"That wasn't your fault," he told her softly. "I would’ve done the same thing."
"But I'm a police officer," she said. "I mean, I was. I'm not now, but I was. I should be better than that."
"Once, in the world before, maybe," he replied. "But honestly, I certainly don't blame you, and if you think God does, I really doubt it."
“Maybe He should,” she said. “I wish he would, instead of going out of His damn way to make me question my own fucking sanity. If He’s even there, then I wish He'd get off my back!”
“Bunny, stop,” Bixby said softly. “I know you carry a heavy burden. I can tell, just by looking at you, that it weighs you down in ways I can’t understand. But, I promise you, everything happens for a reason.”
She snorted. “A reason? I can’t see any reason in all of this, and I’ve tried. I’ve gone over it, over and over, trying to make sense of it, and there just isn’t any.”
“Maybe it’s not for us to see,” he offered.
“Then why are we living it?” she shouted, and then tried to calm herself, but it only made her cry all the harder. “Why did I have to kill people, some of them good people? Why did I have to watch good people die? Why can’t I just rest and let someone else deal with all of this?”
Bixby began to understand the real questions in her mind. “This is just the way things are.”
"But," Bunny sobbed. "Why?”
Bixby looked at her, his eyes full of sorrow as Bunny slowly collapsed in front of him. "Why, what? Why did it happen?"
“Why me?" she finally got out. "Why am I still alive? Why me? I don’t even know if I want to be, but I can’t stop, and I want to know why!”
Past it all, Bixby suddenly understood, that was her real question. He saw her fear that those who admired her would die because of her. He saw her concern that she would be forced to kill others, maybe even friends. He saw her doubt about not only God, but herself. Mostly, though, he saw her self-condemnation, that she lived, when others didn't.
"Because you deserve it," he told her softly. "I can't tell you more than that, Bunny. But I know it’s true. You truly do deserve it.”
"Do I?" she cried.
He wrapped his arms around her, allowing her to weep against his shoulder. "I thank God you’re alive and here right now," he said.
Weighed down by her doubts and fears, unable to talk to her friends about any of it for fear they wouldn't understand, Bunny allowed herself to break as he held her. For the first time in her life, she let go and poured out her years of angst, sorrow, and bitterness. All the wrongs, injustices, and cruelties she’d seen and suffered that she’d buried down welled up, and she wailed at them.
She mourned those who’d died, and those she felt certain must be dead. The parents she hadn’t seen in years, the colleagues she’d respected, the friends she’d once known, and even the lover she’d once cherished. All were gone now, washed away by the tide of death that had drowned the world, while she, of them all, remained.
Through it all, the Reverend simply held her, unable to find the words to comfort the woman he barely knew but respected greatly, for what she couldn’t see, he knew, was the inspiration she gave others that they could survive.
It had been two days since she’d spoken with Marco. A storm was gathering to the south.
Bunny lay on the cot in the tent she shared with Caroline, staring at the radio, feeling more than a bit frustrated. It’d been three days now, and Marco hadn't so much as said hi. While she hadn't been expecting him to check in just to chat, she had kind of hoped he would at least let her know he wasn't any deader than usual.
"Still nothing?" Caroline asked.
Bunny shook her head. "I think he's going for the image of the strong, silent type."
Caroline giggled. "Look at you, being all Bella."
Bunny gave her a glare. "That better not mean what I think it means."
The other woman shrugged and smiled. "Well, you are pining for a dead guy."
"I'm not pining," Bunny told her. "I'm worried."
"Whatever you say," Caroline giggled.
"He's not exactly my type," Bunny growled.
Caroline nodded, still grinning. "And what is your type?"
"A pulse is a good start," Bunny replied.
"I won't disagree there," her friend sighed. "But these days, you can't be too choosey. Pretty soon, there won't be many left to go around."
Bunny snorted. "I've been too busy trying to survive the next five minutes to worry about getting laid. I'll take my chances solo, thanks."
Caroline shook her head as Bunny rolled over, staring at the ceiling. "You say that now, girl, but with winter moving in, you'll start thinking about a warm body to curl up with. I know I am."
"Last thing I need is something else to worry about. And before you say it, yes, relationships are something to worry about."
Caroline grunted. "Somebody has an issue."
"Shit," Bunny sighed. "Swing a dog and you're bound to hit one of my issues."
"Which reminds me, you never did tell me your story."
Bunny shot her a look. "And you never told me yours."
"True," Caroline mused. "And I did say I would go first."
Bunny sat up. "I’m all ears."
Caroline stared at her then burst out laughing. “Bunny ears!”
Bunny made a face at her. “Just tell me the damn story already.”
