In the distance, the bells rang.
The windows blew open. I shivered as wind swept the room.
Michael levitated over me. “Until tomorrow.” Then he flew out the window.
I rushed to close it, watching him disappear into the gray skies. Back on the bed, I slung off my backpack and lay down, staring at the celling. Holy crap, Michael the Archangel asked me to have his babies. I smiled. Not asked. He told me I was to have his babies. How does a girl say no to that?
Tired and, despite the healing, beaten up, my body needed rest for the day. At night, around six, I awoke anew, showered and dressed in the uniform, then waited for Georgia to bring me dinner. She knocked on the door when the clock hit six thirty, and I opened it. “Hey,” I said.
Georgia wore a smile and a uniform. “Grilled lamb cutlets with roasted potatoes, and …” She placed a tray on the table, then reached under her shirt. She pulled out a wine bottle, a big grin on her face. “The commander sent wine.”
So he delivered the breeding news and figured I’d need a drink. He was right. “The commander knows best.”
Georgia winked. “I hear you two are having a thing.”
“We haven’t had a thing yet.” I felt like I was speaking about the baby. I couldn’t stop thinking about the baby thing.
“Yet,” Georgia repeated and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” I followed her.
“To the chow hall.”
“Is that where everyone eats?”
“Yes.”
I glanced back at my food. “I’ll come with you.” I headed out, but Georgia put a hand on my shoulder. “I think you’re supposed to have dinner in your room.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” I continued down the steps. “You coming? Because I don’t know where the chow hall is.”
Georgia caught up with me. “I’m not taking you there because I can’t get in trouble, but I’ll show you where it is.”
“Stop by after dinner. I’m not gonna have that bottle all by myself.”
Georgia gave me a side-eye. “The commander is gonna stop by after dinner.”
Nervous, I gulped. “I’ll tell him I have company.”
“That will go well.”
“He needs a little rejection once in a while.” Frankly, I needed a girlfriend. Georgia was fun and kind, and I liked her.
She gave me a blank stare. “Have you not wondered what it’s like to have sex with all that maleness?”
“No.”
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, maybe I have wondered, and we could talk all about the maleness over wine.”
Georgia sighed. “I’m going to get in trouble.”
“You won’t.”
“If I do, you will bang him, then vouch for me.”
“I promise.”
Though she headed toward the chow hall, she didn’t want to be seen arriving with me, so I followed her from afar.
Seeing as the House of Command was an enormous structure on the island, finding the hall on my own would be nearly impossible. If I were starving, I was pretty sure I would have walked until I found it, but starvation and hunger weren’t the same. Tonight, I was just hungry.
Soldiers poured into what appeared to be another training ground, this one covered with sand. I followed Georgia into the rectangular building that looked like several airplane hangars stuck together to make one large one. Inside, the loud chatter of maybe a thousand people rang against the thin metal walls. I moved to the side to let other people pass and scanned the hall for Georgia. She sat with some people I didn’t know, presumably her squad. Where were the Ducklings? With so many people, it took me a few minutes to find them. There. Found them.
At the table, I sat down at the only unoccupied chair. They stopped talking and turned their heads toward me. I blushed and stared at the covered plate in front of me. Head down, I side-eyed the person next to me. He cut his steak. Oooo nice. I opened the cover and stacked it atop the tower of other covers on the table.
I looked up. Damn it. Across from me sat the man I’d sparred with today. A swath of gauze covered what I presumed was a broken nose, judging by the swelling under both his eyes. Even though someone had beaten him up, he still looked scary as he glared at me.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
“You happened.”
“I didn’t do that to your face.”
He snorted, then covered his nose and cursed.
I noticed he didn’t have a plate of food, but didn’t ask why. I also didn’t ask why he sat with the Ducklings. I cut my steak in half, and blood spilled onto the plate. I looked away. I preferred my steak medium-well, but at the thought of not eating the bloody thing, my stomach protested with a growl. Mashed potatoes sat next to it, so I tasted those first. Bland with only a tiny bit of salt. There was also steamed broccoli and carrots. I hated both, though after the apocalypse, I became less picky. I cut a tiny piece of beef. Fork poised at my mouth, I looked up. The man was staring at me.
I ate, chewed, swallowed hard, then chased the bloody thing with water. “You’re gonna sit there and glare at me the entire time?”
“Got nothing better to do.” His gaze drifted to the entrance and stayed there.
I turned in my chair.
Michael and Raphael arrived and made their way toward a single long table farthest from the door and near another exit the kitchen staff used.
“Did the commander do that to you?” I asked the man.
“Do what?”
I rolled my eyes. “Break your nose.”
“No.”
“What happened?” I pressed.
“Shut up.”
“I’ll share my food if you tell me.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m nice. Despite what you think of me.”
He shook his head.
I ate and moaned loudly, making my squad giggle. “You know,” I said and pointed a fork stacked with potatoes at him, “compared to today’s lunch, this is fine dining.”
People snickered.
I pushed
