hush ;

zahra morales. twenty-eight. enforcer. she/her.

no one wants to leave the qz in this aftermath, the smoke of the burned bodies still lingering in the air. gilbert knew that well enough, so he didn’t bother asking for a shift trade anywhere. if anything, he wanted to flee the damn city anyway. his eyes are sharp on the environment surrounding them, but as one hand stirs the wheel, the other catches sun rays just outside the window. it’s much nicer to focus on that than on the rather large group they come with - and the in training enforcers promoted out of the ashes. gilbert could name multiple better options, but alexei volkov understands the game he plays. so, behind him, sit the sadistic and the blindly loyal type of people the leader needs. perhaps he can’t quite judge them, younger and brutal and full of belief like he once was. but gilbert will, anyway. next to him is the one to coordinate the entire shitshow. a much better hire, for sure, but the shock that overcame him in january when he learned of her promotion has never quite dissipated. 

he wishes, against all his will, that zahra would have kept him in her crew. he stares at the group with slightly raised eyebrows - brooks and owens are as flimsy as wet cardboard, but impeccable shots. johnson? they often whisper in the armory with him, and are trading discreet eye rolls right now. but they don’t act on any of that ever, far too level headed. gilbert stares at his enforcer. shit, he’s barely met him before his absence, but the uncertain man is no leader. trigger happy? trigger delirious, perhaps. gilbert wouldn’t even call him a great soldier. but what do i know? i’ve only been a soldier for 28 out of 38 years of living, anyway. he can’t help but roll his eyes again, now by himself. 

the group barely gets to move before gilbert simply turns around and says ‘no’. hansen had  started fumbling through his words, but the few said were enough for gil to feel like someone must pull the damn plug. ‘we separate, every single one to a different trap, and running back after. we’ll finish this before they even do the first.’ perhaps he’s forgetting his place, as he tends to do, more and more in the last few years, impossibly so since his return. yet the danger of the past few days seems to have taken away all clarity. as does the light smirk on the impostor enforcer’s face, so self congratulatory. “i’m sorry, is this a capture the flag kind of morning?” johnson kicks his ankle but they’re promptly ignored. “what, are you trying to get points for-” there’s some words traded among the soldiers, but soon it is just hansen and orquídeas going at it. mostly gilbert, but the man seems to be absorbing the anger like a sponge. oh, how he hopes the man will explode soon. “-so not only are you incapable of strategising but you act like your soldiers are collateral. may i remind you, sir, that the zone has lost many just this week? that is fucking reckless. and-” 

he doesn’t quite clock the presence of zahra, but rather her words, interrupting the barrage. “well, clearly there is a goddamned problem.” his tone is rough, disrespectful too. he’s being disrespectful to hansen, but he doesn’t quite count as an enforcer on his books. zahra doesn’t either, but he makes an effort. the soldier sighs and turns to look at her, exasperation personified, tone and wording much more fitting to his and her roles. “ma’am, he’s not fit for this. you,” there is a certain pressure to the word, “must do something.”

She barely contains the urge to roll her eyes at Gilbert’s usage of ma’am, knowing he doesn’t really mean the respect the term is supposed to convey. It’s just for show, a performance for the other soldiers, so that when word inevitably starts circulating around the zone about this, he can at least say he spoke with some modicum of respect. Zahra can’t blame him, not when they all do it in some way, finding the loopholes that ensure their survival. She’s more concerned about the demanding tone in Gilbert’s voice and the way Hansen looks like he’s about to make things much worse.

“I didn’t realize you had the power to give orders, Orquídeas,” Zahra says before Hansen can open his mouth and start making his own demands. Hansen smirks like she’s just sided with him, a bold assumption that makes her want to smack him just for making it. “Now, someone tell me what happened.” Hansen opens his mouth to speak, but Zahra lifts her hand and cuts him off. “Not you two,” she points at Hansen and Orquídeas, “Johnson.” Johnson is sensible, right? At the very least, they aren’t watching the argument like vultures, the way Brooks and Owens are, waiting for something worth reporting to Alexei in hopes they’ll get a promotion.

Zahra listens as Johnson recounts Hansen’s plan and Orquídeas’ response, carefully schooling her features to remain neutral. For once, she actually agrees with Gilbert - Hansen’s plan is idiotic at best, fatal at worst, and there’s already been more than enough death for the week. But she can’t outright side with Gilbert. She’s the one that gave Hansen this responsibility, the power to make the decisions for this half of the patrol, and doubling back on it now wouldn’t look very good for her. Not that letting Hansen go forward with his shit plan and getting half a patrol killed would look very good for her, either. 

If she was more like the rest of her family, she would not fall from one emotion into the other. Daiyu would meet Zahra with something more stoic, disconnection and frost rather than awkward responses and now this, too: another burst of laughter. Nervous, in a way, but also just a release of tension and because the image is actually quite funny. “You’re so fucking stupid.” This time it really isn’t chastising. They both know Daiyu might have done the same.

But the laughter doesn’t dissipate her nervousness or frustration with the situation, is only a momentary burst of release before her chest contracts again. Zahra isn’t agreeing with her, is calling her impulse to simply get out of this corner they’ve backed themselves in insane. Daiyu feels indignant as she opens her mouth, “What’s insane is locking ourselves up with no idea what’s happening outside.” It’s not entirely true, but there’s hardly any wise decisions. Throwing herself into what might be an emotionally compromising situation is far from one, though. That much Daiyu knows.

Zahra takes her wrist, and it’s the only thing that keeps her from reaching for the door handle and opening the door. She would have, really, in direct opposition to Zahra’s protests, but there’s that pleading tone. Daiyu looks at her for a moment, then quickly up to the ceiling as she struggles to accept the existence of that please. The desperation of it. The weight of it. How she cannot be confronted with such things, not now and not ever. She yanks her wrist back, feels her skin sear where the other had touched her. She pulls it up to her chest, considering a cobweb above them as she avoids any type of contact with the other for as long as she can. “Fine. We’ll stay here a bit and see if you can come up with a better fucking plan.” The words are somewhat cruel, more bitten than spoken. Daiyu looks at Zahra again, some kind of apologetic edge to her eyes already. “Fine. Sorry. It’s the adrenaline, or something.” That must be it. 

Zahra lets out a frustrated groan as Daiyu snaps back, as if she hadn’t just been hoping for this exact thing. As if she wasn’t the one to throw insults into the mix. Daiyu’s right, too. They couldn’t stay in this closet forever, but without some way to look out while the door’s closed, they’ll have to take their chances at some point. Her pride doesn’t seem intent on letting Daiyu know that, though. “Right, sorry I didn’t find us a hiding spot with windows. That the runners would be able to see us through. My bad. Next time I’m saving your fucking life I’ll make sure to look for a spot with two-way mirrors for doors so we can hide and see at the same time.” Maybe one day she’ll learn to shut up, but today doesn’t seem to be that day.

Daiyu snatches her wrist back and Zahra’s hand hangs in the air for a moment too long before dropping limply to her side. She’s thankful for the lack of light as she feels her cheeks flush, though she’s not sure if it’s embarrassment from the minor rejection or something else making them red. “Fine,” she says. “Right. Adrenaline.” Now it’s her turn to go quiet. Her eyes dart around the closet, looking everywhere but Daiyu, as she racks her brain for any semblance of a plan. The more time passes the more hopeless their situation seems, but her still stinging pride isn’t ready to tell Daiyu she’s right about this, either.

it was never any surprise to him how zahra and daiyu ended up for a time. especially now, he sees so many things the two share. zahra grins much in a similar way, and so he can’t stop himself grinning back, remaining muted. “it’s just the simple fact that i’ve been alive longer than you, know more than you, but hey, i won’t force you to listen to me,” he teases. “two, right. why is it two cents?” he asks with genuine curiosity. nik brings his cup to his lips, sipping at the still piping hot liquid, and sets it back down. nik hums in vague approval of her plan. it’s not that he doesn’t trust her to do what needs to be done, it’s that this plan doesn’t instill any confidence in him. but what will? nik sighs slowly, trying not to dwell on the dread inducing fact that he can’t think of a single thing that would make any of this easier, any less terrifying. “sure,” he mumbles, not looking directly at her.

“teddy and the doctor are a thing?” it seems like a stupid thing to miss now, there has to have been a foundation of trust to start something like this. he makes a mental note of all those names, and wishes there were more names of people who can keep their heads down. but he’s already got his work cut out for him if he’s to keep enforcers off gilbert’s back and eva’s. this was never going to be easy. he’s got no more room for losses either, there’s only so many headstones a man can build for loved ones before there’s no longer enough to keep him fighting to see another day.

“no,” he says clearly, “but it’s all that can be done for now. eventually it’ll have to come to stealing resources, making sure the zone doesn’t take alexei’s side, and that won’t be easy. alexei might be… everything that he is. but he’s given these people purpose and safety from the infected, that counts for a lot these days.” he shifts, discomfort just barely visible on his tense features. “all were doing now is throwing water out a sinking boat. eventually we’ll need to fix the boat, or the boat sinks with us in it.” her question makes him pause, but he meets her eyes again. “yeah.” this is what he’s always been afraid of, knowing it’ll somehow get worse.

Zahra shrugs. “Fuck if I know why it’s two cents,” she responds. “It’s just a saying. Probably meant something when money did, too.” It hits her that NIk would’ve lived in that world, would remember what it was like. As often as she hears the older residents of the QZ reminisce and talk about how things used to be, it’s easy to forget that they’re speaking of real memories and not passing down stories. There’s never been another way of living for Zahra, and it’s been so long and all-consuming that it’s hard to imagine things have only been this way for a few decades instead of centuries. 

She takes a sip of tea, pulling a face when her half-baked plan is met with half-hearted approval. “You don’t sound very sure.” Zahra doesn’t blame him. His name, his position, his actions... It’s a tough sell, and it’d probably take more than what she’s proposed to get the others to give him a chance. Still, she’d prefer that her ideas be met with more enthusiasm. “How do you propose we go about this then, hmm? Since you’ve lived longer and know so much more than me.” Zahra arches an eyebrow, watching Nik over the rim of her mug as she takes another sip.

“I don’t think Teddy and Mara’s relationship status is the thing to be focusing on here.” Her statement is confirmed as Nik says everything Zahra doesn’t want to hear. But she knew it, didn’t she? That this would be the answer? She’d been asking for corroboration, not curiosity or naivety. There are so few ways all of this can go, even fewer ways all of it can end. She lets out a long, slow breath. “The boat’s been sinking for ages, hasn’t it?” If it was ever afloat to begin with. 

Over a week later and he still barely knows what day it is. He just goes through the motions. Does whatever jobs he’s allocated to. 



Alexei’s answers raised more questions. It still rings in his ears - the silver lining amongst the loss. A chance to be an enforcer. What Dad would’ve wanted. His name wasn’t on the list, and he didn’t expect it to be. If he was a better leader, had more resolve, Marsie would still be here. To get there…he needs a confession. He has no idea who it was.

He knows it wasn’t Opie - knows he’d die before he’d let her get in trouble.

He doesn’t really know how to respond to small talk. It all just feels like too much, too soon - it’ll always be too soon. Time can only do so much healing, and you can only survive so many gaping wounds.



It had to be Zahra, as well, the victim of his attempts to fill the void by fighting. He didn’t want that for her. He saw the way Pedro’d wince if he moved his jaw wrong in the week after a fight club. “Sorry. Won’t do that again.” It didn’t help, understanding what he’d gone through. Just made it worse, really, because Matty was always the hard-man between the two of them, and if it sat badly with him - it must’ve absolutely cut Pedro up inside. He’s not going back there. He can promise that much.

She wasn’t looking for an apology, but Matty offers one anyway, which somehow makes Zahra feel like she’s said the wrong thing. “It’s okay,” she assures him, trying to find a way to spin it back into the compliment she’d been intending for it to be. “It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.” Zahra wonders if Matty had known. She’s not the a religious fight night attendee, but she’s a frequent one, and she knows she’d never seen Matty there while Pedro was around. She wonders what Pedro told him about the nights at the Alibi, if Pedro told him anything at all. “A win on your first night’s a big deal. You should feel proud.”

There’s a lapse into silence as Zahra finds herself scrambling for something else to say again. Something that might bring the tiniest glimmer of the old Matty back into his eyes. It almost feels selfish, searching so desperately for that old version of him that she knows won’t ever exist again. Especially when she knows there are dozens of old Zahras that she’ll never be again, either. She doubts her parents would recognize her if they saw her now. The thought used to keep her up at night; Zahra hopes Matty isn’t dealing with the same.

Zahra refrains from touching her and Daiyu isn’t sure what to make of it, this closeness between their bodies but the lack of anything. It’s better, better — but how strange it is, too, after all that transpired between them just moments ago and over all the years before that as well. And with every heartbeat she becomes more aware of how small the place is, how trapped they are, how afraid she is of scenarios like this: being stuck. At least she’s not alone, that other large fear of hers — no, someone is telling her she’d never leave her and Daiyu just looks down, into that blinding light.

Because she can understand there nuances, certainly, the difference between leaving someone to the mercy of a runner and the difference between leaving someone in a relationship, but the comment still threatens to push out. You did leave me. There’s no use in bringing it up, reiterating the heartbreak she promises herself she’s recovered from over the years. “Huh.” That’s all that leaves her, some kind of mangled sound. As if she can’t accept that Zahra still cares about her, despite all the ways she’s proved it since the break up. “Yeah, right.”

She wants to crawl out of her skin, in all truth. That, or to be pulled into a tight embrace by Zahra, to feel a kind of tightness that doesn’t make her chest feel tense with it. To not have her mind race as light makes her vision dances. “Where’s your gun, enforcer Morales?” It’s an attempt at a joke, but somewhat chastising at the same time. “Keep the bat. We gotta get out of here.” It sounds bad, to be so sure about that, but Daiyu doesn’t think she can do whatever this is. “We’ll get your knife. And just get out of here.” 

Daiyu goes quiet and Zahra bites her lip to keep from cursing out loud. She’s fucked up, said something wrong like she always does, brought the past a little too close to the present. Part of her wishes that Daiyu would argue or lash out, because then at least Zahra could get a read on what she’s thinking. The emptiness between Daiyu’s words feels like a chasm Zahra has no way of crossing. The closet feels like it’s shrinking, but Daiyu feels a thousand miles away.

And then she’s poking fun at Zahra’s lack of a gun, as if this is all a very normal conversation to be having. Zahra used to know almost every thought Daiyu had; now, she can barely predict what Daiyu will say next. “Ran out of bullets halfway up the stairs.” She tells the truth, unable to come up with a witty retort in time. “...I might’ve thrown it at a runner’s head in hopes that it knocked it out. It didn’t.”

•

After a handful of patrol runs, where she’s brought back select supplies directly to Mara and the infirmary, Zahra has become someone that she trusts to do the right thing. To want to do the right thing. It’s what she counts on now, nodding at the Enforcer’s suggestion. “Thanks,” she says, crossing her arms as they fall in step beside each other. 

“We’re running low again,” she begins after a minute of silence, kicking up the dusty road they’re trekking along, like this is any other conversation two people might have. “Not just narcotics or pain killers. Basic supplies. Bandages. Stitches. Sutures.” Things that they’d continued to need, even beyond Tylenol or Motrin. Mara casts a sidelong glance at Zahra, “But I don’t know that it’ll be enough,” she admits, cautious about her word choice. “There’s a lot of people who need medical attention on a daily basis.” A lot of people who needed survivable rations. Extra clothes. The means with which to protect themselves. 

“It’s just going to get worse. Don’t you think?” As an Enforcer, she images Zahra is privy to more planning and rationing conversations than even she was. But she wants to know that the other sees the same problem she does before providing a potential solutions (and a treasonous one at that).

Zahra frowns as the doctor starts listing supplies. She pores over a map of Idaho Falls in her head, trying to think of places where she could look and routes she could finagle her way into patrolling. Idaho Falls was never a particularly large city, and this many years on there were only so many places left untouched. “I’ll see what I can do,” she says, careful not make any promises. More and more supplies were coming in via trespassers getting caught around the borders. Getting killed around the borders. Zahra’s never been very fond of the method, and she knows Mara isn’t, either. But one day, they’ll reach a point where there’s no other option. “Are things in the infirmary really that bad?”

“I... Yeah, probably.” She lapses into silence as they enter the hotel, nodding at a few soldiers and enforcers they pass by on the way up to her room. This doesn’t feel like a conversation that can happen out in the open, lest the wrong person overhear and take it the worst way. It’s borderline treasonous just to think that things would get worse, that Alexei can’t take care of the QZ anymore.

     For some reason, Zahra makes Nele smile. It’s only a subtle quirk of her lips, but it isn’t often people make her smile, and to even stir up that is a feat. It’s the way she presents herself; shameless and blunt, with the type of odd sense of humor that Nele enjoys. She removes her gloves, tucking them into the back pocket of her jeans so they hang out halfway, then accepts the food. Tearing the bag open with her teeth, Nele goes in on the contents, tugging down the bandana and tilting her head back to pour some of the snack into her mouth. “Thanks,” Nele offers in kind regard after swallowing the food, then hums in agreement when she continues on about the bodies. The outbreak. All of it. Shit’s fucked. Fuck yes it is.

     “Been fucked for a while, hasn’t it? You even remember before?” She didn’t. It’s better that way. This is what she knows; it’s all she knows, and it gives her nothing to mourn. Not in that regard, at least. And she isn’t really serious when she asks Zahra. Nele doesn’t ask about people’s pasts and she prefers if they show her the same respect. “Emma and David stepped off since she began crying.” She changes the subject, more willing to talk about others than dive into a deeper conversation. “People are gonna want a memorial,” she adds, shaking a bit more food into her mouth before looking over her shoulder at the burning pile. 

     “I’m better at burning bodies.”

“Before what?” There’s been too many befores, Zahra thinks, and too many afters. She wonders if people thought like this prior to the infection tearing things apart, delineating their lives into a never-ending series of before and after. “Before the infection? Before Alexei? Before the current shitstorm?” Her gaze travels back to the fire in front of them. “Wasn’t born before the infection, wasn’t here before Alexei. I do remember yesterday, though.” A pause. “Yeah, it’s been fucked.”

Zahra tries to avoid looking at the faces as she watches the flames. Not looking made it easier to compartmentalize, to forget that all of the bodies were normal people only a few hours ago. She doesn’t have to wonder if people did this pre-infection. She knows they didn’t. Wishes she didn’t have to, either. “They always want a memorial.” It’s why they dug graves for bodies that could never be buried and named places after people that wouldn’t step foot there again. Like they’d forget about the dead if they didn’t have something physical to remind them. It must be human nature, to want to be remembered and want to remember their loved ones.

VINCENT: I don't know, exactly, I'm just spitballing here — I mean, everybody woke up to screaming, and um. Maybe twenty, thirty people had already turned.

VINCENT: I don't know how many more infected there are now.

VINCENT: I'm hiding in the communication center. I'm barricaded in, I'm — I'm alone, and I don't know about anybody else.

-

ZAHRA: How the fuck did an outbreak start at the mall?

ZAHRA: You know what, never mind, don't answer that. Not important right now.

( She turns to her patrol, orders two to stay at the base and everyone else to get in the truck. )

ZAHRA: Vincent, are you still there? We're heading to the mall now.

eva stands silent against the wall as she listens to zahra radio away the other enforcers. she moves silently, following zahra up and around to where the counters are. brows furrowing at the squeaking groan of the door, there’s a twin mirror of an expression to the one zahra holds on her own face. eva looks at her for just a moment longer before ducking into the tunnel. one hand holding the pack of pills secure, the other reaches for a flashlight she keeps tucked into the utility belt at her waist, thumbing it on as she flashes it forward. darkness will cover them when the door shuts, and eva would prefer to be able to retain their line of sight. 

“is this fine or do you have some problem with me turning on a flashlight in here too?” eva asks, turning to grin at zahra to convey her mostly harmless jab at zahra’s annoyance.

she walks forward, following the cut of the tunnel. she sees an upcoming bend, though most of it is relatively a straight shot. there’s a quiet echo of their footsteps as they walk, and eva keeps her voice low as she continues to make conversation. “can’t help but feel like you’re holding a grudge on the whole ‘not knowing the schedule’ thing, zahra.” she speaks, one foot in front of the other as she walks. “–and for me not knowing a secret tunnel in a qz i came to just about a year ago. while…sneaking around for a rebellion i was enlisted in two days ago.” lips pursing, her tone is still light, conversational because the rest of their mission here seems queued to be pretty uneventful outside of her nearly being made just moments ago. “seems a bit unfair, don’t you think?” eva quips in a tone that is just a step above deadpan.

for zahra to know this tunnel would mean she’d have used it in however many years she’d been here at base. maybe the rebellion was gathering more numbers now, but eva knew what survival looked like in bases like these. it had been the same in salt lake, the grass roots efforts had been rooted far before full civil war broke out. teasing aside, she is more serious when she turns back to zahra again. “–how long have you guys been using these tunnels for this kind of work?” 

it’s evident eva doesn’t mean this rebellion, since its genesis in this form is far too fresh. no, here eva asks – how long have you been taking care of your own while he refuses to?

Zahra flicks her own flashlight on in response to Eva’s jab, stepping into the tunnel after her. The door creaks in continued protest as Zahra shuts it behind them, leaving them in the dim glow of their flashlights. She sweeps hers in the opposite direction of where they’re going out of habit, making sure there’s nothing dangerous that could sneak up behind them, that they’re actually alone in the tunnel. Satisfied that the coast is clear, she turns to follow Eva.

“I feel like the tunnel thing is completely justified,” Zahra responds, tone lightened now that the immediate risk of being found is gone. “Either you’re not being very observant, or you’re not being curious enough. And you have to be both if you’re gonna have any success at sneaking around.” She glances at Eva out of the corner of her eye, wondering how the woman had gotten pulled into all of this. A year was probably plenty of time to get disillusioned with how Alexei ran the QZ, but it seemed like an awfully short amount of time to earn enough trust to get recruited for something like this. 

She pauses at Eva’s question; maybe Eva was more observant than Zahra had initially thought. She wishes she could confirm the assumption made in the question, that there was a number of them working behind the scenes to keep the QZ going. The truth of the disconnected way things have been running until now seems almost shameful, now that a proper rebellion is starting. “A while,” she finally says. “Mostly just me. I mean, if other people are using the tunnels for shit like this, they’re incredibly good at it. Should probably recruit them for the club, too.” It feels almost like a confession or an admission of guilt. She’d tried to help, but it hadn’t been good enough. There were people probably better suited for this job. Potentially a whole group of them, which she’d managed to con her way into. 

( Running through a mental list of known radio frequencies, Vincent sends out call after call and hopes he'll get an answer. At this point, he's desperate, hoping some group of enforcers is on patrol nearby and ready to respond to a distress call. )

VINCENT: Come in, Idaho Falls. This is Vincent Holtz speaking. There's been, um. A huge outbreak at Grand Teton.

VINCENT: Who do I have on the other end here? Please, can you send help?

VINCENT: Do you read?

( Their radios crackle to life just as the patrol reaches their lookout. Soldiers share concerned looks with each other, waiting with baited breath as Zahra replies. )

ZAHRA: Vincent? It's Zahra. I've got a patrol here at the office lookout. I—

The infected soldier’s jaw snaps, glossed-over eyes still intense as they stare into her, blood coating its chin, lips, face. Daiyu knows him, vaguely, but has little time for recognition. Every cell in her body is dedicated to survival: to avoiding scratches and bites, to trying to kick the thing off with all her might. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline, the sheer refusal of ending like this, she might become aware of how weakened she has become over the past months, how grief and guilt have been eating away at her as she failed to feed herself. In stead, all Daiyu has is her rage against death.

There’s a crack, a splash of guts and blood pouring over her own midriff, and Daiyu scrambles away, attempting to push herself back onto her feet as the runner’s head bursts and she gets covered in more of its gore. It, she thinks of it as an it, no longer a he or a soldier or someone who had a lifestory, once. “Holy —” The struggling halts for a moment as she wipes at her face, and then Zahra is pulling her up and she moves back into action, scramling along. Her legs fail her, her eyes pulling towards the toppled body until she forces herself to look ahead, lets herself be shoved into the closet.

It’s not the first close call. There have been countless ones, ones that made her heart race and her laughter spike in the aftermath. There’s some kind of glory to be found in seeking out danger and making it out alive, but there’s little here. Zahra’s panic isn’t something to relish in. It isn’t something she can make into something victorious.

In this closet, with little space between herself and perhaps the only person that has seen Daiyu fully stripped down in every sense of the word, there is nothing fun about the adrenaline. About the risk they ran. About the way Zahra looks at her, as if she’s someone to be afraid of losing. “Didn’t get me.” She wipes at her face again, flicks a piece of infected meat away. She tries very hard not to shake. “I’m fine, fine, just a bit bruised probably, yeah? But if you wanna make sure …” Daiyu pats a pocket, produces a flashlight, shines it up at them. “That was too close a fucking call.” Her eyes dance around the room before landing on Zahra, her voice quieter when she adds: “Thank you.”

Zahra’s eyes dart over what’s visible of Daiyu in the glow of the flashlight, checking for anything that might indicate broken skin. She’s fine. She’s alive. She’s fine. Her hands still hover between them, unsure of what to do. Brush a loose strand of hair behind Daiyu’s ear, wipe the blood off Daiyu’s cheek, wrap Daiyu in her arms with no real plan for letting her go— all of it seems too close to a confession that Zahra isn’t sure she fully understands. She settles for crossing her arms, hands tucked close to her torso, if only to keep them from acting of their own accord.

Thank you. Her eyes snap up to meet Daiyu’s, and for a second all she can do is let out a shaky breath. “Of course,” Zahra eventually replies, “I wasn’t gonna leave you there. I’d never leave you.” Instantly, it feels like she’s said too much. She becomes acutely aware of the space between them (or lack there of) and of the fact that they haven’t been this physically close to each other in years, save for a few patrols here and there. This feels different, just the two of them in a corner of the mall that’s rarely frequented. For all they know, they could be the only ones in the QZ left.

+ ZAHRA  JULY 13TH • THE HOTEL COURTYARD

Days have passed since the outbreak of the infected, each one passing languidly, as though everyone was waiting with baited breath for the next incident – for the other shoe to drop. But it doesn’t and Mara carries on, they all do. But even in that carrying on, she and her family (her family, her family, her family – they’re here) agree to a plan. She squeezes Teddy’s hand when they make their decision to bring Felix into it. They’re doing this for her, she reminds herself as she approaches Zahra. 

They’re doing this because she’s asked them to help the people she’s grown to care about. She’s torn between wanting to run with the family she’s waited so long to see again, the family she’s hoped against hope would be okay, and the people she’s spent years caring for. People she’s bandaged and soothed and calmed in the darkest storms. And she can’t choose. So Teddy and Felix don’t make her. They agree to help, to try anyway. They’d resume old habits from Boston and they’d make what little difference they could in a place designed to squash any goodness. 

“Hey, do you have a minute?” Mara asks, and it’s nothing out of the ordinary from any other instance where she’d give Zahra a small slip of paper with a list of things they needed. The other would gather supplies and make sure they actually arrived to the infirmary before getting picked over by enforcers who thought a private store was more useful for their needs. “I have a question about shifts,” she lies with a nod at the enforcer. @zahramorales​

There’s a restlessness running through Idaho Falls in the wake of the latest in a seemingly never-ending line of tragedies. With just a few words, Alexei turns people on each other, using their desperation as two weeks’ worth of entertainment. Zahra wonders if she’d be one of the numerous people fighting tooth and nail for the chance at the enforcer role if she wasn’t one already. It’s not really a question; she knows the answer is yes. Being an enforcer meant food, security, power. It meant survival.

But she doesn’t have to fight for it, not anymore. And yet, Zahra can feel the same restlessness plaguing the others settling into her bones, a need to do something weighing on her shoulders. She picks up extra shifts and tries to fill her days with anything that will keep the unease at bay for a little while longer. Mara catches her on her return from an extra patrol, and Zahra has to blink to make sure her (perhaps slightly sleep deprived) brain isn’t making things up. 

It’s strange to see Mara so far away from the infirmary in the mall. Whatever she’s asking for must be serious. “Yeah, of course,” Zahra replies. Her eyes scan the courtyard, trying to find somewhere secluded to talk, but there are too many people coming and going. If this is a serious as she suspects, they’ll need more privacy. “Why don’t you walk me back to my room and I’ll see if I can answer your question?”

for the briefest, fleeting moment – eva can imagine how it would turn out. it would be an ambush, surely. a few more steps into the light, enough for them to see her face. enough to bind zahra into falling into the role she plays for the base, not for the rebellion. she’d have to turn her in. they wouldn’t kill her then and there, but they’d punish her for it. she wonders if the retribution would do anything to ease the heavy anvil of guilt that’s become one with the rest of her. hell knows nothing else had. 

the vision of it is gone as soon as it comes. all the while, eva doesn’t move from where zahra stops her. she can fantasize about it, if that’s what she wants to sanitize her guilt into needing; but that’s as far as it can get, as far as she’ll let it. there was a rebellion to tend to, now. 

“clearly not.” she says in response to zahra’s question about the enforcer rotation, words light for how close she’d come to being made. “i want to say it’s too early for sabotage within our ranks, so let’s call it an oversight.” she adds, something in lieu of a joke as she steps back behind the wall – gaze still set on the silhouettes beyond, trying to make out who they were and what odds they held of being nosy enough to come snooping.

zahra’s critique breezes right past eva’s shoulders, unbothered. eva doesn’t take it personal because it rarely is. besides, now they have a bigger problem on their hands, don’t they? “so what’s the plan now, boss?” she asks – and generous as she is by being unbothered by zahra’s nitpicking, eva doesn’t spare the sarcasm that colors just the edges of her words now. it’s as harmless as it is light. “these pills still need delivering. rafael might start to think something’s gone wrong if i don’t show up within the hour like i’m supposed to.”

So what’s the plan now, boss? This time Zahra doesn’t fight it and rolls her eyes. “First, you’re going to be quiet so I can get those three off our backs.” She nods in the direction of the silhouettes. Pulling out her radio, she calls for one of the new enforcers. When he answers, she tells him that no, everything’s fine, just some animal knocking shit over and no, I’ve got clean-up covered, go finish the rounds and send some soldiers on break. His reply sounds hesitant but he agrees, and a few moments later the three figures move away from the pharmacy doors. 

Zahra lets out a breath of relief and turns back to the other problem at hand. “Okay, first mistake was not having the patrol schedule, but like you said, we’ll call it an oversight. Second mistake was trying to go for the back door. It’s convenient, sure, but unless you know what you’re doing, it’s really fucking easy to get caught.” She walks past Eva, staying along the edge of the store, where the shadows are darkest. Zahra glances over her shoulder, making sure Eva follows. Her eyes scan the shelves as they walk past, trying to imagine what it looked like before the infected, before FEDRA and Alexei. It’s always difficult and she’s sure her pictures are always a little off, having never experienced any of it. She can’t think of a world where the illnesses to worry about it can be cured with a pill, where it ends with the sick getting better instead of executed.

“i didn’t say i didn’t know them.” sharp as ever. nik smiles faintly, is it pride that fills his chest, or amusement? zahra is not flesh and blood, but perhaps that’s why he likes her so much, or maybe it’s the fact that she was able to give daiyu a happiness he could never give her, even if fleeting. “just surprised they’re trying something like this. teddy especially, they haven’t been here long.”

he thinks about lying to her. anxiety bubbles beneath his skin, as if she’ll be able to see right through him. everyone knows we’re friends. everyone knows this. she doesn’t know. “yeah… he told me.” and that’s all he wants to say on the matter. he’ll keep the urgency in which gil told him, an almost confession, to himself. it’s not that zahra hasn’t proven her trustworthiness for years if not decades, it’s for her safety. but most importantly, and most selfishly, it’s for his safety too. alexei has too many souls to hang over his head as it is, and with a rebellion to protect, he can’t have gilbert or zahra added to that list of weaknesses. he offers her a weak chuckle, bringing the cup of tea to his lips to hide his lingering smile. “sure you do.” 

“right now?” he huffs, slightly amused at the sentiment. when has anyone ever been fond of the name volkov? it’s struck fear in the hearts of the most diabolical of people long before being stuck here, long before the infection. “you’ll have to forgive an old smuggler just trying to give his… what’s the expression again? 4 cents? miss morales is all grown now, she doesn’t need my advice. duly noted.” when he places the mug back down, there’s still a smile. “what’s your idea of subtle?” it’s half a playful jab, half a real question. they have to play their cards just right. “there are worse things than sewer duty, i’ll take it.” granted, there aren’t many, but it’s quiet down there at least, far from prying eyes and ears. “so is it just you four? mara, teddy, gilbert, and you?” 

“Oh, someone thinks highly of their own opinion, don’t they?” Zahra counters, defensiveness gone and a grin in its place. “I’m pretty sure the saying is giving your two cents, not four.” She takes a sip of tea as she considers his next question. It’s a fine line to walk, making the rest of them trust Nik. To trust her enough to trust Nik. The only person who could currently be on board is Gilbert, but that’s all to do with his own relationship with Nik and nothing to do with trusting Zahra. “I don’t know, tell them I know a guy who’ll do things for us, no questions asked? Drop some hints that it’s you after a while until it’s time to do a big reveal?” Zahra shrugs. “I’ll figure something out. I’m great at being subtle, okay? As previously mentioned, I’ve been sneaking around for ages. Snuck around with Daiyu for years. It’ll be fine.”

She pauses at her own mention of Daiyu. Her thoughts flicker back to the chaos of the mall, seeing the runner on top of her. How close she— they, the entire QZ— came to losing her. Things would be so much worse for Daiyu if they were to get caught, if Alexei found out his own daughter was working behind his back. Zahra opens her mouth, ready to ask Nik not to tell Daiyu about all this, to keep her out of it. But she can’t. Nik shouldn’t have to keep a secret Daiyu would probably find out anyway. She closes her mouth and focuses on running her finger around the edge of her mug instead. “No,” Zahra says, answering Nik’s last question. “Uh, there’s a few more. Felix, who I guess is Teddy and Mara’s son? And Eva. I think there’s a few no questions asked soldiers in the mix, but it’s mostly us six to start.”

Less than twenty-four hours after being released from quarantine, even less time since the culprit’s execution, and everything runs like nothing happened at all. Zahra gets put on border patrol with a handful of soldiers and two newly appointed enforcers, tasked with checking the traps for any accomplices that had failed to sneak into the QZ. The drive out to the border makes everyone jittery, and she catches the new enforcers nervously gripping their guns as if they’ll get stripped of their titles any minute. Zahra’s sure it wouldn’t be a bad thing if they were, though she doesn’t dare voice the thought out loud.

They get to their destination and the mood instantly gets somber as it sinks in how far from the rest of the QZ - how far from help - they are. It wouldn’t be hard for someone to hide out here, amongst the trees and ruins, waiting to strike the next group that walks by. There’d been hours between the food getting poisoned and the first signs of infection. All it would take was one unsuspecting soldier to get infected, to not show symptoms until they got back to base, and the entirety of Idaho Falls would be gone. 

Zahra only entertains the thoughts for a moment before she turns to her patrol. There’s work to do. “Hansen,” she points at one of the new enforcers, the least likely of the two to fuck something up. Not that that’s saying much. “You take Brooks, Owens, Johnson, and Orquídeas and start at the north end of the traps. I’ll take the rest and start south. Meet back here in the middle in two hours.” Zahra watches Hansen stand there, eyes wide as the group splits in two, silently pleading that she’ll tell them what to do. She gestures towards the soldiers in front of them. “They’re your soldiers for the next two hours. Make a plan, tell them what to do.”