Chapter 93: Whispers in the Heat

"You’re all so noisy first thing in the morning."

Liu Mei came out of her room in her nightgown, her usual arrogance tempered by sleep-tousled dark hair and a yawn.

She surveyed the kitchen with a critical eye, her sharp features softened slightly by the remnants of slumber, but her tone carried its familiar edge of superiority.

Rachel looked from where she was portioning out the last of their makeshift breakfast, a small smile tugging at her lips. The kitchen was alive with the scents of simmering canned goods—corned beef mixed with whatever spices they could muster, a far cry from the gourmet meals of the old world but a feast in their current reality. "Take a seat, Mei. We made enough for everyone."

"’We’?" Liu Mei arched an eyebrow, glancing at Daisy with mock skepticism. The younger woman was busy arranging plates on the worn wooden table, her movements careful, as if afraid of making a mistake. "If she’s the one who cooked, I’m not touching it. Last time, it tasted like boiled dirt."

Daisy’s shoulders slumped, her cheerful demeanor faltering under the barb. She fidgeted with a fork, her fingers twisting the utensil nervously. In the old world, Daisy had been a student, her life filled with books and friends, not the harsh necessities of cooking. But here, in this house that had become their fortress, she tried her best to contribute, often staying up late to experiment with their limited ingredients.

"Mei, you could be kinder," Rachel said, sighing. "Daisy worked hard on this. She helped with everything—the stirring, the seasoning. It’s not easy making something edible out of cans and dried herbs."

Liu Mei huffed but took the seat, pulling the plate closer with a dramatic sigh. "Doesn’t change the fact that I’m not trusting anything cooked by her or Abraham Lincoln." She jabbed a fork into the food, inspecting it suspiciously before taking a tentative bite. Her expression shifted from wary to mildly impressed, though she’d never admit it outright.

Alisha, descending the stairs with Elena close behind, caught the tail end of the exchange and chuckled softly. "That’s harsh, Mei. Daisy cooks better than Ryan ever did. Remember his attempt at stew last month? Tasted like boot leather."

Elena, rubbing sleep from her eyes, managed a weak smile as she slid into a chair beside her sister.

"Both of you, are you hungry? You should eat while it’s still hot," Rachel said, serving portions to the newcomers.

"Thank you, Rachel," Alisha replied, her smile warm and genuine. She dug in immediately. Elena, however, paused, her gaze sweeping the room as if searching for someone absent.

"He left early again, Elena," Rachel said softly, anticipating the question. "As always..."

Elena’s shoulders sagged slightly, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features. "Right..." She poked at her food, her appetite dimmed. It had become a ritual, this morning search for Ryan—a habit born of concern and the lingering hope that one day he’d be there, sharing breakfast like old times. But in the month since Christopher’s departure, Ryan had transformed into a ghost, slipping away before dawn and returning only when the sun dipped low. No one knew exactly when he left; even those who woke early for watch duty rarely caught more than a glimpse of him lacing his boots or shrugging on his jacket in the pre-dawn gloom, often as early as 4 or 5 a.m.

He claimed it was for scavenging—venturing beyond Jackson Township’s borders to hunt for supplies, provisions, or anything useful in the ruins of nearby towns. And he did bring back treasures: cans of food, tools, even rare medical supplies from forgotten pharmacies. But the excuses rang hollow. Rachel knew it was avoidance, a way to escape the house’s confining walls and the weight of judgmental eyes. The group had come to rely on his solitary forays, but it came at a cost—his growing detachment, the way he seemed to carry the world’s burdens alone.

"Well, if he’s out there playing lone wolf again, that’s his choice," Mei said, trying to lighten the mood as she speared a piece of meat. "But we could use him here. The perimeter fences need reinforcing—the heat’s warping the wood."

Elena nodded absently, her mind clearly elsewhere. She didn’t know why she kept looking for him each morning. Habit, perhaps. The house felt emptier without his presence at these gatherings, a void that echoed the larger absence left by Christopher.

As they ate, the conversation turned to the day’s tasks, a necessary distraction from the undercurrents of tension. The breakfast was simple but nourishing: canned corned beef simmered with spices to mask its preserved tang, beans heated with a dash of salvaged garlic powder, and a few wilted vegetables from their last forage stretched into a simple stew. It wasn’t gourmet, but in a world where meals often came from dusty cans or hunted game, it was a small triumph. The wood oven crackled merrily, its heat adding to the already sweltering kitchen, but the aroma of cooking food lifted spirits.

Rachel glanced around the table happy that they were pleased by the food.

She had emerged as the de facto leader, unanimously accepted without formal vote. Her calm demeanor and elder sisterly aura made her ideal for managing provisions, noting inventories with meticulous care, and assigning tasks that kept the group functioning. Cindy, Elena, and Alisha often assisted her, forming a core support network that handled everything from laundry rotations to garden maintenance. Sydney, with her sharp wit and boundless energy, acted as the group’s morale booster, organizing games or just speaking to break the monotony. Even in this morning’s heat, her absence was felt—she was out jogging, burning off steam in her own defiant way.

Yet, everyone knew the true leader was Ryan. When critical decisions arose—infected sightings, trade negotiations with Jackson Township, or shortages of vital supplies—Rachel and the others deferred to him. He handled them with quiet competence, his enhanced abilities and strategic thinking making him indispensable. The community at the Municipal Office viewed him similarly, respecting him as the head of their small enclave, even if he hadn’t fully embraced the role. But Ryan’s preoccupation with his solitary missions and the alien device left him distant, his leadership more symbolic than active.

"Mei, try the beans," Daisy urged tentatively, pushing a bowl toward her. "I added the oregano like Rachel showed me."

Liu Mei eyed it suspiciously but took a spoonful, chewing thoughtfully. "Not bad. For amateur work."

Daisy beamed, the small praise lighting up her face.

Liu Mei’s backhanded approval felt like a victory. She straightened her posture, her cheeks flushing with a mix of pride and relief, and busied herself with wiping down the counter.

Rachel watched the exchange with a quiet smile.

Then the stairs creaked under new footsteps, drawing everyone’s attention. Rebecca descended, her red hair tied back in a ponytail that did little to hide the exhaustion etched into her features.

"Morning," Rebecca mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she entered the kitchen. She paused at the table, surveying the spread with mild surprise.

"Rebecca, come sit," Rachel called with a warm smile, already sliding a plate toward an empty spot. "I saved a portion for you—still hot."

Rebecca’s expression softened slightly at her sister’s gesture, but a flicker of irritation crossed her face. "You worked alone again? You’re not the designated cook, you know? We have rotations for a reason."

Rachel waved off the concern, stirring a pot absentmindedly. "It’s fine. I was up early anyway. Besides, Daisy helped today. She’s getting really good at this."

Rebecca shot a glance at Daisy, who was now humming softly as she arranged utensils. The younger woman’s enthusiasm was infectious, but Rebecca’s mood seemed determined to resist it. "Still, you shouldn’t have to do everything. It’s not fair."

Before Rachel could respond, Liu Mei interjected from her seat, her fork poised mid-air. "How about you help her then? Instead of complaining from the sidelines."

Rebecca turned sharply, her eyes narrowing at Mei. The two had never quite meshed—Rebecca’s straightforward, sometimes abrasive honesty clashing with Mei’s polished arrogance. "What?"

"You heard me," Mei said coolly, taking another bite. She chewed slowly, her dark eyes meeting Rebecca’s with unflinching challenge. "You’re always quick to point out what’s unfair, younger redhead. If it’s such a burden on your sister, why not lend a hand? Or is whining your only contribution?"

The room tensed, the easy morning atmosphere fracturing like thin ice. Daisy’s humming stopped abruptly, and she busied herself with unnecessary tidying, avoiding eye contact. Elena and Alisha exchanged glances, sensing the brewing storm. Rebecca’s face flushed, a mix of anger and embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Excuse me? I do plenty around here. I was on watch last night until midnight, while you were probably lounging in your room like some princess."

Mei set her fork down with deliberate care, her nightgown slipping slightly off one shoulder slightly. "Lounging? Is that what you call strategizing our next supply run? Or maintaining the solar panels so we have power? But please, enlighten me on your midnight vigils. Did you spot any particularly menacing squirrels?"

Rebecca clenched her fists, stepping closer to the table. "You think you’re so superior, don’t you? Acting like you’re above it all, but you’re just as scared as the rest of us. And don’t call me ’younger redhead’ like I’m some kid. I pull my weight—more than you, probably."

"Oh, really?" Mei’s lips curved into a smirk, though her eyes held a sharper edge. "Then prove it. Help Rachel with breakfast tomorrow. Or is that beneath you?"

The argument hung in the air, charged with the underlying stresses that had been building for weeks. Rachel stepped in quickly. "Enough, both of you. Mei, Rebecca’s right—you could be more supportive instead of critical. And Rebecca, Mei’s been pulling her weight; you just haven’t seen it all. She fixed the radio antenna last week, remember? We wouldn’t have contact with the municipal office without that."

Rebecca huffed, crossing her arms but deflating slightly under her sister’s gaze. "Fine. But she started it."

Mei rolled her eyes but didn’t press further, returning to her meal with exaggerated nonchalance. "As long as the food’s edible, I suppose peace is preferable."

Daisy, sensing the tension easing, ventured a small smile. "The beans turned out okay, right? I stirred them just like you showed me, Rachel."

Rachel nodded encouragingly. "They did. Good job."

The brief spat had cleared the air somewhat, but there was still something off. As Rebecca finally took a seat—pointedly choosing one as far from Mei as possible—she grabbed her plate and began eating in sullen silence. The clink of forks and the soft murmur of conversation resumed, but the energy had shifted.

Elena, who’d been quietly observing, spoke up to redirect the flow. "Where are the others this morning?"

Rachel glanced around, mentally tallying the group. "Sydney’s out jogging—said she needed to burn off some energy. Ivy left for a morning stroll I suppose..."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow, her earlier irritation giving way to curiosity. "Together? That’s unusual. Sydney’s all action, and Miss Ivy’s... well, Miss Ivy."

Even Rebecca couldn’t see those two together.

"No, separately," Daisy clarified, happy to contribute. "Sydney was lacing up her sneakers when I saw her—she looked determined, like she had something to prove. Ivy slipped out quietly, said she’d be back before the heat got too bad."

Elena nodded thoughtfully. "Those two really aren’t afraid of the infected, are they? Jogging and solo patrols in this world—it’s brave, but it worries me."

Alisha agreed, sipping from a mug of herbal tea brewed from foraged leaves. "Sydney’s strong, but Ivy... she’s so quiet. Out there alone, anything could happen."

Rebecca, still smarting from her exchange with Mei, changed the subject. "Speaking of absent people, where’s he?"

A heavy silence fell, broken only by the distant hum of cicadas outside. "He" could only mean Ryan.

"Left early again," Rachel said softly. "Slipped out before anyone was up, as always."

Rebecca leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Again? He runs off at dawn so he doesn’t have to face any of us? Seems like he hates being around us."

"Rebecca," Elena frowned, her tone defensive. "Ryan doesn’t hate us. He’s... dealing with things."

"Then why does he leave every morning and come back late, sometimes after dark?" Rebecca pressed, her frustration bubbling over. "It’s like he’s avoiding us on purpose. What, are we not good enough for the great Ryan Gray?"

No one could answer immediately.

Alisha tried to mediate. "He’s out there contributing. Without his runs, we’d be short on wood for the stove, or those spices we use. Cut him some slack."

But Rebecca wasn’t done. "Contributing? Or running away? Ever since Christopher left, it’s like Ryan’s checked out. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how everyone’s tiptoeing around what really happened that day."

Mei set her fork down with a clink, her expression one of bored indifference, though her eyes gleamed with mischief. "It’s not his fault entirely. But let’s be honest—Ryan’s absence can’t be helped after he betrayed Christopher with Cindy."

The words sliced through the room too easily, stunning everyone into silence. Elena’s fork froze midway to her mouth, Alisha’s eyes widened, and Daisy’s face drained of color. Rebecca leaned forward, eager for the gossip, while Rachel shot Mei a warning glare. "Mei, that’s not—"

But it was too late. From the doorway, unnoticed until now, Cindy had entered, her steps halting as Mei’s blunt accusation hung in the air. Her face paled, the color leaching from her cheeks as the implication hit home. Without a word, she turned on her heel and slipped out to the backyard garden, the door closing softly behind her.