Eve

Chapter 5

"Zombies!?"

"It's not really zombies," Damian replied. "The media blows everything out of –"

"Keep it down!"

"Sorry." Damian restarted, in a hush. "You know how these things are. Whatever makes a good headline, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose..." I said, careful to keep my own voice down as well. "Still, it's weird."

Damian had climbed in through the window. I didn't dare disrespect my mom's orders and leave the house one day after being grounded, but I had to talk to Damian about all that – especially when he told me about his father.

"How long will he be gone?"

Damian looked up at me. "I don't know. They want him in Philly until they sort this thing out."

From downstairs, the sound of dinner in the making reached me in clink and clanking of pots and silverware.

"This is insane. Can't he just say no?"

"Mom said it's the UN recruiting the doctors," Damian replied. "It's weird. I don't know why the UN would be involved in it, but... I don't know. He has to go, she says."

It was all the news had been about, since Friday. It was on the headline of every clickbait article.

Five Reason the Zombie Apocalypse Has Already Started.

Ten Facts You Didn't Know About the Philly Flu.

You are not going to believe what this Philly Flu patient did at the Penn Presbyterian Medical Center in Philadelphia.

"Why would they need your father to –"

"They're probably just being cautious," Damian replied. "Taking extra measures. Maybe they want a popular face to give the interviews. Calm people down. Dad's always been good with the press."

Things looked a little crazy, sure, but not international crisis crazy. Not UN-recruiting-famous-doctors crazy. I mean, the whole deal with people's turning gray and flaky was pretty weird. The bloodshot eyes didn't help. Or the violent behavior some of the patients were exhibiting.

One particular video had gained track during the night on Facebook and other sites, gathering more than a hundred million views in just a couple of hours. Amateur footage from inside the Penn Presbyterian Medical Center showing a Philly Flu patient – a sixty-something year old man – biting his own cat on the neck before being contained by a team of nurses.

But no one had died. There was no indication that the disease was fatal, or anything like that. And no one really believed the zombie apocalypse was upon us.

At least not back then.

"It's nothing," Damian said, maybe noticing the lines on my forehead. "It's like the swine flu. Or the avian flu before that, remember? Or Ebola. There's always a disease."

"I suppose," I replied, distracted. I still thought it was pretty weird that the UN had gotten involved in a week-long case of what was, at the time, a small outbreak of a weird flu contained to a single city in America. With no fatalities.

Well, except for that cat.

"Pretty soon people will get tired of hearing about it on the news, then the news will find something else to blow out of proportion, and this will all be taken care of. I doubt my dad will be gone for more than a week."

The way Damian was talking, it sounded a bit like he was trying to comfort himself too.

I was about to change the subject, but he was faster:

"So... I hear you punched Innara in the face," he let out, with a semi-smile across his lips.

"Sort of. How did you hear about it?"

"She mentioned it last night," Damian replied. " Didn't sound very happy about it."

"Did she also mentioned why I – wait, last night?"

"Yeah. Her parents came for dinner and she tagged along."

I raised my eyebrows, sighing so hard Damian's hair flew back a bit from his eyes. "Again?"

"Her family is in business with my mom and dad, Eve. What can I do?"

Yeap. It was true. The Hitchens owned the company that produced Damian's father's TV show. Which meant they had to meet quite frequently. Which meant a lot of dinners at Damian's house.

You know what it didn't mean, though? That Innara had to show up to any of those dinners.

She made a point of going to all of them, though. A fact that didn't bother me in much the same way dinosaurs weren't bothered by meteors.

(Zombie fact number five: a lot of my analogies involve dinosaurs).

"Well, what did she say?"

"Meh. Not much. Her parents mentioned you two got into a fight after Mr. Thompson's class."

"Did their precious little daughter mentioned why?"

"Eve, I really don't spend that much time listening to what Innara talks about. Half the words out of her mouth are about herself, and the other half are about clothes. Frankly, I don't care much for neither."

That made me happy. I decided it was unfair to push my frustration with bitchy Innara on Damian. It wasn't his fault she kept throwing herself at him – and, like mom always said, you have to trust the person you're with, not everyone else.

"Anyway, her parents weren't very happy about it. Said they were going to school on Monday to talk to Rosenfield about it."

"Yeah, mom said he wants to talk to me too," I replied. "Wonder what that's gonna be like."

"You, Mr. Rosenfield and the Hitchens? Wish I could be there to watch."

"Shut up."

I pushed him. He smiled. Behind his eyes, I could see he was still worried about his father. I pulled his face towards mine.

"Eve, dinner!"

I looked up, leaving Damian's lips to smack against air. "Shit. You better go, Damian."

The steps grew closer as mom reached the top of the stairs. "I'll call you tomorrow, ok?"

"All right, now go!" I replied, pushing him out the window. He made way around and disappeared from sight just as the door burst open.

"Eve. Dinner."

"Be right there, mom."

"I made ribs." Mom smiled from the door. Her eyes flashed over to the window. "Does Damian like ribs?"

I swear I saw a smirk forming in her lips as the door clicked shut.