Keep on Fighting (The 5th Wave)

Part TEN

"Teacup wanted me to tell you this." I stare at Ringer, whose cheeks sparkle with salted tears just like mine.
With a wary pause, I ask, "What is it?" I am sure to soften my voice.

"I know you've been wondering about this for so long, and Teacup comvinced me to follow in her footsteps, kind of." She hesitates, then shares her thoughts with me at last. "Her name was Allison. Mine's Marika." I notice how she used past tense, proving she is not in denial.
"Marika... it's a beautiful name; why did you ever deny it?"

"It's not my forename I'm ashamed of." She answers, quite suddenly.
There are so many meanings this statement could have. I have no experience in feeling hatred or shame towards my family, so I can't imagine what it's like for Ringer - to have no relatives worth missing. Maybe it's a relief that she doesn't miss her past life?

"Where are we going?" We had been walking for over an hour, according to Dumbo, and I'd been walking alongside Ringer - Marika - ahead of the others to chat privately.

"Wherever we end up, I guess." Poundcake answers to Sam's question and Marika nods her head back at them in agreement.

Then I hear footsteps behind me; Evan grabs my hand and asks, "Can I speak to you for a minute?" I squeeze his hand in mine and say, "Yeah, of course." We stray slightly further away from the group and the conversation begins with Evan saying, "I'm so glad I've got the chance to speak to you alone."
"You can speak to me at any time, you know that, right?" He kisses me, briskly, then wraps his arm around my waist, grabbing handfuls of my hair in his palm as we continue walking behind the group.

"What's brought that smile onto your face, today?" I smile as I ask the question, charmed by the way his lips have curved into a gorgeous shape.
"I'm just... grateful."
We stare at each other for a few moments until I ask, "What for?"
He pecks my forehead with wet lips and says, "You."

I didn't expect those to be his words; I guessed he was just grateful for our survival - but he actually thinks of me as, not a liability, but a priority. I can't help but wonder how a small-town-high-school-girl like me can mean so much to a man I met less than 6 months ago.

My eyes well up with tears, and I pull Evan to a halt so that I can sink my face into his chest once again. The fabric of his shirt beneath his filthy denim jacket is caked with his scent, the smell that I can always rely on to fill me with endless happiness. No moment is more enjoyable than one like this.

My arm is wrapped around Evan's neck and his hand is filtering through strands of my hair, acting as a comfort to me. There is a fine line between comfort and relaxation, a border which I rarely approach with the threat of the Others lurking, but I've never been uncomfortable in Evan's arms.

- - -

The tiny boy, who used to resemble a hooligan before certain experiences tainted his childish nature, walks sluggishly beside me for a while, the present being the first time he has attempted to socialise with me in what seems like forever. He's acted similar to a hormonal teenager, the only difference being the fact that he has a reason to despise me. He has the right to hate me after the painful anticipation I have put him through.

I acknowledge, once again, that I still haven't explained to Sam what happened to our dad, which I still don't look forward to. It is pain enough to recall the memories to myself, never mind sharing the details with my kid-brother.

At last we reach a building with a gargantuan sign on the front saying 'Motel'. It seems like an appropriate place to shelter, although we'd still have to be cautious no matter how empty it looks.

Poundcake checks through every window on the lower floor, returning to say it is clear, and we continue into the building. Once we are all in, I grab Evan's hand instinctually as we all stare around at the features that made this Motel look unique.

There is a spiral staircase in the centre, reminding me of an episode of the Walking Dead I watched secretly with Lizbeth when we were fourteen. This really does feel like a zombie apocalypse - except for the zombie part.

Of course Liz and I did things we shouldn't have, like all teenagers would. Although now the extents we have to go to is drastic, like shooting a gun. Like killing someone.
Heck, I miss Liz so much.

I clutch onto Evan's arm, which seems to have become a habit, and Ringer is the first to set her foot on the stairs. We are all clearly curious, but Ringer desperately wants to discover something new and interesting to take her mind off Teacup.

I don't want to think about it, so I release Evan and join Ringer on her journey up the stairs. For a moment, I expect to find a circular slide at the top resembling a Helter Skelter, which was something Sam and Teacup would've loved to play on together - dammit, Teacup's on my mind again.

I shake the memories out of my head, and continue searching our surroundings for signs of recent action. The whole place seems completely empty, and there is absolutely nothing suggesting that anyone or anything has been here for at least a few months - no recent food stains or personal items laying around. Maybe we have finally found somewhere safe enough to stay for a while. I doubt it, though. Knowing my luck.

This must have been a decent enough hotel, and even with the second waves' natural disasters, the building seems almost untouched. The only damage was inflicted upon the first and second levels - the other five floors should come in handy. There's more than enough space here for all of us.