To Be A Warrior

Chapter 9: Let Me Make You Proud

I'm tired.

It's been a long day of supply runs and kitchen duty. I've gone from being chased by zombies to making mashed potatoes and boiled chicken within the span of a few hours. Normally they wouldn't put a double like this onto a person, but the kitchen was short staffed and for some reason the people here think I'm a decent cook. I say it's because I'm an Arkansan and everyone knows that when it comes to America, the southerners are the ones that have the good food. Too bad they only let me fry chicken once in a blue moon.

I'm thankful that I now have the time to sit down. Of course, I can't really relax, not when I volunteered to babysit since it is Demons and Darkness night. I don't mind. Sarah's honestly an angel, although Adora seems to make her lose that angelic cuteness the tiniest bit.

I didn't know babies could get into so much mischief, but they do. Most of the time it's just them taking things, or spilling things or somehow getting into places that one and a half year olds shouldn't possible be able to get to. Their most recent offense was getting into Alejandro's cage, shoving the poor chinchilla into one of their pockets and running off like their lives depended on it.

They're both very grabby when they get together, but not from each other, just other people.

Sam jokes that they'll really be a handful when they get older, and even though he doesn't truly mean it, I have a fear that he may be right.

Right now, they're content to play with some of the soft, colorful blocks in the Rec building. This room is empty besides us, but I like it that way. It means the air won't be filled with screaming voices and I only have to worry about the two sitting on the ground, putting a few blocks on top of each other only to knock them down again for their own entertainment.

Not that my way of entertainment is any more exciting. I'm trying to knit using that certain stitch motion that Jody showed me a few days earlier. I'm not very good at it, but I've run out of books to read in the library and I don't want to play cards against myself since that will have the girls barreling by to snatch up the cards that catch their eyes.

And I really don't want to explain why some of the cards are crumpled and soggy to the kids who will come in tomorrow.

I look down at my creation. That's the best word I can use to describe it, since it resembles no known thing. It was supposed to be a sock.

I don't think I could make it into a sock now if I tried. My fingers get confused, my mind forgetting the proper steps and patterns. This will definitely be one of the things I don't show Jody. I know she won't judge, but still-this is just sad.

I'm sure Sam will get a kick out of it, especially since he can knit. Knowing him though, he'll just try to cover up his laughter with sweet assurance that it isn't that bad. Phineas probably won't be so kind. He won't be rude, but he will definitely point out the mistakes I've made. I don't mind. I'll simply ask him for help. He likes being seen as useful, even though he'll never admit it.

But I suppose all of us want to be useful. No one can afford to be useless in an apocalypse, especially since there's a chance we could be catapulted back into one after seven years of fighting to get through the first. The thought causes a scowl to adorn my features. It's not fair! We've come so far, and every time we think we're close to ending all this, something else crops up.

Suddenly Adora squeals, and I drop my knitting needles. She stands and does an odd waddle/tromp to the other side of the room, and I frown when I notice Sarah staying where she is, content to merely sit there. I follow the waddling toddler as she continues her journey to the end of the room.

There's a person in the doorway. He looks just as surprised at Adora's reaction as I was, but I quickly forget that as I jump up, a wide smile on my face.