I spent those days in relative quiet. Bert was a man of very few words, and most attempts at real conversations ended up in silence. He sat on the couch often, reading books or solving a crossword puzzle.
I tried many times to sneak over to Ash’s room. He was in a room connected to the second bathroom, so there was literally no reason for him to come out. Bert went in, disappeared in there for hours. He went in with food and came out with empty trays. Every time I tried to sneak in, Bert appeared out of nowhere, reminding me that he wasn’t ready, that seeing me would overexcite him.
I spent most of my time outside. Bert informed me that we were in Colorado on the outskirts of Mesa Verde, and it was beautiful. There was forest everywhere. Everything was so green. Bert had said it was due to the recent rains that I had missed during my time underground. There were a few books in the house, and I lost myself in a beat up copy of The Sound and the Fury, sitting in the bed of Bert’s truck.
I kept thinking of everything that had happened since I had left New York. It felt like that life was a dream. I barely remembered wearing my St. Joseph’s uniform, or even my cheerleading uniform. My memories of planning school dances, going on walks with Bandit, eating hot dogs with my dad at baseball games and hanging out with Madison were all a blur. It felt like a lifetime ago, and I was afraid of losing them.
I missed them all. I missed them so much; it physically hurt. My dreams weren’t nightmares anymore, but they still left me sad and breathless. While I was busy worrying about Ash in the next room, I kept forgetting that there were people that weren’t here anymore. I kept thinking of all the people we had lost and how I had almost lost him too. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take any more loss than I already had. I had lost my parents, my best friend, my dog. Everything and everyone I knew was gone. All that was left was Sekhmet and the Awakened.
The memory of Razi Cylon filled my every thought. She was gone, shot in the throat, left to die on the warm concrete of the Colorado highway. But every memory of that place was embedded in my mind, in my very soul. She had taken every bit of self-respect I’d had and thrown it away. I’d been poked and prodded and inspected like a sample under a microscope. I was watched constantly, and I often woke up breathless, afraid that she was still here, waiting for me.
Bert was quiet and patient. I would hear him walk by the door of my room during the night and pause by my door. I wasn’t sure what he was listening for, but it felt good to know that he was there and that I wasn’t alone.
On the third day at Bert’s house, I woke up later than normal, the sun streaming through the blinds and casting shadows over the bed. I yawned, and dragged myself out of bed, wondering if I could just stay in this house forever. In the shower, I spent way too much time washing my hair and making sure my legs were silky smooth again.
Bert was already sitting at the kitchen table with a jug of orange juice and a couple empty glasses. “Stove,” he said, as I came in. I rolled my eyes and walked over, pleased to see that there was a pan of eggs and another pan of potatoes sitting there. My stomach gurgled happily, and I piled some on a plate. I slid into a seat across from him and poured myself a glass. I had barely lifted my fork to my mouth when he spoke.
“He’s doing well. He’s weak, but he’s doing well. He’s very strong,” Bert said, not looking up from his book. “But you can see him.”
“What?” I said, disbelieving. “I can see him?” He nodded, and I started to stand up.
“After breakfast, Zoey,” he sighed, and I sat back down.
I scarfed down my breakfast, shoving the food in my mouth and practically choking on the orange juice as I gulped it down. I took my plate, fork and glass to the sink and rinsed them quickly before turning back to him. I smiled wide. “Can I see him now?”
“Yes. You can see him now.”
My smile grew wider, more genuine, and I practically sprinted down the hallway to his room. I paused right before the door. I took two deep breaths and reached for the doorknob.
I opened the door slowly, the doorknob squeaking as I turned it. I peeked around the door and found Ash sitting up in bed, a book in his lap. He was wearing a clean white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, his bare feet out in front of him. His hair was damp. I could see the bandage through his shirt, and I felt a wave of sorrow sweep through me. I backed up, going to close the door, when it screeched loudly. I winced at the sound.
Ash’s eyes lifted and met mine, and a wide smile spread across his face. It was so different though; there was shyness to it that hadn’t been there before. “Hey,” he said, softly, closing the book and putting it to the side.
“Hi,” I whispered back. “I just wanted to check to see if you were okay. I’ll let you rest.”