Free Orpheus by Dan DeWitt

head buried between his palms, and doubled it. She sat down next to him on the couch and handed him the wine. “Tell me about it, Cameron.” She waited for him to begin.
    Orpheus took a big gulp and spoke softly. “The kid...he almost fucked up for the first and last time. And I did everything but give him my blessing. I knew better, I knew what he'd try, and I still let him. It's exactly the kind of thing that Ethan would have done...would do. Hell, the others probably suspected it, too, but they trusted my judgment. How screwed up is that? My head's wrecked, my judgment's totally clouded. I have to work five times as hard just to concentrate. When the shit hits the fan I'm as good as ever, but that's all instinct. Left inside my own head...I don't know. I don't know how much I have left, Lena.”
    “I'm not playing Devil's advocate, but why do you still do it?”
    He took another sip. “Because the job's not done yet. He's still down there somewhere. I'm going to find him. I should be out there right now.”
    “So you could drop dead from exhaustion? Great idea.”
    “I need to know, Lena. I need to finish it.”
    “And then what?”
    “Then...”
    He let that single word hang, but she'd long ago figured out what he planned to do, and it had everything to do with the small pistol on his ankle, the one he thought she didn't know about.
    She put her glass on the end table and took his out of his hand. She took his hand in hers and moved closer. She cupped the back of his head in her other hand and pulled it toward her.
    He let himself be led.
    She guided his chin to her shoulder and put her arms around him. “It's okay, Cameron. It's okay.”
    “It's been Orpheus for what seems like forever.”
    “You can have whatever silly code name you want when you play with the boys, but you're Cameron Holt. You're a father and a husband, and you always will be, no matter what happens. Orpheus is a lie.”
    He buried his head in her embrace. She felt him sob gently. She didn't try to soothe him further, she just let him get it out. They stayed like that for a while. She was certain that he fell asleep for a few minutes, and she didn't wake him up. He eventually raised his head and wiped his eyes. “Thanks, Lena."
    She quickly changed the topic of conversation. “Hey, I had an idea that might cheer you up a little.”
    “Oh?”
    “It might be a little out of your comfort zone, though. Take off your shirt and we'll find out.”
     
    * * *
     
    Not surprisingly, Tim's sleep was punctuated with nightmares, most of them involving getting eaten alive. Those he could handle. The most terrifying one, however, didn't have him killed by a zombie. In the most vivid nightmare, he became one, instead. He shambled, he burst into “life” when he saw fresh meat, he suffered gruesome injuries that barely slowed him down. Through it all, his mind remained unchanged. He was wholly aware of his actions but was unable to stop himself. His body completely betrayed him; he wanted nothing more than to take what was left of his life, but he was unable to make his flesh comply.
    When he woke in the early afternoon, all he wanted to do was take a shower and burn those nightmares away with hot water and some nice, scented soap. The rest of his team was sleeping, so he took his time in the shower. He replayed the previous night's events in his head and analyzed what he'd done right and wrong, as he and Orpheus had done after his final training exercise.
    On the plus side, he adapted well to what others were doing, learned the intricacies quickly, moved stealthily, his shooting accuracy was good, and he never succumbed to panic.
    On the negative side, well...the Jekyll had gotten to him. He wanted to take solace in the fact that he definitely hadn't been the only one to go through that at one point, but the thing had almost killed him. Worse, he'd put everyone else in danger, however accidentally.
    He'd wanted to find a survivor more than anything.