NIGHT THOUGHTS [2]

After a few moments of silence, Sam said, 'Weird to think how much things have changed in the past couple of days, huh? Pretty tough thing to come to terms with.' Again, Jin gave a tiny jerk of a nod.

'It's bad enough for me, but I guess it's a hundred times worse for you, this being your home and all.' Jin said nothing, but when Sam glanced at her he saw fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

'Sorry,' he muttered. 'Didn't mean to upset you.'

'You didn't,' she sniveled.

'It's just –' he shrugged. 'I dunno … I just wanted to let you know that you're not alone. That I'm here for you – we all are. And that if you ever want to talk, you just have to say the word. OK?'

She sniffed and nodded.

'OK,' said Sam, and put a hand on the step beside him to push himself to his feet. 'Well, I guess I'll head back to bed and give you some space.'

He rose to his feet. She glanced up at him.

'I'd like to,' she said in a small voice.

'Huh?'

'I'd like to talk.'

'You sure?'

She hesitated, then nodded.

'Well, OK,' he said, lowering himself back down beside her. 'So what do you want to talk about?'

Jin took a long shuddering breath and said, 'I've been thinking about Papa, and what he must be going through, and how … how unfair it all is.'

Sam nodded but stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt her.

'He's a good man,' Jin said. 'He's always been a good man. He looked after me when Mama died, and he always protected me, and yet because of this … this sickness, he's going to become like the rest of them out there. A monster, feasting on the flesh of the living …'

She tailed off, slumping forward, her head drooping into her hand, as if vocalizing the thought had proved too much for her. After a moment, however, she continued, 'I know good people get sick and die, or have accidents, but this is just … just wrong. It makes people into something disgusting, something to be feared. It uses people, and it … it …' She tailed off, unable to find the words to fully express the horror and revulsion she felt.

Sam had never had kids, had never even thought about having kids, but right now he wanted to put a fatherly arm around Jin, to give her the comfort and reassurance she so obviously needed.

He thought about doing it and then decided that maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea. After what had happened to her with those three guys, she had (not surprisingly) become both jumpy and withdrawn, and was now no doubt wary and suspicious of people's motives towards her, especially motives that involved any kind of physical proximity. He didn't want to make things worse by doing something she might take the wrong way.

So he just sat, a foot or so between them, and tried, stumblingly, to put his reassurance into words.

'I guess what you gotta remember is that those things … the infected, I mean … are not the people they once were. Those people are gone, dead … and whatever makes us us –' he tapped his chest to emphasize his point – 'by which I mean our soul, or our essence, or whatever … has shipped out, passed on, gone to wherever we go to when we die. And the things that are left … the bodies … they're just puppets for the virus. They ain't people. They're just things. They don't feel love or pain. They don't find things funny or beautiful or ugly. They're just … hunger. That's all they are. Just hunger and primitive instinct. And if your papa becomes one of them … well, that ain't your papa anymore. That's just something that's using your papa's skin like … like a set of clothes. Your papa's somewhere else. Somewhere good.'