I shrug. “Since we’re sharing a house, I figured it’s best if we have our own spaces.” I try to at least not sound like a complete bitch because—unlike Rhys—Alex isn’t being a knob, and he did tear the guy that was attacking off me. Maybe I’ll thank him tomorrow, right before I leave them in the dust and never see them again.
Good plan.
“You shouldn’t be over there,” Rhys growls.
I roll my eyes although he can’t see because I still have my back to them. “I can be where ever the hell I want to be in here.”
He huffs. “Not if you’re going to shove your face against the window and alert our presence to any infected or gang that wanders past.”
I glance up at the floor to ceiling window I’m sitting in front of. It gives me an excellent view of the back garden, including the vague outlines of Bean and Ketchup. Sure, my camp stove is casting a little light around me, but it’ll go off as soon as my food is cooked. Besides, unlike Captain Wanker over there, I can see the cord that’s connected to the blinds hanging from the top of the window.
With a sigh, I stand, grab the cord and pull. The blinds fall and completely cover the window. I turn around and give the asshole a bow. “If only I could get you to disappear for my next trick,” I snark before turning to sit back down next to my camping stove.
Laughter bursts out from behind me.
“Oh fuck,” Theo chuckles. “You should see your face.”
“That’ll teach you not to be a prick,” Alex says in amusement.
“Fuck off,” Rhys mutters, which only makes the other two men laugh harder.
Even I feel my lips twitch. I have to admit, Rhys isn’t the first dick to underestimate me, and he won’t be the last. But damn, does it feel good to stick it to him, even if it was only something as small as closing the fucking blinds.
As I settle down to eat my now cooked food, none of the men bother me, clearly having got the message. Instead, they talk softly amongst themselves and I don’t even try to listen or watch. There’s no point; I’m leaving them as soon as the sun rises, so no need to get invested in their life stories or anything. I have one focus; find and save Tobias and Rachel.
I feed Harlow leftovers from my food alongside her kibble before setting up my sleeping bag and settling down for the night.
Safety in Numbers
Olivia
It turns out thatlying in a sleeping bag on a hard surface after a traumatic day isn’t conducive to a good night’s rest. Shocking, I know.
I’m not sure what time it is—it’s pitch black outside and I don’t have a watch—but sleep refuses to come. Instead, I’m confronted by the ghostly feel of my attacker’s heavy body against mine, the stench of his breath against my cheek, and the terrifying bangs of gunshots. Then the images change, becoming the lifeless eyes of my attackers lying on the tarmac, a pool of blood widening beneath them.
Those memories only make the panic squeezing my chest worse until I’m panting on the ground. Even though it’s cold in the house, sweat beads on my forehead and the back of my neck, and spots dance in my vision. Memories of the car accident twisted with images of zombies and dead men consume my mind until it’s a mangled, horrific mess.
“Having trouble sleeping?”
The sound of a soft masculine voice is enough to cut through some of the panic and I’m able to suck in a deep, shuddering breath. I look over to see Theo sitting on the ground, his back against one of the kitchen counters and his legs stretched out in front of him.
Soft moonlight streams through the kitchen window above him, casting him in an ethereal glow. It makes him seem dark and mysterious, the contours of his handsome face shrouded in shadows. His features are sharper and more refined than the others, more regal looking. It makes me think that if we were in a fantasy novel, he’d be an elf or fae. His tousled hair falls across his forehead, black curls brushing against his liquid grey eyes that almost gleam in the moonlight.
He’s the shortest out of the three guys and the leanest, built more like a swimmer. But even in the low light, I can see the muscle definition in his forearms and biceps. Black ink peeks out from beneath the dark grey T-shirt he wears, the tattoos stark against his pale skin as they stretch up his neck and down his biceps. I’m not sure what it is, but I suspect he’s hiding more beneath his shirt.
A part of me wants to know what they are, to see them and trace them with my fingers. I slam that part down. That road only leads to pain. Especially since, out of all the guys, I’ve interacted with Theo the least. It’s not a conscious choice, he just doesn’t push me like the other two do.
“People always say to count sheep, but I’m not sure how you’re supposed to fall asleep standing in the middle of a muddy field while squinting in the dark, trying to spot them.”
His voice snaps me back to the present, and I frown at him in confusion. “What?” I keep my voice low, not wanting to wake up Alex, who’s snoring softly across the room. I think Rhys is upstairs, keeping watchfor any zombies. Not sure why he has to do that upstairs, but I’m not arguing, not when it takes him out of the room and away from me.
A smirk plays on Theo’s lips as his grey eyes flick to mine. “Counting sheep,” he says, as if that’s an explanation.
I just stare at him in confusion.
He sighs. “Sleeping doesn’t come easily to those who’ve experienced something traumatic in their life. Honestly, I wonder if anyone sleeps anymore with all the shit going on.” His eyes glaze over for a moment, as if he’s reliving something in his mind before shaking himself.
“I remember the first time I couldn’t sleep because of terrible memories. It was my first violent call as a paramedic and when we got to the scene… Fuck, there was so much blood and the guy—well, he was nothing more than a kid—had multiple stab wounds to his torso. He was barely hanging on when we got there and no matter what we did, we just couldn’t save him. He begged us to save him, that he didn’t want to die, but there was nothing we could do.”
