Human Bait

Chapter 11: Habit

A week passed before I worked up the courage to try cooking for Rekkan. I told myself the thought should count for something even if the execution was subpar. But as I stared at the disintegrated vegetables and charred pieces clinging to the edges of the pan, I wasn't so sure.

Briefly, I contemplated how to discard the food without Rekkan noticing. Then footsteps approached, and I cursed under my breath.

"Well, smells like the food's ready," Rekkan said. "Or a bit past ready."

I bit my lip and dragged it out from under my teeth with a wet pop. "Yeah, sorry, I didn't think... but it already... I told you I'm bad at cooking."

He chuckled. "At least it keeps you away from my books. Think you've destroyed enough of them."

Exasperation beat out the guilt, and I whipped around to glare at Rekkan. "I didn't destroy them." I waved the wooden spatula at him, and a little food slopped onto the floor. "I fixed them."

He tipped his head up and folded his arms over his chest, a smile tugging one side of his lips. "Did you?"

I nodded. "The history book is bad, but the science book is worse. The South launched biological warfare with a virus that prefers heat? First of all, no one is that stupid. Secondly, if the Infected prefer heat, why do they avoid fire?"

With a little steam released, my common sense returned. I exhaled, set the spatula back in the pan behind me, and hunched my shoulders. Rekkan had invited me to stay only eight days ago. Why was I pushing my luck so soon?

He cocked his head and lifted his eyebrows in a facial shrug. "You have a point."

Encouraged, I drew my shoulder back and ventured a question. "Rekkan, have you heard of any research bases that are still looking for a cure?"

Something I couldn't interpret flitted past his eyes. "Why would you ask that?"

"I heard there were Southie research bases in the North, but I wasted months searching for them when I first came to the North, and I never found any."

"Even if the bases existed, they wouldn't take refugees. They wouldn't have helped you."

"Actually, I hoped to help them."

Crow's feet creased the skin at the corners of his eyes. "There's no one left worth helping."

I thought of the humans I had met recently: vicious gangs, smooth con-artists, dangerous lunatics. And what was I? A thief and a whore. The apocalypse had brought out the worst parts of humankind.

But the best parts could still return.

"Maybe they have to get the help before they can become worthy of it," I said.

He studied me for a few silent seconds, and then he shook his head. "I don't understand how you do it."

    "How I do what?"

    "How you still hope."

    I started to laugh, but when I saw the soft sincerity in his gaze, I swallowed and planted one palm on the counter behind me. "Everyone needs hope to survive."

    "Not me. I stopped hoping a long time ago."

    I furrowed my brow. "Then how can you get up each morning?"

    He shrugged. "Habit."

* * *

At the end of my third week in the fortress, I awoke to a thump.

I sat up fast. Vertigo sloshed over me, and my voice crackled with shattered sleep. "Rekkan?"

No answer.