by Megan Berry
I watch him for a second before I realize that Silas is walking away from me and towards the office. “You could wait for me,” I complain as I jog to catch up. Silas doesn’t even acknowledge me, he’s frozen, listening at the door.
“Hear anything?” I whisper, getting right in close to his ear.
“Not with you talking all the time,” he shushes me with a frown, and I step back a couple steps to let him work.
He tests the door, and we are both surprised to see that it’s open. We exchange a look before stepping inside.
The air in the office building smells slightly stale, but at least I don’t smell zombie. The light is dim; as Silas turns his flashlight on and spans the beam around to get the lay of the land, I let out a scream.
Silas see’s what I’m looking at and raises his gun.
“That’s enough of that sonny,” the old man, sitting in the rocking chair with a loaded rifle across his lap, speaks after a moment. He isn’t threatening in any way, and he doesn’t make a move towards the gun.
“What are you doing here?” Silas asks, and the old man flashes us a toothless smile.
“This is our motel, we’re just tryin to survive like everyone else.” The old guy has a kind face, but I’m kind of getting the creeps and wondering if this is going to turn into some kind of The Hills Have Eyes horror scene.
The door opens to the left and an old woman comes shuffling out.
“Bless the Lord, we have guests,” she beams at us, and I holster my weapon in my confusion. Silas doesn’t put his away, but he isn’t exactly pointing the gun at the elderly couple anymore either.
“I’m confused,” I don’t mind admitting.
The woman gives me a kind smile. “My name is Agnes and this here is Jep. We used to run this motel, though we were trying to sell it to retire to Florida,” she gives us a sad smile. “That isn’t going to happen anymore. As soon as things started to go crazy, Jep pulled us out of the retirement home and brought us back here.” A tear leaks from her eye and she wipes it quickly away.
“Do you kids need a room?” Jep asks, changing the subject, though he still doesn’t get up from his chair.
“We don’t have any money,” I admit, and Silas gives me a look like I shouldn’t be giving away all of our trade secrets.
“Money isn’t much use to us anymore,” Jep replies with a snort.
“Do you have any supplies you would be willing to part with?” Agnes asks with interest, staring at our full backpacks.
“We aren’t as limber as we used to be, it’s tough going to go out and find the things we need,” Jep doesn’t mind telling up, making me feel terrible for this elderly couple. I have selfishly only thought about how the end of the world has affected me. I’m suddenly so glad that I’m not eighty during all of this upheaval. It’s a sobering thought.
“We might have a few things,” Silas agrees after a moment of thinking.
“Our rooms are guaranteed zombie free, and include a continental breakfast,” Agnes reports proudly, and I almost laugh out loud. Is she being serious?
“We’ll take one night,” Silas says, digging in his bag and pulling out a box of shells that are a match to the gun Jep is holding. He sets them on the counter before motioning for me to turn around. I turn, wondering what he’s up to when he starts digging around in my bag. He pulls out two bottles of pills from my bag and squints at them.
“Any interest in arthritis medicine, and some ibuprofen?” he asks, and I watch as both their faces light up.
“Do you have anything sweet?” Agnes asks excitedly. I dig out a handful of chocolate bars and slap them on the table beside the other stuff.
“Hell, you kids can stay forever,” Jep laughs. “Was that one room or two?”
“One,” Silas says without hesitation, and I give him a look.
“That okay with you girl?” Jep asks, not missing the look of surprise on my face.
I smile at his concern, “That is fine, thank you.”
Agnes shuffles over to a peg board where a row of six keys are hanging neatly and picks out the number three key. “It’s the best,” she says proudly as she hands it over to Silas.
Silas and I thank them and head out. Silas pulls the truck closer, and the weird little dog follows us in. The room is tidy and smells a bit like moth balls. It has two double beds, and I walk over to the furthest one from the door and drop my bag before flopping down.
I just want to sleep, but Silas has other ideas. He comes and sits down beside me on the bed. My eyes pop open as I stare up at him, wondering, not for the first time, if I’m completely safe with him.
“I should check your arm,” he says, and I feel guilty for doubting him.
I carefully pull my arm out of the hoodie sleeve. After washing his hands in the bathroom, he unwinds my bandages and takes a look.
The wound is an angry red. The crude stitches that I have been abusing all day look worse in the light, and I wince thinking about what kind of scar I’m going to have if this thing ever heals. Silas pulls a small bottle of vodka from his bag and pours a generous amount over the cut.
I let out a whimper from between my clenched teeth when the soul-searing burn finally fades to “just” a terrible sting.
Silas takes a quick swig from the bottle before stuffing it back in his bag and coming up with some fresh bandages. I’ve seen him do some pretty tough things with his hands over the last day and a half, but they are surprisingly gentle as he winds fresh cotton over my stitches.
“Make sure you take some more antibiotics,” he warns me, digging them out from my bag and leaving them on the nightstand with a bottle of water from his pack.
I watch him until he disappears into the bathroom without another word. I hear the shower turn on and wince. The water has to be ice cold. He comes out much cleaner than he went in and finds me sitting on the bed with my backpack and hoodie back on.
“You going somewhere?” he asks, like he doesn’t really think I am. I watch him do a double take when I nod.
“I still haven’t found Ryan.”
Silas sighs at the mention of Ryan’s name. I know I’m like a broken record that keeps repeating itself, but I can’t help it. Ryan is the only thing left in this world that makes sense to me. He’s going to help me find my parents, and I care about him.
“Can I borrow the truck?” I ask, and Silas shakes his head.
“It’s not like you didn’t steal it,” I retort, mad that he’s denying my request.
“It’s not that. It’s hotwired, do you know how to get it going again?” he asks, and I hate that he’s right, again.
“No,” I admit, feeling helpless.
I watch Silas pull the vodka from his bag and take a couple long pulls from the bottle.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I have an idea,” he says finally, surprising me. I had thought he was going to lay down some hard truths like I should stop my search for Ryan.
I look up at him expectantly as he pulls a can of spray paint from his bag. “We should go back to the pharmacy and leave this guy a note. Let him know where you are. You could search that whole town until the zombies get you, and your paths might never cross.”
His idea is genius. In a world where you can’t simply pull out your phone and text someone in real time, Silas’ idea is the next best thing.
“When can we go?” I ask excitedly, once again grateful that Silas is willing to help me.
“Might as well get it over with so I can get some sleep,” he grumbles, but I’m beginning to see that he isn’t as gruff and uncaring as he would like me to believe.
“Leave the dog,” Silas warns when we head to the door and the dog starts to follow. The memory of my neighbor getting attacked and eaten when her dog barked comes back to me, and I shudder.
“No problem,” I respond. I’m sure Silas had been expecting me to argue by the surprised look he gives me.
We get in the truck, and Silas starts to fiddle wit
h the wires again.
“Silas,” his name is out before I fully realize what I’m about to ask.
His hand stills and he looks at me expectantly. “Did you change your mind?” he asks, and I feel a tug of annoyance towards him.
“No, not that.”
“What then?” he prompts, and I can tell that his attention is already drifting back towards the task at hand.
“Can you teach me how to hotwire a car?” I blurt it out in a rush, glad that I am able to get up the courage to ask him.
Silas doesn’t do a thing for my confidence when he bursts out laughing.
“It’s not funny, Silas. Knowing how to do this stuff really saved our asses today,” I point out, and that sobers him.
“Alright blondie, slide on over,” he says, shifting in the seat so I will be able to see around his knees.
I don’t even hesitate as I slide in nice and close and lean in expectantly.
“First thing first,” Silas says, and I can tell he likes his role as teacher. “We lucked out hard core today. This basic wiring only works on late nineties model vehicles. Anything new would be way beyond what I would be able to teach you. If you’re stuck and you need a vehicle, aim for an old beater.” I nod my head and make a mental note.
Silas points to the wires. “I’ve already done the work here, but the first thing to do would be to always carry a flathead screwdriver. You use the screwdriver to remove the screws in the top and bottom of the steering column. Then, use the screw driver to pry off the panel.” Even though the panel is no longer there Silas mimes doing it, just as he says.
“You need to expose the ignition cylinder and this big group of wires here.” Silas pulls the wires further into view so I can’t miss them. “The color of the wires can vary. However, two constants are usually red and yellow. You need to strip the plastic coating off the wires.” He demonstrates with the screwdriver and I nod, so far so good. This is making sense to me.
“Then you want to twist the wires together. If it doesn’t work, you’ll have to fiddle around and try a few different color combo’s red, yellow, and blue.” He demonstrates and nothing happens. “Red, yellow, green…” Silas trails off as it sparks and the ignition roars to life.
I grin up at him. “Thanks Silas,” I say and mean it from the bottom of my heart. Silas hands me the flathead screw driver.
“I’ve got an extra. You can keep this one.” I take the screwdriver like it’s a championship trophy. Silas might get on my nerves, but two days with him and I am learning valuable life skills that nobody else has ever bothered to teach me. I’m not just some dumb teenage girl to him…well, maybe I am, but at least he wants me to be a dumb teenage girl with useable skills.
“This is a simple in and out, no mistakes,” Silas warns as we head back into town. The zombies have settled down in our absence. We see them here and there, but the truck speeds by too fast for them to catch up.
Silas turns on Main Street and pulls up in front of the pharmacy. I, personally, am sick to death of this particular building. Silas gets out with his gun drawn, and I join him as he puts down three zombies that have wandered too close.
“Let’s hurry,” he says as he pulls the spray can out of his bag, and hands it to me, pointing to the sidewalk in front of the store.
I think for a minute before hastily scrawling out my message.
@ Motel on Hwy. Jane.
I finish up and dive into the cab of the truck. Silas has shot seven more times while I was creating my manifesto. Even with the silencer, we are attracting way too much attention.
Silas jumps in, and we are off like a shot. We speed past the zombies and I begin to feel the smallest shred of hope. If my luck can hold a little bit longer, Ryan will be able to find me.
We are back at the motel within fifteen minutes. I’m lying on my bed, pumped full of antibiotics, in twenty.
“Do you want something to eat?” Silas asks, and groggily I shake my head. Silas makes a disapproving sound and tosses me a couple protein bars.
“You need to eat or those antibiotics are gonna melt the lining of your stomach.” I don’t doubt him. I’ve been having a stomach ache since I first started taking these pills, so I unwrap a bar and bite into it grudgingly. Today has been one adrenaline rush after another, and I’m exhausted.
“I just want to sleep,” I say, watching as he pulls a couple beer cans from his bag and pops their tops simultaneously.
“Eat first,” Silas grunts at me as he chugs beer and then lets out an enormous belch.
I wrinkle up my nose at him. “So where were you headed anyway?” Silas surprises me by asking.
I think about shrugging like Silas probably would if I asked him the same question. But, I owe Silas my life now, and today he did kind of show me a different side of himself.
“We are going to New York,” I say.
Silas chokes on his beer and coughs for a solid minute before looking at me with his crazy lady expression. “New York will be packed full of zombies,” he says at last, and I nod. I’ve been thinking about that nonstop, but there must be a safe way to reach the camp. Why else would the military have put one there?
“My parents were in New York when everything started,” I admit. Unlike everyone else, Silas doesn’t give me a sympathetic look at this news. I like it.
“My friends and I were on our way to a cabin in the woods when we came across a camp of survivors, set up by the military.” Silas looks interested now.
“They told me about a similar camp outside New York City that is filled with thousands of survivors.” I pause for a minute to compose myself. “I know it’s a long shot,” I say before Silas can say it.
Silas nods at that.
“…but I have to try.”
“Well, I hope you find them,” Silas says after a minute, and salutes me with his beer can.
I drift off to sleep a few minutes later after turning my back on Silas eating cold ravioli straight from the can without a spoon. The dog is curled up by my leg, and I enjoy the warmth he generates.
It’s the dog barking that wakes me up much later. The room is pitch black, and there is rapid pounding at the door. The door shakes on its cheap hinges, and I’m instantly transported back to the horror of this afternoon when the zombies were breaking into the house that Silas and I were holed up in. I involuntarily let out a scream. I know it’s girly, but it’s the middle of the night and I can’t help it. It’s a knee-jerk reaction to waking up abruptly in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. I really should work on that.
The pounding on the door intensifies when I scream, and Silas gives me a look. “Good job,” he mutters, and I can’t think of anything to say.
I watch, frozen with fear, as Silas creeps over to the door and peeks through the hole. He surprises me by sliding the lock out and throwing the door open. I want to yell at him, but he must be sure he can handle the number of zombies outside. The door bursts open and my jaw actually drops when Ryan comes running in like a crazy person.
“Jane?” he yells frantically, looking in all directions as his eyes adjust to the dark room. He turns towards Silas and raises a pistol to his temple. “Who the hell are you?” he demands, “What have you done to Jane?”
Silas brings his own pistol up and levels it at Ryan’s chest. “Jane is fine, and besides constantly save her life, I haven’t done a damn thing to her,” Silas snarls.
I’m suddenly afraid that I’ve found Ryan only to see Silas kill him. I spring off the bed and jump into Ryan’s arms, knocking his pistol off guard. Thankfully, it doesn’t fall though, or Silas would probably yell at me.
“Stop it, you two!” I shout at them both, and then I’m wrapped in Ryan’s warmth. Silas has tucked away his pistol, and Ryan has me in his arms and is no longer paying any attention to Silas.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I cry, tears streaming from my eyes. The dog barks and dances around our legs.
Silas lets out one of his annoyed sighs and shu
ts the door, “How are you two still alive with the amount of noise you make, traipsing around in the dark, not carrying weapons…” I tune out his list of my faults and just enjoy Ryan’s embrace.
Silas makes sure the curtains are shut before he turns on his lantern. I blink as the room lights up, and I can actually see Ryan’s handsome face for the first time in days. Apparently, so can Silas because he scowls at us both and keeps muttering.
“I have so many questions,” Ryan says, pressing a kiss to my lips that makes me go weak in the knees.
Silas walks up and Ryan pulls me behind his back like he’s trying to protect me, which makes Silas scoff.
“Really?” Silas taunts him.
“He’s harmless.” I tell Ryan, and even as I speak the words out loud, I’m not sure if they’re true.
Ryan pulls away from me a little and looks me over like he’s reassuring himself that I’m actually still in one piece. My Federal Boobie Inspector shirt gives him pause, and his mouth goes slack.
“Where on earth did you get that shirt?”
Chapter Fourteen
“You lied to me.” Ryan’s words are quiet, but the accusation is impossible to ignore. Worse is the hurt in his eyes and the tone of his voice.
“What?” I stammer. There’s been so much going on during the last two days. For a minute, my mind struggles to follow the direction of the conversation.
“You told me you got out,” he reminds me, and I feel the pit of my stomach start to ache.
“Ryan,” I stare up at his handsome face. I can tell he’s mad, but at least he isn’t Silas’ brand of mad.
“I had to. If you had tried to save me, you would have been killed.” Ryan looks like he wants to deny it, but he and I both know that he truthfully can’t.
“You must have barely made it out of there as it is. If half the zombies hadn’t been distracted by me in the pharmacy, you would have had a real problem on your hands,” I remind him gently, and he has the grace to acknowledge what I’ve said as the truth with a curt nod of his head.
