Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 103

Day 90: July 7th, Wednesday
Three Months since Ground Zero

It had been three days, and Colby was far from our sight. Being back on the road again was unnerving, and I didn't expect it to be nervous on our first night. But as the days came, as we passed more farmlands and sparse areas, getting farther and farther from the rail yard warehouses we had called home, I remembered what I had learned before, like muscle memory. I became alert every time we were in a new area where every corner could have a vector hiding behind it, or worse, other survivors. I didn't want to get ambushed again.

But today, the car ride would be uneventful. Since the stretch of road we were going to cross had fewer towns and villages, the ride would be straightforward until we hit the next town with a gas station. I sat back and relaxed in my bunk bed, reading a fantasy book I was already not sure about, but I was right not to pick it up after three hours into the story.

"This is not good," I said to myself. It was about teenagers becoming master assassins after only training for less than a year (they were peasants before their recruitment), giving up after I got to the halfway point where it wasn't only a love triangle but a love hexagon. I shelved it under my bunk and made a note to borrow one of Alfie's books.

There was a soft rap on the door, and Logan walked into the cabin. "So, this is where you've been hiding," he said, crossing his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"It's a lot quieter here than out there," I said. I bent my knees and scooted my legs to make room for Logan on the mattress.

Logan sat down at the foot of the bunk. "Wait...is that your way of saying I'm too loud?"

"Maybe. Maybe I'm just tired and sore, and I want to lay down."

"Aw. Poor puppy."

"Woof," I mumbled.

He paused. "Let me show you something."

Logan took a deep breath. I wondered what he would do when he suddenly clapped his hands as if he was about to pray and then started rubbing them together. He grabbed both my ankles and forcibly put my legs over his lap. I tried to wiggle out, but his grip was firm. What was he doing? Then, he started massaging my calves—fingers delicate yet with a determined grasp. I didn't realize I had many knots and tension down there, and my groan sent red flushes up my cheeks. Logan merely grinned like he won the lottery.

I began to relax. "Okay. That actually feels good." I wished I could think of something else to say, but what else was there? He could have just asked, and I would have said yes instead of grabbing me, but I wasn't complaining about this impromptu massage.

"I used to do this for my siblings and my teammates. After practice, my team would have a giant back massage circle going on for ten minutes in the middle of the football field just to get the knot off our shoulders, you know? Plus, it's a nice bonding moment. As for my brothers, whoever loses a game of Uno or Trivia night has to massage the back of the winners, and you know we play board games every Tuesday and Thursday nights. My brothers and I are experts in the art."

"Did you just seriously call it an art?"

"What? Of course, it is! You have to learn the different types of muscles, and the lymphatic system, where it goes, and all sorts of anatomy. Have you heard of petrissage on your neck? Feels good, man. It's like kneading a roll of bread, except it's your muscle tissue."

"Ew. Sounds painful."

"Yet it feels so good."

"Hm. Look at you. I didn't know you're the jack of all trades."