Silo

Chapter 41

Katie crumpled when she saw me, her knees giving way to the shock. I knew how she felt; I myself was reaching out for someone to steady me. Meredith caught my hand and squeezed it gently, reminding me that I was alive, that who I was seeing was real.

My sister didn't have the same luck. She was nearly to the floor when Keith caught her and guided her shaking body into his. Evan's sister was standing next to her, Betsy's eyes glued on her brother, the most amazing smile lighting up her face. I nodded at Keith, suddenly grateful that I'd discovered him burning the letters to her, knew how much he cared for her.

"What . . . how . . . where?" One word questions flew out of Katie's mouth. Not a single one made sense, but I knew exactly what she meant.

Keith guided her to that same sofa Evan and I had molded our asses to for years and sat her down. Hooking the strap of his pack with his foot, he dragged it over, rifled through it until he found a bottle of water. Katie shook her head when he offered it to her, but he just uncapped the lid and lifted it to her mouth.

"He's alive," Katie choked out. "You're alive."

"We are," I said, scanning the cramped space for any sign of our parents. "What happened? Where's Mom and Dad?"

I'd seen a lot in the past months, much more than I ever imagined I'd be able to handle, but none of it compared to the way Katie's face changed in that moment.

"They're not with you?" She choked out, and I realized my assumption that they'd made it back before the storm, was wrong. Shit, they'd left the field two hours before the team boarded the bus; I'd always figured they'd made it home, at least had the chance to ride out the storm in Redwood. I shook my head, wondering if they were still traveling the same broken, country roads we were when the storm hit, if they'd found someplace safe to hide or if they were . . .

"They left before the team, had about a two hour head start on us," I said, not bothering to voice the obvious. The championship game had ended at five, the parents of or my teammates . . . my parents had all left a few minutes later. If they hadn't made it home yet, then they probably never would.

She nodded her head, her lip trembling as she processed through the news. "They could still be alive, though right? I mean, you guys made it."

"Sure, maybe," Keith said, refusing to pull away what little hope she had. I admired him for that, was grateful that after all we'd been through, he still understood the simple value of hope.

"Tyler?" she whispered, her eyes brightening. "Where's Tyler?"

Now that was a damn good question, one I had no clue how to answer. Hopefully he was right where we left him, bound and gagged and nursing a few broken bones. More likely he was circling the woods, desperately looking for the tracks we'd tried so hard to cover.

Keith looked at me, and I nodded, giving him permission to weave whatever tale he wanted. This kid who had once been no more than a casual annoyance was now one of my best friends, risked his life more times than I cared to remember to keep us all safe. There was nobody I'd rather have pick up the pieces of my sister's shattered world than him.

"He's gone, Katie. Tyler's gone." What Keith said was the truth. The Tyler we knew, the Tyler she loved was dead, replaced by somebody . . . something unrecognizable.

They say knowing the truth, no matter how bitter, brings closure; that it is the uncertainty of not knowing that makes you crazy. Maybe they were right, but watching my sister bury herself in Keith's arms and sob as she gave up the last sliver of hope she had, I couldn't help but disagree. Perhaps not knowing is what keeps us going.

Betsy just shook her head, digging herself further into Evan's shoulder.

"Is anybody alive . . . I mean, it can't just be you left in the entire town," Evan said, his methodical brain completely at a loss.

"Sure," Mr. Johnson said. "There are a few scattered here and there, but they aren't the way you remember them, son. Living like this does strange things to people. Bad things."

I knew exactly what he meant, had seen it firsthand with Tyler. "We ran into a group of three men about forty miles out, armed and not looking too friendly. They from here?" I asked.

Mr. Johnson shrugged. "Doubt it, but trust me Jake, if they are, you're better off keeping your distance." 

"What about my Mom," Keith asked. She hadn't been with the other parents at the game, had stayed home, figured Keith's dad being there was good enough.

Mr. Johnson just shook his head, laid a consoling hand on Keith's shoulder "When you didn't come back, when your father didn't come back, your mother . . . well, losing both of you was too much for her."

Keith didn't so much as flinch at Mr. Johnson's words. I didn't expect him too. Shit . . . death and destruction had become our norm; it was life that caught us off guard.

I looked around that basement for the first time in a full year, realized that this was our new home. It was small and cramped, had no plumbing, and the only heat source was an empty half barrel and a metal, vent pipe Evan's dad had cut through the wall. There were beds for three, and there were seven of us now.

Katie was still on the couch with Keith. She'd stopped crying, was asking him questions about where we'd been and how we got home. Evan was talking with his sister and Dad. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it had something to do with the rope and belts Evan was unloading from his pack. I laughed when I saw a similar collection hanging on the wall. Guess that little trait ran in the family.

I glanced at the corner, my eyes pausing on the leather recliner Evan and I were always fighting over. I dropped my aching body into it. Reaching up, I grabbed Meredith's waist and pulled her down into my lap. She tucked her head under my chin, and I wrapped my arms around her.

"You all right?" She asked.

I smiled and leaned back, kicked out the foot of the chair. It still worked, and felt as good as I remembered. I wondered how many other families were alive, hidden behind steel doors, taking care of each other. I wondered if my parents, if Tyler's parents were among them.

"Welcome home," I said, for once not allowing myself to think one week, one day, one minute past the here and now. This tiny, cramped basement wasn't what I expected to find, in a way it was better. 

                                                                        THE END