Chapter 38: The Morning Interrupted
Rosa surfaced from sleep in slow, reluctant stages. There was a warmth against her back that she'd come to know too well, solid and heavy, and a very insistent pressure against her thigh that she'd also come to know too well. And there, in the hollow of her throat, a tiny, breathing weight that made the whole absurd situation tolerable.
"O'Ryan," she muttered, her voice rough with sleep, "your boyfriend is molesting my thigh again."
The weight on her neck stirred. A minuscule shift, a sigh. "He's not my boyfriend when he does that. He's just a hazard."
Jason's laugh rumbled against her spine, low and chest-deep, still thick with sleep. "I'm right here. Both of you can hear me."
"Hazard confirmed," Rosa said, and she was too tired to keep the smile out of her voice.
The room was grey with pre-dawn light, what little of it managed to filter through the solar panels taped over the window glass. The space was a workshop and a bedroom and a small armory all at once, shelves cluttered with salvaged circuit boards and coiled wire, a workbench against the far wall scattered with tools Roy couldn't use anymore. A box of 9mm rounds sat next to a half-disassembled radio, and two heavy coats hung from hooks by the door, ready for the run.
Roy shifted again, and Rosa felt him sit up on her collarbone, his tiny hands bracing against her skin. "Time is it?"
"Too early," Jason said. His arm tightened around Rosa's waist, a deliberate squeeze before he loosened his grip and rolled onto his back. The mattress sighed. "But we've got about an hour before we should be in the kitchen."
Rosa wanted to close her eyes and sink back into that warmth. She didn't. The day stretched ahead of her, mapped and planned and dangerous. The Mill Street supermarket. They'd scouted the route three times, drawn it on the map, assigned every role. Amie and Ally on perimeter. Sandy on comms. Jayden holding the fort. Lee, still pale from his concussion, on recovery.
"And I have to pee," she added, because that was also true.
Jason snorted. "Roy, you have permission to evacuate the collarbone zone."
"That's the least romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," Roy said, but she felt him move, felt the light patter of his feet as he made his way down her shoulder. She angled her body toward Jason, letting him step off onto the man's chest, then the pillow.
Rosa swung her legs out of bed, the cold hitting her bare feet like a reprimand. The oversized t-shirt she'd worn to sleep hung loose around her thighs. She grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the floor and pulled them on before stepping out.
The hallway was quiet. Anderson Hall held its breath in the early morning, the other rooms sealed behind their doors. The bathroom was cold, the solar-heated water lukewarm at best, but she made it quick, splashing her face and braiding her hair with practiced fingers.
When she returned, Jason was sitting up against the headboard, Roy cupped in one hand, the other already reaching for his boots. Roy was fully dressed, which meant someone had helped him into his tiny clothes. More likely Jason had laid them out and Roy had handled it himself. He was getting better at that. Independent, within the limits of a world built for giants.
"Ready?" Jason asked her.
"I'm going to need a minute," Rosa said. "Coffee first. Then the vest. Then ready."
Jason's mouth curved into that soft, patient smile he wore when he was about to say something kind. "You got time."
Roy was looking at her, his miniature face serious in the grey light. "You checked your kit? Tape, bandages, the extra saline? We ran through it last night."
"I checked it three times."
"Then you checked it twice." He crossed his tiny arms. "I get to nag. That's my job now that I can't carry anything heavier than a button."
Rosa sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that Jason's warmth radiated against her side. She looked down at him, this man who had been her brother in every way that mattered for years, who had shrunk to the size of her hand in the blink of an eye, and who still found ways to look after her.
"Alright," she said. "One more check. But you're coming with me when I do it."
Roy blinked. "I can't help you carry gear."
"You can help me see. You always do."
The silence that followed was not uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that happened between people who knew each other down to the bone. Jason's hand found hers, his calloused fingers curling gentle around her knuckles. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.
"We come back," Rosa said, firmly, to the room, to herself, to both of them. "We get the supplies, we load the truck, we come back before dark. No heroics."
"No more trucks," Roy added, his voice strained with a levity that didn't quite land.
Jason squeezed her hand. "We come back," he echoed, and the words sounded like an oath.
The moment stretched, fragile and held. Outside, beyond the solar panels and the boarded windows, the world was still waking to its own brutal routine. Walkers shuffling through streets they'd once walked as people. The cold that had settled into the bones of the city. The unknown survivor with the ray-gun, out there somewhere, still carrying the tech that Roy needed, the answers Rosa had sworn to find.
But here, in this cramped room, there was warmth.
Rosa pulled her hand free and stood, her voice steadier than she felt. "Coffee," she said. "Then the vest. Then we go."
She reached down and let Roy step into her palm, feeling his weight settle there, impossibly small, impossibly precious. She raised him to her chest, tucking him into the hollow of her collarbone where he'd slept, where he belonged.
"Let's go steal some canned goods," Roy said, and Rosa laughed despite everything.
"Let's," she agreed.
Jason stood, pulling on his coat, and followed her out the door.
The hallway held its breath around them, the same pre-dawn hush that had become a ritual over the long months. Rosa's footsteps were quiet on the worn carpet, and Roy shifted on her collarbone, a small adjustment that she felt more than heard. He climbed up to her shoulder, his tiny fingers finding purchase in the fabric of her shirt, and settled there like a bird on a wire.
She felt him working at something, a familiar series of small movements. The pencil-thin braid she'd grown used to wearing, the one that hung from her temple down past her ear, had taken on a new purpose in the months since the shrinking. Rosa had threaded small, detached binder rings through it at intervals, the metal loops catching the light like strange jewelry.
Behind her, Jason's boots scuffed against the floor, a comfortable rhythm that matched her own. He carried the weight of their gear easily, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the shadows ahead with the practiced alertness of someone who had learned that safety was an illusion you had to maintain.
Roy reached back over his shoulder, his small hands finding the harness he wore over his clothes. It was a marvel of salvaged ingenuity, a careful construction of nylon straps and small buckles that Lee had stitched together in the early days. But the real trick was on the back: a phone ring holder, the kind that had once been sold by the dozen in the campus bookstore, sewn firmly into the harness between his shoulder blades. The metal ring stood out, and linked to a round carabiner, small enough that Roy could manipulate, but strong enough to bear his weight.
"Hold steady," Roy murmured, and Rosa slowed her walk, tilting her head slightly toward him.
He reached for her braid. His fingers were cold, small, and precise, and she felt him fumble for a moment before the spring-snap clicked open, then closed around the larger binder ring in her hair. The connection was secure. He gave the braid a testing tug, and Rosa felt the small pressure of his weight through the line.
"Got me?" she asked.
"Got you," he confirmed, and there was something in his voice that sounded like pride. He settled back on her shoulder, his weight anchored and safe, and she continued walking.
The kitchen was warming when they arrived, the smell of dandelion root and something faintly metallic from the stove drifting down the corridor. Sandy was already there, perched on a stool with her comms headset around her neck, a cup of tea steaming between her hands. She looked up as they entered, her eyes tracking Rosa's movements with the quiet assessment of someone who had learned to read people in the spaces between words.
"Morning," Sandy said. "You're early."
"Couldn't sleep." Rosa crossed to the counter, reaching for a tin of the dandelion root. "Anyone else up?"
"Ally and Amie are doing the pre-dawn perimeter check. Jayden's still asleep. Joan's in the armory, doing a final gear check."
Rosa nodded, measuring the grounds into a chipped ceramic mug. The movements were automatic, familiar. Roy stayed on her shoulder, one hand resting on the braid that tethered him to her, watching the room with the calm vigilance that had become his new default.
"Roy," Sandy said, her voice gentler now, "you want a spot on the table? I saved you a warm stone."
"Maybe in a minute." He shifted, adjusting his grip. "I'm good up here."
Sandy's mouth curved, the ghost of a smile. "You two are getting efficient at that. The whole setup." She gestured vaguely at the braid, the harness. "It's smart. If something knocks you down, Rosa, Roy won't be separated."
Roy's hand tightened on the braid. "Nothing's going to separate us."
The words came out sharper than he'd intended, and the brief silence that followed felt like a held breath. Rosa poured hot water into her mug, letting the steam rise between them, and Roy felt the faint tension in her shoulder through the fabric. He loosened his grip.
"Sorry," he said, quieter. "That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant," Sandy said evenly. "And I'm not arguing. Just saying it's good to have a plan for the worst case. That's all."
The mug was warm in Rosa's hands, and she cradled it for a moment, letting the heat seep into her palms. Jason moved past her, his shoulder brushing hers in a deliberate touch, and reached for his own mug.
"She's right," he said, his voice low. "And you two are a good team up there. It's a good set-up."
Roy's fingers loosened further, and Rosa felt him lean slightly against her neck, under her ear, the smallest gesture of trust. She reached up without thinking, her thumb brushing his side, a featherlight touch.
"Eat something," she said. "We've got a long day."
The armory was quiet when they reached it, the only light coming from a single lantern that Joan had set on the shelf near the door. She was bent over Rosa's vest, her fingers working through the pockets with the meticulous patience of a seamstress checking her work. She looked up as they entered, adjusting her glasses.
"All the seams are solid," Joan said. "I reinforced the shoulder strap where it was wearing thin. You should be good."
Rosa set her mug down on a crate and crossed to the vest, running her hands over the fabric. The weight was familiar, the straps already adjusted to her frame. She slipped it on, feeling the solid press of the plates against her ribs, and the world felt a little more bearable.
Roy watched from his perch on her shoulder, his hand still resting on the braid. He'd been clipped on for nearly an hour now, and he'd stopped noticing the weight of it, the way the harness pressed against his shoulders. It was just part of him now, the way the vest was part of Rosa.
"Pockets," he said. "Check the medical one."
Rosa's hand went to the designated pocket, her fingers brushing the tape and bandages they'd packed the night before. "Good. Saline?"
"Second pocket."
She checked it, then the third, then the small pouch on the inside of the vest where they'd stashed a water purification tablet and a single protein bar. Everything there, everything ready.
Jason appeared in the doorway, a coil of rope over his shoulder and a bag in his hand. "Truck's gassed. Radio's charged. Sandy's set up on the roof with a clear line to the east perimeter."
Rosa nodded, doing up the last strap on her vest. "Then let's move."
Joan stepped back as Rosa reached for the harness that hung on the wall hook, the leather creaking softly in the lantern light. Roy watched from her shoulder as she slid the straps over her shoulders, the weight of the plates settling against her ribs with a familiar, solid thunk. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency, checking each buckle, each tension point, her fingers finding the places where the straps had worn soft with use.
"Hatchets," she said, reaching for the twin sheaths that hung beside the harness.
Roy shifted his grip on the braid as she bent, watching her slide each blade into its holster at the small of her back. The hatchets were beautiful in a brutal way, the handles wrapped in paracord that Rosa had re-laid, the heads gleaming with the oil Rosa applied after every use. Rosa tested the draw twice, each movement a quick, clean pull, the steel catching the lantern light.
"Clear," she said, and Roy felt the faint vibration of her voice through the straps of the harness.
Jason was moving through his own ritual across the room. He'd set his bag down by the door and was working through the daggers laid out on the shelf in a neat row. Roy counted them as Jason picked each one up, checked the edge, the balance, the secure fit of the sheath. Four blades, each with its own designated spot: one on his hip, one on the opposite hip, one strapped to his thigh, one inside his boot. Jason moved like a man who had done this a thousand times, and he had. They all had.
"I saw the roof access seal is holding," Jason said, sliding the first dagger home. "Sandy checked it before she set up. The east side is clear."
"East side was clear an hour ago," Rosa said. "Doesn't mean it's clear now."
Jason's mouth quirked. "That's why we check again on the way out."
Roy felt Rosa's shoulder roll under him as she tested the fit of the hatchets one more time, then reached for her belt. The holster for her sidearm clipped on with a sound like a lock turning. She checked the magazine, racked the slide, and the familiar click-click of the action echoed in the small room.
"Roy," she said, her voice softer now. "You locked in?"
He tugged the braid, feeling the harness bite into his shoulders. "Locked."
"Good." She reached up and adjusted his position, her fingers brushing against his back before settling him more firmly against the curve of her neck. "You're going to feel the vibration when we move. It's a lot."
"I know. I've done this before."
"Not with the harness. Not for a full run." Her voice was quiet, a private thing in the small room. "If it's too much, you tell me. We'll adjust."
Roy opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. The words she'd offered were a kindness, and he knew better than to refuse it. "I will."
Jason finished with his blades and reached for the final piece, a coil of thin rope that he wound around his torso, the loops snug against his chest. He caught Rosa's eye and gave a small nod. She returned it.
The three of them stood in the armory, the lantern casting long shadows across the shelves. Beyond the door, the dormitory was still quiet, the others moving through their own preparations in the grey pre-dawn. Roy could hear the muffled sounds: Sandy's voice on the comms in the kitchen, the distant creak of the floorboards as Ally and Amie finished their perimeter check.
"We come back," Jason said, and there was something in his voice that wasn't a question.
"We come back," Rosa echoed.
Roy pressed his hand against her collarbone, feeling the steady thump of her heart beneath his palm. "Together."
Rosa's hand came up, her thumb brushing against his small back. The touch was light, almost absent, but it carried the weight of every night she'd held him, every time she'd kept him safe. Then she lowered her hand and reached for the door.
The hallway was colder than the armory, the draft slipping through the cracks in the floorboards. They moved as a unit, Rosa and Jason falling into a rhythm that Roy had watched develop over months. Rosa took point, her steps quiet on the worn carpet. Jason hung back a few paces, covering the rear. Roy felt the sway of Rosa's gait through the harness, the gentle rocking motion that had become as familiar as a heartbeat.
The main door of Anderson Hall groaned when Jason pulled it open, the sound too loud in the morning quiet. Frost clung to the frame, and the cold air rushed in, sharp and biting. Roy pulled his collar tighter around his neck, feeling the chill seep through the layers.
Rosa stepped out into the driveway, her breath pluming in the air. The snow from last night had settled into a thin, even layer over the ground, pristine and untouched except for the tracks Ally and Amie had left along the perimeter. The truck sat where they'd parked it, a dark hulk against the grey morning, the engine still ticking as it cooled.
Jason crossed to the passenger side and climbed in, and Rosa followed suit on the driver's side, Roy switched shoulders so the seatbelt wouldn't lay over him. The seatbelt clicked, the engine turned over with a low growl, and the truck rolled forward, crunching over the snow.
Roy watched Anderson Hall recede in the side mirror, the windows dark behind their boards. Sandy would be in the kitchen now, her headset on, her voice crackling through the comms to guide them home. Jayden would be waking the chickens, checking the coop, keeping the fort. Lee would be stirring in his bed, restless and healing.
The road stretched ahead, empty and white. Roy settled himself against Rosa's neck, feeling the vibrations of the engine through her, and kept his eyes on the horizon.