trying to avoid him, but Frank caught her arm. “You need to go home and rest.”
“Rest for what?” She ducked around him, not meeting his stare.
Frank pulled up his hood to hide part of his face. “I don’t know how much you remember—”
“I need you not to talk about it.” Kuri kept her gaze straight ahead, her attention like a missile aimed at the raised trailer that acted as the warehouses’ office. “I’m not mad at you or about anything. But I can’t right now, okay?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Frank kept pace with her, almost racing her to the door. “But I can take a look at your brain scans, maybe I can find a way to fix it.”
She grabbed the door. “So you’re going to give me an MRI instead of actually talking to me?”
Frank put a hand on the wood, holding it closed. “You’re the one not talking to me.” Then he craned his head around to look through the dingy windows. They were too dirty to see inside.
As if Kuri read his mind, she said, “You can’t go instead of me. It’s rented under my fake name. It’ll only take a second.”
Frank noticed the tremble in her shoulders. Unfortunately, he also knew she was right. She did need to be the one to get the key. Swallowing his concerns, Frank offered the one thing he knew she’d take—a way to temporarily cope. “D’you want an anxiolytic before we go in?” Frank pulled a vial out of his pocket. He’d gotten the meds from Q-ter and planned on carrying them around with him whenever he and Kuri were together for a while. He wasn’t sure exactly what had set her off earlier, but suspected it had something to do with them having sex. Much as Frank wasn’t planning on getting physical with Kuri again until he got to the bottom of her flashbacks, he didn’t want to risk her freaking out. He couldn’t handle that loss of control.
She bit her lip, considering. “I’ll probably end up sleeping the whole day if I do.”
“Probably.” Frank shrugged. He felt the guy who loved Kuri more than anything fading, disappearing behind the practical leader of the Zombie Underground. “But that would be better than screaming hysterically if something sets you off.” He didn’t mean to make light of the situation, but sometimes there was nothing to be done besides being practical.
Kuri cocked her head to the side, considering, though she still stared at her feet. “How about I take half?” She held her hand out while he poured her a pill. She picked it up and with her thumbs, split the already-small tablet in two.
“You need water?”
“No thanks.” She popped the medicine to the back of her throat and swallowed.
“It might take a while to kick in. Do you want to wait?” Frank noticed Q-ter pulling the moving truck up in front of their warehouse.
“No.” Kuri wrenched open the door. Her expression was as closed-off as a robot’s. “I know it’s going to work, so that alone will head off a panic attack.”
Frank mumbled, “I hope so,” and followed her in.
The office looked like the one at the motel, but more rundown—beige walls, industrial-green carpet. A single desk sat in the middle of the room.
“Hello.” The landlord was older—at least eighty. What hair he had was gray. He wore wire-framed glasses and looked more harried than anything else. He didn’t look up from his paperwork.
“Yes, hello, Peter.” A shiver rolled through her, though it was probably imperceptible to anyone but Frank. “I’m here to get the key.”
“Sure thing.” Without lifting his head, the lifer reached for a wall of hooks and plucked off a key. “Here ya go.” He looked up to see Kuri more clearly through his glasses and his smile shifted to a scowl. “What happened to you?” He scanned past Kuri to where Frank stood by the wall.
Frank had almost forgotten about her black eye. The night before, she’d covered it with makeup when they went out.
“Did he do this to you?” Peter aimed an accusatory finger
“Rest for what?” She ducked around him, not meeting his stare.
Frank pulled up his hood to hide part of his face. “I don’t know how much you remember—”
“I need you not to talk about it.” Kuri kept her gaze straight ahead, her attention like a missile aimed at the raised trailer that acted as the warehouses’ office. “I’m not mad at you or about anything. But I can’t right now, okay?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Frank kept pace with her, almost racing her to the door. “But I can take a look at your brain scans, maybe I can find a way to fix it.”
She grabbed the door. “So you’re going to give me an MRI instead of actually talking to me?”
Frank put a hand on the wood, holding it closed. “You’re the one not talking to me.” Then he craned his head around to look through the dingy windows. They were too dirty to see inside.
As if Kuri read his mind, she said, “You can’t go instead of me. It’s rented under my fake name. It’ll only take a second.”
Frank noticed the tremble in her shoulders. Unfortunately, he also knew she was right. She did need to be the one to get the key. Swallowing his concerns, Frank offered the one thing he knew she’d take—a way to temporarily cope. “D’you want an anxiolytic before we go in?” Frank pulled a vial out of his pocket. He’d gotten the meds from Q-ter and planned on carrying them around with him whenever he and Kuri were together for a while. He wasn’t sure exactly what had set her off earlier, but suspected it had something to do with them having sex. Much as Frank wasn’t planning on getting physical with Kuri again until he got to the bottom of her flashbacks, he didn’t want to risk her freaking out. He couldn’t handle that loss of control.
She bit her lip, considering. “I’ll probably end up sleeping the whole day if I do.”
“Probably.” Frank shrugged. He felt the guy who loved Kuri more than anything fading, disappearing behind the practical leader of the Zombie Underground. “But that would be better than screaming hysterically if something sets you off.” He didn’t mean to make light of the situation, but sometimes there was nothing to be done besides being practical.
Kuri cocked her head to the side, considering, though she still stared at her feet. “How about I take half?” She held her hand out while he poured her a pill. She picked it up and with her thumbs, split the already-small tablet in two.
“You need water?”
“No thanks.” She popped the medicine to the back of her throat and swallowed.
“It might take a while to kick in. Do you want to wait?” Frank noticed Q-ter pulling the moving truck up in front of their warehouse.
“No.” Kuri wrenched open the door. Her expression was as closed-off as a robot’s. “I know it’s going to work, so that alone will head off a panic attack.”
Frank mumbled, “I hope so,” and followed her in.
The office looked like the one at the motel, but more rundown—beige walls, industrial-green carpet. A single desk sat in the middle of the room.
“Hello.” The landlord was older—at least eighty. What hair he had was gray. He wore wire-framed glasses and looked more harried than anything else. He didn’t look up from his paperwork.
“Yes, hello, Peter.” A shiver rolled through her, though it was probably imperceptible to anyone but Frank. “I’m here to get the key.”
“Sure thing.” Without lifting his head, the lifer reached for a wall of hooks and plucked off a key. “Here ya go.” He looked up to see Kuri more clearly through his glasses and his smile shifted to a scowl. “What happened to you?” He scanned past Kuri to where Frank stood by the wall.
Frank had almost forgotten about her black eye. The night before, she’d covered it with makeup when they went out.
“Did he do this to you?” Peter aimed an accusatory finger
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