottle from my hand, his fingers grazing mine in the process. He drops it into his bag and hefts the bag onto his shoulders like he’s getting ready to leave.
“You hoping I’ll suddenly realize I do know all Ben’s plans and share them with you?” That’s been niggling at me. It’s the only explanation for why they’d unleash me on the population here.
“Honestly?” He shrugs. “Yeah. It would be great if you told me where Ben got the bullets he was using.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “No clue.” That’s a lie. They came from the Raiders.
“Fine. Were Ben and Renata fighting?”
I flinch, remembering the way he searched Frankie, the way her body jerked as he did it. Renata didn’t like that. She didn’t like the pigeons either. “Yeah, they fought all the time.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Because the zombie queen wanted Yorke, and they couldn’t agree on handing him over.”
He huffs out a scoff. “Tell the truth.”
I did. Sort of. But whatever. “No.”
He slips his thumbs along the strap of his backpack. “I also figured you might be scared.”
I try to laugh it off but it comes out blustery and defensive. “Of who?”
“The new place, the whole army out there, take your pick.”
“And you were going to protect me with nothing but your left ass hand.”
His face tightens at the mention of his hand, and I feel it in my bones, thick and heavy. I’m pretty sure that feeling is shame at having kicked a sore spot.
I shove past him, letting my shoulder smack into his as I go. “Stay away from me. I don’t need protection.”
I stomp down the hall, toward the lobby, passing busy, serious-looking soldiers, and busy-serious looking Thorneys.
I’ll walk away from Thornewood, barefoot in the snow, with the shirt on my back and find the closest house. I’ll make a plan and come back for Ben, but I’m not staying here.
“Wait,” Shane says behind me. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t … I don’t …” He trails off when I speed up. “Ephie, hold up. Please. Just give me a second.”
I stop. “Just stay away from me.” He should. I’m not a nice person. I hurt people. I hurt them when they try to get close. I hurt them before they can hurt me, and I especially hurt them when they try to help me. The only person who ever understood that was Ben. He didn’t try to help me. He understood the world was fucked and there was no helping it. He just watched my back and trusted me to watch his.