They’d covered most of the distance when a trio of soldiers walked past them. They greeted Sergeant Dean, but all she got was a couple of hostile stares. “Wow, I’m not winning any popularity contests, am I?”
“Guess not,” Nick said.
“Soldiers, huh?”
“They’re just scared.”
“Scared of what?” Dylan asked.
“The unknown.”
“The unknown?” Dylan repeated with a sarcastic twang. “Be more specific.”
“The monster in the closet, the boogeyman under the bed, the big bad wolf. Whatever you want to call it,” Nick said, waving his hands around.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dylan said, her temper flaring. “The big bad wolf?”
“You’re an unknown quantity. They don’t know what to make of you, or how you’ll react in a fight. They’re scared you’ll turn on them, and to a soldier, that’s one of the biggest no-nos in the world. We stick together, and we always have each other’s backs.”
“What about you and Saul? Aren’t they scared you’ll do the same?” she asked.
“Nope. I’m one of them. A brother-in-arms. So is Saul. He might be a foreigner, but he’s still army. He knows the creed.”
“Bullshit. Just because I’m not a soldier that makes me a monster?” Dylan cried.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yeah, you did. That’s exactly what you said,” she replied.
“Okay, sorry, but we’re not all like that, Dylan. I’m not,” Nick said.
“So, it’s just Jackson and Miller?” she asked. They’d reached her house, and she stopped to open the small garden gate to let them in.
“Well, you did attack him first,” Nick said as he followed her into the yard. “Jackson, I mean.”
Dylan stopped mid-stride. “Because they tossed me into a cell with no explanation. Nothing. For days. Days!”
“Major Reed thought he was doing the right thing to protect his men,” Nick said, a flush creeping up his neck.
“Major Reed is an asshole. If he had any sense at all, Tara would be working on a vaccine in the lab by now. That’s how he can protect his men. Not by throwing innocent strangers into jail,” Dylan cried.
“It’s not that easy!” Nick said, his voice rising in pitch. “He’s got thousands of people under his command. They rely on him.”
“Yes, it is that easy,” Dylan cried. “Are you seriously going to back him and Jackson? Miller? All the rest of them who treat me like shit because they’re scared of the fucking boogeyman?”
“No, it’s just…I understand where they’re coming from. You should too,” he said.
“Excuse me?” Dylan said, her hands curling into fists. “I’m starting to regret saving your ass. Remind me not to do it next time.”
“You know what?” Nick yelled.
“What?” Dylan yelled back, prepared to sock him.
“You’re very pretty when you’re angry.”
Dylan blinked. “Huh?”
“And you’re right. I’m acting like a dick, but it’s not easy talking to you.”
“Why not? I don’t bite,” Dylan said, unclenching her fists.
“Uh, yeah, you do. You fight like a Viking Berserker, and I’m scared you’ll rip my head off. Plus, you saved my life, so I owe you one.”
Dylan stared at him, unable to believe her ears. Suddenly, a chuckle welled up from the depths of her chest. It soon turned into a full-blown laughing fit. She couldn’t stop, no matter how hard she tried.
“You’re scared of me? Seriously?” she managed to say between gasps of breath.
“Would you stop laughing?” he said. “This isn’t funny.”
“Yes, it is. It’s hilarious.”
“Hmph,” he said, folding his arms.
Finally, Dylan managed to regain control and straightened up. With a shaky hand, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Whoo, that was fun. I haven’t laughed like that in years.”
“Yeah, yeah. Are you done now?” Nick asked, rolling his eyes.
“I’m done,” Dylan said, though a smile lingered on her lips. “Want to come inside for coffee?”
Nick opened his mouth to reply but froze. His eyes were fixed on a spot behind her, and all humor had fled from his expression.
“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked before swinging around to look at the house. Spray-painted in big red letters across the wall were the words. “Die, Zombie Freak!”
Dylan stared at the single sentence until her eyes began to burn. Finally, she blinked and said, “I need a drink. Want one?”
“Sure,” Nick replied, following her up the steps to the front door.
She stepped inside and rummaged in the kitchen cupboard for a bottle of scotch they’d received from another scientist as a housewarming gift. Technically, it belonged to Tara, but Dylan didn’t think she’d mind under the circumstances.
She poured them each a glass before sitting down at the dining room table. A gas lamp cast a pool of golden light over the room, and Dylan raised her hand in the air. “Cheers to the freaks.”
“Dylan…” Nick said. “You’re not a freak.”
“Yes, I am. And so are you. The sooner you accept that the better,” Dylan said, tossing back the liquor. It burned a fiery path down her throat before settling into the pit of her stomach, and she coughed. “Shit, that stuff is strong.”
“You’re not supposed to drink it all at once,” Nick said, leaning over to refill her glass. “You’re supposed to sip it.”
Dylan waved her hand in the air. “Whatever. My point is, you don’t know what it’s like. The episodes. It takes complete control of your mind. It’s like you’re not even there.”
Nick nodded. “Saul warned me about it, but I figured I’d be lucky because I got cured so soon after being infected.”
“You think so? Maybe, but I wouldn’t count on it. Your episodes might be milder than mine, but you’ll still get them. The Vita virus is a real bitch, you know?”
Nick nodded. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead,” Dylan said, tossing back her second glass.
“Why did you stab your foster dad?”
“Because I’m crazy, didn’t you know?”
“I’m serious,” Nick said.
Dylan sighed and poured herself another glass of scotch. “Fine. I stabbed him because he got too friendly with me, his fifteen-year-old foster daughter.”
“And you were the one who got sentenced to juvie?”
