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George looked up at the sky. I knew she knew better, but probably figured it was safe because I was around and alert. She was right, in any case. I scanned our surroundings for any zombie intruders.
“Still alone,” I reported. George smiled. She finished setting up the perimeter cameras and started putting away extra wires. I shifted uncomfortably, glancing up at the darkening sky myself.
“Are you almost done? We’re heading into prime time here,” I said quietly. She nodded, taking her eyes off her pack only to glance up at the sky once more.
“Almost.” She slung the bag over her shoulder and headed toward the camper we were going to be staying in. She looked distant, far more than usual.
“Everything alright?” I followed her closely, still monitoring our area. She stopped at the door to the RV, turning to face me.
“Did you know that, pre-Rising, people looked forward to seeing the first stars at night?” I raised my eyebrow, and she smiled softly in return. “They used to make wishes on them.”
“Yeah - now the only wish you’re making if you see a star is that you’re close enough to shelter to avoid the oncoming zombie horde.” I snorted sharply. “Seriously George, you okay? What’s with the sudden nostalgia?”
“It was just a thought.” I caught myself peeking skyward again. Sure enough, one small star glittered in the dusk. I fidgeted. I didn’t feel much like wishing. I just wanted to open the door to the RV, lock it behind me, and spend the rest of my evening holed up with George until the sun rose. Getting all sentimental during a field mission could only slow us down.
“Yeah, well, think it later. Time to get inside now.” I nudged her gently toward the door, eyeing the night falling around us. She opened the door and we filed inside. She sank down into one of the padded folding chairs that passed as furniture in our mobile home.
“What would you wish for?” she asked, grabbing a Coke and taking a long, tired drink. I unloaded my guns, locking them away in the makeshift weapons cabinet we’d pieced together using the RV’s furniture.
“A better place to store my guns,” I quipped. George nudged me with a toe, and I swore under my breath as I nearly spilled ammo all over the RV floor.
“Come on, Shaun, what would you really wish for?” I stopped what I was doing and studied her face. She was watching me intently, waiting for my answer. I knew what I would wish for. I’d said it before, back when she was -- before we got her back, when she wasn’t around to hear. She knew, but we didn’t talk about it much now. I put my gun down half-assembled and laid my hands on her shoulders, kneeling in front of her in her chair.
“I don’t need wishes anymore,” I said, and we kissed. She shivered a little bit, and when we pulled away I slid into a chair next to her, one hand on hers, until this wave of aftermath ebbed away.