Death's Awakening

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Parrish

Sunlight streamed in through the window and Parrish's eyes fluttered open reluctantly. Disoriented, she looked around the room, trying to remember where she was. Then she spotted a picture on the wall of the guest room. Noah and his father.

They were sitting in a boat together, holding up small fish and smiling ear-to-ear. Noah looked to be about ten or eleven in the picture.

She smiled, then remembered why she was here and not at home, and the smile faded.

How late had it been when she had finally drifted off to sleep? After midnight for sure, but it was easy to lose track of time these days. Each day ran into the next with no real schedule or purpose. Staying alive seemed to be the only purpose left.

Parrish slipped out of bed and walked over to the window. She peeked through the blinds, scared of what she might see out there. How many more infected found them in the night?

But there was no one in sight. The street was empty and the front yard looked almost normal except for some trash that had blown into the yard from a toppled trash can next door.

Someone knocked on the door and Parrish turned just as Noah opened a small crack in the door. His eyes traveled from the bed to the window, then he smiled. He looked tired.

"Hey," he said softly. "I wasn't sure if you were up yet. I made some coffee downstairs and thought maybe it would be a good time for us to sit and talk if you're up for it."

Parrish looked back through the blinds. "What happened to the infected?" she asked. "Did they leave?"

Noah opened the door wider and came to stand beside her at the window looking down. His arm touched hers and butterflies stirred in her stomach. She moved an inch to the side, not ready for that feeling.

Noah glanced her way, then put his hand in his pocket. "As soon as the sun came up, they all headed inside," he said. "I don't think they like the natural light for some reason."

"How long ago was that? Have you been up all night?"

He shrugged. "Mostly," he said. "When the last one left, I lay down on the couch for a little while, but I'm not sure I really slept."

Silence passed between them. Noah shifted his weight, then pulled his hand from his pocket.

"Listen, I've been wanting to talk to you about the other night," he said. "With your mom."

Parrish swallowed and turned away, pretending to study something outside. She didn't really want to talk about that night.

"I'm really sorry I didn't go with you to the hospital," he said. "I feel terrible for just letting you drive off alone. I meant to come talk to you after you got home, but I never got the chance."

"It's fine," she said, a lump forming in her throat. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she pushed them back. If she started thinking about all the things worth crying over, she might never stop. "You were really brave just to come over there with everything you already knew about the virus. You risked your life to help me."

Noah touched her arm and the spot tingled with the warmth of his touch. Part of her wanted to pull away, but part of her wanted to lean in to him. To throw her arms around him.

"I should have done more," he said. He cleared his throat and ran his thumb back and forth across her skin. "Parrish—"

Something crashed downstairs.

A moment of panic rushed through her. What if those things had gotten through the boarded up windows? What if she hadn't nailed them in tight enough? She ran, Noah close behind her on the stairs.