Through The Fire

Chapter Three

There are no busy roads for at least a couple of miles from where we are. We don't have any food, and to make matters worse, Ace has no idea where we would find a clean, working vehicle to go into town with. Surely there isn't one abandoned in the middle of nowhere with the features we need.

I'm impatient to see if my dad is fine, I can't just sit here doing nothing. I start walking back and forth, raising a lot of dust from the ground as I pass. My shoes and the too-long legs of my jeans soon gets filthy.

Ace sits on a boulder all afternoon, pensive.

Looking at him makes me angry. I know he's thinking of a way to get to the city, but I also know he's lingering as long as possible not to go, despite the fact that I've given him valid reasons and told him my need to get back to the city was not a request.

On the other hand, though, I like to observe him. His elbow is resting on his knee and his hand is holding his angular chin. His gaze is restless and absent, directed towards some boulders for hours now. He raises it only when he senses my stare on him, but then immediately lowers it again. I think he's getting annoyed by the fact that I'm going back and forth without stopping. It makes him nervous and prevents him from thinking clearly.

The evening arrives quickly.

"We'll go into town tomorrow," Ace says, getting up from the rock, stretching his arms, legs, and back.

I was angry before, but these words worsen my mood. "You're doing this on purpose aren't you! I only asked you for one damn favor. My dad could be dead and you keep putting it off." I grab the sleeping bag from the car and head off into the woods without another word, I'm more irate at myself than him, but I take out my anger on the Zombie.

I lay the bag on the ground and sulkily get inside.

Ace doesn't follow me, or so I think as I don't hear his footsteps behind me. He obviously can be very quiet because I find him, or well I find his feet, in front of my face.

I look up and see that in his hand he holds two packages of spicy snacks. I don't know where he got them, but I'm hungry and thirsty. I haven't eaten anything in two days. Even though I'm used to it, the hunger pangs are kicking in now, both from stress and fear.

Half getting out of my makeshift bed, I grab the snacks, abruptly taking the packs out of Ace's hands.

He goes to sit on the ground, away from me, his back leaning against a tree. I don't ask him if he wants any. Zombies don't need human food, not to survive. I don't even know why he has these snacks with him, but I don't dwell on that question much because I'm glad he has them.

I open one and start eating. These soft, old croutons may be the crappiest food in the world, but right now they taste the best to me. I savor each bite, chewing slowly so as not to miss anything.

I pretend not to notice, but Ace is watching me, indifferently, but he's doing it. He follows my every movement with his eyes, but he does it distractedly. It's as if, by fixing his gaze on me, he can concentrate on something important, something that needs his total attention. This makes me think of something important, like, why he doesn't want to go to the city? The real reason must be beyond the fact that Atlanta is crawling with zombies, it must be something else, but I don't have the courage to ask him, given the tension between us. I continue to eat in silence.

When I finish, I wrap myself inside the sleeping bag and close my eyes. Luckily the wind from the night before is gone now and I don't need Ace to keep me warm.

Even though we are close, I feel an infinite distance between us.

I decide not to think about it, and fall asleep in a dreamless sleep.