The Girl's Guide to the Apocalypse by Daphne Lamb

Author:Daphne Lamb
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Booktrope Editions
Published: 2015-08-11T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Prioritizing Can Hurt

WHEN I THINK BACK ON IT, I didn’t intend for anything to be so dramatic, it just came out that way. But it was sort of those classy “fuck you” send offs I’d always wanted to be capable of making, just never had the inspiration.

Apparently, Robert was right—new civilization, new rules. Next time I saw them, I made a mental note to thank fake nurse, Rebecca.

I strode up to the covered security guard, thinking it was the same guy from earlier who’d blocked me from saving Jake and tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. He spun around, then immediately folded his arms.

“Hey,” I said forcefully. “Everything that happened is your fault.”

“Excuse me?” asked a muffled woman’s voice.

I drew back. “Sorry,” I said. “You all look alike.”

“That’s just hurtful. I am a beautiful and complicated human being,” she said, then tapped another guard on the shoulder. “I think she’s talking to you.”

“You,” he said. “Come to check how many moral codes you violated today?”

“I didn’t violate anything and you know it,” I said.

He took off his helmet. “Hashtag Safety Code Violater,” he said. “I put that on the board.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He pointed to the Tweet Board.

I rolled my eyes. “Not you too.”

“I heard you practically pushed him into danger with your lies and seductions,” he said.

I incredulously stared at him before I just folded my arms. “Okay,” I said. “I officially can’t take it anymore. I’m out of here.” I marched toward the main exit, but the man grabbed me, this time around the waist. “Hey!” I said. I pushed and slapped his hands away. “Stop that!”

“Think again,” he said. “I can’t let you leave. I hear you’re going to be tried by a jury.”

“Let me go,” I said. “This is highly inappropriate.”

His hands went lower. “I don’t know,” he said. “We live in a new world. You can’t see it, but I’m winking at you.”

I wriggled out of his grasp and then kneed him in the gut. “Knock that off,” I said. “And let me go. I’m getting out of here.”

He gasped and panted hard, in obvious pain. “You don’t know what’s out there,” he said.

“Neither do you,” I said. “But if my boss and his new wife can leave, then I can too.”

He folded his arms. I gestured to the Tweet Board.

“Everyone hates me,” I said. “If I’m trending over blanket fails and soup of the day tweets.”

“Now that’s not true,” he said. “Someone here drew a nice selfie of themselves.”

He pointed to a crudely drawn figure of a girl scrawled on a napkin with a ballpoint pen. “I don’t even know who this is.”

“I’ve got to get out of here,” I said.

He snorted as I went to pass him, but he tried to hold me back, keeping a safe distance between his groin and my knees.

“Still can’t let you go out there,” he said.

“What are you going to do? You can’t stay by that door forever,” I said. “You’ve got to leave sometime.

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