“Find your target in the crosshairs of the scope,” Silas continues. “Take a few deep breaths. When you’re ready to fire, pull the trigger at the end of your last exhale.” He steps forward just enough to be visible in my field of view as he raises what looks like a large pair of black cordless headphones toward me. “This is your hearing protection. Once I put them on you, fire away.”
I maintain my stance and position as Silas slips the oversized earmuffs on my head so that they cover my ears, muting any sound from the outside world. My heart races as I adjust the rifle’s position until the middle of the fallen log is directly centered at the crosshairs of the scope. I take my time with the deep breathing, trying to relax and relieve some of the tension in my muscles. When I feel like I’m finally calm and ready, I take one more deep breath; and when the last bit of air passes between my lips, I pull the trigger.
Despite the earmuffs dampening the sound, the boom from firing the gun is still loud enough to make my body jump. Just as Silas said it would, the butt of the gun kicks back firmly and safely into my shoulder in opposition to the bullet being discharged from the chamber. I’ve kept looking through the crosshairs of the scope the entire time, but I have no idea if I hit my target or not.
“Keep trying.” Silas’ voice is muted through the earmuffs, but I can still hear him nearby.
Focusing again, I center the fallen log in the scope and take slow, deep breaths. Even though I’ve only fired this rifle once, I know better what to expect now, so I already have more confidence than before. When my body stills after a final exhale, I pull the trigger to fire again. The sound of the shot and the kickback of the weapon cause me some surprise anyway, but my body doesn’t jump as much this time. I pay better attention to what happens to my target in the scope and see small bits of wood fly off the top of the log. It’s not where I was aiming, but I still hit the damn thing. I’ll take that as a success.
As much as I want to look to my side to see Silas’ reaction, I keep my eyes and the rifle trained forward, not wanting to ruin my position. I don’t rush the process, and I take my time, continuing to use the breathing techniques and making slight adjustments to my aim and position. With each bullet I fire, I feel more comfortable with the rifle. My confidence builds to a peak as I hit the middle of the fallen log, dead-on, with my eighth shot.
By the time the gun’s magazine is empty, I’m buzzing with excitement at my success. I lower the rifle and pull the earmuffs off as I turn to Silas to finally gauge his reaction.
There’s a different kind of conflicted look on his face now, one of pride and, I think, a little bit of surprise. He’s suppressing a grin.
“So what do you think?” I ask, even though I can already see his answer written all over his face. I want to hear him say it, though.
He’s no longer holding back his smile. “I’ll admit I’m impressed.” He pauses a moment, then adds, “It must have been your great teacher.”
I try not to let it show in my face, but Silas’ teasing brings me down off of my high just a bit. This is the human side of Silas making a reappearance, once again giving me false hope that there’s an ethical and reasonable version of him hidden away within. To any observer in the outside world, he would seem to be completely normal at this moment. The monster deep inside of him is nowhere in sight, but it’s still there and it always comes back to the forefront eventually. He’ll never do away with that part of him completely.
I respond to his banter with a modest smile, then turn my attention to the rifle again, trying to figure out how to eject the magazine.
“Put the safety back on,” Silas instructs, waiting for me to push the button back out before he’ll say anything further. “The magazine release is right here.” He points to the switch, and I flick it before pulling the magazine out of the rifle.
His fingers graze mine as he reaches for the empty magazine, and for the briefest second our eyes connect, and the feelings that were surging between us earlier reemerge, but the moment fades away, along with most of the pleased grin that had been on Silas’ face.
“I’ll teach you to load the magazine,” he says in a more serious tone, “and we’ll do this all again.”
Part of me is disappointed to see Silas come down from his high just like I did, but I know it’s for the best. In the end I’m still more his prisoner than his partner. To pretend our relationship is anything other than that is only setting me up for disappointment, and I don’t know that I have it in me to survive crushing devastation again.
19
The last bits of light are fading from the sky as I watch Silas add more sticks to the small campfire between us. It feels good to sit down after being on my feet for most of the day, for what turned out to be many consecutive hours of careful training and practice with the rifle and few breaks in between. We probably would have kept going if not for the loss of daylight making it difficult to find the targets Silas had laid out for me.
Now that the adrenaline from today has worn off, I realize how tired and hungry I am. I almost wish we were back at the house so I could find something quick to eat in Silas’ food stash, then crash on the bed. As I look at the unopened cans of food waiting near the fire and the tent still packed up in its bag on the ground nearby, I know it’ll be a while before I find slumber tonight.
If I even find it at all.
My hope is that exhaustion will win out over my worry and anxiety about staying the night outdoors, exposed in the outside world like this in a break from our routine, and sleeping in a tent with Silas under these circumstances. Because I am no longer distracted by my training, I am vulnerable to these thoughts and concerns as they creep to the forefront of my mind, but I try to remain calm. Silas will protect me from any outside threats, and given his reluctance to get close to me at all so far today after I basically rejected his advances, I shouldn’t have much to worry about from him tonight.
“I can help and do something,” I suggest, my offer genuine, even though it’s made for the slightly selfish reason of seeking distraction from my worries.
Silas glances up at me as he unfolds the legs of a metal grate then places it over the small fire. “You’ve done enough today. You should relax.”
I tap my foot anxiously against the dirt, dreading the thought of having to explain my current need for distraction. “I’m having a little trouble relaxing right now.”
Laughing under his breath, Silas abandons the small stainless-steel pot he just picked up and starts digging in his backpack instead. I’ve already watched him pull all sorts of supplies out of that seemingly bottomless bag, but I quickly see that he saved the most important necessity for last. His hand emerges with a tall and inviting bottle of Jack Daniel’s clutched in his grasp.
I don’t even try to hide the relief and excitement at seeing the bottle, and seeing that only causes Silas to laugh at me again.
“Don’t drink it all in one sitting,” he warns with amusement as he leans over to hand the bottle to me.
“Of course not,” I reply sarcastically as I unscrew the cap and throw the bottle back to take a few long gulps. I squeeze my eyes shut and resist the urge to cough as the burning liquid travels down my throat, but just beyond the burn, I start to feel the buzz. I’m tempted to take another swig, but decide to pace myself, holding the bottle lazily to the side of my head instead as I enjoy the numbing effects of the alcohol.
Silas scoots over a few feet closer to me on the dirt then extends his hand for the bottle. I somewhat reluctantly offer it to him and watch as he copies exactly what I just did, throwing the bottle back without hesitation. He isn’t as affected by the taste of the alcohol, though, or at least he doesn’t show it.
“I need to learn how to do that,” I say automatically, the first signs that the alcohol is starting to talk for me.
“Do what?”
“Pretend like the liquor doesn’t burn like hell when I drink it.”
Again, the laughter. He’s louder about it th
is time, perhaps a sign that the alcohol is affecting him, too. He may think this is funny, but I keep my gaze directed his way, watching him expectantly.
“You’re serious, then?” He says it with surprise and more as a statement than a question.
I give an exaggerated nod or two or five. “Teach me.”
Suppressing his laughter, but still smiling this time, he hands the bottle back to me. “Try only breathing through your nose when you drink it.”
“Easy enough.” When I have the bottle in hand again, though, my numbed brain seems to have forgotten all the steps I’m supposed to take right now.
“Exhale, then drink, but only breathe through your nose,” Silas reminds me.
Nodding slightly, I bring the bottle close to my lips and focus whatever available brainpower I have left into following each step. I take a couple of breaths, and on the last exhale I tip the bottle back; but my body fails to fully close off my airway, and some of the burning liquid finds its way down toward my lungs instead of my stomach.
I instantly lower the bottle and swing my upper body forward, barely able to prevent the remaining liquid from spewing out of my mouth before my chest heaves with violent coughs.
I feel the pressure of Silas’ hand on my back and the warmth of his body right next to me. He laughs to himself at first, but then must realize I feel like I’m dying because he’s not laughing anymore. I vaguely hear his soft apologies and words of comfort as his hand is now running circles on my back.
By the time the evil, but necessary liquid has been forced out of my airway, involuntary tears have wet my eyes, and my chest is aching from the force of my coughing; but I want nothing more than to try again and get this right. I take a deep breath as I sit back and bring the bottle to my lips.
My sudden movement causes Silas to still next to me as he asks, “What the hell are you doing?”
Before he can even finish his question, I tip the bottle back again like before but manage to move my tongue to block my throat in time. I breathe only through my nose as the liquid enters my mouth and continue to only breathe through my nose after the alcohol makes its way to my stomach properly this time.
There’s no gagging or coughing. My eyes remain open the whole time and I don’t pull a nasty face or react like I’m drinking gasoline. I look to my left at Silas with a calm and cool expression, and the shock on his face causes me to smile.
Or maybe it’s the alcohol. Or maybe both.
No, it’s definitely the alcohol.
“You’ve had enough,” Silas scolds as he takes the bottle and cap away from me. He takes another long drink from the bottle before screwing on the cap and setting the bottle aside.
“I just did what you did,” I say proudly.
Silas grins as he leans back, bracing himself with his arms behind him in the dirt. “I did it a little more gracefully than you did.”
I wave an unsteady hand dismissively in the air. “But I still did it.”
“That’s true.” Silas becomes silent, and I can’t see his face anymore in the position he’s in, so I turn around to look at him. The world is spinning, though, so as I turn, my body keeps twisting, and suddenly I’m on my hands and knees in the dirt.
In the dim lighting from the campfire, I can see Silas has a look of concern on his face and is about to sit up and grab me, but I just start laughing hysterically until I’ve collapsed to the dirt and rolled to my back and have to grip my stomach with my hands because I’m laughing so hard it hurts.
I start to forget why I’m laughing, and it’s suddenly not as funny anymore. And I begin to feel tired. Tipping my head up, I see that Silas is only a few feet away from me and watching me curiously with his head propped up on his hand, his elbow on the ground. He will make a much better pillow than the dirt, so I push with my feet until I’m moving backward, and it’s not graceful at all. However, I eventually make it to Silas and find the perfect spot where my head can rest against his shoulder. The air is cold all around, but I feel heat from Silas next to me and now know he can be my blanket, too. I get as close to him as possible and wrap my arm around him, and suddenly his arms encircle me and draw me in and blanket me with warmth.
“You were perfect today,” he says to me, though the rapid thumping of his heart speaks louder than his words. “You’re perfect right now.”
I smile at his compliments, but they also make me sad. “You shouldn’t say that.”
“Why not?”
Closing my eyes, I bury the side of my face even deeper into Silas’ shoulder and wish my pillow would stop talking so much. “Because I’m broken, and I’m also scared.”
Silas pulls me even closer to him. “What are you afraid of?”
“Falling,” I reply automatically. “I’ve been falling for so long. There’s never any bottom. It just gets darker and darker, and there’s nothing to catch me.”
“I’m right here,” he whispers. “I can catch you if you’ll let me.”
I tip my head up toward Silas’ face and open my eyes, and when our gazes connect in the firelight, his eyes tell me something my body understands. Suddenly I’m reaching up for him as he’s moving down toward me, and our lips finally meet in between. They’re barely touching at first, a gentle introduction between unknowns, but with each movement of my lips against his, I press harder, tasting more of him even though I’m only feeding an insatiable hunger.
It’s too easy to kiss him, and I want to keep going. But something tells me I need to stop now, so I do. When our lips part, I feel like I want to cry, but I don’t know if it’s because I’m sad the moment is over or if there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I’m just tired because when I’m sleepy, I often remember things that make me want to cry.
“I need you to be my pillow again,” I tell Silas as I settle back onto his shoulder and close my eyes, “and my blanket.”
The hint of a laugh reverberates in his chest as he pulls me as close as possible again, his arms surrounding me and protecting me, catching me from falling.
“I have you, Ash,” he whispers to me.
I nod slightly against his shoulder as I drift off to sleep, and at least for this moment, I’m not as afraid.
20
Brisk fresh air rushes into my lungs as I inhale a sharp breath and open my eyes. The trees appear to be growing sideways out of the dirt from my perspective lying on my side. There’s no tent or canopy overhead, just endless air and atmosphere reaching into the grey sky above. Something soft lies beneath my cheek, the visible edge of it revealing it’s a pillow. I can only feel the cold air around my face, since the rest of my body is covered in a thick woolen blanket all the way up to my neck.
Why am I sleeping on the ground instead of in the tent?
The crackling sound of fire nearby grabs my attention, causing me to roll over in my position so that I can see the source. The small campfire is still going strong, its golden flames providing an aura of warmth to combat the chilly air.
For a moment I think I’m alone, but then I hear footsteps approaching; Silas appears from the tree line. His eyes connect with mine, and suddenly it all comes back to me. Every horrifying detail of how I crawled into his arms and placed my lips on his and tasted the Jack Daniel’s in his mouth comes racing back to me, and I immediately know I’m going to be sick.
Throwing the blanket off of me, I quickly stagger to a nearby tree and brace myself against it as I bend over and let my stomach heave over and over. By the time it’s done, I don’t know whether I’m more disgusted by the taste left in my mouth or by my stupidity in letting myself lose control like I did last night. Tears of disappointment and panic cloud my vision, but I refuse to break down this time. I remain doubled-over and braced against the tree as I try to will the tears and nausea away.
Footsteps approach from behind me, and I feel a warm touch against my shoulder. The contact instantly brings me to a full upright position as I flip around and put some space between Silas and me.
“
I can’t,” is all I manage to get out before my breath catches, and I feel like I’m on the verge of emotional breakdown.
“So you remember,” Silas says curiously as he slowly paces the dirt. His eyes never leave me. His gaze bores into me, piercing straight into my thoughts.
I nod, the small movement of my head the most I can possibly handle right now as a means of acknowledging the shame I feel for what I did.
“You don’t seem very happy about it,” Silas observes. He’s circling me now, pressuring me to give him more of a response.
After taking a subtle, deep breath, I reply, “I shouldn’t have done it.”
He laughs slightly, and the sound reminds me again of last night and the many times he laughed and grinned at me and my drunken antics. It causes my whole body to shiver.
Silas stops pacing within a few feet of me, daring me to back away from him. “It’s okay to give in to your body’s natural desires.” He takes two steps forward so that he’s directly in front of me, demanding my gaze for a terrifying moment before he leans down and whispers, “Tell me how it made you feel. Tell me you enjoyed pressing your lips and body against mine.”
I try to hold my ground and maintain some illusion of strength, but it finally becomes too much. I feel like I can’t breathe, and I have to turn and walk away from Silas. At the moment of my disobedience, I know I’ve instantly lost this battle.
“You have to stop denying yourself,” Silas calls out behind me. “Stop ignoring your feelings.”
I begin to feel dizzy and have to grab for the rough bark of the nearest tree to keep me standing. My body is weak and dehydrated. It wants nothing more than to collapse right here on the ground, but I refuse to show that kind of weakness in front of Silas.
Once I’m steady enough, I let go of the tree and turn around to find Silas watching me expectantly. He’s not going to back down from this until I give him a proper answer.
Falling Ash Page 16
