"My baby." Wendy said after a long silence.
"Oh. Wow. You’re pregnant?"
"Calm down…" Wendy sighed softly, placing her hand over her stomach. The kicking feeling hadn’t really stopped since right after she’d woken up that morning. She felt stupid doing it, but she murmured down to her stomach. "We’ll see him soon, okay? I promise."
"Who are you talking to?"
"What gave it away, the smoke or the aggravation in my voice?"
Jason was used to being alone, from the moment he was sectioned at the age if fifteen he’d become accustomed to functioning as a singular unit. He was even more adept at such a thing once he’d learned how to tongue his medicine and have a clear mind.
He’d never fancied himself as “crazy”, though the situation he was currently living certainly was.
Zombie’s, viruses and mounting bodies. If this was classed as a war, humanity was losing tenfold. A cure was a laughable notion, now it was all about survival.
Jason knew more about that than most.
Dylan froze, it wasn’t the man she noticed but the gun he held in his hand. She hadn’t survived a zombie apocalypse this long just to be gunned down by a potential trigger happy raider. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and she wasn’t willing to bet her life on the chance that he wouldn’t put a bullet in her if he spotted something he deemed valuable in the kitchen. It was funny really, before the zombies and the virus, this house would have been looted for the expensive looking china plates in the cabinet. Since the world had ended, the meaning of value had changed. It was no longer about how much money you could make off of something, because in a world with no economy system, money didn’t matter.
"I’ll put it under consideration."
"So, what was the road kill before you over microwaved it?"
"Mmm roadkill, tasty."
"You should try some salt and pepper with that."
"The microwave’s always done that. It’s not my fault."
"It looks like you tried to microwave road kill."