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"Zosia? Zosia?"
"Carol. Something happened."
The Others had been back for a few weeks, inching back into Albuquerque. Carol was pretty sure there even was one individual living in her neighborhood.
Zosia was over for a drink. Again. Call her dumb, and maybe she was, but Carol had started to crave company. To need it. And that was normal, she knew, for humans to need connection. She'd use Zosia, she told herself, as a tool to aid her sanity. Talking to a camera wasn't enough. And she'd be no good as a savior to the human race if she lost her mind.
They had been having wine, one Carol had in the cabinet for years, a sparkling rosé from somewhere sunny, while Zosia listened to Carol rant and rattled off fun facts about the origins of Carol's home decor. The usual. When suddenly, Zosia had slumped, spilling her wine on her knee, then straightened. Carol had rushed over, and now her hand was on Zosia's shoulder.
"What do you mean? What happened?" Carol kneels on the floor, heart racing. If something was physically wrong with Zosia, it certainly must have been Carol's fault. They had said she was totally healed, but with what Carol had put her though it wouldn't be shocking for there to be residual effects.
"I- I can't feel them," Zosia mutters nervously, her pupils racing left and right. "Carol, I can't feel them."
"You, can't..?" Carol blinks. "Did you say 'I'?" She stands, crossing her arms. Zosia meets her eyes.
"It's just me, it's just me, Carol, I'm scared," she folds, her head in her hands. "No no no, what did I do?!"
"Uhh- I-" stutters Carol, looking around at the windows, certain more of The Others would be at her door, in her yard, in her house any second, dragging this woman away. She had to act fast. She sits cross legged on the floor in front of Zosia and takes her hands, which are gripping her own hair.
"So you're just, Zosia? That's okay! You've been Zosia before. That is your real name, isn't it?"
Zosia doesn't stifle a grit-teeth scream.
"Oh, God- uh-" Carol has to try hard not to draw back. "Just, um, how did it happen? Was it the wine? Are you drunk?"
"I- No, I'm not drunk, I'm alone, I need to get back, I need to go see them so they can put me back." Zosia starts to get up, then slumps back into the chair. "Carol, Carol, I don't like this."
Zosia's breathing hard and it dawns on Carol how bad stress is for people who have had heart attacks.
"Okay, okay, let's calm down, wanna come down here with me?" Carol moves herself backwards on the carpet. "Zosia, come down here with me." Zosia complies, maneuvering awkwardly down from the armchair. "Put your head between your legs. Try to breathe, okay? I'm gonna get something." Carol climbs to her feet and heads for the kitchen.
She returns a moment later with a cup of water and a cup of ice. Zosia is leaning against the chair, looking pale. Carol sits in front of her.
"Put your hand out. Zosia, hey, put your hand out."
Cold shocks Carol's palm as she pours a thick, rectangular ice cube into her hand. She places it in Zosia's outstretched one. Zosia winces, raising her eyebrows. Carol guides her hand closed.
"It's okay. Just focus on that."
For a few moments, there is just silence, and Carol's hand around Zosia's.
"Can I get you to drink some water?" Carol keeps her voice even. Zosia nods.
Carol hands her the glass, and as soon as she lets go it slips through Zosia's weak grip and thuds to the floor, soaking the carpet beside her.
"Sorry, I-"
"It's fine. Hold on. Don't worry. It's fine." Carol gets up and returns to the kitchen. "Just think about your ice!" she calls behind her.
Carol re-enters the living room with a handful of paper towels and another glass of water, this time with a green silicone straw. Zosia's legs are splayed open in front of her. She looks a little better. Not much. Carol sits in between her knees and holds the glass near her face, guiding the straw towards her mouth with two fingers.
"See if you can sip this." Zosia gives Carol a strange look, but does it. "Good. Thank you," She puts the glass down on the side table and gets to work with the paper towels, patting the carpet beside Zosia. "Don't mind me. How's your ice?"
"My...uh...it melted," Zosia looks down at her hand, closed around nothing.
"Can I get you another?" Carol turns to face her, and their faces are much closer than she realized. "It helps a little, right?" Zosia nods. Carol straightens to find the cup and hands her another one. "You can also put it on your wrists, or your temples, it'll help." This earns her another strange look, but Zosia holds the ice cube to her temple anyway.
"It- it does help," she nods.
"Good," Carol relaxes a bit, sitting back on her knees. "Helen, uh, she used to have panic attacks. She swore by that trick."
"Helen..." Zosia's eyes go distant again. "Helen, I knew Helen." Carol tenses. "I knew her. I'm so sorry about Helen. We mourned her."
"You- ah..." Carol's fists clench against the carpet. "So you remember everyone, then? You remember everything from when you were joined?"
"No. It's fading already. I want to go back." Tears spill down Zosia's cheeks. "It was the most peaceful I had ever felt. I want to be with everyone."
"So, it really is all that, huh? How do I know this isn't some game you all are playing with me to make me want to be one of you?" Carol squints.
"I wish that were true. I've never felt more alone than I do now. So vulnerable. I want to be with everyone, Carol, I-" she looks down at her hands. "I want you to be there too."
Carol shakes her head. She picks up the glass again and extends it towards Zosia, who takes a sip. The two women's eyes meet over the rim, Zosia looking all together like a lost puppy. Carol swallows.
There's a knock on the door.
"I'll get it," Carol puts a placating hand out at Zosia. "Don't try to get up."
"Hi, Carol." A pretty woman with a strict ponytail stands in the doorway. "We understand something went a bit wrong. We're here to pick up Zosia."
"She, uh, she can barely hold a cup. Shouldn't she just stay here?"
"Carol," Zosia calls weakly from behind her, leaning on her arms against the chair, trying everything to stay upright. "I want to go with them. Help me."
Carol rushes over, the Other woman not far behind. The woman reaches to help Zosia, but Carol is already wrapping Zosia's arm around her shoulders.
"Get the car ready, okay? I got her." The woman, The Others, hesitate. Zosia clings on to Carol. Carol nods in the direction of the door. "Really, I got her, it's fine. She wants to go with you, fine."
"Thank you, Carol," Zosia manages, her head lolling against Carol's shoulder.
Outside, Carol guides Zosia into the passenger seat of a nice SUV.
"Good night, Carol," Zosia says as Carol does her seatbelt. "You were there for me when I was alone. I won't forget that."
"Uh, yeah, right," Carol leans back on her heels. "I hope you, um, feel better." She gives a dead-eyed wave to Zosia's driver and shuts the door. The car starts, Carol hears The Others use the woman to tell Zosia "It's alright, we'll get you back with us soon." The car disappears into the night.
Carol drinks directly from the wine bottle on the couch and cries. She cries for a couple hours, over Helen, over her loneliness, over everyone. Over whether it would be better to join Them. Over whatever was wrong with her that she hadn't. Over how long she had until they found out what it was. Over wasted time. Over Zosia. Over Helen.