Page 22

“Let’s grab a bite to eat,” Amos says after showing me most of this beautiful campus.

The building I had assumed was for athletics has an indoor track, basketball and squash courts, and a pool—though drained and unusable at the moment.

There’s also a gym which is where Amos trains the patrol units that go out scavenging for resources and protect the perimeters of campus.

After seeing the sports center, we walked around the football field where he pointed out the field hockey field and past that, a large pedestrian bridge, which Amos explained is guarded 24/7.

The other side of the bridge is past the barrier they had built around campus.

There are barricades on the bridge and the stairs on the other side are impassable for even the freshies to figure out how to climb.

But it is still a passage for humans seeking shelter and one of the three entrances into The Valley.

The second entrance is a large gate for vehicles a few yards away from the bridge.

The third entrance is on the other side of campus.

I was surprised when Amos guided me over to another bridge.

This one is built over sunken train tracks that divide the campus in two.

Spikes line the walls around the tracks to prevent anyone or anything from climbing over them.

This side of campus is made up of two quads.

The social quad and the academic quad.

Though The Valley is no longer a functioning college, the academic buildings are still used as classrooms for the younger survivors.

Because math is still important in the apocalypse?

I rolled my eyes when Amos explained that they also provided courses for adults who want to enrich their minds.

“We need to keep our knowledge and history alive. Education is the best way to hold on to our humanity,” Amos had said.

His words stirred something inside me.

Humanity. He’s trying to save humanity.

So was Doctore. But in an extreme and violent way.

“So,” I say to Amos as we sit down in an industrial atrium.

He hands me a sandwich he’d grabbed from the little food stand in the middle of the large sitting area.

“What’s this building used for now?”

“Is that really the question you want to ask, Copperhead?” Amos looks at me dead in the eyes, as if he can read my thoughts.

I mean, of course I have a million questions swirling around my head.

But will he actually answer them?

Let’s find out.

“Okay. What do you know about Doctore?”

Amos sits back in his chair, getting himself comfortable as he decides what to tell me.

He takes a large bite of his sandwich, delaying his answer.

Just as I open my mouth to ask another question, Amos says, “For the past two years, I’ve been looking for traces of the man who is responsible for the end of the world. Dr. Gabriel Tuwile. In the before, he was testing genetic modifications on humans which he planned to sell to the military. Make soldiers immune to biological warfare, heal wounds so they can jump right back into battle, and carry more weapons and ammunition on their backs. Super soldiers. Norman had worked with Dr. Tuwile for years, but left the project just before the outbreak.”

Amos takes another bite of his sandwich as I fiddle with mine.

“You need to eat,” he says with food in his mouth and points to the sandwich in my hands.

I take a big bite, slowly chewing on the soft bread and peanut butter.

I might not have starved in the bunker, but they didn’t have peanut butter.

“We heard rumors that Dr. Tuwile was still alive and continuing his research. Rumors that he was abducting survivors. I made it my mission to hunt him down. A year or so ago, I heard about the Colosseum. It took me months to get an invitation, as it was an exclusive venue. So I made friends with someone I knew to be a sort of investor. He took me to see you fight. Everyone around me was betting each other over how long you would last, how many biters you’d take down. It was disgusting.”

With a little too much aggression, Amos tears into his sandwich, dripping peanut butter on his hands.

He licks his fingers slowly and I cannot stop staring.

When his golden eyes look up at mine, that half smirk appears again.

I quickly look away and bring my mind back to what Amos was saying.

“Did you place a bet?” I ask.

Amos’ face falls, looking ashamed.

“I had to in order to fit in. But I bet on you.”

“That’s a shame, considering I lost that day.” The memory of my flesh being ripped from my bones until the tendons snapped threatened to consume every corner of my brain.

“My bet was that you would survive. And you did.” Amos reaches out a hand, pinching my chin ever so slightly.

“You might be small, but I knew you were a viper.”

We stare into each other’s eyes for longer than should be acceptable.

I should feel uncomfortable with the way he is staring at me, but I’m staring back with the same intensity.

Amos finally breaks our connection by lifting my hands—still holding my sandwich—to my mouth and saying, “Eat.”

After we finish our sandwiches in comfortable silence, I ask, “How did you end up at The Valley?”

Figuring he’d brush this question off, I try to think of another question to ask.

To my surprise, he answers.

“I was a professor here. Music.”

“Music professor?” Two things I would never have guessed.

“You look shocked.” And Amos looks amused.

“Yeah, well, I just can’t see you being a professor or even knowing how to hold a tune. You are just so…so…” muscular, big, deadly, sexy .

“Tall,” I say after fumbling for an appropriate word to use.

What a stupid thing to say.

Amos’ amusement travels to his eyes, the golden flecks sparkling as he laughs.

“Musicians come in all shapes and sizes, Copperhead. So do professors.”

“Sorry.” I drop my gaze to the ground, unable to look at him as my face burns with embarrassment.

“It’s okay, Lori. If it makes you feel better, you don’t look like a super soldier.”

And here we are, back on the topic I’ve been burning to discuss with anyone.

But I don’t want to talk about it right now.

So I turn the discussion back on him.

“How old are you? You look so young, like my age.”

“How old are you?” Amos asks, his eyebrow askew.

I squint at him with a challenging glare.

He stares back. His eyes aglow with curiosity and mischief, making my stomach do a backflip.

Or maybe that’s from the peanut butter.

I haven’t had something so rich in years.

My tastebuds are still doing a giddy dance.

Amos holds his stare, waiting for me to answer.

So I give in, breaking our gaze and ask, “It’s been four years since the outbreak, right?”

“Four and a half.” Amos nods, the mischief in his eyes fading to sadness, which I ignore because I will not take anyone’s pity.

“That makes me twenty-two. My birthday is February 26,” I say.

“I’m twenty-nine. May 2nd.”

Twenty-nine.

That feels like so much older than I am, yet he looks so young.

I cross my arms, suddenly feeling awkward as Amos continues to look at me with sympathy in his golden eyes.

He startles me as he shoots out of his seat.

“You must be tired. I’ll walk you to your room.”

I nod, standing up while keeping my arms crossed and my head down as I follow Amos out of the building and across the academic quad.

As we walk by the music building, a question falls out from my lips.

“Do you still teach music?”

“No,” Amos says curtly, letting me know with one word he won’t be giving me a reason.

But I can tell there’s something in that answer.

Pain that goes deep.

I harden my face, not wanting to show pity or sympathy, but I need him to know I understand his pain.

My hand instinctively reaches for him, landing gently on his elbow.

His fast pace halts quickly and he turns to look at me.

Our eyes lock onto each other as I say, “I’m sorry.”

A simple thing to say, but I hope he can hear all the words behind them.

He nods, grasping my hand before I release my loose hold on his arm.

A second later, we are walking side-by-side down a walkway leading to the main road on this side of campus.

As we cross the road, Amos points at a white two-story building that looks like a large house.

“That’s where Alison’s office is. Our campus shrink. She was a psychology professor here before the outbreak. We usually have all the new arrivals go through her for screening. Make sure we don’t let any psychopaths in. But she also schedules time with our residents to help them through tough times, trauma. You are to come here tomorrow morning at ten. Alison will then decide if more meetings will be necessary.”

Amos turns to me, locking his eyes with mine as he continues.

“I need you to understand how important it is that you show up for your sessions with Allison. Not just because of our compromise, or to make sure you aren’t crazy, but for your own mental health. Okay?”

I break my gaze from his and stare at the white building, unsure what to make of it.

Mental health. What even is that?

And how can one person help an entire community cope when the world has ended?

Amos places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently, coaxing a response from me.

“I understand.”

“Good.”

Amos turns me away from the white building and we continue walking down the sidewalk toward the dorm buildings.

My brain turns off as we walk.

I’m not sure if he says anything else to me.

All sound, feeling, smells, everything turns off.

I don’t even notice that we’ve stopped walking until Amos’ deep voice pierces the void I had curled up inside.

“Lori, are you okay?”

I shake my brain.

“Yeah. Just a lot to take in.”

That pitiful look on Amos’ face makes me want to strangle him, so I ignore it, turning away to stare at the door in front of us.

Amos opens the door, telling me to go inside.

He doesn’t follow me in, but stands at the door.

“Oh, hi, Amos!” Three girls are gathered on a couch in the communal living room.

There are five doors behind the living space, one looks like a bathroom.

The others are all bedrooms.

The girl who greeted Amos stands up and walks toward us.

She is skinny with toned arms and legs.

Her blonde hair cascades perfectly over her shoulders.

Tanned skin tells me she spends most of her time outside.

And the look on her face as she stares up at Amos tells me there is something going on between them.

Or perhaps I’m imagining that because Amos looks past her to the others as he says, “This is Cathy’s daughter, Lori. She’ll be rooming with the three of you, so I expect you all to give her a warm welcome and help her as she transitions from life outside The Valley.”

Brighteyes is still staring at Amos, waiting for him to look at her.

He doesn’t. Instead, Amos turns to me, giving me his attention as he says, “If you need anything, anything , I’m right across the hallway. Okay?”

No words come out of my mouth as I nod.

When I turn toward my new roommates, I hear the door close behind me.

Brighteyes left with Amos and that’s the last thought I allow myself.

The other two wave me over to them on the couch.

I numbly follow their welcome and collapse onto the couch.