Chapter Two.
"We've got you a room-" an accented voice spoke from behind her and she jolted in her seat, jerked out her thoughts with a surprise. She spilled some of the coffee on her hand. Cursing softly, she wiped her hands together. Placing the china cup delicately on the decorative metal table, she stood to face the soldier. She'd been so lost in her thoughts, thinking about Frank, about the others and, somewhat selfishly, she thought, thinking about how happy she was to be safe, she hadn't even heard the click of the lock.
The soldier was tall, heavily armed despite being indoors and on apparent host duty and while she would have considered him handsome, he exuded cockiness, a haughty attitude. He hadn't been present at their rescue.
"Are the others OK?" she inquired, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her torso.
"Still doing the check, innit? Well. The bloke's still out at the truck. Girl won't stop bawlin', so it's gonna take a hot minute to do her check" he shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his holster, "surprised you couldn't hear her-"
"She just lost her Dad" Elizabeth reminded him, unable to keep the frown from her face. Where was the empathy? Sympathy?
"Dad? That the guy who was gettin' ready to kill her then? Red eyes, foaming at the mouth, twitchin' an all that?" he lent against the doorway, "looked kind of infected? Ring a bell? That the guy? Not to be rude an all but I'd say we did her a favor"
"Yeah. That's the guy. So she's lost her dad twice" Elizabeth told him with a genuine frown, "I'm grateful you've saved us - and I'm sure she is, too - but could you show her a bit of sympathy? She's not even sixteen-"
The soldier laughed, genuine amusement dancing across his face "Sympathy? World ain't got no room for sympathy no more love"
She looked at him with thinly veiled disgust, despite the gratitude she felt for the welcome they'd received. She was here, alive at this very moment because of basic sympathy - Frank had saved them in their desperate climb to safety. How easy would it have been for him to stay safely barricaded behind his flat? But no. He'd heard their screams of terror and come.
"How about basic humanity?" she tried, wanting to give this brash man the benefit of the doubt.
The soldier laughed again, still genuinely amused by the woman before him.
"Jesus Christ" he grinned, "it's a wonder how you made it. You seem a bit too nice, you do"
She shook her head. It was clear this conversation would take them nowhere.
"Look, you comin' in or what? Cause if you wanna chat about humanity and shit I'll just send the Serg out. He lives for preachin' that rubbish-"
She shook her head. She didn't quite want to talk about ethics and humanity, "just be nice to her?" she asked, surely this cocky soldier could produce kindness. He seemed to have a playful air about him, at least.
"Yeah yeah" he lent his back against the wall, giving her space to pass "oi, bring that coffee would ya? Didn't they tell you it's rationed?"
She duly brought it, wondering who "they" were, exactly. She'd only met the soldier who had walked her to the manor, the nurse. He'd been the one to give her a coffee, leaving her in the safety of the enclosed sun spot.
She watched as he downed the coffee in one long gulp.
"Waste not" he grinned, extending his hand to the corridor before him, "so, you a Lizzie or a Beth?"
"I'm a Liz" she told him, meeting his eyes as she passed by him and into the chilly corridor, "how about you?"
"Ain't a Liz, Lizzie or a Beth" he told her, tapping her shoulder as he passed her to take the lead. She smiled a little as she followed him.
Crass, brash but, she had to admit, he was a little comforting in his blunt ways, his Northern humor.
"So, how did you find this place?" she asked him as they walked through a service corridor and up some sturdy but old wooden steps.
"It's on a map" he replied, stating the obvious.
"Great" she replied.
They entered the large, grand lobby. Its marble floor shone brightly and while it was heavily cluttered with boxes and machines and accessories, there was an order to it. Organised chaos. She looked around. The large windows had been boarded well, leaving just enough space for thin beams of light to pass through. There was a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling and stupidly huge marble statues placed throughout the space. With the high ceilings, dark mahogany details and marble everywhere, she imagined this to be a cold, unwelcoming lobby. The soldier's clutter actually seemed to have made it more homely.
"Aren't you behind schedule, Private?" a tall, well dressed soldier asked with a raised eyebrow. He looked between her and the soldier beside her.
"Shootin' the shit wasn't we, Major" the soldier replied with a grin.
Ah. A Major.
Elizabeth resisted the ridiculous, inappropriate urge to laugh. It must have been the culmination of stress, exhaustion but her first reaction upon hearing the soldier's title was one of recognition..before she realized she had no idea what it really meant. Majors, Colonels, Privates. Ranks she'd only really glanced upon in the news in passing or heard in action movies. And here she was. Face to face with a Major. It sounded very important, anyway.
"Right. Please escort-" he waited for Elizabeth to state her name, which she duly did despite feeling certain he already knew it, "Elizabeth to her room and then report to the front line"
"Aye Aye" the soldier replied cheekily but with seriousness in his actions.
The Major nodded, glanced at Elizabeth once more, before walking away.
"Your room's got a shower, bed and a loo. All the amenities of a five star hotel, here love. We all get two showers a day but they got a timer. All of 'em do. Four minutes but the water's warm" he looked her up and down with a lascivious grin, "personally I'd do the hair first, let the suds wash down your body-"
She didn't need him thinking about her body or her in the shower, "I think I can manage a shower" she told him.
He chuckled and shrugged easily.
They had already reached the second floor, "bedroom's are spread over second and third floors" he continued as if he hadn't heard her, "when you're in your room, door's locked-" she opened her mouth to protest but he spoke over her before she could even begin "for your safety and ours. You ain't got the first clue about military ops love, so door stays locked"
"What about the others?" she asked, turning a corner with him.
"Jeeeeesus H Christ" he laughed, "You're a bloody broken record with that, you know?"
He came to a halt before a door, opening it carelessly, "this one's you. Four minute shower. Water stops and your still soapy-" he grinned widely, reminding her "you're shit outta luck"
She stepped inside and as she opened her mouth to again ask about her friends, he beat her to it, "they're fucking fine. Medical check. Bedroom. Shower. Dinner. You're all the same. Someone'll get you on the hour"
And with that, he closed the door firmly in her face.
"Charming" she muttered, hearing the lock click loudly in the tall room.
She sighed and leaned against the door. She didn't even get his name.
Sighing into the silence of her new room, she paused.
She understood why they would want to keep the door locked. After all, both her and her friends were civilians and strangers. The soldier was right: she didn't know anything about the military, how it was run or how they did things here. It was safer for her to stay away from it, lest she cause trouble. The soldiers, at least the one who had just left, seemed quite...laddish. She didn't think they'd appreciate her or her friends getting under their feet and she didn't really want to hear what they'd say if she did. Plus...she was a stranger to them. So was Jim, Selena. Hannah. For all the soldiers knew, they were sociopathic maniacs who were thriving in the brutality of the infection.
It would take time.
Trust needed time. Everyone needed to settle.
She sighed again, before taking time to look around.
Lit by candles of varying shapes and sizes, she could see the room in a soft glow.
She tilted her head. That was a thoughtful move, lighting the candles so her room was lit upon arrival.
The room was very, very beautiful. There were tall, wide windows overlooking the fortified garden, tall tables with what looked like a phone and little trinkets as well as a grand dressing table with an array of mirrors, brushes and bottles. She assumed the soldier's hadn't had much interest in the more feminine elements of the house. Perhaps Jim's assigned room would be sparser?
The bed was, as with everything else in the mansion, huge. Bigger than her old double and she thought it was perhaps even bigger even than a king. There were plush looking pillows, a thick duvet and some throws draped over it. She ran her fingers over the soft, silken throw before pulling it back a little to reveal a plump, cotton covered duvet.
A clean, warm, giant bed.
She'd never known luxury like this.
Shaking her head with a mixture of awe and sadness, she moved to the imposing wardrobes. Tentatively reaching forward, she couldn't help the huge smile that exploded across her face when she saw the huge selection of clean clothes.
Clean.
Clothes.
She never thought she'd see those again. She grabbed the nearest item, a slinky red dress and inhaled it deeply. Fresh. She grinned, momentarily forgetting the others, her sorrow, Frank. She took a step back and admired the contents. Ballgowns, dresses, sports wear and an eclectic mix of sweaters and hoodies. Had the previous owner used the different rooms as clothes storage? Had the soldiers just dumped clothes here? It was certainly a strange mix. Strange but a beautiful sight all the same. Excitement building, she knelt down to explore the wide drawers. Expecting to find shoes, she laughed in happiness when she found a big selection of bras and underwear. Only a few were true to her size but it wouldn't be much of a squeeze to wear the others and who cared if the straps dug into her shoulder a little? She was looking at clean underwear. She scooped up a simple pair of black underwear, the first bra similar to her size as well as buttery soft black yoga leggings and a grey sweater. She didn't bother to unfold the sweater, it just looked warm. Warm and clean.
Pressing the fabric close to her face and inhaling deeply once again, she couldn't believe how lucky she was.
They had found it. Salvation.
Moving by the bed, she slowly entered the bathroom. The door was already slightly ajar, and, nudging it open with the tip of her toes, she froze in delight.
The bathroom was lovely, kind of eclectic and tired but charming because of it. The few candles scattered around added to the image. It was old and sterile and white, and while there was only one each of the essentials, there was an unholy amount of makeup, hair accessories and feminine products. She supposed the soldiers didn't want or need those. Placing her clean clothes on a faded, floral cabinet, she closed the bathroom door firmly before looking at the huge bathtub.
It was a giant tub. She guessed it could fit two people comfortably. It was a brass, claw foot tub with beautifully rounded edges and copper taps. The shower curtain was surprisingly clinical, a boring, semi-sheer white and while the overall affect of the feet, taps and curtain was mismatchy...it felt comfortable. Unimposing despite its size.
And what did she know? The soldier hadn't lied.
There was a tall, copper piped shower.
An actual, working shower.
She shed the socks and medical gown, walking as if in a trance to the tub.