Drabble challenge #4 and #147
#4 “I can’t see anything”
#147 “Zombies aren’t real, I promise.”
“Liar.”
The word echoes into the night as you stand on the roof of the supermarket. Below you is what used to be a car park; now it’s teeming with so many undead, you long stopped counting how many there were. Their moans and groans mix into each other as they scrabble at the smooth concrete walls.
Even after all these years, the shopping center has still held strong. According to your mother, it was the best one in the district, and she used to enjoy coming here when she could.
You weren’t so keen on believing her words, though, not after the lies she’d told you as a child about them.
“Mom, one of my classmates said her dad saw a zombie near the northern border. Are they gonna come to the city and eat us?”
“Silly child, they’re just stories to keep you kids in line. Zombies aren’t real, I promise.”
She hasn’t lied in recent years, though. Kind of hard to do after being devoured by a zombie.
You look down at the undead horde and say it again.
“Liar.”
You doubt your mother’s among them, but it’s not like she’d understand anyway.
Unlike your other friends, who’d been trained in at least basic self-defence, you had nothing. Your mother’s outright denial made you the runt of the litter, and the group you’d been travelling with abandoned you rather than spent extra effort to keep you safe. The price of being the child of a liar.
Turning back, you trudge towards the tent where Reita is starting a fire. His mask is around his neck, and he’s removed his leather jacket. “Good haul today,” he says, looking up to see you sit next to him. “Thank God they ignore animals.”
“Yeah.” You remove your own jacket and draw your knees to your chest. Reita found you hiding in the high school a year or so after the city fell. Like you, he’d somehow survived on his own for a few years, but he knew his way around better. It was easier to scrounge for supplies and defend yourselves as a team. Eventually, you’d managed to gather enough food and ammunition to make it across the district to the city, and the two-story shopping center has been your home for the last few months - a nice change from the garage you were holed up in the first year there. It’s been four years since you met Reita, and honestly, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner.
While Reita gets the fire ready, you clean out the unfortunate goose that made it into town in the afternoon. It had been part of a flock that you and another survivor’s group had discovered, and you’d agreed to share the spoils, but they already had ten people to feed, so they didn’t want to team up with anyone else.
“They had kids with them, apparently,” you conclude, having told Reita the story over dinner.
“Kids, huh?” He spits out a bone and drinks some water from the canteen, before pulling out an orange from his bag and sharing it with you. “Haven’t seen one since we came to the city.”
“Me neither.” You take a few pieces, then drag out the blanket from the tent and drape it over the two of you. “How do people even have kids these days? It’s too dangerous.”
Reita shrugs, putting his camouflage mask back on once he’s done with his share of the orange. He doesn’t like showing the scar to anyone, even you, and prefers to remove it only when eating. “We shouldn’t be talking, to be honest.” His voice is slightly muffled from the mask, but you can hear that little chuckle in it, which makes you laugh as well.
He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to him, deliberately making sure his hand is touching your stomach. “We have enough food to last us two weeks,” he says. “Let’s try and move closer to the borders. Get out of the country in time.”
“You think it’s possible?” Snuggling closer to him, you place your head against his chest, smiling slightly on feeling his heartbeat.
“Yeah. I had a friend in the south whose dad was a border agent. If they’re still around, I can ask them for help.”
His hand moves upward from your stomach, gently touching your body, until he reaches your eyes and covers them.
“Reita?”
“Hm?”
“I can’t see anything.”
“That’s the point. You need to sleep.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, mister.” You playfully swat him and remove his hand from your eyes before giving him a kiss on the cheek. You know if he removes his mask and lets you kiss him on the lips, he’ll taste like sweat and oranges. “I can handle myself just fine.”
It hasn’t escaped your eye that he’s been eating less and volunteering to take the night watch more. You also know he’s been training every free moment he gets, and reading through that book he found last month on childbirth and how to handle a delivery. Thankfully, the baby will be born in the spring, when the weather is warm; there’s also enough time to get out of the country if you’re lucky. The international forces are too busy in the north to look for any survivors in the central regions, which means the south is your best bet.
You two locked the shopping center entrance and terrace doors ages ago; the banging on the latter has become a regular part of your night. Even so, the worry makes it hard to sleep nowadays.
Tonight, you lie down with your head in Reita’s lap as he takes first watch yet again. One of his hands runs through your hair, soothing you to sleep. He’s the one who assures you it’ll be okay: you and the baby will survive, and things will get better soon.
Your only wish now is that you don’t think of him the next time you say that word again.
“Liar”.