Silo

Chapter 19

The fire was smaller than I wanted but let's face it, my good mood was no excuse for smoking us all out. Slowly, the room warmed up, and I began shedding layers until I was wearing nothing but my jeans and a tattered old t-shirt. It'd been days since I'd seen a bar of soap, so I tossed a cast-iron pot onto the flames and filled it with water. I had my shirt stripped off and and was going for my belt when Meredith cleared her throat.

"Sorry," I said reaching for my discarded shirt. I'd just been so used to not having privacy that I forgotten it mattered.

She shrugged and went for the door. I didn't stop her; I had no idea what to say.

I picked at the label on the can, trying to smooth it back into place. I don't know why I bothered, you couldn't read it anyway - the ink had run, the colors colliding into one illegible blub of black. Shit, why was this so hard? Why was talking to her...getting her to open up and trust me so damn hard?

I tossed the can to the ground and picked through the pile of food I had piled in the corner. I may have been crazy, but I swore I saw a chocolate bar in there. It was half-eaten and probably ten months old, but it was the best I could do.

Snapping off the half-bitten piece, I re-wrapped the candy bar and shoved it into my pocket, wishing I had something more to offer than a chalky piece of chocolate and a boiled cup of rainwater. It's not even like I had my position on the baseball team to impress her with. The popularity that had kept my Friday nights busy back home were useless out here.

I made my way down the hall and stopped at the door to my room, wavering between going in or turning around and finding Keith and Evan, keeping them company as opposed to trying to figure Meredith out. Jesus Christ, Jake. Grow a pair, I grumbled to myself before I pushed off the wall and took those two hesitant steps into my room.

It was dark, the lantern turned down so low that it barely flickered. I found her asleep in the corner, still dressed in one of my old sweatshirts, her fingers barely peeking out from beneath the long cuffs. She'd taken the extra quilts Evan had left in here and made a bed, stacked three on the floor then sandwiched herself between them.

Smiling, I crouched down next to her and placed the half-eaten candy bar next to her on the floor. It was the first time I'd seen her stretched out, her hands resting underneath her cheek, not wrapped protectively around her knees. Unable to help myself, I carefully pushed the hair back from her face, stared down at her as she lay there sleeping, totally at peace. "I won't let them hurt you again," I muttered into her hair, appreciating the fact that for just one moment, I could be close to her without making her want to run.

I was exhausted, the adrenaline of the past few days finally bottoming out. I fell backwards onto my mattress, barely managed to get my shoes off before my eyes drew closed and the precious memories that only dared to show themselves at night began to filter in. I couldn't help but wonder what Meredith would've thought of me back then, whether she would've chosen to be part of my life had she any other alternative.

The mattress dipped, and I rolled onto my back, stunned to find myself looking straight into her eyes. "I'm not a mole," she whispered. "I didn't have anything to do with them taking your stuff."

"I know," I said, wanting nothing more than to wrap my arm around her, pretend we were a normal couple, in a normal place. But we weren't. We were stuck sixty-feet below the earth's surface on a rotten mattress, waiting to gut whoever dropped down that shaft.