Free The Dying & The Dead 1: Post Apocalyptic Survival by Jack Lewis

said.
     
    “Sorry,”
said the girl.
     
    He
felt a wave of annoyance crash through his mind, but he let it go as quick as
it came. It wasn’t the girl’s fault. It was his own for breaking a lifelong
habit and trying to play the hero.
     
    Bethelyn
stretched the tape across the window in a lop-sided line and bit off the end.
Outside, Golgoth resembled the surface of a hostile alien planet. The storm
intensified to a level Ed had thought it impossible to achieve, especially for
an island like Golgoth which, although never warm, lived in a meteorological
twilight zone where extreme weather seemed to escape it.
     
    The
girl stared at him.
     
    “Thanks,
Ed,” she said.
     
    He
could tell from the look in her eyes and the way she held her bear close to her
that she really meant it. He wasn’t going to admit it, but it felt good.
Despite the agony in his arms and shoulders, the feeling of getting gratitude
was a pleasant one.
     
    “Don’t
worry about it.”
     
    Bethelyn
walked back into the room and threw the duct tape down onto the coffee table in
the centre. Her sleeves were rolled up despite the refrigerator-level of chill
in the house. She huffed and blew a stray lock of her hair out of her face.
     
    “I see
your theme is consistent in the rest of the place,” she said. “You’re going for
the depressed-alcoholic-recluse kind of vibe.”
     
    He
shifted in his seat, careful not to move any of his muscles too quickly.
     
    “I’m
not much of a homebody.”
     
    “But
you never seemed to leave it.”
     
    Ed
looked away.
     
    “Look,”
said Bethelyn. “I can tell you’re hoping I’ll shut the hell up. So I will,
about that. But I just wanted to say that I’m grateful for your help. You
didn’t have to let us stay at your place.”
     
    “I’m
sorry about your house.”
     
    Bethelyn
paused for a second in thought. “My attitude towards crap like this is that
what’s done is done. It isn’t going to help anyone if I show how totally fuc-“
     
    She
stopped talking, aware that her daughter listened to every word.  She thought
of a better word to say and corrected herself.
     
    “…how
bloody annoyed I am. I could punch a wall and break my hand, and that would
show how angry I am, or I could try and think things through and actually do
something. And that’s what I’m gonna do. Big displays of emotion are for soap
operas. Getting down on your knees and screaming ‘noooooooooo’ into the sky.
People don’t do that in real life.”
     
    “You’re
a better person than me then.”
     
    “No,
I’m not. I’m a better people-person, but not a better person.”
     
    “You
hate us being here,” said April, staring at Ed.
     
    “No I
don’t,” he said.
     
    Bethelyn
took a seat on the spare chair.
     
    “Come
on, Ed. You’ve barely spoken to me before and I’ve lived next to you for years.
Not even the end of the world forced you to knock on my door. I’m grateful for
what you’re doing, but you don’t have to pretend around me. I’m not easily
offended.”
     
    “I
know.”
     
    “Well
thanks, anyway. That’s all I wanted to say. You’re a better guy than you
think.”
     
    The
pounding in Ed’s shoulders spread through his neck, over his face and settled
in his head. It felt like something was squeezing his brain, and the pain grew
until all the blood in his body had rushed to his skull and started to swell
against it. A particularly bad wave rushed through him, and he closed his eyes
and tried to ride it out.
     
    “What’s
wrong?” said Bethelyn.
     
    He put
his fingers to his temple. “My head’s throbbing” he said.
     
    Another
wave of pain crashed through him, and he saw fuzzy dots in front of him. He
held tight onto the arms of his chair, scared he was going to pass out.
     
    “I
didn’t want to complain, given how crappy you must be feeling, but I’ve had a
bad head myself. Think me and the madam are going to get some sleep,” said
Bethelyn.
     
    She
took her