Chapter Six: "Slice of Life"
I had forgotten what peace was like. Down here – god knows how far beneath the Earth's surface, isolated from the outside world and deaf to it's plight – it's easy to get nice and lazy. Over the past week since Zoey and I returned from Beckley, we've gotten used to this life. Oh sure, the occasional Infected pokes at our defense – and we've had one major attack that the Revenants and Immune banded together to repel – but on the whole, life in Quarantine Zone Theta is a lot like what I imagine life to have been like before the infection. People sleep soundly in their beds, both eyes closed as they dream of happiness in all of it's forms. They wake in the morning to a warm breakfast and the smiling visages of their families. They go about their daily life, smiling and stupid, all the while completely assured that tomorrow will come, and deliver the same definites.
Zoey and I, for our parts in this normality, have been enjoying the company of Bill, Louis and Francis with increasing frequency. Yes. Enjoying Francis' company. Imagine my shock when I realized he wasn't such a bad guy, just a little rough. All jokes aside, we've been seriously considering what we're going to do with our lives. Francis, of course, jumped at the offer he was given to join the Quarantine Zone's standing guard – a rather interesting group of individuals that call themselves 'The Cure' – which Zoey and I have gotten more then one laugh out of, musing idly that it sounds like the name of a band – just so he can keep shooting Infected to his little heart's content. That kind of aggressive passiveness is nice, in some people I suppose. Sure, he's not a very personable guy to talk to, unless you really, really try and push through it... but when it comes to killing zombies, no one in our little group does it better.
Louis has been helping some of the less sciency types with number-crunching. Guy's got a head for numbers like I've never seen, able to add, subtract, multiply and even divide in his head – lightning quick, too. Doctor Ballenfield's even asked him to help him crunch numbers a few times, and each time he does, Jake always tells him how much time he's saved him. I don't think Doctor Ballenfield really has a good grasp of math... which is shocking giving that most scientific fields are math-based... aren't they? Regardless, I'm glad that everyone's finding their little niche to occupy their time.
Speaking of everyone finding a niche, Bill has – perhaps – found the most important niche of all. When he discovered that Agatha – the nice lady who always lets people into the Quarantine Zone – the current captain of the Quarantine Zone's defense force mind you, has never even fired a gun before. Bill was shocked! And rightfully so. In the middle of a zombie attack is not when you want to be trying to figure out which end of the tube goes bang. So, Bill took up the mantle of resident trainer, teaching all the gunshy, the incompetent and the inept how to actually use the thing they were supposed to use to protect everyone. Thankfully for them, he's not gone full drill sergeant yet. And Zoey? You may be asking what Zoey's been doing this whole time? Well... that's a funny little story that started middle of the week.
Zoey had just stepped out to do a little looking around the Quarantine Zone – we'd been eating at the same place since we got here, so she figured she'd take a look around and see what the place had to offer. Meanwhile, I decided to stay in... because I needed to have a serious conversation with myself and a second. I walked into the bathroom, and put my hands on the mirror, staring at my own reflection, trying to find answers in my own black-and-red eyes. Slowly inhaling, I composed myself. It's been a debate I've been having for a while now, and it's been bothering me. I needed answers.
Knock, knock. Two quick, curt knocks thundered through the door to the Corkscrew (I head learned that's it's actual, official name. Who knew?). "Come in." I told the person on the other side. There came the sound of the door opening, two feet – light and nearly inaudible – stepped inside before the door was shut quickly. "I'm in the bathroom, be out in a sec. Take a seat."
"Very well." It was Jake who answered, his tone still carrying that sense of aloof nonchalance that it often did, but the matter I had to bring to his attention today was anything but. After calming myself in the mirror, I walked out to him sitting rather stoically in a chair. "Well, I have to say this is a surprise, Emma. You don't often summon me. What can I be of assistance with today?"
"I had questions." I began simply, pulling another chair towards him, dipping myself into it's seat. "Questions that if you didn't have answers to... no one would."
"Ah. Serious questions." I nodded. "Very good, how can I assist?" He tented his hands before him, elbows braced on the chair's arms.
"It's about the FEV." A curt nod from him prompted me to continue. "It's a question I've had for a while... and I don't know if it's even something you can answer but... Does the FEV affect any... social behavior of the host?" He blinked a scarce three times before leaning back in his seat.
"'Social behaviors' like what? Schedule? Routine? Food preferences?" I tried to put this in a way that wouldn't betray what I was really asking.
"Anything that might make someone who they are..." He paused, finger paused over his pursed lips as he thought.
"That really depends." He started. "If you're asking if the FEV will effect your... coffee preference, or whether or not you sleep in on Sunday mornings, no, it should not. The FEV was designed to affect a person at the genetic level. It was designed simply to effect the gene we believed to be associated with aggression. Even in it's mutated state, the FEV is still just that – a genetic alteration. Any aspect of your life that cannot be chocked up to your genetic make up, I highly doubt the FEV would or even could change." He paused, his head-gears turning once more. "Now-" He cut in. "That's not to say it won't."
"What do you mean, you just got done saying it won't-"
"I got finished saying it 'shouldn't'. As any scientist will tell you, Emma, 'shouldn't' and 'won't' are two completely seperate situations... one of which we scientists do not even acknowledge. There is always the chance, of course, however slim. Now... if you're asking if the FEV could effect something like a person's... music tastes or perhaps your... sexual preference, then there is a chance. A chance – again – that all depends on how you view such things. Let's use sexual preference as an example, it's a bit easier to explain with this example..." He paused, putting his thoughts in line. "If you believe the common indoctrination of the church... then no, the FEV cannot turn a gay man straight or vice versa. This is because homosexuality is an act of a 'higher power', the devil attempting to control you... if you believe such nonsense. If this is true, then no, the FEV is unable to effect such a change on you, because it is not a genetic alteration." He paused once more as this set in. "However, if you were to believe that homosexuality is a choice as so many do, then once again, no. The FEV cannot wholly re-wire your brain so dramatically or it would risk completely breaking your psyche." He took a breath before continuing. "However... there is one situation I can think of that the FEV can... and most certainly will... effect you for that. Let's say that... before the infection, you were plagued by homosexual thoughts and images... maybe you've been secretely bisexual your whole life, and in order to try to stay 'normal', you suppressed those thoughts. Now... you contract the FEV... I have confirmed that Michael did include a portion of the FEV to lower a person's... willingness to really care about the thoughts and actions of others. I'm still not entirely sure why this particular mutation was added but... it was. Now, with this revelation, those thoughts begin to take more hold of your mind... you begin to notice them more and more... sooner or later, they control you. Are you homosexual? Maybe not... but your brain will make you think you are."
I took it all in, his words swirling around in my head. "Interesting..." I droned, lost in my own thoughts.
"Did I help or... only confuse you more..."
"Helped... a little. It's almost scary... you managed to peg my problem from the get go." He grinned a little, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Weeeeelll, less of a guess and more I've been watching Zoey... and there isn't a lot in the world that could resist that adorable face of hers."
"'Watching her'?"
"Yeah, how she looks at you. I've learned to tell a lot about people just by looking at them. It's the eyes, you see... they tell a lot about the person who owns them, but only if you know what you're looking for. First off, she spends a lot of time with you, that much I don't have to tell you. You probably haven't really thought a whole lot about it... 'I'm the first woman she's had much contact with', 'I saved her life, she probably feels obligated'... thoughts like that, you know. I've caught her – multiple times – stopping herself from taking your hand. When you're with her, and we're talking... your attention is on me, but mine is on both of you. How she looks at you when she doesn't know I can see..."
"How bad?" I cracked an awkward smile.
"Uhm... I've seen starving men look at food with less leering?" He paused as I took this all in. "Tell me truthfully, Emma... what brought this on? Shit, if there was a woman as cute as Zoey fawning over me, I'd be all over her."
"It's... complicated." I answered. "We got to talking night before we left for Beckley... about my past. I... remembered something." I launched right into the description before he could talk. "It wasn't much, a-a flash at best... but it was a man, looking at me. I was in an airport... I... think we talked...?" Jake looked amued.
"So, you're memory's coming back, huh?"
"Slowly... I've not managed to remember anything aside from that man and the airport."
"Well, that's an improvement regardless." He stood. "Do you want me to be brutally honest, Emma?" I nodded to him, looking up. "Forget about this other guy. He's probably not even alive anymore. He's a 'maybe' at best. If you want my honest advice, stay with Zoey. She's kind, sweet, and she's a survivor. She's a keeper." I thought on his words, and as much as the Francis in me wanted to believe he was only saying this out of some sick fetish of his... but his words sounded so genuine so... sad... "Anyhow. If there's nothing else you need, I'm afraid I must be heading back to my lab. This thing won't science itself."
"Right... of course. Thank you, Doctor."
"Hey..." He saluted as he started for the door. "What are friends for?" He flourished his coat with a flick of his wrists, the duct tape wrapped about his upper arms and legs crinkling and diffusing light. He showed himself out and left me to my own devices... which, if I'm being honest, was the last thing I really wanted right now. Having spent so much time around Bill, Louis, Francis and Zoey... I've kind of gotten used to having people around. It was... comforting. As I let my thoughts wander – to Zoey, to the Infection, to my past and what I don't know of it – I began to think... really think... if I even wanted to know who I was to begin with. It was a 'lesser of two evils' kind of deal. On one hand, I could fight tooth and claw to figure out who I was, who had turned into Emma Windsor... struggle and thrash to get my memories back... but what if they came back, and I didn't like who I was? What if I was more of a monster before my change? Then again... I didn't want to exactly give up on who I was... what I had. What did I have? Who did I have? How could I just give up all that potential?
I sat on the bed and put my head in my hands, my brain throbbing from the exertion of struggling with this dilemma. I'd – of course – ask Zoey her opinion, but half of me believes she'd just tell me to forget about who I was, to spend the rest of my life with her... and I don't hate the thought... far from it. But... I needed a completely unbiased opinion. Filled with a renewed determination, I got to my feet and threw open the door, and headed to the one place I knew he would be.
The music in this bar is shit. Some kind of Nu-Wave Rock from just before the Infection... but it's absolute garbage. It sounds like someone threw a metal shards into a fucking blender, and turned it on in front of a microphone... I pushed through the crowd of humans and Revenants – oddly enough a pretty even mix – towards a back table where a familiar silhouette sat, his arms decorated in a curtain of tattooes. "Francis." I spoke when I got close, my voice just barely audible to even myself. Though, he seemed to hear me just fine, the tattooed biker turning to look at me, two empty bottles lying on the table with a third in his hand.
"Emma? Shit, what brings you to this cesspool?" He offered me a seat. Truth be told, so far he's proving to be ten times more considerate while intoxicated. "Have a seat, can I get you a drink?"
"Yeah... I think I need a beer." Francis turned to the burly man behind the bar. This wasn't normal burly... this man had upper arms about as thick as tree-trunks and a chest that looked like it was ripped out of a testosterone-fueled comic drawn by a man who had just snorting a line of protein powder. "Hey, Johnny! Could I get another for my friend."
"Comin' right up, man." He spoke, his sunglasses slipping a bit further down his face, the man's two-by-four fingers pushing it up gently, his blonde pompadour swaying gently in the stiff breeze coming from the A/C duct above him.
"So... what's up, Emma? Aren't you and Zoey usually... I dunno... doin' each other's hair and nails, or something?" The smile on his face told me he really had no idea what girls do when they're left alone – he wasn't the only one – and was making light conversation.
"Zoey went out shopping, and I had some serious thinking to do... so I stayed back."
"Ah." He grunted. "Serious thinking about serious things, I take it?" A nod from me confirmed this. "And you come to me for help with these things?"
"Not so much help... as an opinion."
"Well, hell! Why didn't you say so! I'm good at givin' my opinion." I could tell. The beefstick bartender lumbered over to us, a bottle of beer clenched between his fingers – oddly looking like a man holding a toothpick with his whole hand.
"One beer... for a pretty lady!" He struck a pose that – on a normal-sized man – could have been a flex. "If you need anything else, just call for me."
"Thank you." I smiled to him, barely able to see his sapphire eyes. He started back towards the bar. I heard him shout through a door for a man named Carl. Shaking the scene off, I turned back to Francis. "I don't suppose you could-" I looked ruefully to the cap on the bottle.
"Yeah, sure. Here..." He took the bottle from me – a 'thanks' coming as he did – and deftly twisted the cap off, pocketing it.
"Appreciate it." Wrapping my fingers carefully around the glass, I lifted it to my lips and took a drink of the bitter amber liquid. "Ugh... forgot how this tasted."
"Yeah, it'll get better, though. So... what's on your mind, Emma? What's so important you'd trust it only to me?" This was definitely sarcastic, but I pushed on.
"Let's say you're in my position. You woke up in a strange place, in a strange body, with no memory of who you used to be."
"Mkay." He nodded.
"And... you were given the choice between either fighting for what you had... trying to remember who you were – all the good and bad things that come with it - ; or accepting what you are, and forgetting everything about who you were permanently, if you were offered something good..." He looked like he was seriously considering the question.
"Stumper that right there..." He mused. "I don't really know if I'm qualified to answer that question... I'm no Revenant..."
"I don't need a Revenant's point of view, Francis... if I did, I would have gone to a Revenant. I need the opinion of someone who knows as much about me as I do. I need the opinion of a person who's currently in my same mindset about the whole thing. I need your opinion, Francis. What would Francis Caulter do if he were in my position?" He scratched the growing stubble on his chin – it never grows, I swear... maybe he keeps it short? I dunno... - and thought long and hard about what I had said.
"Still a tricky question..." This didn't sound like a dismissal. "If I were you... I'd seriously take stock in what you know now. Is this 'good thing' you've been offered really better then whatever you may have had? You also have to take into consideration things like... you may look a lot different then you used to... would anyone from your past really recognize you? And if they don't... they've already accepted your death. Telling them you're alive might just bring them more pain." He was being uncharacteristically gentle in his words. "What it boils down to, Emma... is you need to really put all your cards on the table, and make a decision from that. I wouldn't wait, if I were you. The longer you go, the more you know... the harder the decision is to make."
"Mm... okay but... just do me a favor?" He grunted to me as I let another huge slug of beer enter my stomach, fighting my gag reflex. "Tell me... if you were in my position, and had to make a choice... what choice would you choose?"
"I am now, and will always be an 'evil that you know' kind of guy. I would abandon whoever I was, and be who I am now. After all... we already know you well enough, right?" He took a drink. "But that's just my humble opinion." Finishing my beer, I smiled to him.
"Thanks, Francis. You may not believe me, but you helped."
"Hey, anytime." He nudged his bottle towards me with a quick flick of his wrist. "What are friends for, right?" I smiled and laughed a little, nodding to him.
"Yeah. I agree. Thanks again." I slid out of the booth and started to leave.
"Hey... if you ever have a need to get shit-faced drunk... come see me. I'm always up for a beer." With a nod to the biker, I started to gently motion my way out, placing my hand on people's backs and muttering 'excuse me's as I started out.
Despite Francis' words, and no matter how much I was starting to agree with them, this was not a decision to be made quickly, or without any kind of thought. My heart wouldn't let me. I couldn't just jump to a snap decision just like that, without any thought. I would need time...
…
And probably an experiment. But now? Now I needed a rest. I trudged back up the Corkscrew from Bedrock, back to my room. I was tired – not just the physical fatigue that came from the fact that I'd had an absolute shit sleep schedule recently, but also mentally fatigued from all this thinking I've been doing, and will have to keep doing. Opening the door that would herald solace from the day's fatigues, I was greeted by the sweet, dulcet tones of music filling the room.
"The radio still works?" I muttered.
"Oh! Emma! You're back! You wouldn't believe what I found out today! Quarantine Zone Theta has their own radio station! Listen!" It was a classical station, the beautiful sounds of violins and pianos coming from a small radio on the table between our beds. I closed my eyes and let the sound of the music fill me. It was pleasing.
"It's pretty." I smiled back to her.
"I'm so happy I found out! They gave me this free radio, too! Oh, and here's me thinking I would never hear music again..." She was just bubbling with joy at the fact. Suddenly, she looked at me, and her face turned rather bland. "Emma, what's wrong? You look down..."
"I'm tired... been doing a lot of thinking today and it's... playing havoc on my stress and energy levels." I offered her a weak smile. "I'm fine otherwise, promise."
"Mm? What'cha thinkin' about?" She continued to pry. I laughed at this – half sarcastically half genuinely. "What?"
"A lot is on my mind right now."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Not...a question I wanted her to ask, but there it was.
"One thing... maybe, if you're game."
"Sure! How can I help you, my lady?" She flourished a bow.
"I want to try an experiement... but you have to understand that... as of right now, it doesn't mean anything, okay?" Her face scrunched up in that way it does when you're trying to understand something, but just not quite getting it.
"I don't understand but... okay." I gave a little motion to the bed.
"Have a seat, and close your eyes." She plopped herself down – looking a bit like a kid on a sugar high – and settled herself, folding her hands in her lap and waiting. I floundered for a second, thinking if this is really something I wanted to do. This may not be what I necessarily want to do... but god dammit, it has to be done. I can't know how right it feels if I'm too damn scared to actually do it! I chastised myself. I couldn't puss out now. I needed to just suck up my fear and do it. I took a long, deep breath in and let it out, steadying myself. With her eyes still closed, I bent my knees just enough to get my face on the same level as hers. My hand poised at the side of her head, and with a single heartbeat, I pressed my lips to hers, cupped her cheek gently in my hand. She inhaled sharply – wholly surprised by my actions – but quickly melted into my grasp. She tried to push herself into me, to give her all to my kiss.
It... was strange. Her lips were so soft, so moist. It was everything I hoped it would be... but it was also what I feared it might be. I was silently hoping deep down that I would be instantly repulsed by the fact that I'd just... up and kissed her. But I was partially relieved and infuriated to discover that... I wasn't. Exactly the opposite, I would find. I tried to pull myself away, to just... stop. But I found even that too difficult to achieve. It wasn't too much longer before my will to continue seeing this as an experiment faded... I had lied – openly and blatently – to Zoey... it did mean something to me. I went from standing to sitting beside her on the bed, her eyes shut tight to enjoy the moment as long as I would allow it to live. I let that moment live too long but... I didn't really care much for my previous experiment. I would find out a bit later, that my 'experiment' had lasted a whopping seven minutes and thirteen seconds before I finally managed to pull myself away. When our lips finally separated and our eyes opened once more, a thin, shining bead of our conjoined saliva bridged the gap between our lips... a lasting reminder of what had transpired.
"...emma..." Zoey moaned in a low tone, her gaze hazy through half-lidded eyes. My mouth hung open for a second longer, searching for what words to say to make this less awkward.
"I'm sorry..." I settled on. "I... wanted to see if I would... hate the thought of kissing another woman..." She smiled, gently pushing me onto the bed, holding onto me softly, but so tightly.
"And...?" She mused, her voice airy and breathy.
"Through the process of the scientific method... no. I don't." She giggled.
"You know what they say about the scientific method, right? One test doesn't mean the results are conclusive... you should test again..." I chuckled with the knowledge of where she wanted this to go... but I had to bow out.
"My immensely scientific brain must take a rest before further tests can be conducted... but they are scheduled." She, too, laughed at my response, stroking my cheek with tender fingers. "So... I have a question for you, my lovely?"
"Mm?" I grunted, enjoying just... lying there and doing nothing.
"Do you wanna go see a movie with me?"
"Ask not if I want to – for the answer shall always be yes – ask where we would go about seeing said movie." I responded with cold facts.
"Weeeeeeeell... there IS a movie theater at Bedrock." I blinked.
"You're shitting me." She laughed.
"No, no shitting here. There is a movie theater at Bedrock... at tonight's special is -"
"Don't you dare say Dawn of the Dead."
"Hahahaha! No, silly... it's a comedy. Zombie movies are expressly forbidden. Bad blood, or something like that. No, I thought you and I might like to go see a movie, maybe get dinner and-"
"This sounds like a date."
"If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck..."
"I'd love to."
-At That Time-
I listened again to the radio, the static making it hard to make out anything being said. Across from my, my brother looks on with a waiting glare. 'See if you can't make it out' he had told me before throwing me the headphones. So here I am, straining my ears to try to make out the voice on the airwaves. Turning my head, I cough once more.
"Any luck?" Jake asks after a moment. I shake my head and take off the headphones.
"None. Male voice, I can tell that... not military."
"Oh? More then I could make out. How can you tell it's not military?"
"Language is too informal. Voice sounds... simple."
"You mean stupid." He rebuttled, causing me to glare at him.
"Just because everyone isn't as smart as you or I, doesn't make them stupid, Jake. The voice is simple, plain as." He laughed, taking the headphones and putting one to his ear.
"No need to get defensive, Trinny. I'm mearly stating facts. Fine line between 'simple' and 'stupid', I know." He fell quiet, his attention completely on the radio. "Savannah... that's in Georgia, isn't it?" I nodded to him. "Mmm... if I'm getting this proper... they were picked up by a helicopter in Louisiana... unless you can think of another state with a city called 'Orleans'."
"One in France, yes. But not here. Most definetely, the 'New' part of that city was cut off by static."
"Mm." He nodded and grunted, as he was oft to do." He dropped the headphones.
"Do we have enough to triangulate where the signal is coming from?" He spoke to a woman behind him.
"Barely, doctor..." She responded, her eyes plastered onto her computer screen. "The signal's weak... it'll take me a few hours to get a read on it."
"Take all the time you need, my dear. If they've survived this long through the slog of Infected, a few more hours couldn't hurt."
"A lot of faith in someone you've not met."
"Faith is all we have in this day and age, Trinny. It's the least thing I can have for my fellow man." He took a deep breath, then turned back to the woman at his back. "Rachael, keep me up to date. I don't care what I'm busy with, I want to know the moment you find where the signal's coming from.
"Of course, Doctor." She nodded.
"Trinny, what's the condition of your staff? Do you have anyone available to mount a rescue?"
"I wish. Most of my security staff is in for remedial training... and most haven't left the Quarantine Zone since this whole thing started." He scratched his chin.
"What about the Witch Revenant and her friends?"
"I'm trying to not rely on those five for everything. They've already done enough, don't you think?"
"I completely agree, but we can't just leave who-knows-how many people out in the wilds. Are they immune? Revenants? Uninfected? I don't know. I'd rather wait as little as possible. We'll make a decision when the time comes closer, but if we find where they are, we can't wait for your security staff to get out of training. We'll have to move." I was forced to agree with him.
"I know, I know... if the times comes and we have to rely on the five of them again... I'll ask them myself."
"Trust me, I don't want to have to keep relying on them either... but they've seen more combat then most, and their group has a cohesiveness that would make glue jealous. They're our ace-in-the-hole, and it's something we need." He paused. "But come, it's late and I am tired. Lord knows you'll drag me to bed if I don't sleep, anyway." He patted Rachael's shoulder. "Keep up the good work, but do rest if you get tired."
"Of course." She smiled up to him. Jake really did have a way with people... I've known it ever since Black Mesa but... recently, it's just come out more and more... that infectious charm of his that just has a way of making you feel safe around him. He snatched up my hand before I could react and started to lead me out of the lab. We started up the Corkscrew towards our room – he'd decided to stay with me while he was here – slowly taking each step as we went.
"Do you ever miss it?" He spoke a moment into our trek, his tone low and almost reminiscent.
"Hm? Miss what?" I was caught off guard by the question, not really getting the reference.
"Black Mesa... more specifically, the time before the Infection."
"Of course I do." I anwered. "Who wouldn't want a time back where we-" I was interrupted by another rapacious cough. " - fhekin' cough... - sorry... who wouldn't want a time back where neither of us were monsters? Where we didn't have to live day-by-day with the knowledge that our actions may have killed humanity."
"You and I both know Micheal did that, not us."
"But we enabled him, Jake! We created the framework for his Death-Disease! We're just as liable as he is, in the grand scheme of things!"
"I know... but sometimes... telling myself it's Michael's fault is the only real way I can go on with life." He sighed, his attitude taking a dark turn. My brother was a whimsical, friendly sort. The kind of man who makes friends just by entering a room. I knew he had dark moments – we both did – especially after Aperture... but Jake seemed to take the FEV exceptionally hard. "And the days are only harder when I see Melissa's face..." He covered his face with his free hand. "Trinny... this is going to sound crazy but... I don't think she's dead." I blinked.
"Oh? Didn't her flight crash?"
"Yeah... but Emma told me something today that... got me thinking." He looked up.
"Uh oh. That's dangerous. What did she say?" The 'uh oh' was more sarcastic then anything.
"She said she... remembered something recently. A man in an airport... not much past that... couldn't remember a face or name to the man, but..."
"Coincidence." I brushed it off. "There's no way that could possibly be you."
"It all falls into line. I saw Melissa to the airport that day. I gave her that laced water bottle."
"How many people pass through an airport every day?"
"Zero." He grinned sarcastically.
"Before the infection, you asshole!" I barked playfully at his snide comment.
"Right, right..."
"The odds of Emma being Melissa are a... a... thousand to one! At best!" He paused.
"Should I tell her?"
"Dafuq kind of question is that? Hell no, you don't tell her. At least not yet."
"Right, right... I'm creepy enough as is."
"You're not creepy you're... interesting."
"Read: creepy." I scoffed, tossing his self-deprecating comment out the window.
"You..." I stopped in the middle of the hallway to give my arms and legs a much-needed stretch... which of course ended in a cough. "Fuggin'... I am so tired of coughing all the time! You'd think I've been horfing cigars my whole life."
"Heh. 'Horfing'. That's a funny word." He snatched up my hand once more and gave me that sarcastic grin. "Well, come, sister. I shall buy dinner."
"We eat for free..." I piqued an eyebrow at his comment.
"Then I shall also buy dessert!" I laughed at his antics, shaking my head. Really... it was terribly difficult to tell by looks that the two of us were twins. Jake always found a way to enjoy life, living everything this world had to the fullest; where as I preferred to take a more methodical approach to everything. I guess that's what happens when you're thrust into the working world at thirteen, and forced to watch hundreds of people die by the time you're fourteen. Christ, Jake and I have seen more then our share of death... it's a wonder either of us are still any semblance of 'sane'. I guess it's easy to keep your sanity, when the whole world is just as equally fucked as you are.