Kody Boye - Sunrise

“What?”

“How I’m in the military, exactly where Dad died in ‘91.”

“I don’t think it’s irony,” Erik said, crouching down beside him. “You wanted to go to school. All I wanted to do was get away from my dad’s business.”

“They offered to help you go to school.”

“I barely made it through high school, Jamie. How the hell would I have made it through college?”

“What’re you talking about? You managed to make it through medic training.”

“That’s only because I wasn’t having to read books upon books upon books that rambled on about particular little nerves that didn’t mean a thing.” When Jamie shrugged, Erik laughed and added, “At least your mom was cool.”

“My mom drove me nuts.”

“Don’t tell me you weren’t a momma’s boy.”

“I’m not,” Jamie laughed, smacking his friend’s shoulder. “It happens when you don’t have a dad.”

Erik sighed. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It happens.”

Standing, Erik placed his hands on the railing and looked out at the fog-covered cityscape before them. “Hey,” he said. “Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“So much for the war being over.”

For a brief moment, Jamie thought about replying. After a moment though, he sighed, stood, and made his way to his friend’s side.

Only one thought occurred to him the moment he clasped his friend’s shoulder.

The world really had ended in 2012.

Later that morning, after both he and Erik had finished their watch duty, Jamie stood beneath the spouting head of a locker-room shower faucet, rolling amidst the freezing waves of bliss that rained down upon him. With power briefly restored by a charitable Kirn and Wills, who’d managed to locate a generator within the boiler room beneath the converted asylum, Jamie had been offered a five-minute shower, one he’d been quick to take immediately upon entering. Erik, meanwhile, had been instructed to take up his position in the lobby, much to his displeasure. Though he pitied his friend, Jamie felt thankful for his moment of solitude.

Stepping out of the shower, he flipped his towel off its rack and made his way across the brief distance from the shower stall to the sinks. As the fog from the mirror began to clear, revealing grey walls, shower stalls and the charcoal-tiled floor, Jamie leaned forward and examined his reflection. His bangs were a mess and his usually clean-shaven jaw was sprouting a beard. He took a moment to study his new appearance, then reached for a razor and scissors.

The sarge is going to kill me, he thought, slathering his hand in shaving cream.

He carefully shaved and trimmed the beard to a neat, almost-professional appearance. His hair he left alone, though it would most likely get him reprimanded, with his straight, boyish bangs hanging over his eyes. No longer did he look like a rugged wildman freshly emerged from the woods. Now he looked handsome, charming even in his own respect.

“Better than nothing,” he mumbled, stroking his fingers through the hairs hanging from his chin. He took a moment to clean the area before dressing in army casuals and making his way out of the room.

The moment his foot touched down in the hallway, a pair of hands grabbed him and pushed him against the wall.

“What took ya so long?” Derek Kirn growled, shoving Jamie against the wall when he tried to step away from it. “Jerking off in there?”

“I was only in for five minutes.”

“Five minutes my ass. Look at my watch.” The man raised his wrist. “Five oh one.”

“Oh,” Jamie smiled. “You gonna tell the sarge I was in the bathroom for one extra minute?”

“Damn right I will, faggot.”

“You’re the one who seems obsessed with whether or not I’m jerking off in the bathroom, Kirn . I wouldn’t be calling me a faggot if I were you.”

“Why you little—”

“That’s enough,” Sergeant Armstrong said, stepping into the hall. “Is there a problem here?”

“This little pussy was in the bathroom longer than he was supposed to be,” Kirn said.

“Yeah,” Donald Wills added. “What Kirn said.”

“I’ll have you both aware that this little pussy, as you call him, is your commanding officer. Don’t forget, gentlemen, that Mr. Marks here is a corporal.”

“Fuck that!” Kirn cried. “He was in the bathroom for longer than he should have been!”

“Like Corporal Marks said, Mr. Kirn, you seem to be a bit too fixated on the fact that your commanding officer was in the bathroom longer than you anticipated.”

“But you said—”

“Enough! Kirn, Wills, go to your room. Jerk your dicks on your own time.” With nothing else to say, both men turned and made their way up the stairs, both mumbling under their breaths. Once sure they were out of earshot, the sergeant turned to face Jamie. “My apologies, Corporal. I see you haven’t cut your hair.”

“Wasn’t in the mood.”

“ Or your beard.”

“Only had one razor,” Jamie smiled.

“I’ll let it pass because there’s more important things to attend to. I will, however, ask that you not let Kirn and Wills get away with such behavior.”

“I wasn’t aware that they weren’t under your orders, sir.”

“You’re not stupid, Corporal. You know what stands with me and what doesn’t. You’re dismissed until eighteen-hundred hours. Dinner will be served on the second floor.”

“Thank you sir,” Jamie said, raising his hand to salute.

After the sergeant saluted him back, Jamie hefted his pack up under his arm and made his way toward his and Erik’s room, all the while dwelling on what the sergeant had said about Kirn, Wills and their control over him.

You know what goes, the man had said.

Jamie only wished he did.

“It’s gotta be aliens,” Kirn said.

“It could be the government,” Michael suggested.

“We already know it’s a virus,” Wills said, always one to be clever in his moments of stubbornness. “Roberts is the doctor. He’ll tell you.”

“I’m not a doctor,” Erik said, “and yes, it is a virus.”

“How do you know?” Kirn asked.

“Because it only replicates inside living organisms.”

“But the things out there are dead,” Michael pointed out. “How can a virus survive outside a living host?”

“I have no idea,” Erik said, nodding as Desmond slapped down a pair of biscuits and a bowl of soup in front of him. “Thank you.”

“Biscuits?” Wills asked. “Where in the hell did we get biscuits?”

“I made them,” Desmond said.

“I don’t know,” the man continued, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “I’m not sure I trust you…”

“Just eat the damn biscuit,” the sergeant grumbled, nodding as Desmond set his food before him. “Thank you, young man. Your work is much appreciated.”

“It’s no trouble, sir.”

Jamie waited, watching the boy round the table and offer each man his dinner. When Desmond set Wills’ food down in front of him, he waited, likely expecting some kind of lip. When none came, Desmond set Kirn’s food before him, then Dustin’s and Michael’s. When he finally came to Jamie, the boy set the food down with a smile. “Here you are, Corporal.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jamie nodded, offering the boy a smile.

With everyone served, Desmond seated himself at the very end of the table and began to eat. A few short moments of silence followed after the teenage cook finished making his rounds at the table, but the previous conversation quickly began to follow suit. Michael and Dustin continued debating over the ethics of the virus with the less-intelligent-than-average Kirn and Wills, while the sergeant, seated between the four men, ate in silence. Erik, always the unusually silent one, kept to himself, as did Desmond, who only occasionally looked upon the group.