Andrew squeezes my elbow and nods to the exit and I follow. I glance back to see Cara turning back to the dark room behind the desk.
“Good night, thank you,” Andrew says. She stops and looks back at us but doesn’t say anything.
Andrew and I walk up the stairs, to the second and third doors on the right. They say 2C and 2D, as promised.
“Well... this is me,” Andrew says, leaning against 2D and holding up his key. “I had a great time. This is the best apocalypse conference I’ve ever been to. Seriously! I mean, the Zombie Zymposiums never have fireworks displays. Did you hear what I did there, Jamie? I changed thesin Symposium to azto make it alliterative and clever.”
I laugh and open my own room. It’s dark and when I flip the light switch nothing happens. I grab the flashlight out of my pack and flick it on.
The room has a king bed and there are candles strategically placed throughout. Andrew leans in the doorway.
“I believe you promised me lightsandinternet,” he says.
“Settle for a fort and a king-size bed?”
“Hmm.”
I look over at him. He has a skeptical look on his face and seems to be chewing the inside of his cheek.
“What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something. I know when you’re hiding something from me, remember?”
That gets him to smile and he shakes his head again. “Really. I don’t think it’s anything.”
“You’ll tell me when it’s something?”
“I will. Promise. And my promisesmeansomething.” He unlocks his own door and narrows his eyes at me. “Unlike yours and the internet’s.”
“Good night, Andrew.”
“Night, Jamie.”
I find a matchbook by the bed and light a few of the candles. There’s running water but it’s all cold. I jump in the shower and clean myself off as fast as I can in the icy water, then change into fresh clothes to sleep in before blowing out the candles.
It’s musty and hot in the room so I open the window, but it doesn’t really help. I lie awake in the middle of the king-size bed, on top of the blankets. It’s nice—comfortable, actually. But I can’t fall asleep. It’s too quiet. All I hear is my own breathing and the soft breeze outside, rustling the leaves on the trees.
Andrew is probably awake, too. He’s probably lying there, listeningto the same sounds I am and thinking about me. I would like him to be thinking about me. It makes me feel a little less strange if he thinks about me, too.
I’m suddenly overcome with panic. I can feel sweat beading at my forehead and lower back. My chest tightens and each breath feels shallow. The walls are closing in and I’m back in the Baltimore tunnel again, surrounded by bloated, waterlogged flu victims and stagnant water. But Andrew isn’t here this time.
Without thinking I get up, grab the pillow and my room key, and open the door. Once out in the open air I feel a bit better, but my chest is still tight.
I knock on Andrew’s door.
He opens it within seconds. Good, so he was awake. Just seeing him loosens my chest and I feel like I can breathe again.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. It feels ridiculous now, but seconds ago I thought I might die. “I can’t sleep over there. It feels...”
I don’t know what it feels. Again, “like dying” seems an overreaction, but Andrew nods like he understands anyway.
“I know, it’s weird. That’s what I didn’t want to say before.”
“Um...” I hug the pillow to my chest. “Can I sleep in here?”
