Chapter Text
Thanks to Erin for editing this epilogue!
"Z is for zombie. Rip out their spines. Stab their brains, and listen to their whines."
Eric reads the last page of Jason's children's book, complete with picture instructions of how to behead a zombie, while his daughter stares up at him skeptically. She waves her hands when he closes the book, and he obediently reopens it so she can stare at the pictures. Her actions make me smile, because I know the book by heart. Eva gets mad unless you read it every single night, and not just because her second godfather insists that she knows he wrote it.
She's only a year old, but Jason is one of her favorite people in the entire world.
"Do you want me to take her? I know you have to leave soon." I hate to interrupt Eric and Eva's moment, because the sight before me is one that makes my stomach tighten all over again. There's a wholesomeness to the sight of one hulking Lieutenant Coulter holding his daughter before bed. There's a panic in knowing he's heading into work soon, but it's temporary, and I'm slowly getting used to him being gone for hours at a time.
"I can put her to bed if you want. Rylan is covering until I get there. He said it's quiet, but he's also been working since early this morning," Eric looks at me from the rocker, a pink chair meant for someone much smaller than him, and Eva looks extra small in his arms.
Almost a year ago, exactly, she came into this world, looking like her father's clone, right down to the tiny scowl on her face. I hadn't gone to any real doctor's appointments, and not just because Lakeview had few practicing physicians on hand. When we arrived here, I was shocked to see the town bounce back from the apocalypse with surprising speed.
The police station was reinstated first, along with fire and rescue. The hospital opened at twenty five percent capacity, but it was more than enough for the first few months. Small stores and businesses began the hard work of rebuilding and cleaning up, and most opened by late summer. The grocery store is still hit and miss, depending on what local farmers are able to grow, but they frequently trade with nearby towns to make sure we have enough food on hand.
It's all new to me. I'm not from Lakeview, and I'd never once thought about moving here. I had some apprehension about living somewhere I knew nothing about, but I found everyone very welcoming. It helped that I was introduced as Eric's wife, and he was both highly respected and highly feared as a Lieutenant. I did see a doctor here, but she was nervous given where we'd come from, and even more reluctant to spend time with someone who'd been so close to the zombies.
My appointments with her were quick and few; I had a single ultrasound, and three visits total. When Eva was born, I had no clue if she was a boy or girl. I didn't even know how far along I was. I woke up feeling sort of nauseous and tired, and by lunch time, I was irritated that I had cramps. I called Camille, hoping she'd bring me some tea or at least listen for a few minutes before reassuring me things were fine.
Instead, she showed up ten minutes later and brought me to the hospital.
Eva arrived shortly after. Eric showed up minutes before her birth, looking handsome but confused, and I nearly killed him for having both a coffee and a donut in his hand. He was on the phone with one of his officers, idly eating the donut and droning on about police codes and how they weren't going to change him, and he only hung up when I shrieked that it hurt, and I was never ever having sex with him again, if he didn't hang up right that second.
Two pushes later, Eva made her debut, and I sunk back against the hospital bed, dressed in a hideous hospital gown, watching Eric hold her. He blinked a few times, while the staff worked around him, and he didn't respond when they asked if he was alright. The look on his face was funny; my heart sunk, knowing he'd assumed she'd be a boy, and what on Earth would he do with a daughter. I wished I could read his mind, because I'm sure it was screaming that the tiny creature in his hands would most certainly not survive the zombie apocalypse, and she'd definitely barf if a zombie came too close. Not to mention she was small; her little hands were miniscule, and her tiny feet wouldn't be wearing any combat boots anytime soon.
"Sir? Are you okay? We need to take some vitals…"
Eric didn't answer. He looked up at me, one large hand holding his daughter against his chest, and he stared. And stared. And stared. Someone asked if he was okay, and some else grouchily told him they needed to wash her off and he had to hand her over.
He refused.
He stared even harder, while Camille helped braid my hair off my face and Daniel could be heard yelling as he ran down the hallway, then he blurted out that she looked just like me.
Ironically, I thought she looked just like him. She shared his same scrunched up face when she didn't get her way, and she loathed being taken away from him. I thought they were twins, though she had dark hair and certainly was nowhere near his size. Even now, right before her first birthday, she's still shorter than he'd like. He often holds her up, muttering that she'll need to be taller to fight off whatever comes after the zombies –werewolves, demons, maybe pirates –and she glares at him every time.
The first year of her life was a total challenge. A new town, a new-ish husband, because being at home with Eric and a newborn was much different than living in a hotel room, and a new family. Jason moved in next door. Rylan moved in two houses down. Daniel and Camille lived a street away, and came over almost nightly, frequently bringing dinner and dessert. My parents visited often, taking Eva whenever I needed to sleep or needed a second to myself, and I was eternally grateful. I was especially grateful for Eric, who was surprisingly patient and understanding, and never once seemed irritated by either of us.
Even Harrison came by, always with a gift for Eva, staying as long as he possibly could.
Sure, things got sticky sometimes. Eric went back to work much sooner than I'd hoped, and I was left alone, with a tiny baby, trying to keep both of us alive. Most nights, we fell asleep on Eric's pillow. I'd wake up to him picking her up and carefully setting her down in her own room, before he'd climb into bed with me. There was never an urgency in his movements, only the desire to be close to me.
I found myself irrationally impatient for him to come home each night. Because once he did, the mornings were mine. He'd sleep in –though he loathed both this night schedule and sleeping half the day away –and when he woke up, Eva was usually napping. I'd spend the afternoons curled around him, my head on his chest and his arm thrown over me, and he'd tell me about the sort of calls he had to take.
They were much different than he was used to.
He wasn't responding to things like murders and drug deals gone bad, but situations like zombie parts discovered in places they shouldn't be, or a neighbor accusing someone of being infected. The fear from the zombie outbreak lingered, sneaking up when it got dark. There were some bar fights at one of the rowdier bars in town, and a few disputes in the twenty-four-hour grocery store. Eric answered calls from little children, afraid of the dark after their parents had gone next door to visit friends, and pleas for help when someone wasn't sure if their family member was sick with a normal sickness, or sick with the zombie flu.
Luckily, it was starting to die down now.
Every so often, Eric would bring up something that would take me right back to our time together. I'd think of days spent driving, my feet pulled beneath me and my shoes untied, and how it really was him and I against the world. I'd think of our time at the sketchy motels, the stores where he let me take whatever, knowing I didn't want to use his shampoo or soap, and the times where I couldn't keep my lunch down.
It feels like a lifetime ago that we ran through Vegas, just two people with absolutely nowhere to be. I can vividly remember walking along the fence that surrounded the fountains and glancing at him when he yanked my dress down. Even now, when he stands up slowly and walks toward me, his uniform takes me back to days in the safe zone, where his friends became my own, and I wanted to hear him say he loved me.
"Maybe Carole will call you again. I heard she got some new chickens," I tilt my head, liking the way his lips turn up into a smirk. Once she met him –on the walk out of my parent's house, one single time –she was obsessed. When she learned where he worked, she took to calling his station directly, claiming the officers in Haling just weren't as good as the ones in Lakeview. "Or maybe she got stuck on the patio again."
"Or maybe her husband finally went missing," Eric rolls his eyes, and he grudgingly hands me Eva. She protests being away from him, and her tiny squeaks are funny. There is no one she loves more than her father, especially at bedtime. "Will you be okay tonight? Meghan said she'll come over if you can't sleep. She's got the opposite of narcolepsy."
"Funny," I grin, happy that Meghan and Jason will have their baby soon. Eva isn't lacking in baby friends since there are plenty on the block, but I like the idea of her growing up with a close friend. I still saw Sophia and Courtney; both are alive and fine, and they've visited several times now. "Will you be home in the morning?"
Eric nods. "It's only for two more weeks. Then I'll be home with you and Eva and back on my normal schedule. Are you sure you're okay? You don't want me to call Jason?"
"I'm fine. I promise. Do you promise you'll be home soon? Before sunrise?"
"I promise, Everly."
He agrees easily. I reach up to kiss him, balancing with Eva in my arms, and his lips touch mine slowly. He mutters that he loves us, and when he breaks away, it's hard not to smile.
It's been nearly two years since Carole told me there was a chicken virus running through our town, and nearly two years since Hazel lost her arm. Two years since Landon tried to kill me, and two years since we left Haling Cove with the intention of never returning.
Maybe more. Maybe less. I've quit keeping track of those moments, because I have new ones that are more important. I've learned a lot about myself during this time, including just how capable I am, and just how happy I am with my new life.
I pull Eva closer, and the two us walk Eric downstairs, watching him head into work.
He stops once to look back, his uniform sharp and his hair slicked back, and I swear he looks like the leader of some post-apocalyptic society. He smiles smugly, waving goodbye as he grabs his keys, then disappears into the night, which seems as dark as his jacket.
Eva protests for only a few minutes, until I remind her that he'll be back soon, because Eric never broke his promises.
We both fall asleep on his pillow, the dark sheets cold and smelling like his shampoo, and this time, I don't dream of zombie babies or Nita.
I dream I am the only girl in the zombie apocalypse, and Eric chooses me to train to survive.