Sharon’s Note: You go next door for help because you were told it was your best chance. Here’s hoping it was good advice. Warning: Curiosity killed the cat, but what you don’t know can hurt you.

I dash away from the thing in the kitchen doorway. My shoulder hits the wall in the hallway as I barrel through, nearly causing me to fall. In my panic I fumble with the door lock and sob. I look back over my shoulder. The thing is lurking in the shadows, peering around the corner into the hall. Its eyes gleamy gray in the small amount of light from the living room.

The door opens and I spill out into the night. I slam it shut behind me and brace my back against it, sobbing. Nothing hits the door, nothing tries to open it. I bite my lip as I build my nerve, then wrench myself away to throw myself at my neighbor’s door.

“Ms. Dantas! Lorena? Please let me in! Please? Please!” I slam my fists against the blue painted wood. I keep casting looks back at my side of the duplex to see if there’s any movement. The second I saw something I was ready to bolt. 

The door opened and I nearly fell in. The woman standing in front of me made me want to turn around and run out into the night after all. Her face was young but her dark hair was streaked with gray where it was pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a long black dress that started at the base of her jaw and ran all the way to the floor but it fit the contours of her body like a glove. The look in her eyes spoke of age and hardship and even more than I could see her, I could feel her. Her presence was like a weight and made me shudder as much as the thing I’d just fled.

“P. . .ple. . .please?” I stuttered. “The. . .there’s. . .”

“Something in your side of the house?” She asked flatly, seemingly unsurprised. I could only nod and she moved aside with a heavy sigh and a roll of her eyes. “Very well. Come in. Have a seat.”

I stumbled inside. Her side of the house was an odd mixture of normality and the peculier. The couch was old and thread-bare with a faded pattern of roses. She had a fireplace in her living room and there were bundles of dried flowers tied up to hang in front of the cold hearth. Little odds and ends lined the mantle, including small animal skulls and bronze medallion with a pentagram. Next to a battered recliner sat a small table with an old, leather bound book. The leather was a dark, almost bloody red.

Lorena closed the door and then went into another room. I was assuming from the location that it was the kitchen. She came back in a moment with a bottle of water and a plate with a couple of cookies. Dinner all over again. 

“Sit there and eat your cookies. I’ll check on everything next door and be back in a moment.” She didn’t seem particularly bothered by anything going on, except she was vaguely annoyed. 

I moved to get up. “No, you can’t go over there alone. That thing. . .”

“Sit!” She hissed. I sat. “I will take care of it. Now wait here and don’t touch anything.”

She frowned at me, and her eyes briefly flickered to the old book before she shook her head and whisked out of the house. I shivered. There was no immediate scream, no sound of violence. I didn’t know what was going on. Taking a bracing breath I:

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James’s Notes: We’re on the road to the bug out location. Now, as we hit the road, the choices are about to get harder.

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You drive past sun up, and well into noon. You have to go across the median and through parking lots a few times to pass broken down cars, but so far the roads are more or less clear.

The first time you nod off at the wheel, you realize that if you don’t stop soon you’re going to crash. You find a gas station that was probably long abandoned before the Phage hit, and pull around back. You park your jeep between the dumpster and the wooden fence, hopefully shielding you from prying eyes.

You do a quick inventory before grabbing something to eat and at least trying to sleep.

You’re glad you have the rifle you took off the soldier, although you wish you had more than one magazine.

A lot of the supplies in the back of the Jeep were still there. You think someone was keeping them as their own personal stash.  The 32 count case of bottled water is back there, along with 9 MREs and some assorted snacks.

You wrinkle your nose at the packs of Vanilla Wafers. You hate the things, but your dad has been convinced you love them since you were five. The ranch flavored corn nuts are a win, though.

You also find your toolbox, first aid kit, and the woodcraft kit your dad made you, with its hatchet, rope, tarp, and fire starting equipment.

You know your dad would have packed your grandpa’s old Marine Corps combat knife in there too, but it looks like some asshole took that. You hope whoever took it was one of the guards who caught a bullet.

You wrap up with the blanket that you always keep thrown over the back seat, and catch a few Z’s. You know it’s dangerous, but your dad taught you that nothing’s more dangerous than not sleeping at all. Besides, no people should be able to see you where you’re parked, and the infected wouldn’t be able to get in the jeep without waking you up.

By the time you wake up, it’s almost dark. You decide to hunker down here till morning. At first light, you scarf some jerky and take a quick look around the gas station.

It’s obviously been abandoned for a long time, but you do manage to score a slightly rusty crowbar, a surprisingly clean leather jacket with only one rip in it, and a gallon baggie full of weed hidden behind the counter.

You don’t plan on getting high on the road, but you never know, maybe someone will have a use for it.

You start making miles east and are pleasantly surprised with how clear the highway is. It looks like all the evacuees either didn’t make it this far, or made it further. 

As you’re coming around a bend in a section of road lined with pine trees, you find the road about a hundred yards ahead blocked. Several cars look like they had a huge pile up. There is a woman standing next to a wrecked sedan, covered in blood, waving you down for help.

What do you do?

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1. The Apocalypse We Chose
          2. Go for the Jeep
          3. Head for the Deer Camp
          4. Approach with Caution, Gun Ready
          5. Take the Fight to the Woods
          6. Loot the Dead

Sharon’s Note: Make sure you vote to influence what Lizzie does next! Warning: There is something in the dark that isn’t there in the light.

Phone clutched to my chest, I crept down the stairs. I feel each step on the way down with the tips of my toes, wary of the unfamiliar footing. The light grows as I reach the ground floor. The curtains over the downstairs windows are open. The moonlight is faint, but my eyes are so hungry to see that it seems positively bright.

Nothing looked out of place in the living room. No broken windows or fallen furniture. I snuck up to the closed kitchen door. There was the faintest chiming and a whisper so faint I couldn’t make out what was being said. I inched away from the door and hit the emergency call button on the phone. A woman’s voice that dripped boredom asked what my emergency was.

“My name is Elizabeth Rhys.” I whispered. “ I just moved into the duplex on Harker road. Someone broke in.”

“Lorena’s place?” The operator sounded less concerned and more confused. 

I turned the volume of the phone down because she was not being quiet. “Yeah, I guess. Can you get someone out here, please?”  

“Are you sure that there’s someone in there? Everyone knows better than to mess with Lorena.”

“I can hear them!” Actually, I couldn’t hear anything from the kitchen now. Whoever it was, they were probably listening as closely to me as I was to them. “I got to get out of here!”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” The operator agreed. “Don’t just wander around town though. That could get you in trouble. Go next door to Lorena. She’ll take care of you. I’ll have one of the boys drop by and see how you’re doing as soon as they can, but they’re both busy tonight.”

“You mean no one is coming?” I hissed.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Good luck, honey.” And the bitch hung up.

It was only then that I realized I was crouching alone in a house, unarmed, with an intruder in the next room. I started scampering towards the front door, not near as quiet as I should have been. I wasn’t even to the entrance hall when the kitchen door opened. 

The figure that stepped out of the kitchen had to duck to get through the hallway. It wore no clothes but had rough, almost burned looking skin that glistened in the moonlight. I didn’t know what it was, but I turned to:

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James’s Note: And here we meet Ollie. I adore him, and his inspiration is a combination of Tom Bombadil and and a character from a Stephen King movie called the Mist, where in a guy named Ollie was a funny looking store clerk who was secretly a badass and also the only guy in the movie with common sense.

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I sometimes forget just how freaking fast werewolves are. I barely had time to register what was going on before Damien had crossed the room and made to grab Ollie by the collar. The only thing more impressive than his lunge, was the speed at which Ollie rocked his enormous revolver out of its holster and moved back into a firing stance, giving himself some room. Damian was staring down the barrel of the ridiculous firearm before he had time to blink.

“Alright Fido”, Ollie said with a deadly sternness that hadn’t been in his voice before. “Let me explain a few things to you. One, this is a 500 S&W Magnum loaded with silver frangible slugs. Not only will it blow a hole in you that you could paddle a canoe through, you don’t even want to think about what all that pulverized silver would do to your bloodstream. Two, I don’t belong to your pack or anyone else’s. Fuck with me and I’ll deal with you like I would any street punk.

Damien actually staggered back, shocked and uncomprehending. “You would dare pull a silver weapon on another werewolf? What kind of a dishonorable coward are you?”

  “The kind that doesn’t take your shit or play your games. I know werewolves are supposed to settle things with fists and fangs, but that ain’t me. I don’t belong to a pack, and I don’t play politics. You leave me alone, I leave you alone. Try to treat me like one of your bitches, and your pack will be able to bury you in a coffee can.”

  You could practically see the calculus being done in Damien’s head.  He was obviously dumbfounded. However, he was also smart enough not to pick a fight he had no hope of winning. Even though Ollie didn’t look like much, between the werewolf reflexes, and the impressive chunk of hardware, Damien must have decided that the funny-looking little man could make good on his threat of a .50 caliber decapitation. Damien stormed out of the room, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, muttering something to me about how he’d be waiting in the car.

You couldn’t have knocked the grin off my face with a sledgehammer. “Ollie, have I ever told you how much I love you?”

  Ollie holstered his gun and hopped up on the counter beside me. It was quite a hop for his short little legs. “Yeah you have, and to be honest I think it makes my wife a little jealous. So, did you need something from me, or did you just stop by to have my wife feel you up?”

I would love to say that I grinned lecherously and made some kind of smart-ass comment. I would love to, but no. What I did was blush like a twelve-year-old and quickly changed the subject.

“Um, okay, actually I was hoping to talk to you. For one thing, I’m going to be going back up against this loup-garou, and I would really like to have something that will get his attention without killing me.”

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10
Part 11    Part 12    Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17     Part 18     Part 19
Part 20     Part 21    

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Sharon’s Note: I’m currently working on a novel (in the purgatory of editing) starring Addie. I became curious about what she was like as a child. It’s been fun to delve into, so I thought I’d share some of her adventures. Warning: Author showing her love of guardian monsters.

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The sun was nearly set, and that was the best time to play. The playground was empty, it being too late for most children to be out. Addie was playing on the swings. 

Her house could have a swing set. Her house had most things, including a pool, a small  movie theater, and a ball pit. She’d never asked for a swing set, because then she wouldn’t have an excuse to go to the park. 

Ink would usually have taken her. He took care of her schooling and kept her entertained. Unfortunately he had a date and would be out of the house until early morning. There hadn’t really been anyone else to ask, since none of her usual tutors were at home and her parents didn’t ever want to take her anywhere. So, it was just her and Buggie.

Most people thought people that Buggie was imaginary. Addie’s parent’s didn’t like him very much and her dad got mad if she even mentioned him or any of her other friends. Ink said that she should just stop talking about her friends and definitely not mention them in school anymore. It made her sad.   

Two older boys were approaching the playground. Addie watched them curiously. They had to at least be in high school, far too old to be on the playground. At first they loitered around the jungle gym, only occasionally pausing to glare at the little girl on the swing. She unabashedly watched them. After about twenty minutes, they walked towards her, and Addie stopped swinging out of curiosity. 

“Hey, girl, are you lost or something?” The taller of the two boys talked to her first, his hands jammed firmly in his pockets while he bent over a little to be closer to her face.

“Nope.” Addie said, and started swinging again. The shorter boy had to move out of the way to avoid being kicked.

“Hey, watch it.” He grumbled with a sour frown.

“Don’t stand in front of a swing, then.” She shooed them with a wave of her hand like her mother did to her all the time. 

“It’s late.” The tall boy grumbled. “Little kids shouldn’t be out alone. Go home.”

“Not out alone.” Addie kept swinging.

“We don’t count. We’re strangers.” The short boy lunged forward and grabbed the chains to stop the swing, spilling Addie onto the sand below. “Go home!”

The little girl’s eyes started to tear up and her lip trembled. “That hurt!”

“Then run home and cry to your mommy!” The shorter boy shouted in her face.

“Jesus, Mike. Leave the kid alone.” The tall boy took a few steps back, distancing himself from his angry friend. 

“Go home!” He shouted at the little girl again. 

From the woods next to the park there was a great crash like a tree was falling. Both boys jumped, scanning the treeline.

“What the hell was that?” Asked Mike.

“That was a warning from Buggie.” Addie sniffed while she pushed herself to her feet. “You better leave me alone.”

“Who’s Buggie?” The taller boy asked, eyes darting back and forth between the woods and the girl.

“My friend and bodyguard.” She crossed her arms smuggly. “Maybe you should go home.”

“Mike,” The taller boy said, tone plaintive.

“Shove it, Troy. A tree just fell or something. She doesn’t have a bodyguard. She’s just a brat who’s trying to scare us off. What kind of name is Buggie anyway?” Mike scoffed. 

“Whatever man. I’m not into messing with little kids. I’m out of here.” Troy shook his head, jammed his hands in his pocket and started walking away. 

Mike swore at his friend as he walked away, then turned back to Addie, who was grinning at him like a cheshire cat. It made him hesitate. “What are you smiling about?”

“Buggie Man.” She giggled.

“What?”

“Buggie’s short for Buggie Man.” Addie looked over at the trees, and the boy followed her gaze. A tall, figure stepped out of the woods. It was large and wreathed in fluttering, ragged shadows that mostly obscured it’s form, but there was no missing the glowing red eyes. 

“Boogie Man.” The boy whispered, and turned on his heel to run after his friend. 

The shadowy figure crossed the park to stand next to Addie. She grabbed one of his long talons and swung it back and forth while staring up at him with an adoring smile. 

“It is late.” He rumbled. “We should head back.”

“Five more minutes?” Addie bounced on her heels while she pleaded.

Buggie sighed. “Fine. Five more minutes.”

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James’s Note: Make sure when you pick your path to hit the vote button to make it count.

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Over the next few days, you agonize over what to do. You hesitate to leave the safety of the college, but things are starting to get worse here.

The rations you’re given are getting smaller and smaller. You make friends with one of the National Guard soldiers and he tells you things are worse than you know. They’re not getting orders from outside anymore. He doesn’t know whether that’s because they’re not coming, or because the Commanders here are disregarding them.

As the two of you talk, he lets slip that several of the soldiers are planning on deserting. According to him, they decided they didn’t sign up for this. Their few weeks of training didn’t prepare them for this and the actions of those in charge of this facility are starting to scare the crap out of them.

He says you can’t come with them, but they will be staging a huge distraction. Since the two of you have bonded, he tells you when it’s going to be.

Considering fleeing on foot to be tantamount to suicide, you make your plan to get your Jeep back. Besides, your dad loved that Jeep. The day before the planned distraction, your friend manages to get the keys back to you. He says he’s sorry you can’t come with them.

Saturday, at midnight, all hell breaks loose, just like he said it would. You hear people yelling about a fire in the agricultural wing, in addition to what sound like a hundred other little emergencies.

You sneaked out to the lot where they keep the vehicles. When you see the familiar side of your Jeep, it’s like being reunited with an old friend. You’re surprised by the fact no one appears to be guarding it, until you see the dead soldier lying by an old pickup truck.

Apparently this was not an entirely bloodless operation. You try to get a hold of yourself and not think too much about the gaping knife wound in his throat. 

As you crouch down to take a look, you see that his rifle slid under the truck. You scoop it up and check it just like your dad taught you. It still has a full magazine.

You load into your Jeep and are pleasantly surprised most of your supplies are still there. You think someone had been keeping this as their own personal stash.

You had for the East Gate, and find it already broken down. You drive by the bodies of two more guards and out into the dark Texas night. Off to the east, you see the fading tail lights of what you can only assume is the deserting soldiers Humvee.

You put distance between yourself in the college, debating your next move.

Click Here To Read More of Our Stories

1. The Apocalypse We Chose
          2. Go for the Jeep
          3. Head for the Deer Camp
          4. Approach with Caution, Gun Ready
          5. Take the Fight to the Woods
          6. Loot the Dead

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Sharon’s Note: You chose to stay in the house your realtor chose for you. Let’s see how this works out. Make sure to hit the vote button after you select your choice so your vote counts!

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“Everything looks ok. I guess I’ll stay here for now.” I sighed.

“Excellent!” The realtor gushed. “If there are any problems, Ms. Dantas, the landlady, lives right next door.”

“Is her first name Lorena?” I picked up the note on the bed again.

“Yes! Such a lovely woman. Now good luck dear. If you still want to move into the apartment at the end of the month, please give me a call. Bye bye.” Before I could say anything, she hung up. I frowned at the phone. I’d think I’d need to get a different realtor, but she was the only one in town. Oh well.

I grabbed my overnight bag from the car and left the rest for the morning. Taking advantage of the land lady’s welcoming gesture, I climbed into the bed with the plate of cookies and a bottle of water left over from my road trip. That was dinner.

The cookies were delicious, and I ate them while watching videos on my phone. To my shame, I ate most of the plate before taking them down to the fridge. The three remaining cookies would be breakfast, then I would have to go shopping in town. It wasn’t that late, but I was tired and still a little road drunk. 

I wasn’t aware of falling asleep, but the crash from downstairs woke me up. The noise was almost melodic, the telltale sounds of breaking ceramic. I shot up in bed, the phone tumbling from my chest. It bounced off the bed and onto the floor, thankfully landing on its back. The screen lit up with my screen saver and the time, and even that small amount of light was enough to see by in the pitch darkness.

I froze, listening to see if I could hear anything else. Nothing. Something could have just fallen, but I wasn’t sure what it could be. There wasn’t a lot in the little house to fall. Was there someone else here? Anyone could have a key, a past tenant, my too cheerful realtor, and my landlady definitely did. It also could have been a dream. The silence was so absolute it had a weight to it. It didn’t sound like there was someone here, and as quiet as it was, I should have heard them. 

I swallowed hard and leaned over to pick up the phone before I:

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Sharon’s Note: I am so excited to see if you guys like this. If the Multiple Choice Story format works out, I would love to do more of them. Anywho, enjoy exploring the creepy town of Little Haven with Lizzie. Warning: Behind some doors is (bum bum bum bum) certain death! Ooooooh!

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New job, new apartment, new life. A fresh start. I could be anyone I wanted and no one needed to know who I used to be. This was my mantra as I drove into town. It was a nice enough looking town. Most small towns you drove through looked like they were either dying or matasticising, filled up with closed store fronts or over stuffed with new, chain businesses. This town looked like it was frozen in the sixties. A couple of the more prolific chains had wormed their way in, but most of the businesses looked local. 

I found the address for my new apartment, and was confused. It wasn’t an apartment, but some kind of duplex. I’d only seen pictures of the inside of the apartment because I’d rented it through a realtor. I called her to ask what was going on.

“Oh yeah, Lizzie, honey. Sorry about the mix up. I thought I called you about it. Silly me, guess I forgot.” She giggled. I really hated when she did that. It was weird. “There was a misunderstanding over the apartment. You can’t move in until next week, but not to worry! I found you this cozy little place to stay for the same price. If you don’t like it, you can move into the apartment at the end of the month.”

“This isn’t what we agreed to.” 

“No, but there’s nothing I can do about it until next week. It’s the duplex, or a hotel for a week. Take a look at the house.” The realtor urged. “It’s the right hand door, the key is in one of those keypad locks. The code is 1234. If you don’t like the place, let me know, and I’ll make you a reservation at the local hotel.”

“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll take a look.”

I hung up and got out of the car, leaving my boxes inside. The duplex house didn’t look particularly welcoming. It was a narrow, two story buiding with dark green siding and a dark gray roof. Someone was watching me from the upstairs window of the left hand unit, but the setting sun was reflected in the window, and I couldn’t see them clearly. I ignored my observer and pushed on to check out my possible new home. 

The front door opened onto a little hallway. I flicked the light switch a couple of times, but nothing happened. I sighed again, and pulled out my phone. The flashlight revealed dark wallpaper in the hall. There was an archway to my right and stairs straight ahead. I peered through the arch to see a neat little living room. I flicked the light on, and this time it flickered to life. I explored the bottom floor, which had a tiny kitchen and a tiny laundry room and an almost too small to use half bath. It was nicer than the tiny apartment that I had been promised, and that made me wonder what was wrong with it that it was the same price. 

As if on cue, there was a soft clunck from upstairs. I frowned at the ceiling. It was probably rats in the walls or something like that. I went upstairs and found a nice sized full bath, a large closet, and a bedroom the same size as the livingroom. On the bed was a large plate of chocolate chip cookies with a note. In pretty cursive was written:

Welcome you to my lovely house. I hope you will find happiness here and that we may become good friends. Please my enjoy these cookies, and I hope to greet you tomorrow. – Lorena

I picked up one of the cookies. They were still warm. Something caught my eye, and I looked at the window. My breath hitched as a face peered in through the dark glass at me, then in a flash it was gone. I ran up and opened the window. It swung out into the dusk and I saw there was no one there. There wasn’t even a way from someone to stand outside the window. It must have just been my reflextion. 

I set the cookie down and called my realtor. When she answered I told her:

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James’s Note: This is going to be a Multiple Choice Story. Vote on the choices at the bottom to decide what out hero should do next. Choose a path, and try to survive the end of the world.

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You were in the middle of a sociology lecture at Texas A&M when the world ended. Or at least, when it started to end.

First the news talked about a pandemic, then they were talking about rioting, then martial law was being declared everywhere.

At first experts were claiming it was just some kind of bacterial infection, then they were calling it an exotic strain of rabies. When the videos of the infected cities started leaking, the truth became apparent.

The people dying from this disease weren’t staying dead.

Before the news stopped coming, there had been talk of this all being linked to a new treatment for antibiotic resistant bacterial infection. As it turned out, injecting people with a mutated bacteria-phage virus was a bad idea.

We started calling it the Phage.

Some of the students managed to leave before the National Guard came and locked down the school. 

You didn’t.

Before they cut off communication, you tried calling your dad. He raised you alone  after your mother died, and you were his whole world. There was no answer on his home or cell phone, and you prayed that didn’t mean what you were pretty sure it had to mean.

After all, at this point there were more people dead than alive.

Before you could try anyone else, they confiscated the phones and cut off all communication with the outside world.

Barbed wire, chain link, and concrete barriers went up around the school turning it into a fortress. Soldiers in watchtowers shot down any of the infected that came within range. Men in hazmat suits carted the body’s to the incinerator. 

Judging by the professional looking men in scrubs and lab coats coming in, you think they may be using the school’s lab to do some kind of research.

Space is limited and food is strictly rationed. Your dorm that was barely big enough for you and your roommate now houses two extra people sleeping on the floor in sleeping bags.

You’ve gotten sick of MREs.

When you told them you wanted access to your Jeep, they laughed at you. You were told everything had been confiscated. That made your  stomach sink.

Your dad had made sure you had everything you needed in that Jeep. There was a Get Home bag with plenty of supplies for you to make it from the school back to your Dad’s place. You just bet these bastards took everything.

You’re pretty sure your jeep is still in one of the back lots that they seem to be using as a motor pool.

You did talk to one of the soldiers, who seemed nice. Or maybe he just liked you. After some convincing, he finally brought you some of your personal effects from the Jeep. Aside from some of your school things, the main thing you got was your documentation folder.

Your dad always insisted you keep this in the Jeep. It had bank info, insurance, telephone numbers, everything you could need in an emergency.

You started going through it, and came to a letter your dad had typed up and slid in the back.

“If you’re  reading this, I hope it’s not because something bad has happened. If it is, though, you know what to do. If you can get ahold of me, that means I’m probably still at home. If it’s really bad, or you can’t contact me, head for the deer camp in Arkansas. That’s our Rendezvous point. You’ve got everything you need in the Jeep to make it that far, especially if you fill up the extra gas cans. 

We have plenty of everything we need up there. Your uncle Elijah’s family knows to head that way too. If you haven’t heard from me, I’ll meet you there.

Just remember everything I taught you. You are tough and smart and I know you can do this. I love you more than the world, and no matter what happens, we’ll make it through this together.

Look at me getting all emotional, and you’re probably just flipping through this for insurance info cause you wrecked the jeep. Don’t wreck the jeep.

Love you, kiddo,

Dad”

You wipe the tears out of your eyes and set down the note. You know you have to do something.

Click Here To Read More of Our Stories

1. The Apocalypse We Chose
          2. Go for the Jeep
          3. Head for the Deer Camp
          4. Approach with Caution, Gun Ready
          5. Take the Fight to the Woods
          6. Loot the Dead

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Sharon’s Note: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You don’t know other people’s pain. Don’t assume they aren’t hurting just because you can’t see it. More than that, though, don’t let your own pain effect how you treat other people. Projecting doesn’t actually help, I promise. Be kind. Warning: Author isn’t getting down off her soap box any time soon.

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Frank’s admission stunned me. I almost stopped him to apologize but he was already gone, turned down another hallway. Wordlessly, Seth turned his chair around again and lead the way to the break room. I pushed away from the wall. For once was thankful that I couldn’t spare any thoughts for my shortcomings as a human being because as tired as my legs were, I had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping on my own toes or my knees giving out. 

Neither Seth nor I spoke as we transversed the halls to the small kitchen that stood as the break room. I tossed the bag with my lunch into the refrigerator and fell into one of the metal folding chairs that were placed around the folding card table that was pushed against one wall. Sitting, I was shorter than Seth. There went my only advantage when dealing with my mentor. While I was totally expecting the chewing out I was about to receive, I was in no way ready for it. 

“So, what was that?” Seth asked. Damn him, he was using the disappointed dad voice. 

I helplessly threw up my hands. “I don’t know. He was running his mouth and I lost my temper.”

“Was he actually?” Seth quirked an eyebrow.

I drooped, putting my elbows on my knees while I put my head in my hands. This made me acutely aware of the different textures of my cheeks, the normal smooth texture of my right cheek and the wrinkled mass of my left. It didn’t do anything for my mood. 

Wincing, I straightened up again. “He’s been cleared for duty, but he’s sitting there whining about his arm. Here. At Hearth. Half the people here are permanently disabled much worse than him. The other half are in recovery from injuries in the field before shipping out again. He should be in the latter category.”

Nose wrinkled in distaste, Seth said, “Working home base in not an exclusive club, Joy.”

“I know.” I grumbled. “Just the way he said it, it got to me.”

“Frank is annoying and he says things without thinking. So what? Apparently, so do you.” When I winced again and looked at the ground, Seth sighed. “Yeah, the doctors signed off that Frank is physically battle ready. That doesn’t mean he is battle ready. He needs more time to get his head straight. Eventually, he may be ready to go back out, or he may not. Everyone is different. Besides, you’ve been in the field. Would you want someone on your team who didn’t have their head in the game?”

“No.” I mumbled, sounding like a petulant child even to my own ears. I realized I had hunched in on myself, arms crossed. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to straighten up and put my arms at my side. “I know. I get it. It was a stupid, mean thing to say and I didn’t mean it. It’s just . . . I thought he was leaving, and . . . I was jealous.”

Nodding in agreement and sympathy, Seth said, “It’s not that I don’t get it. I’d give near anything to have a working spine and knock twenty years off to be a young man again. If I was in Frank’s position, I would be out there in a heartbeat, leading a team. Frank isn’t me though, and I don’t expect him to be.”

I had to hide a smile. It would take more than twenty years off to make Seth a young man again, but no way would I say that out loud. I wanted to live. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’ll apologize to Frank later, ok?”

Hard Hunting
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