Page 6 of Burning Love (The Lost World #5)

6

SOPHIA

T he faint tang of yeast was making Sophia feel hungry. Despite working all hours in the compound’s makeshift bakery, she wasn’t allowed to eat any more than anyone else. Everything was rationed, and there wasn’t a morsel to spare. She kneaded the dough with care, her fingers pressing into the cool, moist mass in a steady rhythm. She felt pressure working under Ellen but never hurried. For this, she was grateful. The dough yielded under her touch, warming slightly from the heat of her hands. The morning sun, low in the sky, filtered through the worn canvas of the tent, casting her forearms in a watery light.

She could hear the sparrows outside as she continued to work her forearms, shaped by years of pliés and port de bras. How strange that her fingers, once trained to hold the elegance of a perfect fifth position, were now covered in calluses. Where had she disappeared to? Where was that refined grace of hers? Would she ever need it again? Probably not.

“Ellen?” she asked quietly, not wanting to irk the older woman. “Can you hear the birds? They’re starving.”

“Tough tits,” Ellen replied crudely. “You think I’ve got enough bread here to be feeding the goddam birds. Is that what you’re getting at, missy?”

“Not necessarily. But I’ve been thinking… There’s still a lot of life out there, right? Birds, wildlife… This infection thing hasn’t affected them.”

“And?”

“And that’s a good thing, right? It kind of makes me feel hopeful. Mother Nature is still going strong.”

“Huh? Hopeful? The entire human race is being wiped out, and you’re feeling hopeful?” Ellen snarled.

“That’s not really what I meant. And we don’t know that, Ellen,” she dared to continue. “It could just be in the States. Maybe everything’s just fine back home.”

“Who knows? Look, we’ve got a job to do, Little Miss England. Don’t go getting all philosophical on me. Good consistency today, by the way,” Ellen remarked, her voice brusque but approving. “You’re getting the hang of it. You’re making yourself useful. That’s all you can do for now. Keep your head down, okay?”

Sophia nodded, a small smile creeping onto her lips. Her shoulders rolled as she adjusted her stance. Despite the stiffness lingering in her body from sleeping on the world’s most uncomfortable cot, she continued to knead with renewed purpose, deciding to take Ellen’s praise to heart. The woman’s acknowledgment felt like a lifeline.

The exhilaration of perfectly landing a grand jeté was nothing in comparison to getting a compliment from Ellen.

She looked down briefly at her feet. Alex had given her some newish leather boots. They weren’t quite her style, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, right?

I wonder if these used to be hers? I’d like to be wearing her boots…

She flexed her toes instinctively, feeling the phantom ache of pointe work—a pain she used to wear like a badge of honor. The disconnect between the world she had once inhabited and this one felt impossible to bridge. This compound would never offer her a standing ovation. She would never feel the burn of spotlights on her skin again. That life was behind her. Long gone. Now, she lived here. Now, the undead roamed just yards away. Now she baked bread for survival.

Her stream of thought sent a chill down her spine.

How the heck has it come to this? How did it all unravel so quickly?

She thought back to the first few days she’d spent in the hotel after the initial outbreak. She had stopped watching the news on day two—or had the power gone out? She couldn’t remember. What she could remember were the grim headlines, the emergency messages, the panic once the internet went down. She still didn’t know how this had all started. But the shuffles and groans that she could hear at night and the low groans carried on the wind were constant reminders that humanity had definitely fallen.

As the morning continued, Sophia found herself thinking more and more about Alex. The woman’s presence was impossible to ignore, even when she wasn’t actually physically anywhere near. Her influence could be seen in every corner of the compound. Her Monday meetings had ensured that food distribution and patrols ran like clockwork. Sophia could see the positive side of it, but a part of her also felt that the rules were relentless. The curfews were scary. Everyone had to be inside by dusk. A few days earlier, Sophia had witnessed a young girl, who could have only been around twelve, get caught outside the fence. The consequences were swift and severe. She had been sent to bed with no rations and no water. It had been hard to watch. When she’d asked Ellen about it, the older woman’s answer had been clear enough, “The girl’s disobedient. Alex won’t tolerate it. If the kid doesn’t watch herself, she’ll be kicked off the compound.”

Really? Would Alex go that far?

Then there were the patrols—the constant watching. That was usually Alex’s job. In fact, it was rare that Sophia saw Alex sitting down. She made her rounds throughout the day, ensuring that every rule was being followed. The compound was divided into sections, each one assigned a specific purpose. There were the living quarters, workshops, and the kitchen. No one ventured beyond their designated areas during the day. There was a rigid structure to their routine. It reminded Sophia of rehearsals but with less taffeta. Even casual conversations were hard to come across in the compound. It seemed that there was an unspoken rule—only necessary words should be spoken.

As Sophia stepped outside the tent to stretch her back a little, she glanced toward the main gate, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alex.

Why do I keep looking for her like this?

There she was, her rifle resting against her hip as she paced up and down in front of the gate. Sophia spotted some guards making their way over to join her. Their movements seemed to reinforce the order that Alex seemed so desperately to want to maintain in this place. Sophia knew that she had witnessed a softer side to this woman who had such a tight hold on their lives. But she didn’t know why.

Sophia could sense, even from a distance, how effortlessly Alex navigated not only the physical but also the psychological demands of this new life they were leading. There was such an impressive authority about her, a confidence that radiated from her every pore. Sophia realized at that moment that the rules on the compound weren’t just a matter of protocol for Alex—they were a part of her.

Sophia was mesmerized by the discipline Alex exuded—the order she had brought to the place required sacrifice. Alex made sure people respected her authority and was obviously prepared not to be liked for it. Sophia and the others felt submissive and controlled, and yet, somehow, in that order, there was a strange sense of security—a sense that they were safe. Sophia had felt as much since the very first moment in Alex’s presence.

As mealtime neared, Sophia felt an odd self-consciousness, as if she were being watched. She noticed the gentle curve of her slight arms as she carried loaves of bread to the dining area, her fingers trembling slightly under the weight. The skin on her forearms seemed tighter, stretched too thin.

I’ve lost weight. I can only imagine what my mother would say.

The thought lingered, heavy and unwelcome, as memories resurfaced.

There was a time—just a few years ago—when she had been obsessed with her body image. The pressure to fit a specific mold had been suffocating. At every audition, her movements had to be perfect. Every inch of her physique was carefully scrutinized. Her teachers had pushed her harder than she ever thought possible. At times, she didn’t think she could handle it. Her mother, too, had been a constant reminder of the stakes.

“If you want this, Sophia, you have to be perfect. Your father and I have saved every penny for your classes.”

Sophia had starved herself. It was her silent rebellion against the criticisms that came at her from every direction. She quickly lost track of the line between determination and destruction. Her body had become a shell, brittle and fragile. Her bones had jutted out sharply beneath her skin. She got into the Royal Ballet School, but the weight she lost cost her more than just her health—it had shattered her connection with her family. Her mother had cried when she’d come to visit her in the hospital, her face full of guilt and concern, while her father remained silent.

As she went through ballet school, Sophia learned to eat, to shop, and to drink normally. She had to teach herself to balance her meals, to enjoy the food that once filled her with guilt, and to understand that she didn’t have to sacrifice her health to pursue her passion. But now she had to deal with rationing on the compound. It felt like her natural inclination was to ration food. It had taken so much time, therapy, and patience to retrain her mind out of rationing mode. What if she were to slip back into it? What if she started to see food as the enemy again?

Stop thinking about it. Food isn’t the enemy! There are bloody zombies out there, Soph! The real enemy!

As she pictured the infected, she became grounded in the present moment, forcing her to focus on what she could control now.

Sophia’s movements as she set the bread on the table felt deliberate, her body gliding gracefully despite her fragility. She couldn’t help but wonder if Alex ever noticed these details. Did she see the way Sophia moved? Would she understand the troubles of her past if Sophia were to tell her?

The thought both thrilled and embarrassed her. What would it be like if Alex took an interest in her personal life? In her past? In the real her? Sophia felt a flush of warmth creep up her neck at the thought. She had been thinking about it long and hard. Not only that day but for almost a week now. It wasn’t just admiration she felt for Alex. It wasn’t even gratitude. There was something more. There was a feeling she couldn’t quite put her finger on that stirred deep in her chest every time she glimpsed the woman. And as much as she tried to focus on whatever task was at hand, the idea that Alex might be watching, might be noticing her, lingered at the back of her mind.

Sophia’s legs ached from standing. The familiar burn reminded her of long rehearsal days. She took a moment to lean against the edge of the table, stretching one leg behind her in a movement that echoed an arabesque. Her body remembered. As she shifted her weight, the rough fabric of her trousers scraped against her soft skin. Her clothes were such a far cry from the silky, flowing costumes and outfits she used to wear on and off stage. Her fingers curled against the table’s edge, grounding herself in the tactile reality of this new life.

“Hey, kid. You’re drifting again,” Ellen said sharply, pulling Sophia out of her reverie. “Focus, girl. Your job ain’t even all that hard. You should be thankful you’re in here with me and not… I don’t know… digging graves, laundering stinky teenage-boy bed linen, slaying the undead. There’s a whole load of stuff that needs doing around here. Do you want me to tell the powers-that-be that I don’t want you in here no more?”

Sophia felt her cheeks burning as a sweat broke out across her brow. She started fidgeting with one of her sleeves, hoping it would distract Ellen. “No. Listen, I’m sorry,” she muttered under her breath. “I was just thinking. I’ll do better.”

Ellen gave her a sidelong glance, her hands deftly shaping loaves. “Thinking’s a luxury, you hear me?”

By the time Sophia stepped out of the tent for the last time that day, the sun was beginning its descent. She carried a final basket of bread toward the communal dining area, weaving between groups of survivors. Voices murmured in low tones as conversations blended into a backdrop of mumbled chatter.

“Sophia!” a young child’s voice called out, breaking through the noise. She turned to see Ava, a bony pre-teen with untamed curls, galloping toward her. “What’s left? Is that honey bread or normal bread?”

Sophia smiled, crouching to Ava’s level. “Did you already eat, my darling? This is the last of the bread. It’s for the final sitting. You kids should have already eaten. Listen, let me see what I can do for you tomorrow. If Ellen’s in a good mood, maybe we can make some honey and raisin loaves.”

Ava’s face lit up with a wide, toothy grin, her eyes sparkling. “Really? I’m so hungry. I swear I’ve been dreaming about food!”

Give her your portion, Soph. No, don’t. Eat. You need to eat.

“I know. Haven’t we all?” Sophia replied, ruffling the girl’s hair. “Now, go on. It must nearly be your bedtime.”

Ava scampered off, and Sophia straightened up, her eyes wandering as if on auto-pilot back toward the main gate. Alex was still there, silhouetted against the fading light, her posture alert. The sight of her sent a thrill through Sophia’s chest.

“Sophia,” Alex shouted as she started to draw nearer, her voice echoing above the voices of the gathered crowd.

Oh my God. She’s coming over.

Sophia’s heart jolted in her chest, but she forced a casual tone as Alex came to stand opposite her. “Last bread delivery of the day. Want some?”

Alex flashed her a friendly smile. “Thanks. Don’t worry about me. I ate my rations earlier. She turned her head to the right and glanced toward the horizon, her expression hard to read. “So? Tell me all about your day. You look tired.”

“Yep. I’m knackered,” Sophia admitted, shifting the basket to her other arm. “But it’s… it’s been fine. Zombie-free. Flour, water, fire. The usual. I need to keep busy, you know?”

Alex nodded, her gaze meeting Sophia’s. “Knackered? We don’t use that word. It’s cute.” For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from Alex’s shoulders. “You’re doing great work. People appreciate it. I appreciate it.”

Sophia’s cheeks warmed. “That means a lot. Thank you.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Sergeant Henry, who had jogged over. “Major,” he said with a hint of alarm in his voice. “We’ve got a situation. Looks like a stray… or a couple of strays. Maybe more. I don’t know. But the fence isn’t holding up great. How are you on ammo?”

Alex’s demeanor shifted instantly to one of command. “You stay at the main gate. I’ll handle it. Sophia, I want you to gather everyone up and get into the hangars. It’s safer there.”

Sophia stood frozen to the spot as she watched Alex rush away. Without thinking, she started following Henry toward the gate.

“Didn’t you hear her? Step it up, Sophia!” Henry barked at her as she felt her stomach lurch.

Her stomach twisted with worry, but she forced herself to move. Sophia marched back toward the dining area with purpose, her voice firm but calm as she urged her fellow survivors toward the safety of the two main hangars. “Come on, let’s get inside. Lock it down, everyone. Everyone get to their sleeping quarters and we’ll do a headcount.”

A few of the younger ones didn’t seem to be moving, their nervous glances at her making her chest tighten. Sophia stepped closer, lowering her voice to a gentler tone. “You guys follow me. If we stick together, we’re safe.”

They know I’m lying. Most of these kids have lost their parents. Poor little sods.

Once the heavy doors were bolted and the last few stragglers had shuffled through, Sophia let out the long breath she must have been holding in and leaned against the wall, scanning the room to ensure everyone was accounted for. She spotted Ellen near the back of the space, glaring at her with that familiar disapproving look.

As Sophia started toward the supply crates, Ellen’s voice cut through the din. “What were you before all this? A shepherd? You’re certainly good at herding us all like animals; I’ll give you that.”

Turning slowly, she met Ellen’s gaze, tears prickling in her eyes despite herself. “I’m just doing my part. Same as everyone else.”

Ellen raised an eyebrow, her smirk a mix of skepticism and something else Sophia couldn’t place. “I bet you’re doing your part. I’ve seen the way you are around Alex. Everyone’s talking about it. If Miller gets wind of it…”

Sophia’s breath caught in her throat as she struggled to find a way to respond. She had been getting on so well with Ellen. Well, they’d been tolerating each other. Why the sudden change? “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Pull the other one, girl.” Ellen folded her arms across her chest. “Just be careful, is all I’m saying. This isn’t the kind of world where people will look the other way about… that kind of business. We’ve got a lot of traditional folks here, you understand?”

Ellen’s words hit too close to home, dragging her back to a conversation she’d had a couple of years ago. She’d just turned twenty, her aunt’s kitchen warm with the smell of mulled wine. It was the Christmas holidays, and they’d just come back from mass. Her aunt had been the only person Sophia had felt she could confide in about her feelings for Sarah—the flutter of excitement she felt whenever they practiced together, whenever they were alone…

Her aunt had gone quiet. Her expression turned to one of pain as she spoke to Sophia in hushed tones. “Whatever you do, don’t tell my brother,” she’d finally said. “It’s better your parents don’t know, Soso. People around here will talk. You know that. Whatever you do in London is your business, but around here, they’ll make life hard for you. You don’t want that for your mum and dad, do you?”

The words had stung then, and they stung now. Sophia understood Ellen’s veiled warning perfectly.

“I appreciate your concern,” she said, her voice tight, “but I don’t think my personal life concerns you, for a start. Secondly, you’ve got the wrong idea about Alex and me. If I understand what you’re getting at.”

Ellen shrugged, her smirk widening. “Really? It’s a perk going straight to the kitchen. I’m only in there because of my age. Why are you in there? There was no cleaning toilets for you, was there? No guard duties. No patrols. No laundry. No looking after the kids. Nope. Straight to the kitchen. Straight to one of the easiest, safest jobs on the compound. I’m just wondering why.”

As Ellen turned and walked away, Sophia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her thoughts drifted back to Alex—her strength, her quiet kindness. Sophia’s chest tightened with longing, a desire not just for companionship but for something more.

I guess Ellen’s right. She can see this more clearly than I can. Does everyone around here see it?

Resolve settled over her as she made her way over to her cot. Tomorrow, she would take a step closer. She didn’t know how, but she had to try. What she did know, however, was that whatever her feelings for Alex were, she wasn’t about to let them be the topic of compound gossip—or the reason anyone doubted her place here.