Love & Decay, Episode 11 by Rachel Higginson Page A

constant threat of Zombies and danger and going from relative safety to fighting for my life in a moment. I got through by an insane talent for compartmentalizing and adrenaline- the two most important skills for any emotionally unbalanced twenty-year-old trying to survive the end of the world.
                  What I was not used to was not being in immediate danger while it hovered angrily outside my door. My current situation was filled with almost danger- not enough risk to get my adrenaline up and pumping but just enough to remind me I was in no way safe.
                  Feeders separated by only a door. A bunker that was only supplied for the short term. And Kane.
                  I mean, what the f was I even supposed to do with Kane?
                  All of it worked together to put me on edge, built up this pressurized anxiety that cut off blood to my head and strangled my lungs until I was positive I would pass out.
                  I almost wanted to pass out. Then at least I would stop thinking.
                  “Reagan,” Kane repeated in a rasping voice, thick with sleep or sleep-depravation- one of the two. “We’re fine. We’re safe. You need to calm down.”
                  “I know,” I panted. “I’m trying.”
                  “They can’t get in here.”
                  “I know.” But I agreed more to hear myself say it than because I actually believed it. “I know they can’t get in here.”
                  I heard his bedding rustle until I deduced he sat up. “Say them. Say your fears out loud.”
                  I choked a little on my spit. I wasn’t ready to be psycho-analyzed by Kane of all people. “What?”
                  “Say your fears out loud. Get them out of your head. Let yourself hear how ill-founded they are. You need to say them. You’ll feel better, I promise.” He sounded so confident I really wanted to believe him.
                  And he made sense. I took a deep breath ready to spill the worries that felt like cement blocks strapped to my feet while the ocean of doubt and uncertainty pulled me under until I couldn’t breathe, until I couldn’t live.
                  I hesitated at the last moment, knowing this same exercise would bring Kane and I closer together. I wasn’t so lost in my own fear that I didn’t realize what kind of trust this would breed between us.
                  “I’m going to turn the light on,” he warned from inches away.
    I gasped and whipped my head to the side of the bed he stood on, tensing with more unfixable fear than I knew what to do with. My hands gripped the musty quilt underneath me tightly and I pressed my lips together in an effort to pull my expression together just as Kane turned on a battery-powered lantern.
    Even though the light was dim and hardly intrusive, I still had to squint against it until my eyes adjusted. Kane seemed extra imposing as he loomed over me, his face still cast in shadow and his bare chest gleaming in the low light.
    I scrambled to sitting just to put us on more even ground.
    He took a step forward and set the lantern down on a small bedside table, then stepped back. He crossed his arms across his chest, forcing his biceps to bulge. Yes, he had a gorgeous chest for a crazy person. But honestly, right now, he looked like a naked version of the Headless Horseman since everything past his collarbone faded into black.
    Somehow he seemed safer as the Headless Horseman.
    Did that make me Ichabod Crane or Katrina Van Tassel?
    Probably Katrina since I was the one being hunted by Kane.
    So…. that meant I got Johnny Depp in the end, right?
                  Oh gosh, what had happened to Johnny Depp?
                  Was he dead? Feeder? Running a settlement of his own? Could Captain Jack Sparrow just blend in