Chapter 2: 2

"Teddy? Teddy!"

I jolt awake. A pair of hands find me immediately, grabbing my shoulders. I fumble against them in the dark, grasping blindly to pull them from my arms.

"Teddy! Teddy, it's just me. Calm down."

The voice finally breaks through the fog in my mind, hushed in the stillness that I've just shattered. Slowly, the hands holding my shoulders form into familiarity, strong and calloused with years of work but gentle where they meet my clammy skin. My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. I blink, making out a soft-featured face, edges blurred by the thick blackness of the tent. I release the tension in my shoulders, relaxing.

"Hey," I whisper. "Did I wake you up?"

"You were twitching again. Hitting me, too. You move around too much."

I chuckle weakly, releasing my clammy grip on her hands to tangle my fists in our sheets.

"Sorry."

"It's fine." Ama's hands travel up from my shoulders to rest on either side of my face, cool against the hot flush of my skin. The rush of adrenaline begins to leave my system as my confusion lessens, sinking back into the familiarity of the place I call home. It leaves me trembling, ribcage quivering. Ama shifts closer, rubbing a strand of sweat-soaked hair off of my cheekbone.

"What do you fight in your dreams?"

"Huh?"

"We fought together for years, Teddy. I know you."

I can hear the soft smile in her voice better than I can see it. I smile back, wrapping my hands around hers to gently pull them off of my face.

"Mutated. The usual."

She pulls away slightly. "You can't let go of that, can you?"

"You can?" I lean in towards her, reaching for her hands, acting on instinct. I tangle our fingers together. "Ama, don't you remember fighting together? Clearing this garage and the street outside... hunting for food and supplies to build the fence? It was amazing, Ama." I squeeze her hands in mine. "We were amazing. So no, I can't... I can't let that go. I... I think I miss it."

"You miss it, Teddy?" Her deep black gaze searches mine. "You miss almost dying every day? Watching our friends die? How can you miss that?"

I dip my head, avoiding her stare. Guilt chokes me up, making my voice come out as no more than a whisper.

"I don't know, Ama. I wish I didn't want it, but I do. I can't settle down. I can't stop. I've been trying—for you—but I'm so restless. I'm bored." I manage a hollow laugh. "Can you believe me, Ama? It's the apocalypse, and I'm bored. And I feel awful about it, and I'm glad you're happy, but I just... want something to fight. I need it."

Ama leans towards me, placing a hand against the side of my face. Then she shifts it, running her fingers through my hair. Her voice is a soft murmur.

"You don't know how to live like this anymore, do you?"

"I don't know what to do with myself," I admit. "I'm sorry."

Her hand finds the back of my neck, pulling me towards her. I let our foreheads bump against each other, tilting my head to place a kiss on the tip of her aquiline nose.

"Give it some time." She wraps her arms lightly around my head, pulling my forehead to her chest. I rest my head against her collarbone, feeling her breaths wisp against my scalp. She smells like the garage—like old motor oil and gasoline.

"It's been five years," I murmur. "I should be used to this by now."

She runs her hands down my spine, resting her cheek against the top of my head. Enveloped in warmth, I feel the last of the tension stored in my bones begin to seep away, until my eyes begin to burn with exhaustion. Ama's hands never stop moving, rubbing my shoulder blades until the drowsiness overtakes me again. I allow my eyelids to give in to their weight and flutter shut, barely noticing when she gently shifts me off of herself and back down onto the blankets.

—

I wake up before dawn, slipping out of the tent after placing a kiss against Ama's hairline. Shouldering my backpack, the canvas strap of my rifle biting into the bare skin where the hem of my tank top meets it, I head down to the first level and out onto the street below. The only noise is the purr of the generator that powers the garage.

This time, I head for the gate, passing beneath the glow of one of the outside floodlights, bright white in the grey dawn. The two guards there glance at me, then at each other, gun barrels pointed at the ground instead of through the gaps in the fence used to fight off mutated from behind the safety of the wall. Those guns probably haven't had to be used in days.

"Aren't we not supposed to go out alone?" One of them asks, raising a quizzical brow. I shift my weight, offering a persuasive smile.

"C'mon, Ollie. They said they prefer if I don't go alone, but I'm letting you know beforehand, so then it's fine."

The girl with him tilts her head at me. "Are we gonna be able to talk you out of this?"

"Nope."

They share another glance. Ollie shrugs and heads for the gate lever. When he pulls it, the metal barricade creaks slowly to the side, shifting until there's room for me to squeeze through.

"Be careful out there, Teddy."

"I always am."

I slide through the gap, listening to the gate shut behind me with a squeal of metal. Ama is going to be pissed—but at least I told someone this time. That's an improvement, right?

With the fence behind me, I pull a map out of my backpack pocket, unfolding it with a rustlg of aged paper. The streets of downtown San Francisco lie before me in faded, criss-crossing ink. Chemical hotspots, responsible for mutating humans and turning them into the warped, decayed creatures that overthrew the old world, are marked with bold red circles. Heavy black x's sit on top of places I've looted, making sure I don't wander back into a building I've already cleared out.

What should I be looking for, anyways? Anything useful would be nice—Lora always needs a steady flow of medical supplies, and if I get lucky maybe I can find more gasoline to keep the generators going.

I drag my finger along the yellowed map, past buildings I've checked and re-checked. I can head north a few blocks to step into mostly unscavenged territory—unscavenged by us, at least. I doubt there's a single building that hasn't been touched by some survivor or passerby. Cities like San Francisco don't just clear out, even in the apocalypse.

I fold the map back up along the lines worn deep into the paper, tucking it away again before veering north. I manoeuvre my rifle down onto my arm, finger resting next to the trigger. Even a single mutated is a threat if it has surprise on its side.

I tread softly, stepping around crumbling continents of asphalt in the road and patches of litter. The mutated aren't like animals—they don't operate on a fight or flight instinct, they won't avoid you if they hear you coming. Their once-human brains have been rewired and eaten away by chemical damage, turning them into mindless machines that attack on sight or sound.

I pass an empty, black doorway, swinging the barrel of my rifle towards it as I move by. When nothing jumps at me from the shadows, I keep moving.

I pause to push my hair off my face. The sun is creeping into the sky already, bringing with it the sticky Californian heat. A bird screeches somewhere overhead as I survey the buildings surrounding me.

To my right, an apartment complex lurches into the sky, brick facade overgrown by climbing plants. Those are good—living spaces are great for finding a variety of things, right up there with general stores. I head towards it, gently easing open the rusting metal door. The hinges squeak out a protest.

I take a step in just as a bullet ricochets against the doorframe. I jump back out, swinging my rifle barrel up.

"Don't come any closer!"

The voice coming from inside is shaky and young.

"I'll shoot if I see you again! I'm serious!"

I weigh my options. I don't like the idea of getting my head blown off the second I stick it back in, but maybe if I move fast enough, I can get around this person and—

What am I doing? This is another human, unmutated. I should be doing everything in my power not to have to kill them.

"I believe you," I call back, staying outside the door. "Alright, I'll stay here. I'm not here to cause problems, I'm just scavenging."

There's a long pause. I resist the urge to peek in and try to see what they're thinking.

"You're not one of them?"

"One of who?"

"The people who attacked us."

"Who...?" I sigh. "Listen, whoever those guys are, I'm not with them. I'm alone. I promise."

No response. I slide the strap of my rifle over my shoulder.

"I'm gonna come in, alright?"

"Not with the gun, you're not."

"I put the gun away."

They're quiet.

"...Okay."

I lift my hands slightly, showing them that my palms are empty as I slip past the doorframe, waiting for the crack of a bullet. When it doesn't come, I look in the direction of the voice.

A teenage boy holds a pistol in both hands, grip on it clumsy and inexperienced with the weight of it. He looks like he's sixteen or seventeen, with dark, unruly hair that sticks out at every possible angle. When I come into view, he lifts the gun a notch higher, staring down the barrel at me. I lift my hands higher.

"You can put it down."

"Not until you tell me who you are."

"My name is Teddy, I'm with a group in the carpark down south."

He lowers the gun, swallowing. His white-knuckled grip is still trembling, and his face holds an ashy hue.

"I'm Noah."

"Okay, Noah. You here alone?"

"Yes. I mean, no—I am now, but I wasn't—I—I'm—"

"Okay, kid, calm down." I grab his shoulder. His face is panic-stricken. "What are you talking about?"

"I was with my brother. We live in this repurposed bus—anyways, we were scavenging, and we got attacked—"

"Mutated?"

"No. I already said it was people."

I rub at the bridge of my nose.

"Okay. Sorry. What do you know about them?"

"Nothing. They attacked us and we got separated."

"How long ago was this?"

"Only a few hours." His chin trembles. A sense of discomfort gnaws at my stomach.

"Wait. How many of them were there?"

"I don't know. A lot. Definitely thirty or more."

"Oh, fuck." An icy chill travels down my spine, even in the oppressive heat. A group that size shouldn't be travelling together, risking attracting mutated, unless they had a reason. "I have to get back to the garage." I grab Noah's other shoulder, so fast I startle him. Might not be the best idea, since he's still holding the gun. "Noah, you need to come with me."

"But my brother—"

"We'll look for him together, I promise. But if there's a fucking army in this part of the city, you're not safe alone, and I have to get back in case they're going where I think they are."

His gaze drifts towards the ground, brows scrunched. I give him a shake.

"Noah, I promise I'll help you find your brother, okay? But first I need to make sure my friends are safe, and I can't leave you alone. Alright?"

He nods, eyes glassy. My heart tugs in his direction, but I swallow it down and release his shoulders, giving them a final pat.

"Okay. Let's go."