Chapter 35: The Moment I Knew

Snip. Snip. Snip.

I listen quietly as the scissors snip away at my hair. Kefilwe sighs as she cuts another strand. She was the only one who I felt comfortable having scissors around my neck and face.

I'm glad my hair is finally getting cut. I've looked like this for two days now. No need to keep looking this terrible. It's going to be just below my shoulders, since at that length it will be just close to impossible for a zombie to grab, especially since my hair will be in a tiny ponytail.

That means I won't have to worry about that situation of two days ago for a while.

Although, the situation from two days ago, and yesterday, is most likely to be a one time thing. Travis is gone back to the Ministry, who is searching through all their personnel to make sure no one else is dirty like Amelia. The last thing we need is more people giving out Ministry secrets.

Amelia's gone now too, along with Simon. I should've stopped him. I should have done something to make him stay. Now he's gone off to who-knows-where, while we have only a bit of information about the ship-Laetitia Greenwald.

That explains why the name was italicized. It is actually a good thing, I guess. Now we don't have to worry about a person being dead. That was the biggest worry we had. If Laetitia Greenwald was a person, trying to find her would've been near impossible since... well, zombie apocalypse.

But instead, the Laetitia Greenwald is an inanimate object-one that we sadly don't know the location of. That wasn't something Simon had to give us.

That may have been the last time I'll ever see him again. I don't like that. I don't like thinking that.

I mean, he can't die, so I won't have to worry about Amelia killing him or anything, but I can't see why he would want to come back. Janine said he deserves to be shot, to die. Everyone in Abel hates him besides me. Of course he wouldn't want to stay.

"Runner Five, you do know I'm not a hairstylist, correct?" Kefilwe asks, bringing me back to the present.

I sigh. "Yes, I know. But there are no used-to-be-hairstylists in Abel, and you're the only I trust to handle scissors around my face and neck."

"Well, I'm finished, but don't be surprised when you find it isn't grand."

She hands me a mirror, and I raise my eyebrow at my hair that's now just below my shoulders. Some of it is a bit uneven, but my hair still has its slight curl/wave to it, so it doesn't look half bad. I understand it could be better, but Kefilwe tried, and I don't look terrible, so I think it's okay.

"I like it," I say, standing up. "Thank you."

She nods. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to the hospital."

"Speaking of the hospital, how's Owen?"

"He's fine. He lost quite a bit of blood when Amelia shot him, so he's tired, but I believe he'll make a full recovery. He just won't be running until then."

I nod. "That makes sense."

"You should be more worried about yourself." She frowns, and I raise one shoulder in a half shrug.

"It's only a minor concussion, and you banned me from running for another week."

"I would have told you to rest longer had not Janine told me you are needed now that we have information that the Laetitia Greenwald is a ship."

"Gotta do what ya've gotta do." I grab a broom and start sweeping the hair into the dustpan. "After this, I have to go find Milo. He needs help studying for a test. Hopefully I'll be able to help him since I was just starting the seventh grade when the apocalypse happened."

"I'm sure you'll know what to do," She says, offering a tight smile. I return it, knowing the one I'm getting is fake.

She's like Janine on the aspect of Milo being my son and Penelope my daughter. She thinks I'm too young to have to worry about such a thing as parenting. She's not entirely wrong. I am only sixteen, but I've also done a lot of things lost people my age have never done.

Although I guess that's a good thing. I would never want Milo to be doing the same things I was doing when I was his age. I killed Wes when I was thirteen, and I lost my voice shortly after. That's only the highlight of that year. I did a lot more terrible things to people and myself. I'd rather not think about me being made to do them again. I'd have a conniption if someone tried to make Milo do something like that.

Speaking of Milo, I should probably find him so I can help him study.

I'm actually glad there's still school in the apocalypse. If I wasn't a runner, I'd actually be attending it, like most people my age do. But I'm glad there are people willing to teach the younger people things, and not just academic wise. I know Amber teaches them on how some of the radio equipment works, and Ed-before he disappeared-would sometimes let them come into his shop and help him do smaller repairs.

They also have after-school jobs like helping with the farm animals or working in the greenhouse. They're being taught how to survive just in case they decide to leave the township, or if Abel is put under another attack and needs their help to rebuild it.

So I toss the dead hair into the trash can, and leave the sleeping quarters. School is out already, and Milo should be done with his after-school job by now, so he's most likely hanging out with Polly and Zach. I'm a bit more lenient on him now that I see he's trustworthy. He's actually doing what he should and I admire that.

I know how badly he wishes to become a runner, and the fact that he still obeys me and stays away from the track and training area makes me proud. So proud, in fact, that if we have this all figured out and have found our people by the time he turns sixteen, I'll consider letting him train to become a runner.

That can easily change, though. I was considering going back to America after we killed Van Ark. The thought is laughable now. As if I could leave. Too many people here have ahold of me. As much as I miss my home, I couldn't leave them. Not Sam or Kefilwe or Jody or Owen or Phil.

But I guess it's for the best. There's a lot more happening here than I ever would have thought, which is why for right now at least, I can't let Milo get the idea of being a runner.

I know he and his friends like to hang around the Rec center, since it is where some of the games are. Although, I'm beginning to find that a lot of the teenagers are no longer satisfied with games we have. I've noticed that they've been requesting runners bring back 'fun stuff', instead of 'boring' things like food or books or fuel or spare tech.

I just hope none of them do anything stupid.

It only takes me a few short minutes to get to the Rec center, and through a window I can see Milo talking to Polly and Zach. That doesn't surprise me, but I frown at how serious they all look. Their eyes are all down at a notebook, but I can't see what is on said notebook. They seem very closed off. I don't like it.

There's a stirring in my chest, and an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. Something's wrong. I need to see what's going on.

I head towards the entrance, but before I can get to the door, three little humans are suddenly in front of me.

"Hi, Mom," Penelope greets, smiling widely. It seems... almost forced. The same goes for the smiles Carina and Molly are giving me as well.

"Hi, sweety," I say.

"We were hoping you would come play with us at the park. They fixed the slide so it won't cut you when you go down it."

"Uh, sure. In a little while. I just need to talk to your brother." I try to walk past them but three pairs of hands are all grasping at me.

"No! You can't!" Penelope says in panic, and I raise a brow.

"Why not?"

"Be-because he-he-he's talking to his friends,"  Molly stammers, and any other time I might be impressed with how well her speech is become. It's become obviously clear she has a stutter, so this is very good for her.

But right now, I need to go talk to my son.

"Well, I'm sure it will be fine."

"But what about the park?" Carina asks, and I frown.

"I told you, I'll come play with you in a little while." I start to walk towards the door again, but still the girls keep hold of me.

"No! Stop!" Carina and Penelope both yell, and I frown, ready to chastise the three for their behavior.

Until it hits me, and my lips part in realization.

Oh, my God. Penelope's covering for him.

And if she's covering for him, then he must be doing something he shouldn't.

I manage to pull myself away from the girls without hurting them, and in a flash I'm running towards the Rec center. The girls are racing after me.

I head inside, turning the corner and heading into the room where the three are. They all look over at me calmly, and my brows furrow together.

The notebook isn't on the table anymore.

"What're you doing?" I ask, trying not to sound too defensive.

Milo blinks, feigning confusion. "Um, hanging out."

I cross my arms. "Uh-huh. And where's the notebook?"

"What notebook?" Zach asks innocently, or at least, that's how he's acting.

"I saw you three looking over a notebook through the window before I came in," I answer, my voice sounding surprisingly calm.

"So, you were spying on us?" Polly asks, her green eyes shining mischievously. I don't like who it reminds me of.

"I don't spy on children," I snap, causing the ginger girl to glare at me. "But I need Milo. He has a test tomorrow that he needs to study for."

"Can that wait until later?" Milo whines, and I sigh.

"Milo, after I help you study, I'm going to go to bed. I have to get all the rest I can if I want to be able to run next week. Now come on. You can hang out with them afterwards."

The brunet scowls, but still stands. He sends the two at the table a certain look, and they seem to understand it. I make a mental note to ask about that later.

Leaving the Rec center, I see Penelope send her brother an apologetic look; He simply frowns at her, and she and her friends scamper off, not even bothering me about going to the park.

I frown slightly at the thought of Milo hiding something from me, especially since the last time he kept something from me it ended up with his brother getting killed. I still remember that day. I still remember his blood on my hands.

But just a few days ago I thought he was up to something, and it turned out he was only drawing a picture. Maybe I'm wrong. I am that quite often.

But if he wasn't up to something, why would he have Penelope distract me from them?

Something about this isn't right, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it... soon.

But for now, I just need to help him study so I get go to sleep.

•

Something's wrong.

That's the first thing that goes through Singer's mind when she wakes up. She looks around. It's dark outside, and she guesses it's around midnight.

Her heart is hammering in her chest, but she can't understand why. She grabs the gun beside her, eyes wide and alert. But she hears nothing, no footsteps, no moans or growls. Just complete, utter silence.

Singer runs a hand through her hair, tossing in the bed she's currently sharing with her sister, who is still fast asleep. This small house is where they've been staying since Joey death.

How many days has it been? Singer sighs in wonder. Three days? It seems like it's been so much longer.

It seems like it's been a lot longer than twenty-four days since Day Zero, but that's all it's been....

The gun is in her possession tonight. She, Wesley and Tori agreed that the gun should be rotated around so Jessica couldn't get ahold of it. They decided to keep it between the three of them since Julia or Elijah might just give it to their sister.

With how effortlessly she killed Joey, they know she can't be trusted-

Thump.

Singer tenses. She definitely heard that. It's as if someone just ran into a wall. She slowly gets up from her bed, careful not to be heard by whoever is awake. Walking on the tips of her toes, she sneaks over to the door that is open by just a smidge, and her eyes widen when she sees a shadow creeping along the halls.

It's Jessica.

"What is she doing?" She murmurs to herself.

Singer's cousin has something in her hand-a bag of chips. It was what they found yesterday. They've been running low on food; Someone's been taking more than their share, and Singer's just found out who.

But why is she heading this way? Why didn't she just eat it in the kitchen? Singer watches as Jessica passes her room, her steps quiet as she goes for the door. She's quick and silent as she opens the door and slips outside.

With brows furrowed and curiosity eating at her mind, the younger brunette follows. She watches through the window at first, since Jessica keeps looking around, mostly for zombies, but also for anyone who might've heard her.

After a few moments of searching, Jessica turns and keeps heading down the sidewalk, and Singer follows. Her steps sound so loud to her, but Jessica doesn't notice. She seems focused on something else. She must be with how tightly she's holding that bag of chips.

Singer looks down at the gun that's still in her hand. Why did she bring it? She's not going to use it on her cousin. She is stealing food, and she will be punished for that, but she certainly doesn't deserve to be shot, does she?

Jessica enters a house just down the street, and Singer follows. She cringes when she opens the door, but it only lets out the tiniest of squeaks. It's covered up by the voices.

Voices-as in more than one voice.

Someone else is here.

But how? Singer and the others have only ran into three new people since the outbreak, and they were crazy. If Jessica knows people, why wouldn't she tell us?

Who is this person she's talking to?

"This isn't much," The man says, disgruntled.

"I can't take too much. They already know some of it's going missing. Besides, you're not giving me much anyway."

Singer blinks, inching towards the kitchen where the voices are coming from. Jessica's trading something? What could be so important to give away food and water?

Singer sneaks around, her head peeping into the kitchen. There's a man standing in front of her cousin-tall, skinny, pale. He looks sickly, and the dark circles under his eyes are the darkest shade of purple Singer's ever seen.

"You know, you'd think you'd put food and water at the top of your list of things you need," The man chuckles.

"What does it matter to you? You're getting what you want," She snaps.

"Yeah, I guess some people just have to have their fix." He pulls out a little bag of white powerdy stuff, and Singer's jaw drops.

"What is that?" She asks, watching as the two heads snap over to her. Jessica utters her name in shock.

"What are you doing here?"

"Is that cocaine?"

"I think this is best discussed between you two," The man says nervously. He picks up the chips, and Singer immediately points her gun at him.

"Drop it."

He flinches, then he sets it down on the table slowly.

"Leave."

He scampers off like the coward Singer knows he is. She looks over at Jessica, who has no trace of guilt on her face. It only makes Singer angrier.

"So this is where all the food has gone."

She blinks. "Are you really surprised?"

"You said you were clean!" Singer exclaims, and the older girl rolls her eyes.

"I lied."

"How-how did you even find these people? How did you... do you not understand the severity of what's going on? It's an apocalypse and you're trading food and water for cocaine!"

She doesn't respond, but she doesn't look sad or hurt either. There's no shame. No guilt. She just doesn't care.

"I can't let you continue doing this."

Jessica laughs. "Oh, really? And what are you going to do? Shoot me? Do you really want to put more blood on your hands."

"All of our blood will be on my hands if I let you continue doing this and we end up starving to death."

A scoff leaves her lips. "Stop being so dramatic. We'll survive. We've survived this far."

"Eight people have died in twenty-four days! Over half of our group is dead."

"And whose fault is that?"

Singer flinches. "We can't keep doing stupid things. I won't let you give away food and water that we desperately need for drugs. We're barely getting by as it is."

"And what are you gonna do? You can't lock the food up. My brother and sister won't let you leave me." A sinister grin spreads across her lips. "The only way you can stop me is to shoot me, and we all know you're not going to th-"

She didn't know when she raised the gun at her cousin, or when she pulled the trigger, but now there's blood spreading across the tile floor and a body on the ground. She stares for a few seconds, surprised she actually did it. Her hands are shaking, and she can taste blood on her tongue.

Then she grabs the bag of chips and leaves the kitchen. The crack cocaine stays. No one in her group has any need for it, and it's best to leave useless things behind.

So she leaves the house, running back to the house her group has taken refuge in. She must hurry, seeing that if any zoms are lurking about, they'll have heard the gunshot, and they can smell the blood. She cannot put herself at risk.

But she already has a plan made up in her mind-a story to tell when people ask where Jessica is.

'She stole food and went down the street to eat it, because she didn't want to get caught. I followed her, and saw her get bit by a zombie. I had to take her out.'

Yes. That is what she will say. It's better this way. It's better they don't know the truth. Telling them that would only cause more problems-problems she doesn't need.

Sometimes... sometimes it's best just to tell a pretty lie.

•

I jolt awake, eyes wide, chest heaving.

Ninth kill.

How sad... how sad it is to remember what happened.... what I did and why I did it. There is no excuse, not for me. There's so much I could have done-should have done-and I didn't.

I won't make the same mistake twice. I won't let the people I love destroy themselves so much that I have to take them out. I won't.

I'm already just a fragment of a human being; I won't let Milo become the same thing.

A/N: Hello, everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know it's not the best, but I had a severe case of writer's block lately so that's why it took me a bit longer than usual to write. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to KatieMac17

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