“I’m fine,” I said, automatically. “You don’t have to worry about me, Dad.”
He raised his eyebrow at me, looking so much like his old self that I nearly burst into tears. He was so young, only thirty-eight. He had only been twenty when I was born and the gray strands that were now in his hair worried me. “I always worry about you,” he said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, as okay as anyone could possibly be. This isn’t easy.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“I know you’re not thrilled with us heading to your mom’s. And I know you’re not thrilled with Ash coming along.”
I nudged him in the shoulder. “She is my mom after all. It’s just…that’s rough too.” I looked up at him. “I’d imagine it’s worse for you.”
He shrugged, but I could see the pain in his eyes. Despite them being separated and divorced for so long, I could see that my dad never really got over my mom. “It’s for your survival, Zoey. We’ll handle it as it comes.”
“Exactly,” I said. “We’ll be fine.”
“And Ash?” he asked, looking over my shoulder.
I looked back at Ash, who was standing legs shoulder width apart, aiming for the bottles. My heart slammed in my chest, and I sighed. “It’s not like I wanted him to die, Dad,” I retorted. “It’s just not easy to have your high school bully along with you, every moment of the day.”
His mouth quirked up a bit, and I resisted the urge to smile as well. He knew me better than anyone. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you…”
“About what?” I asked, wiping my sweaty hands all over my jeans. I would have to change when I got back to the car. I felt disgusting and dirty. I ran a hand through my hair and winced at how greasy and stringy it had gotten over the past few days.
He took a deep breath and blew it out, looking embarrassed for a moment. “I wanted to apologize.” I looked up from my thorough examination of my hair and narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re right. I’ve always treated Ash better than I should have.”
“Dad, it’s not that important,” I started to say, but he was already shaking his head.
“No, you were right. Ash was a bully, and I knew that he had sent you home crying, but I just liked the kid. I always thought he had a crush on you and couldn’t quite figure out what to do about it. But that was no excuse. I should have been behind my daughter.”
“It’s okay,” I said, secretly jumping for joy on the inside. Finally, after nine years, my dad was seeing. He was admitting. It shouldn’t have been that important now, but it was. My dad’s obvious affection for Ash despite his treatment of me had always bothered me.
“Thank you. It’s not, but thank you. I should have never taken Ash’s side when you guys were fighting. I should have taken you more seriously. I know you think I always wanted a boy, but really I just wanted you, Zoey. You’re the best kid a parent could ask for.”
“Aw, Dad,” I said teasing him, trying to hide the emotions that were building up in the back of my throat. “Come on, there’s no other person that I’d rather be with at the end of the world.”
“Well, I’m going to take care of you,” he promised, sliding his hands into his pockets. He nodded toward Ash. “I know he’s been rough on you, but give him a chance. He’s changed. The virus, the Awakened, it’s changed him. And I’ve always thought he liked you.”
I dropped my gaze to the ground. “Ash doesn’t like me,” I insisted, but I didn’t feel so sure of that anymore. I sighed dramatically. “But I guess if we have to repopulate the earth together, there could be worse candidates.”
He groaned, but there was laughter in it. I grinned. “Please, really? Don’t talk about that kind of stuff with your old man. It’s weird.”
I laughed, and Ash glanced over at us, his eyebrows raised.
“Come on; let’s get out of here,” he said, grabbing my head with his arm in a headlock. “I love you, champ.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
IT WAS A DIFFERENT DREAM this time. I was in the brownstone, trapped in my bedroom. Bandit was at the door whining, begging to be let out. I could hear the whispers of the Awakened in the streets. I was wrapped in the blankets on my bed, in the fetal position. Bandit’s paws kept scratching at the door, and the whining grew loud and louder. I clapped my hands over my ears and whimpered. “No, Bandit. No.”
He barked loudly, and I jumped at the sound. A moment later, there was a loud pounding on my bedroom door, shaking it in its frame. The doorknob rattled, but it was locked. I didn’t remember locking it, and I remembered it was because my bedroom had never had a lock on the door. Bandit pranced nervously in place, barking at the door.