ZOMB-POCALYPSE BOOK 2

Chapter Ten

We drive in silence for the next few miles, our eyes scanning the landscape for our very own Hail Mary save. I know Silas is pretty good at stuff like this, but I still try and keep a mental map of each turn we take. I'm a little terrified of getting turned around and lost out here. Everything looks the same. Sure, we all know where we're headed, but I would hate myself if I stranded Ryan in the middle of nowhere without a vehicle, and only a little girl to help him reach the cabin.

"Relax, Blondie, I know where the farm is," Silas says, tapping his temple like I'm supposed to believe he's infallible, and once again I find it creepy that he seems to be able to read my mind.

"Where are we going?" I ask, pushing the feeling aside, and he shrugs.

"Hopefully not too far," is all he says before cranking up the country music. I bite back my annoyance as we tear down the deserted country road at breakneck speeds.

I reach over and snap off the music. "I can't take it anymore," I admit. "You need to find a new CD."

Silas chuckles. He seems way more relaxed now that we're away from Sunny and the farm.

"So..." I say, and Silas looks at me uneasily, his face turning back down to a scowl.

"What?" he asks gruffly.

"Why were you being such a dick back there?" I blurt out and then hold my breath, waiting for him to explode.

"Just drop it, Jane," he warns me, and I really do want to follow his advice, but I figure if we're trapped together in this truck, I may as well make him hash it out—clear the air.

"I can't," I tell him honestly.

"It's like I said, and I'm not saying this to be a dick, but you shouldn't get attached to Sunny. Little kids can't survive this. Honestly you shouldn't get attached to anyone," he clarifies, and I feel my anger start to rise, but then I take a closer look at Silas. He isn't gloating or trying to piss me off. He honestly believes this.

"Is this because of your brother?" I ask, hating to bring it up, but I feel an almost burning need to find out what is making Silas tick. Silas's mouth turns down, and he shakes his head.

"Drop it, Jane," he warns, but he isn't yelling. His voice is quiet, and that's almost scarier than angry Silas.

"If Sunny was your brother, you'd want someone to help him," I say, knowing that I'm hurting him and hating it, but I want to drive my point home. He can't take his feelings out on a little girl.

"My brother is dead!" he yells at me, his face twisting into grief for a second before he turns back to the road and looks away from me. "He's better off. That bite saved him a horrible, hard life." I sit in my seat, shocked that he actually just said his brother is better off being dead. Silas reaches over and flips the radio knob and country music pounds back through the cab. I don't turn it off this time because even terrible country music is better than the awkward silence between us.

We develop a bit of a routine. Every time we come to a farmhouse, Silas pulls in and we slowly circle the driveway looking for what we need. There are a lot of old beater trucks in this area and a few new ones too, but, so far, none that match what we need.

Silas even gets out and peeks in garage windows, but still, nothing.

"Maybe we should just take one of these other trucks?" I suggest, but Silas instantly shakes his head.

"We have way too much stuff to move, never mind the fuel tank, it's half full, and we'd never be able to move it ourselves," he tells me as he puts the truck in park and stops to pull out the map. "There has to be one around here somewhere," he says, but I'm not sure I believe him. We've been at this for over an hour already.