One Year After the Outbreak

It had been a week, give or take a few days, since Ronda, Isaac, and Heather had been brought to the pad. Things had settled into a nice little routine fairly quickly. The guys even had an excuse now to play their instruments, although Peter only joined in now and then. Things had been good but there was something in the air, an uneasy feeling that the gang felt every so often.

"Bye guys! See you later," Heather chirped, waving as Mike, Micky, Ronda, and Isaac left for the afternoon rounds.

Usually, the buddy system worked well enough, but recently there had been an increase in the number of infected around. Mike had decided a few days ago that it would be better if the rounds were performed by a group of four, leaving three behind to guard the house. Heather rarely ever got called on rounds, which she felt conflicted about. Of course she didn't want to be around the infected and she was happy to be left out of the rotations, but at the same time she didn't want be useless to the group. She wanted to be important and help out.

A few minutes after the foursome had left for rounds, Heather found Davy sitting on the steps, reading.

"Hi Davy," greeted Heather. Davy glanced up from the book in his lap.

"Hello Heather," Davy answered, "What seems to be the matter?" Heather glanced at her feet for a moment.

"Oh, nothing's the matter, I was just wondering if maybe I could make dinner tonight. I know Ronda is supposed to but… I don't want to be useless to everyone. I'm not a good fighter, but I'm not a bad cook, and if I start just before the others get back, I can have it finished soon enough," Heather blurted. She hadn't meant to say that much. Davy tossed the book onto a chair and stood up, an infectious smile on his face.

"Sure you can make dinner!" he answered, and looked Heather in the face, "And no one thinks you're useless. I mean, if you're useless, than so am I."

"But you're not useless Davy," Heather instantly assured the Englishman.

"Well then there you go," Davy nodded his head, point proven in his mind. And by the way Heather was smiling, his point was proven in her mind as well.

"What time do you think I should start supper then?" Heather inquired, glancing at the clock hung on a nearby wall.

"Maybe in a couple of minutes," Davy suggested.

"Okay, I'll do that then," Heather smiled. She wrapped her arms around Davy.

"Thanks," she murmured. Davy hugged her back.

"No problem Heather," Davy said as they pulled away from each other.

Heather drifted away from Davy after that, letting the Englishman get back to the book he had been reading only moments ago. As she stood near the clock, a thought occurred to her. She sucked on her bottom lip and then thought to hell with it, why not.

With ease, Heather went over to the downstairs bedroom and nudged the door open. Peter seemed to be scribbling something down on a scrap of paper. He didn't seem to notice her arrival. Heather cleared her throat. Peter glanced up, the color draining from his face just slightly.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Heather apologized. It had been stupid and rude not to knock.

"It's alright," Peter mumbled with a shake of his head, quickly stuffing the scrap of paper and the pencil under his pillow.

"May I ask you a question?" Heather asked. Peter looked past Heather to the door and then to his feet. He shrugged. Heather decided to take that as a yes.

"Is there anything I can make you for dinner?" she inquired.

She had noticed the small amount Peter ate and it had occurred to her that maybe he just didn't like the food. She wouldn't have blamed him. Peter looked at her, really looked.

There was silence for a moment.

"We have some spaghetti in a cupboard... You could have Davy show you where...," Peter said finally.

"I think spaghetti for dinner sounds amazing," Heather grinned, then added, "I'm very good at spaghetti too." Peter offered her a brief smile.

There wasn't much to be said after that. Heather just gave Peter a little wave and then whirled around, making a beeline for the kitchen. She didn't want any help putting this meal together. She wanted to make sure everyone knew how useful she could be.

Only a handful of minutes after Heather had started boiling the water for the spaghetti, Mike, Micky, Isaac, and Ronda returned from the evening rounds. Heather noted that there seemed to be dried blood on Micky's t-shirt.

"Heather, what're you up to?" Isaac asked. Although he was tired, he put on a brave face for Heather.

"I'm making you all dinner!" she beamed, gesturing towards the pot on the stove, "Peter and I decided it would be good to have spaghetti tonight."

Mike raised an inquisitive eyebrow, glancing towards Micky.

"I'm glad you guys decided that. I think we've all been itching for some noodley noodles," Micky said, shrugging his shoulders at Mike in response to his look.

"Did you really just say noodley?" Davy asked. Heather giggled and went back to the pot.

"I can say what I want, little man," Micky chuckled. Davy gave him a punch on the shoulder, grinning.

"Davy, let's go into the bedroom, I need to tell you something," Mike whispered, keeping his voice low enough so that Heather wouldn't be able to hear.

Davy frowned but nodded. He followed Isaac and Mike into the downstairs bedroom, leaving Micky to wander into the bathroom. He was glad that he and Mike had rigged the shower and water systems. Ocean water, river water, natural water hadn't been affected. Only tap water. This had been established early on during the outbreak.

So naturally, Micky had fixed up a little thing that would convert the saltwater of the ocean into drinkable water. This device hooked up to the house and provided the water and never had Micky been happier that he had done this.

Ronda went into the kitchen to see if Heather needed any help. The older woman was happy to see Heather smiling and talking amiably to Ronda. The boys and this little house had brought some stability to Heather's life, and that change had had a positive impact on her.

"What is it you need to talk to me about Mike?" Davy questioned as Mike shut the bedroom door. Peter sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, heart beginning to pound heavily against his chest.

"Everything's alright Peter," Isaac assured the blonde.

"There ain't no point sugar coating it, Isaac," Mike countered, turning around and sitting down on the opposite bed.

"Sugar coat what? Mike, what's wrong?" Davy asked, looking directly at the Texan. There was a cold sense of fear in his body now.

"Rounds nearly went to hell," Mike began.

"No one was hurt," Isaac said upon seeing Peter's face whiten.

"Well, we nearly lost Micky," Mike pointed out.

"For christ sake, one of you bloody well explain what happened during rounds and why we are here," Davy barked. Mike and Isaac stared at Davy for a moment.

"Alright," Isaac said after a moment, "Mike can explain." Mike nodded, a frown creasing his brow.

"On rounds today, nearing the west borders, round the shops, we ran into some trouble. There were a strange lot of infected laying round. Micky and Ronda were on watch while Isaac and I grabbed a few medical supplies from the pharmacy. Micky got attacked. Ronda pulled the infected off 'im but not without getting Micky bloody. We got worried about contact but it only got on his shirt," Mike explained.

"That's why we're here. This is the third time that we've seen an increased about of infected in the area," Isaac added.

"Okay, okay," Davy said slowly, "So… what? Are we going to leave?"

"We dunno yet. Mick says we can hold out here, so says I. But Ronda and Isaac say we need to keep the possibility of leaving open, and I agree. That's why we wanted to ask you two, seeing as we're all a family now, more or less," Mike sighs.

Davy glances over at Peter, but Peter's looking at the ceiling, eyes intensely focused upwards. He swings his gaze back to Mike and Isaac.

"This is our home," he began, "And I don't think any of us want to leave. But… it makes sense. To be ready, if we need to leave. But I think it's the easiest and safest plan if we stay for as long as possible."

"Ronda and I agreed that would be a good course of action," Isaac nodded his head, "Heather has never been happier here. She's been through a lot and it's nice to see her happy. Plus it gives Ronda a break. She pushes herself too hard sometimes."

"Alright, then it seems like that's an agreement," Isaac said, glancing at Peter who hadn't said anything yet.

"Peter, is there anything you'd like to voice?" Isaac asked after a moment.

"No…. I um, think I'm going to go see if Heather wants help with… dinner," Peter shrugged, standing up and sidling up to the door.

"It'll be okay Pete," Mike told him as he opened the door. Peter gave Mike a smile in return before slipping out of the room and into the kitchen.