“I guess.”
I sit on the mattress, closing my eyes.
It’s time to rest.
Chapter Five
I end up oversleeping.
Like, a lot.
I simply plop back onto the plastic coated mattress and close my eyes, shutting out the world around me. I’m too exhausted to dream. I rest peacefully, waking only when Sophia nudges my shoulder.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she says. “Get up. Breakfast.”
I blink rapidly, shooting straight up and hitting my head on the top bunk. The wound in my side protests the sudden movement. I wince.
“Ouch!” I roll out of bed, rubbing the sore spot on top of my scalp, the stitches on my side. “That hurt.”
“Uh, huh.”
I unzip my backpack, rubbing my eyes. “Did anything happen while I was out?”
“Nope. Nobody’s in this cabin but you and me.” Sophia glances around the room, then wrinkles her nose. “You need to shower,” she says, tossing me a towel.
“Subtle hint?” I ask.
“Not that subtle. It’s been a week at least,” she grins.
“Okay, okay. I’ll shower.”
“I went out last night and checked out the camp while you were sleeping. I got these.” Sophia gestures to two stacks of neatly folded clothes on one of the empty bunks. “Clothes and shoes. There’s a supply shack up the road from the general store. I traded some ammo for this.”
“You traded ammo?” I exclaim. “Sophia, we need every bullet. You can’t just go around giving it away.”
“I didn’t give it away. I traded it. Besides, Cassidy. We need these. You know that.”
I sigh, grabbing one of the stacks.
“Yeah, I know.” I head to the bathroom, turning the faucet. Water sprays from the nozzle head, ice cold and clean. I shiver and strip down, piling my gross clothes on the tile floor.
“Glorious, isn’t it?” Sophia calls from the other side of the door.
“It’s cold!”
“It’s water, what do you expect?”
I scrub every inch of dirt and blood off my body that I can manage before drying. I hold up the clothes that Sophia traded for. Black combat pants, green shirt, and soft, new socks. I pull everything on. I feel…nice. Refreshed.
My stomach growls.
And hungry.
I comb my wet hair back with my fingers, stepping out of the shower room and peeking in the mirror. “Whoa,” I gasp. My face has thinned out. My cheekbones are sharper. My skin is darker. Pale white scars trail along my neck and down the side of my left cheek. Reminders of the brutal atmosphere of war.
“I look pathetic,” I state, turning away from the mirror. “How come you look so normal?”
“I don’t look normal,” Sophia snorts. “I just don’t care about how I look, and neither should you. We’re alive. That’s the whole point, right?”
I open the cabin door.
“Yeah. That is the point, but…”
But that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.
The air is crisp and cool at this hour. The sun is coming up over the trees, and the campground is alive with activity. Women and men are lounging on the meadow, talking. Sophia and I leave the cabin area and hit the main road, heading for the chow hall.
I’m starving.
The building is crowded. Armed guards are standing outside. They nod professionally as we pass. We climb a wide flight of stairs and enter through two large glass doors. The interior is an open dining room, within which are at least two hundred cafeteria-style tables and chairs. A long counter in the back of the room separates the kitchen from the eating area, and people are lining up along the length of it with plates and trays.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” I say, sniffing bacon and eggs. Pancakes and syrup. “This is better than Christmas.”
“This is better than anything,” Sophia laughs. “Come on, let’s get in line.”
We grab a tray, a plate and some utensils from a stack and get in the back of the line. I scan the crowd for Chris or Dad, but I don’t see them. I don’t see Isabel or the Youngs, either. The loud din of voices echoing off the walls makes my head hurt, but the voices are happy. Content. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be in a calm, peaceful crowd. But as soon as I set my plate on the counter, I forget about the noise. I’m given a small mountain of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and cottage potatoes.
There is nothing better than this.
I cling to my plate like a prospector guarding his gold claim, Sophia right behind me. We’re dying with anticipation. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve had a fresh meal on real dinnerware.
My meals over the last year have consisted of canned goods and the occasional — and dreaded — dehydrated food packet. As Sophia and I sit down to eat, I pick up my fork and roll it between my fingers.
Such an alien feeling after eating with my hands for months.
I lift the fork to my mouth and freeze, my eyes landing on Chris in the corner of the room. He’s standing with his hands shoved casually in his pockets, completely relaxed. He looks clean and rested. Handsome.
And he’s talking to a girl.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sophia asks, smirking.
I ignore her. The girl talking to Chris is tall. Way taller than me. Platinum blonde hair falls to her waist, framing a pair of striking blue eyes. She throws her head back and laughs, placing a hand on Chris’s arm.
I swallow thickly, a sick feeling stabbing me through the heart.
“Who is she?” I say, frowning.
“Her?” Sophia follows my line of sight. “Oh, she’s pretty.”
I glare at her.
“I mean, if tall and blonde is your thing,” she corrects, clearing her throat. “Um, I don’t know. Just another refugee, probably.”
The girl is wearing a holster on her thigh, along with a combat jacket.
She’s not just another refugee.
And then Chris turns and waves at me. I wave back half-heartedly, watching as he walks over to us… and the blonde follows. I set the fork down, the eggs and bacon forgotten.
“Cassie, hey,” Chris says, smiling affectionately. He kisses the top of my head, and a bit of the tension in my stomach dissipates. “How are you feeling?”
“A lot better,” I reply. “I slept good. How about you?”
“Fine.” He turns to the blonde. “Cassie, this is Vera, Angela Wright’s daughter. She’s the platoon commander of Red Dog, under the command of the militia Legion under her mother.”
I meet her unflinching gaze, disappointed that she’s even prettier up close than she was far away. Why do these people always have to show up around me?
“Hi,” I say.
“Hey,” Sophia adds. “I’m Sophia.”
“Morning,” Vera replies. Flat. Monotone.
“I’m going to get some food, then I’ll be right back,” Chris says, patting my shoulder. I take comfort in that tiny bit of physical contact.
“We’ll be right back,” Vera adds as he walks away, offering a weak smile.
“We’ll be right back?” I echo as soon as she’s out of earshot. “Who the hell does she think she is? Why are they getting breakfast together?”
An angry dragon coils in the pit of my stomach, threatening to breathe fire. I fist my hands under my legs, watching her converse with Chris as they wait in line.
Who is she?
“Hey, relax,” Sophia says, handing me my fork. “She’s just a girl. It doesn’t mean anything.”