H Z

Ignatius H Z

Iggy sat up. He could smell her clothing. It smelt like wet mold and ash. He blinked hard, wishing more than anything that he could see clearer. Mimicking him with blunt and excessive blinking, the young woman pressed up to sitting against the headboard, and danced her eyes all over him, then paused when she saw the bandages wrapped around his head. "You're uninfected, too," she pointed out in a whisper. Iggy's chin jerked back at the sound of her hoarse dehydrated voice. "What is this?"Her lips spread into a smile and her fingertips pressed into her cheeks. "This is the first time I've smiled in weeks," she admitted. "There aren't many uninfected people where I come from."