Chapter 4 #2
His skin prickled with a chill, so he wasted no time toweling off.
The robe was huge and soft, but he wasn’t going to swagger out of the bathroom in nothing but tighty-whities and a robe.
He donned the aforementioned underwear then the black sweatpants and the white T-shirt.
The shirt was a little big on him, but no matter.
He briefly wondered whose clothes they were, but then he decided that they were so clean and crisp, he didn’t give a shit.
He put the robe on over his new clothes and sighed, again thanking whatever god was listening for this day. For this bunker. For Allie.
He gave his hair a cursory finger-combing.
His neat military trim, courtesy of Odette and her battery-powered clippers, had grown out enough that he almost didn’t recognize himself.
Or maybe that was the effect of the dark circles around his slightly bloodshot eyes and his hollowed-out cheeks.
There was nothing he could do about those.
However, the awful, scraggly Trash-Can-Man stubble? That had a solution, if his luck held out.
He looked in the small medicine cabinet, which had nothing shaving related, then under the sink. Bingo. A bulk bag of generic plastic razors. He didn’t find any shaving cream, but he could make do with soap.
A few minutes and only two minor nicks later, Cam rinsed his now-smooth face, feeling weirdly soothed by the whole process.
He admired his handiwork, marveling at how much better he looked—not quite GQ cover material but not too bad.
Then he smiled at himself and grimaced. Jesus, how long had it been since he’d had the time and opportunity to clean his teeth?
A second search produced a plastic-wrapped toothbrush and some toothpaste, both of which he put to good use.
Getting cleaned up in a bathroom like the world was normal and there wasn’t an army of the undead plodding endlessly over the countryside above them felt weird. He could almost pretend he was getting ready for work.
Or a date.
Why did that make him feel nervous, the good kind of nervous with the fluttery stomach and the feeling that anything could happen?
It’s not a date, he reminded himself rather caustically. It’s a hostage situation between us and the horde. And you’re in a fucking bathrobe and sweatpants.
With that humbling reminder, he wrapped his own clothes in the towel and brought them out of the bathroom, only to come face-to-startled-face with Allie.
“Oops.” She stopped, seeming to take in the whole of him. Her gaze settled on his clean-shaven face. “Whoa.” She reached up as if to touch the skin of his jaw, then her eyes widened and she snatched her hand back.
Well, that was interesting. And on a possibly related note, the pleasant fluttering in his stomach had returned.
“How did you...? I mean, how was it?” She grimaced. “The shower. Not anything else.”
Allie had washed up, too, it seemed. Her face was clean, and she’d changed into a fresh T-shirt and some kind of leggings. Her hair was out of its tight, functional ponytail, down and beginning to wave, wisping around her heart-shaped face. She looked tired but very touchable.
“It was great,” he said, giving her a slow grin, hoping she would return it.
But when her gaze dropped to what he was carrying, he mentally swore. You’re going to flirt with a woman while you’re holding a wet towel filled with wretchedly smelly clothes? Smooth.
He sighed. “I was done, but then I didn’t know what to do with...” He gestured with the wad of dirty laundry. “Where should I put this?”
“Washing machine!”
The high pitch of her voice made him frown.
She shook her head. “I mean, I’ll show you the washing machine. It’s back here.”
Her feet, like his, were bare on the floor. It seemed like such an oddly intimate thing.
“I made some hot water,” she said. “I didn’t know if you would want coffee or tea.
I like coffee, but you’ve got to be exhausted.
I don’t know how long you’ve been on the run.
Plus, it’s getting close to my bedtime. I try to keep to a regular sleep schedule so I don’t throw off my circadian rhythms down here.
So I thought, maybe tea? We have honey, sugar, powdered milk, and lemon juice. ”
He smiled, enjoying the sound of her voice. Following her was the easiest thing he’d done in months.
“Here’s the washer,” she said, bringing him to an odd rectangular appliance that didn’t look anything like any washing machine he’d ever seen.
“I can explain it to you later. We’ll wait until we have a full load to run it, if you don’t mind waiting a day or two for your own clothes to be clean.
” She looked up, presumably imagining the horde overhead.
“It’s not like we’ll be going anywhere for a while. ”
She removed the clothes from his hands and stuffed them into the washer. “I hope you don’t mind. I know it’ll be close quarters for a bit, but I’ll give you as much space as you need.” She turned back to face him, and he focused on her understanding smile. “I’m really glad you’re all right.”
He didn’t speak, once again overcome by how much he wanted to be touching her, feeling her warmth and kindness up close. Tasting that busy mouth that was trying so hard to make him feel at ease.
She frowned and stretched out her hand, tentatively touching his. “Are you all right, Cam?”
He was light-headed with exhaustion. But the surge of pure adrenaline in his veins from the brush of her questing fingers, a little chilled but so alive, made him dizzy.
He’d been away from his people too long.
It had been months since he’d had anything like a proper hug, anything that felt like affection.
Like life. And he needed it, suddenly, more than he needed oxygen.
“Allie,” he began, curling his hand around hers.
He smiled when she laced her fingers with his, but then the air system kicked on with a little screech. Every muscle in his body tensed, bunching as if ready to take flight, and the desperate, constant terror of the last few days of his life rushed back into him all at once.
The stench of the horde filled his senses, the cacophony of that rumbling mass of horrific creatures echoing in his ears. In his flesh. The heat of the shower was gone. The only warmth he could feel now was her hand in his. He needed more.
She seemed to recognize it, taking both his hands and squeezing them. “You’ve gone so cold,” she murmured. “Is it because of them?”
Cam could only nod weakly. His teeth chattered a little.
“I’m... sorry,” he managed. Of course he was falling apart now, when his body knew he was safe.
Christ. He should have seen it coming, given how the constant adrenaline had kept him going and kept him numb for days on end.
That had been the only way for him to survive.
Delayed emotional response, Odette reminded him, her voice achingly familiar in his fuzzy head. Tale as old as trauma-processing time.
Allie stepped forward and tentatively, awkwardly, slid her arms around his middle. His body jerked in surprise, and she paused. “Is this okay?” she asked.
His trembling out of control, he exhaled, “Yeah,” willing his arms to rise and fold around her. They obeyed him, luckily.
He shuddered and quaked as she pressed herself against him, holding him in an embrace that grew stronger and more welcoming, more sheltering, with every passing second.
“Thank you,” he whispered so low he wasn’t even sure she’d heard him. The shaking began to ease as her warmth seeped into his bones. “Thank you.”