Page 93 of Chaos

“Not unless I move it.”

“Can you use it?”

With a pained grunt, he screws up his face and his fingers begin to shake, curling inward. Barely. “Not yet.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“You didn’t do it.”

“I was part of it.”

He swallows. He doesn’t say it’s okay because it isn’t, and I’m glad. I wouldn’t believe him if he did. “I didn’t get you a gun.”

“I wouldn’t get me a gun either.”

We sit like that for a while. Long enough, I know I should let go of his hand, but I don’t think I’ve touched anyone since before the plague, and the simple contact of his hand, cradled in mine, feels like seeing the ocean for the first time.

I don’t want to let that go.

Maybe he feels the same way, because he doesn’t tug that broken hand of his back.

He tugs a phone from his pocket with his left hand, his fingers moving, and after a minute, the familiar logo of a now-gone streaming platform appears.

“Not much downloaded from the cloud before the internet went out, but it’s something. I only have this one episode. It’s a random one and only half of it,” he says with a yawn.

When I see Cyrus’s face, all I can think is that I like Shane’s so much more. His eyes are brighter, his smile bigger,and when I see Monroe, I wonder if I could be more like her if I tried. Just a little.

You can choose.

Frankie and Yorke both said words like that.

I think Monroe would agree.

We watch it in silence for a long time, leaning against the wall in the semi-dark, legs stretched out, his broken hand warm in mine.

“This is the one where they kiss.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s in the last half of the episode. It’s not downloaded. I can’t really remember it.”

I can. They sit on a blanket by candlelight, for once without any zombies chasing them, and she admits she admires him for his kindness.

“Remember when they danced?” I whisper.

“That was by the creek, right?”

“Yeah, my favorite scene.”

“Everyone’s dressing up. There’re dresses …” he mumbles sleepily. “The shops, more in the conference room.”

“Okay.” I suddenly feel like it’s prom, and I don’t have anything to wear.

At some point, I realize, my cheek is resting on his shoulder, my eyes are heavy. He smells like … gun oil and … the lake my dad took me and my sisters too once.

An earthy smell.

A good one.

I’ve never slept beside anyone before, and a jolt of realization has me stiffening.

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