Silo

Chapter 37

The first five miles were the worst. Keith insisted we take as many of their weapons as we could, making our packs nearly unmanageable...slowing us down. I kept looking over my shoulder, wondering if and when Tyler was going to catch up to us. 

Keith assured me Tyler wouldn't, that according to the schedule Meredith had laid out, those kids wouldn't find him for another six or seven hours. And when they did, odds were good Tyler had sustained enough injuries at Keith's hands to slow him down, maybe even stop him from trying to find us altogether.  

My mind replayed the way Tyler's head had bounced off the concrete floor of their silo when I dropped him. Besides the concussion he would wake up with, I was almost positive I'd heard a snapping sound when Keith jerked his arms behind his back to tie him up. And a broken arm wasn't exactly the easiest thing to recover from out here. Hopefully when the other six did stumble across Tyler's battered body, they'd get the message loud and clear - come after us and next time, we won't let him...or any of you live.  

"You're worrying," Evan said as he shifted the weight of his pack so he could dig out the map Meredith had drawn for him. "You heard Meredith, those kids won't come looking for us for hours and we've got a good head start." 

"Besides," Keith chimed in, "the first place Tyler's gonna go is back our old silo." 

They were right; I knew they were. I'd just feel better...safer with a day's stretch behind us. 

I rubbed my frozen hands together, knocking a build-up of slush off the top of my boots. It would've been quicker to stick to the roads, but if Tyler was any indication of what had become of society, then I'd easily take the extra day's walk over being noticed. We had to keep moving, keep our core body temperatures up and our minds clear and focused. But the timber in some areas was so thick it was nearly impossible to navigate. I could already see the fatigue etched on Meredith's face, and we weren't even a third of the way into our trip. 

We only got three hours of sleep that first night. The ground was still covered in wet slush, and there was no safe place to seek shelter. Evan did his best. He took a bunch of branches and lashed them together with his rope, then slung a quilt over that A-frame structure and placed another on the ground. It kept us dry, but it sure as hell didn't keep us warm. 

I watched Meredith shiver for most the night and stacked every extra article of clothing I could around her. I was amazed she could sleep, that her mind could still shut down while her body shook. Leaning down, I placed my hand on her cheek, its iciness making me want to turn around and haul her shivering body back to our silo where it was warm. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have made this trek in the first place, would have resigned myself to a fate no better than Tyler's.  

I woke her up at a little past midnight and made her walk around and get the blood flowing to her feet again. I could tell it hurt, saw her fighting back tears as her toes thawed and the pain became unbearable. Eventually she gave into the pain, and her legs crumbling beneath her. I caught her and carried her back to our make-shift tent, took my own coat off and wrapped it around her shoulders. 

"We either got to keep moving or start a fire," I said to Evan.  

"It's too dark to make much headway," he replied. 

He was right. With the clouds blanketing the stars, he'd have a hard time telling which direction to go. "Fire then," I said, leaving Merry in the shadows as I went to gather wood. 

The small fire Evan built staved off the chill, but none of us got any sleep. The inevitable plume of smoke the wet wood sent up had us all on edge, jumping at every sound. Midway through our second day, we stumbled across some fresh tracks winding between the trees. Never a good sign.