Dumbo saw me after my nightmare. His eyes were sad and there was a look of surprise on his face-- like he was surprised that I had feelings at all. I don't blame him for that. I'm mostly emotionless.

He bites his lip nervously as Flintstone and Teacup leave us to do other things, the two of us left alone between our bunks. He seems like he wants to ask me something.

Naturally, I'm annoyed. "Spit it out, Dumbo."

He pales and one hand goes up to tug on his ear; nervous habit. "You had a nightmare last night, huh?" I glare at him. "Oh, um, well, I get-- I get them too, and they suck and-- and just--" He pinches the bridge of his nose, sucking in a quick breath. "You okay, Ghost?"

Everyone keeps asking me that. And I keep lying. "Yeah, Dumbo. It's just a nightmare."

"You said a name," is his instant reply. "Thomas."

Thomas. Thomas, Thomas, Thomas. I said Thomas' name out of all of those that had dragged me under. I couldn't say I was surprised at all. He was the one that broke me, after all.

I don't register the fact that I lunge at Dumbo until he cries out in pain, head knocking against the metal of his bunk. "Shit!"

"Ghost, stand down!"

I lean into Dumbo's ear, lips twisted up into a snarl. "If you ever say his name again, I'll fucking kill you."

Flintstone is the one that pushes me back this time. I don't bother fighting back but it's not because I'm not angry-- it's because there are tears blurring my vision and I have to get out of here before anyone sees them.

Dumbo sees them and he suddenly doesn't look scared of me anymore. He seems like he respects me more, or maybe he just understands that I act like a crazy selfish bitch but it's just because I've lost the people I loved.

Or maybe he's just shocked that I let my guard down in front of him.

Zombie is pissed again. His face is red and he's screaming at me at the top of his lungs, ordering me to get my shit together before he makes sure I get a month of peeling potatoes. And then his face melts completely. The apples of his cheeks tell me that he's flustered and uncertain of his next move. And that's when I feel the first, hot tear slide down my cheek.

I'm storming to the bathroom seconds later. No one else sees the tears. I make sure of it.

__

The day gets worse when Zombie tells us what P & D is. Processing and Disposal, one more thing we had to do in Wright-Patterson that wasn't getting stronger and smarter; burn the bodies of those who didn't make it.

Everyone understands what it means but Nugget.

"What's P & D?" He asks Zombie.

"Processing and Disposal."

Dumbo groans, pushing away his tray. "Great. The only way I can get through breakfast is by not thinking about it!"

"Churn and burn, baby," Tank says, grinning.

I shove the powdered eggs into my mouth without a second thought. A couple hundred dead bodies would be just like Quarantine. Nothing I hadn't gotten used to.

"How are you eating?" Dumbo asks. His jaw is dropped and his eyes are wide beneath his glasses. He looks ridiculous.

"I'm hungry," I state, and because he's not eating I take his plate and shove his eggs into my mouth, too.

What? It was going to waste!

"Dr. Pam showed you a Ted." Zombie is still trying to explain it to Nugget, who nods like an obedient dog. "You hit the button." Another, slower nod. I can't help but wonder what Dr. Pam had to say to get him to press it. "What do you think happens to the person on the other side of the glass after you hit the button?"

Nugget's voice is a mere whisper. "They die."

"And the sick people they bring in from the outside, ones that don't make it once they get here-- what do you think happens to them?" Zombie is stalling. He doesn't want Nugget to burn bodies, and I agree. He's too young.

I clear my throat and shake my head. The only reason I thought that was because of. . . because of He Who Shall Not Be Named. It wasn't because I actually cared about the kid. No.

No.

"Oh, come on, Zombie," Oompa says, and I notice this is the first time he's pushed his food away. I don't know why. The food was terrible but at least it filled your belly, and besides, who hasn't seen a few hundred dead bodies? Surely no one would get sick over it. "Just tell him!"

"It isn't something we like to do, but it has to be done," Zombie continues. "Because this is war, you know? It's war."

He's looking at us all for support in his choice of words. No one except me and Teacup will even look at him, and us girls don't provide much comfort. I'm scowling and still eating because I'm a heartless bitch and Teacup-- well, she's Teacup. She's excited that this is war because she can't wait to get her revenge.

Can't blame her for that.

No one else is speaking, so Teacup opts for repeating Zombie.

"War," she says with a smile.

War.

__

P & D is a large tent across the yard, past Barrack 3 and 4. Zombie, who doesn't seem too worried about being with the bodies either, helps Nugget strap into his bright orange hazmat suit with short and hushed whispers.

Dumbo stays at least five feet away from me at all times. I can tell he feels bad about what he asked this morning. I think he was nervous to even ask about He Who Shall Not Be Named and he was brave as fuck to have chanced it. I had to give him that.

Things are quiet after that, except for Zombie who keeps assuring Nugget that everything would be okay. I'm tempted to tell them both to shut the fuck up, but stop after reminding myself that Nugget is a child surrounded by a bunch of dead people. He would need time to adjust. We just had to give it to him.

Teacup, however, only seems disgusted by the fact that they stink like months old garbage, and not because they were once living, breathing humans. She adjusted rather quickly and I'm extremely thankful for it. We don't need two kids crying because they can't handle the shit world they live in.

Not that Teacup would ever let any of us see her cry. She's too strong for that.

"We're starting with processing," Zombie tell us as he leads us towards a metal table that reaches from one side of the tent to the other. We settle into a quick line. Teacup, Dumbo, me and Flintstone are on one side.Zombie, Nugget, Tank and Poundcake are on the other. Zombie starts digging through the pockets of a twenty-something-year-old blonde without a second thought. "Empty the pockets. Separate the contents. Trash goes in one bin, electronics in another, precious metals in a third, all other metals in a fourth. Got it?"

Everyone nods and just like that, we're off to work.

I see men, women, and children strewn across the tables but think nothing of it as I work efficiently down the line. The others seem to be having more trouble but I work it down to the overpowering smell of corpses keeping them off balanced.

My nose stopped working the second hour of Quarantine. I don't think it ever came back.

Heavy metal starts flooding through the speakers around the tent. My feet stay planted where they are but every hair on my body stands at attention at the sudden blaring noise. I continue working, wondering whose choice it was for this music.

I stop when I see a body I think I know. A little boy around five or six. Blonde hair. Blue eyes open and unblinking. I do know him. He was in Thomas' old little league team. Eddie, or something, I think.

I brush my fingertips along his eyelids, allowing them to drop. That's when Nugget appears across from me, looking as though he's going to be sick. I call for Zombie without a second thought, and then Nugget is being taken away by the boy.

There are two other squads here with us. One is Squad 19, run by a bitch with black hair and eerily pale skin, and the other is Squad 42, run by a short boy that looks nine-years-old. I try not to think about who decided that he would be a good fit as squad leader. Maybe he is a total badass like Teacup, even though he was still a child.

It doesn't matter anyways. Dumbo said that we don't talk to the other squads in case a fight breaks out and we lose points for just being there when it happens. We can't chance that, especially not in tenth place.

There are photos in Eddie's pockets. One of his parents and him and one of a baby and another of the baseball team. I know Thomas is in there and so I throw it away without a second look. His other pockets hold money, a slip of paper with baby supplies written on it, and a Ring Pop wrapper. My stomach twists and I pass those things to Teacup so she can throw them away.

I make sure not to look at anything else in any pockets.