Keep on Fighting (The 5th Wave)

Part FOUR

The figure takes slow steps down the steps towards us, and Evan pushes me even further backwards towards the door. Then I blurt out, "Who are you?"
Evan looks back at me, and the figure stops walking.

Then, suddenly, there is an answer, although it's more of a question.
"Who are you?"
That is when I start wondering whether he is an other or not, as he sounds so innocent and fearful.

Evan replies simpy with, "We're only here for shelter, we mean no harm."
"Are you two alone?"
I say, quickly, "No, there are five more of us in the other room."

I felt a hand clench the rim of my shirt, the grip growing tighter by the second. I glanced back to meet the mirrors of blue eyes that belonged to Evan, his eyebrows arched in a sort of protective instict. I seemed encased in safety once his arm trailed around my waist, the muscles tensing consistently.

"Seven in total?" The stranger asked, scraping his feet across the worn out floorboards to move closer.

"Yes, thats what happens when you do the math." I answered, flinching when a jabbing pain was felt in the place Evan's hand was, running fiercly up my arm.

I looked up, to see a smirk planted on the strangers lips, slowly forming into a quiet laugh as he moved into the streams of light. It's then that I begin to wonder if he's trustworthy; after all, he could be just like us, a survivor of the waves hidden away from the world outside.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna harm you kids." He says, as kindly as he can.
"My name's Carson."

Evan spares me a questioning glance before sharing our names, obviously still being wary about the young, dark-clothed man less than six feet from us.

I squint, drawing my sight closer to try and get a better look. The shadows show a dark chocolate dipped fringe sweeping across his blood stained cheek, as well as cautious green eyes watching us from what seemed to be as far as he would go. He wears a ripped checkered shirt, spasms of crimson red growing to be more vivid in front of their black background, along with matching blue jeans that reach down to his beaten ankles.

I consider trusting him, after all, he hasn't kicked us out of what looks to be his hiding place, and he seems friendly. He is probably thinking the exact same thing about us.

"Come into the kitchen - I have some snacks stored in the cupboards if you want any, for all of you." Carson offers, politely.

"We already checked the kitchen, and we found nothing of interest." Evan states with a confused expression.

"Not down here, I have storage in an upstairs room to ensure that nobody helps themselves if they waltz through my front door in search for supplies."

I peer up at Evan once again, and when he nods down at me, I follow him and Carson up the stairs, clutching onto Evan's arm again.

Upstairs is a door on the left, two other doors opposite, and a door straight ahead of us. Carson leads us through the left door, entering us into a dark room with white tiled walls and counters lined across the outside of the room.

Above are four cupboards, which swing wide open when Carson yanks the handles with his mighty strength to reveal tins and boxes of food, which is something we would never take for granted after what we have been through.

I don't realise my mouth is hanging open until I feel a light stream of drool trail down my chin, and I lick my lips as I gaze up at the savouries above me.

Evan asks, "How did you get these?" examining the full shelves.
It's not until I notice the milk that I get curious - how could it still be fresh months after the beginning of the waves? I shoot Carson a questioning look.