by M. J. Haag
I forced myself to sit up.
“I’m awake.”
She crossed her arms and stared at me, knowing me well enough to not leave the room.
Groaning, I slid out of bed and followed her downstairs where she had a plate waiting for me on the island. A small pile of yellow sat next to a waffle and a breakfast sausage.
“There’s syrup, too.” She pushed a jar toward me. “Real maple.”
Forcing a smile, I dutifully used the syrup and took a bite of everything.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I let Merdon use the couch last night. Don’t worry, he’s already gone.” Her placating tone didn’t match the sheepish look that crossed her features. “I think he might be back today because all the cupboard doors were open when I came downstairs.”
“Why do you think that means he’ll be back?” I asked, admitting nothing.
“He was obviously taking stock of our supplies to see what he could provide. I know how you feel about inviting too much attention from any one of the fey, so I’ll make sure to let him know his consideration isn’t necessary if he shows up.”
“You know the fey don’t take hints well. You should have never let him sleep on the couch.”
“Hannah, it was the right thing to do after he risked his life to save us.”
“If you want to show him gratitude, whatever. But don’t pull me into it. To be clear, dinners and sleepovers in the house we share definitely pulls me into it. I always check with you before inviting anyone over, and the parties we throw work well enough to get us supplies without any kind of fey commitment.”
“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. If he comes back, we’ll handle it together. How’d we do with supplies last night?”
I didn’t give a damn about the food. I wanted to know what happened to my bottles.
“The losers started dropping off their losses as soon as I turned the porch light on. It’s enough for a few days. It sucks there’s not any alcohol left for the next party. We could have asked for canned goods as an entry fee then.”
The news curdled the food in my stomach, and I toyed with the remains of my eggs.
“You know the drinking games are the only way to win with them,” I said. “I can’t believe we went through all that liquor. I thought there were at least six bottles still on the counter when I went to bed.”
“Those were empty,” she said, sounding as upset as I felt.
“A few days of supplies means we’ll need to plan another gathering soon. Unless you have another idea,” I said. The key to making the parties happen was to sound as if I didn’t care about them.
“Every idea I come up with breaks our rules.”
The rules were simple, but effective, for keeping us fed and unencumbered by unwanted fey attention. The first rule was no one-on-one time with a fey. That gave them ideas. The second rule was no accepting handouts from a fey. The same logic applied to the second rule as the first. By playing the games, we were “earning” the items, not accepting handouts. Also, the party scene kept us from any one-on-one time.
“Let me know when you want to plan it,” I said. “I’ll spread the word.”
“Yeah, I want to keep thinking on it more. You have to do a lot of drinking to win sometimes. That can’t be good for your liver.”
I snorted.
“Just one more hazard of surviving the apocalypse.”
She gave me a sad look that quickly vanished.
“Why don’t you take your time with breakfast and meet me at James and Mary’s when you’re done?”
“Sure.”
As soon as she left, I scraped the remnants of my breakfast into the garbage and returned to my room. The bed called to me despite the numerous hours I’d already spent in it. While some would succumb to the lure of a few more Z's, I knew better. The bed wasn’t my friend.
Turning my back on the rumpled mass of bedding, I padded into the bathroom. I took my time, since I was in no hurry to get to James and Mary’s. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere. There was nowhere to go. What the hellhounds and infected hadn’t destroyed, the idiots with the bombs had.
The fey and people like Mya were delusional to believe there was any kind of future for us. We humans were just fish in a barrel within Tolerance’s walls.
With sobriety came the oppressive certainty that there was no point to any of this. Eating. Washing. Why do any of it just to die in a few days or weeks?
Shutting off the water, I left the enclosure and stared at myself in the foggy mirror.
What are you doing, Hannah? Are you living or just slowly dying?
The answer reflected back at me in the dark circles under my eyes and visibility of my rib bones. What little vitality I’d clung to had died long ago.
A single tear trailed down my cheek, and I wiped it away with a shaky hand before pushing back from the counter. My current train of thought needed to stop, and there was only one way to do that.
I bent to grab my jeans from the floor, intent on finding someone who might have an adult beverage to share. The sun coming through the window glinted at something peeking from under my bed. Leaning down, I saw the gold cap of a bottle of liquor.
“There you are,” I murmured, pulling it out. “I remember you from last night.” This had been the bottle I’d wanted to sample.
I twisted the top, listening to the seal break, and grinned.
No time like the present for a little taste.
“Hannah.”
If the persistent shaking hadn’t penetrated the pleasant haze, the sharp annoyance in Emily’s tone had. Blinking the fuzzy dusk of my room into focus, I squinted up at my housemate.
“Hey, Emily.”
Her expression shifted from annoyed to angry.
“You didn’t show,” she accused. “You promised you would. Instead, I come home to find you passed out again. Did you drink this whole thing by yourself?”
I gave the empty bottle she held in her hand a quick side glance.
“It’s not that big.”
Her anger bled away, leaving a level of sorrow that made me want to close my eyes. I hated sorrow. It was just as bad as pity. I didn’t need any of that bullshit.
Instead of scolding me more, Emily sat on the edge of my bed.
“Hannah, I’m worried. I think the drinking is making you worse. I’m not judging. I know life’s not easy, and we’re all desperate for a little escape. But I’m—”
“Worried. I get it. I don’t need your worry or constant mothering. I’m fine. Or, I would be if you got off my case. It’s just one dumb bottle. I’ll find you some more.”
“Hannah, I’m not mad that you drank this because I wanted it. I’m not mad at all. I’m scared for you, and I don’t know what to do to help.”
“You don’t need to do anything, Emily. I’m not some pet project that needs fixing so you can distract yourself from how fucking shitty the world is.”
A hurt look crossed her face before she stood.
“Fine. Wallow in your misery then.”
“Thank you.”
I closed my eyes and welcomed the darkness.
Panic suffocated me, burning my lungs and straining my pulse.
Behind us, the soft moans of a dozen infected were almost drowned out by our gasping breaths and the rustle of leaves under our feet. Even if we couldn’t hear them, there was no doubting they were there. The stench of their rot carried on the wind that blew my hair into my face.
In front of us, the trees stretched endlessly, providing no protection.
My lungs burned with effort, and my side ached. I couldn’t think. I didn’t know what to do.
“Hannah,” Katie panted. “I can’t.”
I tightened my hand on hers, pulling her along. Her weight dragged on my arm. She wasn’t keeping up like she should.
“Keep going,” I said.
The moans were getting closer. There was no stopping. Stopping would b
e death.
I glanced over my shoulder, catching so much detail in that brief look. Katie’s wide, desperate eyes locked on me. The exhaustion pulling at her features. The horde of infected barely fifty feet behind us and gaining.
I sat up, gasping and shaking. The memory coated my mind, an unwanted stain on my thoughts. Scrambling out of bed, I got on my belly in the dark and searched frantically for another hidden bottle. There was no second miracle to be found, though. I curled in a ball and tried to hold myself together while I desperately waited for the images to fade. They didn’t though. I saw it all play out again, and with a choked moan, I pulled at my hair.
It wouldn’t leave me. It wouldn’t stop. Ever.
I couldn’t do it anymore.
Sobbing softly, I heaved myself to my knees then stumbled to the window. The sash lifted soundlessly, and I slipped through the opening. The brisk, night air shocked me enough to interrupt my tormented thoughts.
I looked over the quiet homes, blanketed in white, and focused on the lights illuminating the dark above the wall. The lights, powered by batteries that were charged using the solar panels retrofitted on the homes, kept the hellhounds out. But the lights wouldn’t last forever. Then what? I didn’t want to be here to find out.
Ignoring the bite of the snow on my bare feet, I climbed higher on the roof. Numbness wrapped around me. From the cold or my resolution, I couldn’t be sure. I walked along the peak, waiting for some sense of calm to settle in my soul. It never came.
I reached the edge and looked down at the dark yard below. Hopefully, I was high enough. Even if I wasn’t, I deserved whatever pain I had to endure until death took me.
I thought of my sister, closed my eyes, and stepped off.
My stomach pitched as I dropped. I waited for the pain, ready to welcome it in order to embrace what would follow. Nothingness.
My back hit a hard ridge with bruising force half a moment before the back of my legs collided with the same. Strangely, the wind continued to rush past me as if I were still falling. I opened my eyes.
Yellow-gold eyes glinted down at me in the dark a second before my descent came to a joint-jarring stop. I bit my tongue, the copper tang of blood flooding my mouth as I stared at Merdon in horror.
He’d saved me. Again. No, not saved. Condemned me to continue my hellish existence.
Anger bled into my shredded soul.
“You fucking asshole.”
The broken words had little effect on him. He blinked at me, which just pissed me off more. I pushed at his chest and tried to twist out of his arms. His grip was unyielding.
“Put me down.”
He didn’t move. Just continued to study me.
“Are you deaf?”
“No.”
“No, what? No, you’re not deaf, or no, you won’t put me down?”
He tore his gaze from mine and started walking.
“You’re not wearing shoes.”
Shoes? He was worried about shoes after catching me because I’d jumped off a roof? I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to hold myself together.
He jostled my weight more firmly against his chest and held me with one arm as he opened our back door. Once we were inside, he damn near dropped me in his haste to get me back onto my own feet.
I caught my balance and scowled at him.
“What the hell is your problem?”
He stepped closer to me, a move meant to intimidate. I wasn’t intimidated. To prove it, I closed the space between us and bared my teeth.
“You do not own me, Merdon. Get out of my house, now.”
He was silent for so long that I thought he wouldn’t answer.
“I know what you’re doing, Hannah, and I’ll be watching you.”
His gaze flicked over my face, not in the longing way that Shax used to look at me but in a cold, calculating way that had me wondering what the hell Merdon’s comment meant. Before I could ask, he pivoted and left.
Glaring into the night, I stalked forward and slammed the door behind him.
“What’s going on?” Emily asked.
I froze at the sound of her voice, cursing myself for my lack of sense.
“Sorry,” I said, turning to face her. “That was Merdon again. He’s got a case of the stalker.”
“What happened?” she asked in concern as she came down the steps.
I made a split-second decision to tell a skeleton version of the truth.
“I had a bad dream and stepped out on the roof to clear my head. I slipped on the snow and fell. Merdon caught me then went all caveman on me. After almost dropping me on the floor, he told me he’s watching me. As if I didn’t already know that. He showed up out of nowhere on breach day and, since then, has been shadowing me whenever I leave the house.”
She cringed.
“I’m really glad he was there to catch you, but I’m equally sorry I let him sleep on the couch. That probably didn’t help.”
I waved away her apology.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” she asked, knowing there’d be no more sleep for me because of the dream.
“No. I’m fine. You go back to bed. I’ll find something quiet to do.”
She yawned, gave my arm a squeeze then shuffled upstairs. The soft click of her door closing told me she’d believed everything.
The shredded remnants of my façade slipped away from me, and I slowly slid to the floor. Thoughts clawed at my brain, making me twitchy and desperate. Without alcohol, there was no muting it.
I cried.
Chapter Three
Hair stuck to the sweat drying on my face as I impassively took in my progress. It’d taken me hours to clean to the level that a germaphobe or someone with OCD would applaud. Every surface in the kitchen gleamed in the morning light. Yet, I felt no sense of pride at what I’d accomplished. I’d done it to keep Emily happy and to focus my thoughts on safely mundane topics such as what to scrub next.
Despite my efforts, a few thoughts had still crept in. Anger at Merdon, who I’d caught glimpses of whenever I’d looked out the window. Bitterness that I was still in this shit world, and without alcohol to boot.
Wiping at my hair with my forearm, I looked around for what to do next.
“Morning,” Emily said in a chipper tone as she jogged down the stairs. “Wow, this is amazing, Hannah. It looks and smells great in here. Were you up all night?”
“Yeah. Figured I might as well use my time wisely.”
“How about I make us some breakfast while you wash up?”
“Sure.”
I didn’t care about breakfast. I didn’t care about being clean. In fact, I cared about very little except the heaviness that made each step more difficult than the last. It felt like my body no longer belonged to me.
Entering my bathroom, I glanced at the shower. I was sweaty and probably smelled, but I struggled to find a reason why I should be concerned. Because a normal person would care, and I needed to think like a normal person. If I behaved like a functioning person, Emily would be happy, and a happy Emily would agree to more parties.
In a state of emotional detachment, I forced myself to strip and went through the motions of washing. Was this how the infected felt? Disconnected from the world around them? Driven by a single, consuming need? While they wanted blood or brains or whatever, I desperately wanted a drink.
My hands shook as I wiped my face. Tears leaked from my eyes. Anger and bitterness surged forward again, the only feelings that managed to penetrate the numbness.
I realized I was staring at my razor and quickly averted my gaze, once again cursing Merdon’s intervention.
The doorbell rang, interrupting my train of thought. Most of the human residents of Tolerance weren’t up and wandering around this early. That meant a fey was at the door. More specifically, a fey with a delivery.
Hurrying from the bathroom, I grabbed whatever clothes were close and dressed. There was no murmur of voices as I went downstairs, which told me whoever
had stopped by was already gone.
Emily’s lone presence in the kitchen, along with the box on the counter before her, confirmed that assumption.
“Who was at the door?” I asked.
“Merdon. I know I shouldn’t have taken anything from him, but he said it was payment for letting him sleep on the couch. Plus, look at what’s on top.” She lifted a bag of fresh carrots. “They aren’t wilted or moldy or anything.”
What little hope that had sprouted at the sound of the doorbell withered and died at the mention of Merdon’s name and the sight of those roots. Woodenly, I moved closer and peered into the box. There wasn’t a single bottle among the supplies.
My stomach churned sickeningly, and I fisted my hand so Emily wouldn’t notice the tremble.
“Looks like some decent food. Hopefully, he doesn’t try to leave anything tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
Her agreement didn’t sound that sincere.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you think we should do something to thank him for saving you last night?”
Weeks of hiding what I was really feeling was the only thing that kept my anger and frustration from showing.
“He carried me all the way to the house. You know how they are about touching. That much holding time was reward enough. Don’t encourage him, Emily. That’s the last thing we want.”
“I know. You’re right.”
She started putting the supplies away.
“Instead of making breakfast here, I thought we could go eat with James and Mary. You know how Mary is about company. She’d love it.”
“Sure,” I said, dying just a little more inside.
When Emily finished, we both bundled up and trudged outside. She paused and looked back at the house.
“Too bad it snowed,” she said.
I looked around, realizing I’d missed that little detail while I’d been cleaning.
“Why is that too bad? You miss seeing the bloodstains?”
“Of course not.” She pointed to our roof. “I just wanted to see your epic wipeout mark.”
“It wasn’t that impressive,” I mumbled, striding away.
