While we wait for Dad and Nat to get back, we watch more news. We switch through different stations around the world, and some are blank, some are active, getting the scoop on this worldwide catastrophe. But most are overrun and teeming with rogues.
"Ok, just stop!" Bree takes the remote from me and turns the TV off. There are tears in her eyes. "My life is over!" She stalks upstairs and slams my bedroom door.
Not much later, the front door flies open, and Dad and Nat rush in. Nat is carrying a duffel bag, and Dad is holding a dead guy's hand. Mom lets out a shrill scream. He jerks, realizing that he is holding a freakish-looking dismembered hand, and drops it.
Mom gathers her composure. "Um, hon? How were the roads? You got back rather quickly."
"Yeah, the roads were mostly clear of cars," Dad replies, "and there were zero functioning cops, so I didn't have to worry about a speeding ticket. But those Vexor people were everywhere." Then he says a little quieter, "I hit a few." Mom and Dad embrace in a long hug. I give Nat a quick one-armed hug and offer to take her bag. She declines, then changes the subject.
"Your dad is a crazy driver. I nearly lost my dinner." I chuckle at that, and she laughs a little, too.
We go upstairs, and I shake my head when Nat starts to turn the knob to my room. "Bree's in there and probably doesn't want to be disturbed. She's dealing with some heavy stuff." She nods, and we enter Bree's room instead.
Nat is unpacking various toiletries and clothing when she points to the door and asks, "Can you?—I'm going to change."
"Oh, yeah," I say, blushing, and walk out of the room, closing the door behind me.
I knock softly on the door to my room.
"Who is it? What do you want?" Bree says softly, barely audible.
"It's me," I say, and gently open the door. She hasn't said I could come in, but she also hasn't said I can't, so I enter.
I find Briana sitting on the edge of my bed, looking down at her hands that are resting in her lap.
I sit down on the bed next to her and limply place my hand on her back. She cries softly and leans into me, and I slide my hand across to wrap it around her.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I offer.
"It's just—" Bree tries to begin. She wipes her nose and starts again. "It's just that I'll probably never go to college, or find love, or buy a house of my own—" her eyes briefly meet mine, then she continues. "It's like I said earlier, my life is over. I will never get to experience it to the fullest."
"You're not wrong." I nod slightly. "I won't be able to either."
"Yeah?" she retorts. "But at least you will have a chance at a love life." Bree is now sobbing into her hands, her head no longer resting on my shoulder. And at that, I surrender. Bree is right, Nat and I could very well work out.
I give Bree an affectionate squeeze, and I'm glad when she doesn't try to pull away. The second I think that, she starts to push herself from my embrace, but I try to keep her close to me.
"You're right, sis," I say.
"Don't call me sis." Bree pushes me further away. I look at her tear-soaked face and deep in her beautiful green eyes. She is prying the remainder of my fingers from around her shoulder now, and I can't help but well up with tears of my own.
"Briana," I plead. "Please… All your life, you've tried to be as close to me as you could." Bree stops trying to release herself from me, and she meets my eyes this time. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, then releases a long sigh. "I love you, big sister," I say, putting my hand behind her head.
"I love you, too, little brother." She leans over and kisses my forehead. "I love you, too," she repeats. She wraps her arms around me and gives me a tight squeeze. This tells me we are back to normal.
I hand Bree a tissue, and she wipes her face with it, smearing the thin material with snot and tears. When Bree is done making herself presentable, she crumples the tissue and throws it into a garbage bin on the other side of my room.
"Good shot!" I say, and she lets out a small laugh. I look at her, wondering if she wants to go downstairs yet.
"I'm okay," Bree says, and nods, seeming to sense my unspoken question, and we get up to leave.
Before we reach the door, Nat pokes her head inside, and Bree instantly turns cold again.
"What do you want?" she says, sharply. Nat cowers a little.
"Um, your parents need to talk to us about how everything is going to work, now that the world is collapsing," she says timidly.
"Ok," I say, and give Nat a reassuring smile.
She leaves, and I exit my room, making sure Bree is following me. Her countenance warms, and she nods then and follows me downstairs.
We enter the living room, and Nat looks at me, softly patting the seat next to her. I apologize with my eyes, hoping she understands, and instead choose a seat next to Bree.
"So," Dad begins, drumming his hands on both knees. "I guess first things first, we need to figure out where Natasha will sleep." Nat doesn't bother to correct my dad. He pauses to see if anyone has any ideas. Our house is spacious, though, for some reason, it only has three bedrooms.
"Well, how about you and Bree share Bree's room?" Mom says, looking at Nat hopefully.
"That might—" Nat starts, but Bree interrupts her.
"Yeah, 'that might' not work," she says, then asks, "Can I just stay in Macky's room? Natasha can have mine."
"I suppose that could work." Mom looks at the two girls. "Would that work?" She asks Nat. Nat shakes and nods uncertainly.
"Yeah, why not?" she says.
I think about all the 'why nots' in my head. Why not? Because Bree and Nat need to get along, and I want to spend more time with Nat at night, and the list could go on.
I whisper in Bree's ear, "Why don't you just share a room with Nat?"
"Because Nat reminds me of a relationship that I will never have with someone else," she says.
I turn this over in my head. "You liked her less than two hours ago," I say.
"That was two hours ago."
"What are you whispering about?" Mom asks, and Bree interjects before I can say anything.
"We were just agreeing on the sleeping arrangement. Mack here thinks my suggestion is valid and reasonable."
"Well, then, glad that's settled," Dad says, ending the topic.
Nat looks a bit disappointed, and I can see that she'd like to get to know Briana better.
"Now, moving on," Dad says, "we need to call as many people as we can in Winnipeg to make a record of everyone who is left and isn't infected."
Mom gets up to make some calls.
"We have a problem," she says. "The phone line is down!"