Silo

Chapter 35

It took me longer than expected to pack. We weren’t ever coming back to this silo or what was left of this town; we were heading home…or at least to what was left of it. Whatever we took would either weigh us down or keep us alive, and because of that, every single thing--from the extra box of shotgun shells to the vinyl records I found the first day we moved in--suddenly took on a strange sense of importance.

Meredith was asleep by the time I made it back to my room, what few belongings she had folded on top of my pack. She was curled into an old t-shirt of mine and stretched out on the floor next to my bed. I stood there and watched her for a minute. Any other night, she would’ve been shivering, but I’d opened the ventilation shafts and lit a massive blaze in the half-barrel a few hours ago. It may have been a little over 30 degrees outside, but it felt like a sauna down here.

I sat down on the edge of my bed, kicked my shoes off, and stretched out.  Keith was keeping watch down the hall halfway between the ventilation shaft and the closet we’d stuffed Tyler in. We’d sent Evan to bed and told him to rest his brain; we needed him alert to guide our way. I doubted he was asleep; the three of us were too keyed up to even consider shutting down.

Keith and I had talked out every possible scenario and came to the same very terrifying realization that we were walking out of here blind, that in fact, Tyler may be the least of our concerns. What little interaction we’d had with the outside world hadn’t been good, and once we got home—if we got home—who knew what we’d find. Hell, we might manage to survive Tyler only to find ourselves in an even bigger pile of shit.

Meredith mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over, her hand brushing across my thigh. I don’t know what she was dreaming, but it must’ve been good. The smile on her face was gentle and relaxed, free of the guarded caution I’d become accustomed to seeing from her.

“Meredtih,” I whispered as I brushed the back of my hand across her cheek. She stirred, swatted at my hand, and rolled away from my touch. It was an instinctual move, one she probably hadn’t even known she was making, but it stung nonetheless.

I pulled the quilt off my bed, placed my pillow on the floor, and slid down next to Meredith. The room was brighter than usual, the dying embers from the fire casting a glow across the chipped ceiling. I counted every one of those damn cracks, committing them to memory while avoiding her. Twice I moved to get up, to crawl back onto my stained mattress and wait out the night. And twice I settled back down next to her, unwilling to give into my fears.

“Meredith,” I whispered again. Reaching out, I put my hand beneath her head, tucking her sleeping body into my shoulder. She snuggled in for the briefest of moments, her hand resting on my chest before her eyes flew open and she shoved me away.

I held her tight, waiting for the haze of sleep to lift and for her to realize it was only me. It lifted alright, leaving behind a very angry, very strong and struggling Merry.

I should’ve let her go. I knew better to approach her this way but tonight, with the threat of the unknown spiraling down on me, I didn’t want to sit in silence alone with my dark thoughts.

“Wait,” I said and she paused, her hands momentarily stilling beneath mine. “That’s not what I want from you. Not even close.”

“Then let me go,” she said.

I eased up my grip and she scooted away. Her eyes darted around the room, and I knew exactly what she was looking for—her knife. “Keith has it,” I said as I reached under my mattress and pulled out the three inch blade I always slept with. “He wanted to sharpen it before we left, but you can have this one if it makes you feel better."

She shook her head, a brief flash of remorse floating across her face. I put the knife down next to her so she’d have quick access to it...maybe feel a little safer.

“We’re leaving in a few hours. Evan thinks we need to put a good day’s time between us and Tyler.” 

Meredith nodded, her gaze shifting from the knife to my quilt I'd laid out on the floor next to hers. Slowly, her eyes softened as her mind processed through my real intentions.

“I just wanted to sleep here. Just sleep.”  I should’ve gotten up, should’ve hauled my ass back onto my own mattress, but I didn’t. Instead, I eased back down onto my pillow, hoping…praying that just this one time, she’d trust me enough to do the same.

The last of the embers cracked in the barrel, the barren walls taking on a shadowy warmth. I’d spent ten months looking at these damned walls and hated every inch of them. Only now, when I was set to leave them for good, did I appreciate their safety.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen tomorrow. I don’t know who or what we’re going to find in the next few days,” I said, knowing full well that this may be the last night I had a warm place to sleep and two buddies covering my back. It may very well be the last night I saw her…or any of us alive. “I just want to hold you, Meredith, just once before we leave.”

Meredith eased toward me, folding her legs beneath her as she reached for the quilt she’d tossed aside in her panic. “I’m sorry.” 

I held my hand up, stopping her before she went any further. I didn’t want an apology, and she didn’t owe me anything. All I’d wanted was to be close to her before we walked out of this silo and into a future that none of us could foresee.