Silo

Chapter 40

A quick glance down the street confirmed more of the same. Every house was missing window and doors, driveways cracked, the pavement scorched where street lights fell and fused with the pavement. There were no front lawns, no brick steps, and no neatly manicured hedges. Everything . . . everything was dead.

Evan reached his front door first, and I pushed him aside. If what I'd seen at my own house was any indication, then whoever was the first through that door needed to react first and think later? It needed to be either me or Keith.

"It's my house," Evan said, shoving me aside.

"And I didn't keep your sorry ass alive this long to have you die in your own living room," I replied. Evan laughed, no doubt thinking the same thing as me. Keith and I may have been quicker to react with violence when necessary, but it was Evan and his stupid obsession with order and routine that had kept us all alive.

"I got it," Keith said stepping in front of both of us. Pushing the already open door wider he stepped in, avoiding the smashed chandelier covering the floor. I was right behind him, Meredith sandwiched between me and Evan.

Relief was what I should've felt; pissed more accurately described it. Evan's house had been looted, the furniture overturned, the walls blackened where sconces once hung. What it lacked was the putrid smell of death, the layer of sludge that coated my floors, and the overwhelming feeling of despair. Why spare Evan's house? Why destroy every memory of my childhood and leave his intact?

"You want me to take a look around?" Keith asked, and I nodded, momentarily paralyzed.

Evan saw the confusion, the anger etched on my face, his words echoing my thoughts. "I don't get it, it's not . . ."

I waved him off, made my way through the living room to the back porch. The sliding glass doors were gone, a gaping hole where the deck once stood. At least that made sense. I could see someone taking the wood to burn, but the destruction at my house . . . that was just senseless.

There was no point standing here, debating the obvious. The quicker we got through Evan's and Keith's houses, the sooner we could head back to the silo. I turned around, was making my way back to the front door when my foot kicked something. I followed the rattling can a few yards to where it stopped, right at the base of Meredith's feet. She bent down and picked it up, brought the can to her nose before she swiped the inside with her finger.

"Looks like somebody's here," she whispered as she handed me the can, the smell of cherry pie filling too sweet to be rotten. I did the same thing she did - brought the can to my nose before swiping my fingers across the sticky contents. They came back red and a quick taste confirmed what I feared - the can had been opened recently.

"Stay close," I said, reaching behind me for her hand. Luckily Evan's house was small, a three bedroom ranch with a center hallway that gave a clean view of every room. I didn't have time to go hunting for Evan or Keith and calling out their names was clearly dangerous.

I found them in the kitchen searching through bare cupboards and the pantry closet for anything of use. Whistling to get their attention, I called them over and gave Keith the can, his mind immediately syncing with mine.

"Shit," he mumbled, pulling his shotgun of his shoulder. "You see them?"

I shook my head, "How about you?"

"Hell no, and we already cleared the first floor."

"The basement," Evan said, and we all swung our heads in that direction, none of us looking forward to that short trip. Getting down there wasn't the problem, getting back up was. There were no windows or bulkhead doors. There was only one way back up, and if we got cornered, we'd be screwed.