Seldom Six Feet Under

Chapter Eight: Mind Reading Teacher

          Not being entirely intoxicated, Ryder roamed the halls in search of the two new survivors that were scavenged from that morning. Those rooms were typically guarded in case they try to escape or express any unstable tendencies. However, these two were rather calm. Both were in separate rooms. Ryder approached the guards in front of the ladies' room, nodding once to them and they let him swipe his keycard to pass through. The guards stepped aside and Ryder entered the room.

      The woman was reclining on the bed. She opened her eyes once she heard him enter and shut the door. She was a rather large woman, plump in the most beautiful way, dark skin to complement her gingerbread eyes, brown curly hair in a short afro style. She had a thick southern accent. She quickly sat up and narrowed her eyes.

   "Back off," she hissed, scooting back further on the bed.

      Ryder held his hands up defensively. "I'm just here to talk to you, ma'am."

   "The man I was with," she began. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

   "Yes. He is waiting in a room just like you are. I'll be talking to him next."

      She seemed to relax a little, reclining back down on the bed. He lowered his hands and walked closer, dragging over the office chair at the table and stopping it near her bed. He took a seat and crossed his right leg over his other, resting the clipboard and paper on his knee. He stared at the paper for a couple moments. The words were somewhat of a blur, though with his already existing bad vision, it didn't seem to help. He cleared his throat and readied his pen.

   "Your name, ma'am?" He asked, tilting his head to look back up at her.

   "Abbey," she replied. "Do you need last name too, sugar?"

      Her warmhearted question caught him off guard. "Wha- N-No-... Yes! Last name, please."

      She couldn't help but chuckle under her breath, "Masons."

      He wrote that down. Abbey Masons. He proceeded with overall basic questions, nothing too in depth just yet. "Your age?"

   "Thirty one, last time I checked."

      Ryder attempted at small talk between questions. "Hard to tell these days, huh?" He forced a smile that she returned with more energy and enthusiasm and a nod. "Any medical conditions that we should be aware of? Diseases, cancer, etc."

   "Not that I know of," she said. "Maybe something to do with my weight?" She laughed a little.

      He snickered halfheartedly. "We can probably look into that. We have doctors here and I'm one of them."

   "I didn't know doctors were still around," her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Does that mean y'all know what's going on, then? With them dead motherfuckers?"

   "We're looking into it. Studies are in progress."

   "Is there a cure? Ain't this like some virus?"

   "No and maybe. Now, let's continue. Where are you from?"

   "South Carolina," she motioned to herself, specifically her face. "If you couldn't tell."

   "I would've never guessed," he muttered and wrote it down.

   "Why're you interrogating me?" She finally asked. "What's the point?"

      Ryder sighed, just wanting this session to be over. He lowered his head to let the settling marijuana give him a little kick to answer this question. God, he just wanted to go to bed. Everything from today just made him exhausted. He stiffened a yawn and tilted his head back up to her. "We prefer to get to know newcomers before we let them wander. We want everyone's stories."