I couldn't just drop it.

If they hid something, I had to know. What was behind those doors? Another gigantic office Commander has? Maybe Infected? Or...dead bodies?

I shuddered thinking about the possibilities. I turned over the page of my journal, beginning with the date like I always did.

September 15th, 2734

My hand stopped moving, and I looked up, staring into nothing. Has it really been that long? More than two months of me being at Ground Zero. More than five months of the outbreak.

I thought time was going to slow down. Move in a leisurely and merciless way. But ever since I became a trainer; ever since Jake became my...boyfriend; time wasn't as painful.

I guess I have a boyfriend now. It's crazy to admit it. I wonder how my family would react. My sisters would talk about it constantly, making me regret ever telling them anything.

The word seems weird.

I've never said it outloud and I don't think I ever will. "Boyfriend" just seems too normal. Odd for this world.

But I know Jake and I are happy and the labels don't change that. If anything about me is stable, it is the part that feels for him.

"Whatcha writing here?"

Jake sneaked up behind me, grabbing the journal. I stood up, the chair screeching in the process.

"Stop," I yelled, trying to get it away from him. He couldn't read that. It was embarrassing. It was private.

He outstretched his hand as high as he could, positioning the journal to an angle that he could easily read the page I wrote. I grabbed his arm, desperately trying to pull it down. Gritting my teeth, I jumped, managing to take the damned thing away from him. I closed it, putting it under my pillow.

"You can't do that," I stated, sitting on the bed. My foot tapped the floor, as I glared at the blonde haired boy in front of me.

His hands rose in defense, "You took it before I could read it."

"That's private," I continued, my pale face red in embarrassment. I couldn't believe he was close to reading the page directed to him.

"I didn't know you kept a journal." He sat on the bed next to me, adding, "So do I."

His statement shocked me. He did? I blinked a few times before responding, "I started when the outbreak began in April. There's too many things that have occurred ever since...I guess I want to remember them all."

He nodded, understanding of what I was saying, "I don't want to forget everything that's happening either...memories are too important."

Silence swept over us. I wondered if other people felt the need to remember everything like Jake and me. Did they want to remember getting kicked out of their homes by the creatures of the dead? Did they want to remember the starvation and the thirst as they moved to get to the safe haven in Texas. Did they want to remember the fear, the pain, the misery?

When I looked at everything that happened, I wasn't really sure why I wanted to remember.

"So...I'm your boyfriend now, huh?" A cheeky, mocking grin spread across Jake's face. My cheeks burned hot red as I, wide - eyed, stared at him. "Being mentioned in Aliana Rodger's journal...I feel honored."

I threw a pillow at him. He threw it back, his eyes sparkling as he laughed at my state.

"You are so mean," I mumbled, unable to escape a laugh as I started hitting him harder. He finally grabbed my wrist, and as he struggled to peel it away from me, he fell on top of me, his weight balanced with his hand so he wouldn't crush me. My eyes met his and I finally let go of the pillow.

His lips brushed mine in a feathery motion. It seemed like he was debating if he should say what went through his mind.

Softly, he whispered, "You're the best thing that's happened to me."

______________

The one thing that ran through my mind was don't get caught.

I had about 25 minutes to get to the Commander's office, find the key of the locked room, not leave any evidence I was there, and successfully leave.

Commander was on lunch break, the only time of the day I knew for sure he wasn't in his office. I couldn't take the elevator even if I had the key since the cameras would detect the motion. So, I took the stairs.

I counted them as I went up. 352. Panting, I creeped open the back door, the only one other than the main, of the 6th floor. My eyes scanned the area. I was alone. Glancing at the clock, my feet hurriedly took me to his desk. I had 22 minutes left.

I looked through seemingly unnecessary stacked papers. News from May about the Infected. Data about the trainers. Some contracts from months ago. If I had time, I would have looked through them. What were the contracts for anyways? The signatures at the end of them was what caught my attention. It was a name. It was the Commander's name.

Richard Anderson.

18 more minutes.

Debating if it was smart, I still chose to open his computer desk. Maybe I could find more information about him online.

Hell.

It was password protected.

I gave out a frustrated sigh, turning the computer off. There was no time for me to try multiple, possible passwords. I moved to the drawers. Most of them were empty. Sadly, the key was nowhere in sight.

I moved to his room. It was his bedroom. The key couldn't be there though, there was no good place to hide it. The bedroom consisted of a king bed, a huge closet, a bathroom, and transparent bookshelves. I quickly glanced at them, and into the closet, my heart giving me a constant reminder the time was running out.

I moved back to the front of the huge office, opening the small drawers of the coffee table. It only had a single chess board and figurines. I could, faintly, hear the ticking of the clock's hands. 11 more minutes.

Where could it be?

I decided to head back to his bedroom. Maybe I missed a spot. As I moved to the small, narrow hallway, a portrait caught my attention. Not the portrait specifically. It was the king and queen's gambit; the chess canvas. But, the way it was positioned was odd.

Something was behind it.

I took the painting off the wall, carefully letting it lean on the floor. I sighed in relief, a proud smile plastered on my face. The key. It was there, taped against the white wall. I snatched it, placing it in my back pocket.

I was right on time. As I was about to take the painting and put it back, a tiny, index card on the floor called my attention. I picked it up with confusion, turning it over. Something was written on it.

Time slowed down around me. I couldn't breathe. My heart stopped beating. I couldn't peel my eyes away from the numbers.

I only managed to whisper, "Oh my god."

My head recited the same nine numbers.

523 - 654 - 177.

Is this real? Am I asleep? Is this a nightmare?

I could recognize that number anywhere, anytime, any place. It was a number I haven't said out loud in so long. It was the number I always called when I needed something. It was the number I knew from the bottom of my heart.

It was my mom's.

One of the longer chapters I wrote but one of my favorites. What will happen after this discovery? Wait for more to find out.

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