Thanks to my one review!--hope you like the rest!
--
Standing in the shower he let the water pour over him. One of his large hands held his balance on the wall, the other somewhere more private. He had been thinking about her and the kiss that never happened.
When he stepped out of the shower he put on his camouflage pants, his white T shirt and as he left his room he grabbed his jacket. One more patrol of the house-making sure everyone was in their beds who were supposed to be, and everyone else at their posts.
As West made his way down the stairs, he saw Sergeant Farrell was outside on the lawn-scanning the horizon as he should be. Toward the back of the house he found Clifton. Clifton was smoking but quickly threw it away when he noticed the Major.
West was pleased enough and decided to make his way back up to his room. Once upstairs, he stopped short when he noticed moonlit blue sneakers. The pair was sticking out from behind a large statue in the hallway. West moved closer. It was her.
She had her knees to her chest and her head laying on them. He knew she hadn't heard him and didn't want to startle her. He laid his weapon on a nearby table and approached her slowly. She looked up. She had been crying.
"Cant sleep?" he asked and knelt down beside her.
"Not for awhile now actually. I was hoping tonight maybe I could, but well…that room you put me in its just so big. I…" she shook her head-not wanting to continue.
"I understand." he nodded.
"It's just, well…Selena, Hannah, and Jim…they've all got each other. . I don't have anyone really. I don't fit in their group-and I'm afraid I won't fit in yours either. I'm not exactly a military soldier." she smiled sadly.
"It takes time." West said. "You said you don't fit in with their group-why is that?"
"I just met up with them not a day before we arrived here. I had been hiding in a shopping center. They stopped in for supplies…"
"…the supplies from the car?" West asked.
"Yes, they got those and me."
"Were you alone this whole time?"
Something about the way he asked, whether it was the tone of his voice or the caring look in his eyes, made her break down. He wasn't judging her. He wasn't pitying her. He was reaching out-understanding what it must have been like for her. She covered her eyes with her hands and nodded. His hand found her knee.
"Not at first." she said after she had regained some composure. "But, after awhile we started to get picked off-one by one. Until there was just me…"
"Come on." he said finally, in his tone of voice that allowed no dissent. He stood up in front of her and offered her his hand. "You're not alone. You've got me."
--
He had led her to his room. It was large-far larger than the massive room she had been given. It was neat and organized and smelled of him. The large bed had been made to military regulations and his uniforms were all hung neatly in the open closet.
Propping his gun by the window, he looked out and scanned the grounds.
Rachel wasn't sure what she was meant to do but she was thankful not to be alone. She stood by the door looking around.
West saw her reflection in the glass and smiled to himself. Entertaining a woman in his room would have been considered improper before infection…but now, after…who was to say what was proper or not anymore.
"Make yourself comfortable." he said motioning her to the bed, as he removed his jacket.
"Oh, I…" she seemed to stall. Her mouth open, but no words coming out.
"Oh, no." he said quickly reading the look on her face. "I mean for you to sleep. I'll watch over you tonight."
"Oh--!" Rachel felt immediately bad for thinking he meant something else. "I'm sorry-thank you. I don't know what I was thinking."
"Quite alright." he nodded-smiling a bit awkwardly.
She walked to the bed and pulled off her blue sneakers. She stuck her legs under the covers and smiled over at him. He had sat down in a nearby straight backed chair. He looked uncomfortable.
"It's a large bed." she offered timidly.
"Go to sleep." he smiled and looked back out the window.
She nodded and rolled over with her back to him. She buried herself in the blankets and was asleep almost instantly.
Some time in the night, she felt him laying beside her. She rolled over. He was on the bed beside her. He was laying still on top of the covers, with his jacket draped over his upper body for warmth, sleeping soundly.
--
Sunlight flooded the room and Rachel's eyes opened. She lifted up and looked around the room. She was alone. The other side of the bed seemed as tidy as it had been the day before. She put her feet on the cold wood floor and walked over to the window. It looked like a beautiful day-like one from childhood. One could almost forget there were masses of infected in the surrounding woods-One could almost forget about infection all together.
She lowered her gaze to the courtyard below. She saw West as he led the men in their morning PT routine.
"Come on you lot, they're not going to want any lazy bums." West yelled at them between counts.
Rachel moved back just as West's head lifted and scanned the window above him.
She slipped her shoes on and made his bed back up as best she could. Once she was satisfied with the job she had done she left his room-shutting the door behind her.
She made her way down into the 'belly of the house' as Major West had called it. There, in the kitchen, was Jones.
"Morning, blue sneakers." he called out when he saw her.
"Blue sneakers?" she asked.
"It's what the lads have been calling you." he said and smiled ear to ear.
"Well, I suppose its better than some names they could've chosen." She looked down at her sneakers and grinned. "Does the Major call me that?"
"I don't know what the Major calls you." Jones blushed awkwardly, and turned back to his pot.
"What you got there?" she asked coming closer. She looked in the pot and saw what was supposed to be hot cereal but at the moment it looked more like large clumps.
"Semolina." Jones said defensively.
"May I?" she asked and looked at him with her eyebrows up. He reluctantly backed away.
She took some nearby re-hydrated milk and added it to the pot. She stirred a few times then added a lot of sugar and a bit of honey.
"There." she said finally backing away. "Should be good-well, the old people always liked it. Hopefully, they aren't too far off from soldiers."
--
They sat around the table drinking their orange flavored drink mix. Jones came in with the food cart. On one side of it held a large pot and on the other side a stack of bowls. He quickly began filling the bowls and passing them around the table.
"Jones, who cooked this?" the Major asked after the porridge had cooled.
"Sir?" Jones asked.
"Jones I've had your semolina almost every morning for the past four weeks. I would recognize it anywhere, even if it were to be masquerading as wallpaper plaster, and this is not it. So, I ask again…Who cooked this?"
"The girl, sir." Jones looked down. "She may have helped."
"Rachel?" the Major asked, then looked back into his bowl.
"Yes, sir." Jones nodded.
"I see. Go and ask her what she's making for supper." West looked up at Jones, a few of the other men laughed. Mitchell was heard to mutter a 'thank god.'
--
please leave a review! ty