"Are you sure that it's okay to just leave them like that?" Quiller asks me as I get ready to enter one of the abandoned buildings a bit further from the church.

  The morning sun is shining coldly onto the bricks of the lost city, from which we are on the edge.

  "I left a note, they should know just fine." I answer calmly, without looking his way.

  "But it might still be dangerous."

  I shake my head: "Doesn't matter, everything is dangerous and I'm used to it."

  "Still you could have asked someone to go with you."

  I laugh slightly annoyed: "Well if you're so scared, I have you with me."

  Quiller laughs a bit awkwardly, he clearly doesn't completely agree with me, but that doesn't matter.

  I open my coat and take out a mask from one of the hidden pockets.

  I'm quite fond of my coat, it was made specially for me and I've been able to keep whatever I needed or wanted inside of it.

  And above all, my teacher made it for me. Though lately I've noticed it getting in a worse and worse state. I'm worried I might have to get rid of it one day.

  "What are you doing?" Quiller asks curiously.

  "I was taught that some old places have things known as 'black mold', it's something poisonous and can kill you over time."

  My companion nods: "Oh right, so that's how such a special mask looks like."

  "Never worn one?"

  "Well I did actually, but it was a lot different, since it was for a virus."

  "Isn't that just the same as this?"

  Did he live in such a world before too?

  But he shakes his head: "No, it was very different."

  I step over the rubble and take the lead entering the dark building.

  Like usual I stand still for a bit, to get used to the dark is way better than to use my precious batteries or lucifers.

  Though Quiller is quite useful in places like these as well, since he glows just a little bit.

  I wonder if he knows what he looks like. In the past people had things like mirrors in which they would be able to stare at their own faces, nowadays finding one is like a needle in a haystack. Most of them have been shattered or have gone completely dirty.

  Honestly I don't really know what I even look like, but then again it doesn't interest me. It's not important for survival.

  My eyes have finally gotten used to the dark and I spot a bunch of chairs.

  "This must have been a waiting room." Quiller says.

  "Waiting room? Why would they make a room for something as boring as that?"

  "Well, this obviously has been a hospital in the past, so people that went here waited until they could be helped from their pain."

  "What if they almost died?"

  "Then they would usually get priority, unless there were more dying."

  I nod, still finding the past humans strange creatures.

  I decide to search the room.

  Somewhere I find a couple of old pieces of paper that are stuck to one another, like a book, but without a leathery cover like mine. This would be a great Firestarter.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "It's an old newspaper, do you need it?"

  "It would be great for a fire."

  A slightly surprised expression crosses his face, but he quickly changes it back into his normal one: "Right..."

  "If you want me to read this one too, we can. But it's better to burn this than your book, right?"

  "Why do you still want to burn that book?"

  I laugh in a mischievous manner: "Maybe."

  "You're evil." Quiller answers, but he probably knows that I'm just kidding anyway... or at least I hope he does. From the information the reverent gave me, if I burn it, it might kill him after all and that is something I don't want.

  I really wouldn't want that to happen, his face just gets funny when I say that I will or signal to it.

  I look at the stairs leading down.

  Quiller shakes his head: "No Don, we're not going down there!"

  "Why not?"

  "Don..." Quiller signals towards something on the wall.

  I look behind me and read the words aloud: "Mortuary? That doesn't sound that bad... Do you think they have food there?"

  "No!"

  I look at him not understanding what he means at all.

  "Let's just go to the kitchen or something, they might have something left if it's about food you want."

  I shrug: "I still don't get it... but fine."

  As we enter the room that's called 'cafeteria' like in the book, I see a big almost circular hole in the roof, showing the cloudy sky.

  Water is slowly dripping down, by rusted up pipes and dark green plants growing down, from the edges of the hole.

  The light that's shining in, makes the parts not lighted a lot darker.

  "What could have made such a big hole?" Quiller asks, looking up questioningly.

  I shake my head: "I don't know, I'm going to look around for supplies."

  Carefully, minding every little noise I can hear. I start looking around.

  Under broken tables, in ancient closets.

  I open and search everything.

  When I open one of the small doors, the feeling of joy greets me warmly, there are some parts that I could use to experiment with my bombs!

  "I think we should look upstairs." I say: "The stairs look sturdy enough to carry us."

  Quiller nods in agreement and follows closely behind me.

  We enter a room that looks a lot messier than the others.

  "I really don't want to think of what might have transpired here." Quiller mumbles more to himself than to me.

  I look up at him: "Then just don't think about it."

  "But I just can't, I can't stop myself from wondering. It seems so terribly clear."

  I know what he's hinting towards. The dark brown stains on the walls and floor tell the story and the wind blowing through the broken glass whispers it to us.

  I don't get it, I've long left that behind. It's just impossible to start thinking about what might have happened somewhere if you are in need of a place to sleep. A place safe from the rain and cold.

  I remember that in the past I found it difficult, but now it's normal.

  It's very difficult after all, knowing or even guessing something that might have been a scene where many people got hurt or even died.

  I've long since learned that wanting doesn't matter. In this world the place where you spend the night can't simply be chosen. Sometimes you're lucky, sometimes you really aren't.

  Just make sure that it's safe from those zombies out there, don't remember that they were people too once and if somewhere a triple murder had taken place, just don't think about it. As long as there isn't a body to prove it...

  I've long lost the care about it. The zombies are just monsters. A place in which I can safely spend the night is just that. And yet Quiller is making me remember those things, making me think again.

  "Just don't think about it." I repeat aloud from my thoughts, but this time the words are more meant for me than for him.

  I notice that he isn't listening.

  He's staring at a corner of the room, standing there almost frozen in place.

  "Something wrong?" I ask, while tapping through his shoulder to get his attention.

  He quickly turns to me, almost shocked: "N-no... I'm fine."

  He clearly isn't, but at least he seems better than yesterday.

  "Hey Don..." Quiller hesitates: "Are you planning on staying at the church?"

  I shrug: "I found Mae. That was the goal. We had planned this, but no one else that I know is there."

  "You're thinking of continuing to travel?"

  So annoying, all those questions. Speaking so much makes my throat hurt.

  "I don't know. But I don't want to wear the same clothes as them."

  Quiller tries to hide a smile, but I already noticed.

  I leave the building proudly with quite some supplies.

  "You could give some of them to the church." Quiller thinks aloud.

  "Nah, but I would trade them for something good."

  "Good? Like what, one of those black dresses?" Quiller teases.

  I laugh: "I've got clothes that fit me fine! Hmm... maybe I will give them something for letting me stay there."

  Quiller smiles: "That would be very polite."

  Just before sundown we finally reach the church.

  I see Mae waiting outside for me on a bench, as she spots me she immediately starts to run my way.

  "Don! Where the hell have you been?!" Her face is puffed red with anger.

  "Just getting some supplies." I shrug.

  "Supplies?! We got enough of those here. You could have died!"

  "I can die every day, don't worry, I know how to stand my own."

  "Still." She looks at me worried.

  I'm sorry Mae, I say in my mind, not having the courage to really do so.

  Sister Pauline comes our way: "Ah I see our guest has returned."

  Her face doesn't change expression at all, making me feel like I'm looking at a statue.

  I hand one of the batteries over to her.

  "It's a thank you for letting me stay here."

  She nods ever so slightly a movement of a very contained yet positive surprise.

  "I will make sure it will go to the head."

  "Don! Is that why you left? To get US batteries?! You could've died." My friend is still not happy with the fact that I went looking around a little.

  I shrug: "Again, I can die every moment of every day. I would rather die not huddled or hidden away in some dusty old room."

  She looks sad.

  "Don, I don't think that's the problem." Quiller tells me.

  I give him a side-eye, why is she so worried? We've been apart for so long.

  Though, I might understand. She was part of the reason why I'm still alive and kicking.

  I hate to admit it, so I won't say it aloud.

  When it's time for dinner, she finally seems to have calmed down a little and doesn't talk about it anymore. Tough deep down I get the feeling that she's still angry at me.