CHAPTER 48: SETTLING IN!

We finally collapsed into the living room, our bodies aching from hours of hauling supplies from the two overloaded cars parked outside. The trunk contents now lay scattered across the hardwood floors—canned goods, medical supplies, and personal belongings creating a maze of survival essentials around us.

Sydney stood in the center of our exhausted circle.

"Five rooms in total," she said. "Four bedrooms upstairs, and one guest room down here on the ground floor—perfect for the lonely lover."

"So how should we divvy this up?" Rachel asked, pushing a strand of red hair from her forehead.

Without hesitation, Liu Mei rose from her position on the worn leather armchair. "I’ll take the guest room here on the ground floor," she said, already gathering her bag.

Sydney’s eyebrows lifted slightly. "You know you won’t be sleeping alone, right?" She reminded Liu Mei, her tone gentle but pointed. "We need to double up to make room for everyone."

Liu Mei paused at the doorway, her hand resting on the brass handle. "I know," she replied curtly, then disappeared down the hallway without another word. The sound of the guest room door closing echoed through the house.

"Who wants to room with Liu Mei?" Sydney asked us, her voice carefully neutral.

Everyone suddenly found their shoes or hands incredibly interesting. The ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner seemed to grow louder with each passing second.

Finally, Miss Ivy spoke. "I will," she said quietly.

She stood up, and picked up her well-organized travel bag and made her way toward the guest room.

Christopher, sprawled across the sectional sofa, let out a low chuckle. "I guess they’re fitting together."

"Christopher!" Cindy’s sharp rebuke cut through the air like a whip. She shot him a withering look from her position on the loveseat. "Don’t be such an ass. We’re all dealing with this differently."

Christopher raised his hands in mock surrender.

Sydney stepped forward, reclaiming control of the situation. "Right then. That leaves me, Ryan, Christopher, Cindy, Rachel, Rebecca, Alisha, Elena, and Jason. Four rooms upstairs to divide among nine people."

Cindy shifted forward on her seat. "It should be obvious, shouldn’t it? One room for the three boys, and the other three rooms split between the six remaining girls—two to a room."

Christopher’s face immediately scrunched up in displeasure. "Wait, why do we three guys have to sleep crammed together while you girls get to pair off comfortably?"

Come on, Christopher, I thought. Be a gentleman.

The complaint hung in the air awkwardly. Even Jason, usually quiet as a church mouse, shifted uncomfortably in his corner chair.

Sydney sighed and offered a compromise. "The boys can have the master bedroom since there are three of you. It’s got the biggest bed and more space. Fair enough?"

I nodded immediately. "That works for me."

Jason bobbed his head timidly. "I’m okay with that too," he said.

Christopher’s expression brightened considerably. "Oh, well... when you put it that way." His grin returned, and I wondered if he’d been complaining just to secure the larger room all along.

"Perfect," Sydney said, turning toward the four remaining girls. "I’ll room with Cindy, and that way the two sets of sisters can have their own rooms together. Rachel and Rebecca in one, Elena and Alisha in another. Everyone good with that?"

The sisters exchanged glances and nodded in unison.

"Sounds perfect," Alisha said.

Christopher stretched dramatically, his joints popping audibly. "Well, I don’t know about you all, but I’m absolutely knackered. This has been the longest day of my life." He paused, his expression growing more serious. "Let’s just make sure we secure everything properly before we crash."

Rebecca stood up, brushing dust from her jeans. "Good idea. We should do a full perimeter check."

What followed was a methodical sweep of the entire house. We moved from room to room like a well-practiced team, checking every window latch, drawing every curtain, and testing every lock. The old house creaked and groaned around us as we worked, its aged bones settling in the cooling evening air.

By the time we reconvened in the living room, the house felt like a fortress. Every possible entry point had been locked, blocked, or secured. The protective barrier that surrounded the property should keep the Infected at bay, but none of us were taking any chances.

The exhaustion of the day was finally catching up with all of us. We’d been running on adrenaline and fear since dawn, when we’d made our desperate escape from New York City.

"I think that’s everything," Sydney said, stifling a yawn. "The house is as secure as we can make it."

It struck me then that none of us had even discussed dinner. My stomach growled in protest, reminding me that we’d barely eaten anything substantial all day. But looking around at the group—at the dark circles under everyone’s eyes, at the way Jason was practically swaying on his feet—I realized that sleep was more important than food right now.

We were all thinking the same thing: for the first time since this nightmare began, we might actually be able to sleep peacefully. Real beds, real walls, real security. The luxury of not having to sleep with one eye open, constantly listening for the shuffling footsteps and inhuman moans of the Infected.

"Good night, everyone," Sydney said. She waved to the group before heading toward the staircase with Cindy close behind.

"Sleep well," Alisha replied softly, and left with Elena toward their chosen room.

I followed Christopher and Jason up the creaking wooden stairs to the master bedroom, our footsteps muffled by the worn carpet runner. The room was larger than I’d expected, with tall windows that overlooked the front yard and its mysterious protective barrier. Heavy curtains blocked out most of the fading daylight, creating a cocoon of shadows.

But then we all stopped and stared at the bed.

It was indeed large—a king-size mattress with an ornate wooden headboard that spoke of better times. But looking at it now, imagining three teenage boys trying to share that space...

"This is going to be awkward as hell," Christopher muttered, voicing what we were all thinking.

Jason shifted uncomfortably beside me. "Maybe we could... take turns? One night on the bed, two on the floor, then rotate?"

"Someone’s got to take the floor tonight though," Christopher said, his entrepreneurial spirit already kicking in. "Only fair way to decide this is rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets the bed."

I couldn’t help but smile despite the circumstances. "Fair enough."

Two minutes and several rounds later, I found myself staring at Christopher’s rock, which had thoroughly crushed my scissors.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath.

Christopher, trying to mask his grin with sympathy, grabbed some spare sheets from the dresser. "Here, these should help make the floor a bit more comfortable," he said, tossing me a set of clean linens and a thick comforter.

Jason, who’d also lost the rock-paper-scissors tournament, looked genuinely apologetic. "We’ll rotate tomorrow night, I promise. It’s only fair."

"Don’t worry about it," I said, settling down beside the bed and arranging the makeshift bedding. The hardwood floor wasn’t ideal, but after sleeping in abandoned buildings and cars for the past week, it felt like luxury. Plus, Christopher and Jason had given me the largest, fluffiest pillow from the bed—a small consolation prize.

"Well, good night, guys," Christopher said as he and Jason settled into bed. Then, with his typical inappropriate humor, he added, "Let’s just hope we don’t wake up as zombies tomorrow morning."

"Don’t even joke about that!" Jason replied in panic.

I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to find a comfortable position on the floor. The house gradually grew quiet around us, filled only with the settling sounds of old wood and the distant murmur of conversation from the other rooms as everyone got ready for bed.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, sleep remained elusive. My mind raced with thoughts of everything that had happened—and everything that might happen next. The virus that had torn apart our world, and another Virus was tearing me apart in some way as well.

And then... there were Christopher’s thunderous snores, punctuated by Jason’s occasional whimpers and sleep-talking. Every few minutes, one of them would shift or mumble something unintelligible, sending a fresh wave of noise through the room.

I stared up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the old plaster and listening to the symphony of snores beside me. Outside, I could hear the wind picking up, rattling the windows and sending tree branches scraping against the house’s exterior.

After what felt like hours of tossing and turning on the hardwood floor, I finally gave up. My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to shut down. Sometimes having great stamina was more of a curse than a blessing—I needed to tire myself out completely before sleep would claim me.

I stood up as quietly as possible, careful not to wake my snoring roommates, and slipped out of the bedroom. The hallway was bathed in shadows, but as I reached the top of the staircase, I noticed something odd: a flickering blue light emanating from the living room below.

Frowning, I crept down the wooden stairs, avoiding the spots that I’d noticed creaking earlier during our security sweep. The house groaned softly around me, but the mysterious light drew me forward like a beacon.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I discovered the source of the illumination. Sydney sat curled up on the sectional sofa, wrapped in a thick burgundy throw blanket, watching something on the television. The familiar sound of orchestral music and explosions filled the quiet space—she was watching The Avengers, probably from a DVD she’d found somewhere in the house.

"Can’t sleep either?" I asked softly, stepping into the living room.

Sydney turned toward me, her face lit by the blue glow of the screen. A tired smile spread across her features. "Doesn’t look like you can either," she replied.

"Yeah, it’s kind of hard with Christopher’s monstrous snoring," I said, settling onto the couch beside her. "I swear he could wake the dead—and in our current situation, that’s not exactly a figure of speech I want to test."

Sydney laughed. She gestured to an opened bag of potato chips resting on the coffee table beside a collection of other snacks she’d apparently raided from our supplies.

"Help yourself," she offered. "I figured if I was going to be up all night, I might as well make it worthwhile."

I grabbed a handful of chips and leaned back into the comfortable cushions, letting the familiar superhero movie wash over me. There was something surreal about sitting in this cozy living room, eating snacks and watching a blockbuster film, while the world outside had essentially ended. It felt like a slice of normalcy stolen from our old lives.

"You can’t sleep either?" I asked, though the answer was obvious.

"Not really," Sydney admitted, her gaze fixed on Iron Man battling aliens across the screen. "My mind just won’t stop racing, you know?"

"Even though you should be comfortable sharing a room with Cindy," I pointed out, curious about her restlessness.

Sydney’s head snapped toward me, her eyebrows raised. "I’m not a lesbian, Ryan," she said.

"I didn’t say you were!" I retorted.

She studied my face for a moment, then a mischievous glint entered her eyes. "Or... maybe you want to take my place next to Cindy?" She asked, pausing the movie and turning to face me fully, mock shock written across her features.

"I don’t!" I replied immediately, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "Christopher would literally kill me for that."

Sydney’s expression shifted to one of impressed understanding. "Ah, so you have noticed what’s going on between those two," she said, settling back into her blanket cocoon.

I wasn’t sure if her tone suggested I was being perceptive or completely oblivious, but I decided not to ask for clarification.

"I’m kind of jealous of them, honestly," Sydney continued, her voice growing wistful. "So free and natural together, like a couple in a horror movie trying to survive together while the psycho with the chainsaw hunts them down through the woods."

I felt my cheeks twitch at her increasingly graphic description. "I think you should have stopped at ’I’m jealous of them,’" I replied, trying to keep the mood from getting too dark.

But thinking about Cindy and Christopher... yeah, Sydney was right. They clearly cared deeply for each other, even if they hadn’t made it official. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a natural partnership that had emerged during our desperate flight from the city. They moved together like they’d been a couple for years instead of just school acquaintances thrown together by circumstance.

"Yeah..." I admitted after a moment of contemplation. "I’m jealous too."

It was the kind of relationship I’d always imagined having in high school. The romantic fantasy every teenager harbored—finding that one person who understood you completely, who would stand by your side no matter what the world threw at you. I’d thought I might have that with Emily, but...

"How was it?" Sydney asked suddenly, her voice cutting through my melancholy thoughts.

"How was what?" I asked, confused by the abrupt change in topic.

She reached for the remote and pressed play, letting the movie resume its epic battle sequence. But instead of watching the screen, she kept her attention focused on me.

"The sex with Emily," she said.

I nearly choked on the chip I’d been chewing. "W...what?" I stammered, feeling my face burn with embarrassment.

"Was it good or not?" She asked, glancing at me with curious eyes, as if she’d just asked about the weather.

"W...why are you asking about that all of a sudden?" I managed to get out, my voice cracking slightly.

Sydney’s gaze dropped away from mine, and she shifted in her blanket cocoon. She had her knees drawn up to her chest, and I noticed for the first time that her feet were bare, her toenails painted a deep black color that somehow suited her perfectly. The small detail seemed intimate in a way that made me quickly look back at the television.

"I’ve been thinking about things," she said quietly, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "About what we’ve been through, what we might still have to face. And I’ve made a decision."

"What kind of decision?" I asked.

She looked back at me then, her blue eyes reflecting the light from the television screen.

"I want to have sex."