When I do make it home, just as dark falls and the screeching starts up in the distance - the corpses do that at night - I'm subjected to the silent treatment. They think they're punishing me, but honestly, it feels like a favour. It's been a long fucking day, and I don't want the argument.
I cook chicken and vegetables, from frozen packets, of course. My mind is elsewhere as I complete the dull task, focused almost entirely on the bus and the men and the work left to do. Another couple of days and I can send them on their way. It won't be enough to guarantee their safety, but it will improve their quality of life.
We eat together in the living room (this house doesn't have a dining room), plates balanced in our laps. They talk amongst themselves, but no conversation is aimed my way. No matter, because my mind is occupied.
It's not as if I'm giving these men special treatment. I've done this for plenty of survivors. Packed them up, found them cars, found them supplies, given them a direction to drive in. The difference here is the bus. They've already got a vehicle fit to live in. It just needs some modifications, and I'm good at that. These days, I'm a DIY extraordinaire.
Plus, if they survive, the world will be in need of artists. One day, when things are better, the world might long for music again. I can't imagine many pampered, entitled celebrities have made it. If I save them, I save a piece of the future and the past.
So the next morning I'm up, showered and dressed early.
It's strange; I'm unwilling to name this... Eagerness. I'm not looking forward to seeing them. I just want the burden of this obligation over with.
When I pull up to the bottom of the hill, I find that I'm expected. Frank and Gerard are goofing around at the top of it, shoving and pushing and laughing at each other. They stop when the car approaches, and Gerard is already waving.
He rushes down the hill to greet me.
"Hey," He says breathlessly when I roll down my window. He's grinning. "We were waiting for you." I'm almost... Touched by the expectation. "There's a little dirt path if you circle round this hill. You can park next to the bus then, and we don't have to struggle up and down."
"Amazing," I nod, and do as I'm told.
When I shut off the engine, my door is opened for me. I step out, eyes narrowed at Frank.
He shrugs innocently, and gives me a pleasant grin. "My mom's lessons."
I don't retort, because it's nice to be welcomed, and there's no need to ruin the atmosphere. Mark, Alissa and Natalie have never been so happy at my return; they're always angry and scornful. My arrival has never been something to celebrate.
Pandora rushes out of the car too, and when Frank coos and reaches for her, she only snaps at him once. After that, she rolls onto her back and shows him her pink belly. Grinning brightly, he sits on his knees and scrubs at her.
"What's the plan for today, then?" Frank asks, and turns his dark eyes my way.
I start and twist away, annoyed at being caught staring. Gerard trails me to the boot of the car, and his eyebrows climb his forehead when I pull it open.
"Okay..." He shoots me a look that assures me I'm crazy. "And where are you putting that?"
Frank joins us, and he throws me the same look. "We already figured out there are no outlets under the bus."
"I'm going to make one before that food defrosts." I assure them, and wave a hand to the new boxes, stuffed behind the silver freezer that's strapped inside the car.
Frank and Gerard exchange a look, but this one is easy to comprehend. It's a silent bet that I'm wrong and that failure is inevitable.
It's really not that complicated; it's a simple case of drilling a hole through the floor of the kitchen. I run an extension lead through the hole, attach it to a plug socket, tape it down, and plug in the freezer. The freezer is a bitch to haul, and it takes Frank, Ray and myself to do it, but we wedge it inside. It's just squat enough that it fits, though it does scrape the ceiling of the compartment, but that's a good thing. At least it won't move around much. Still, I guard against this possibility too using harnesses that I nail to the walls. Secured in place and snug in it's new home, I fill it with the food I've brought.
"Lucky that you picked one that opened at the side and not at the top." Gerard says, clapping me on the back.
"It wasn't an accident," I reply, "I chose that one specifically."
"Well," says Ray, nodding appreciatively, "Lucky then that you drilled in the right place and ended up in the kitchen."
I'm already shaking my head, frowning at their assumptions. "Also no accident. I measured the space."
Frank's wiping sweat off his forehead, chuckling quietly. "Of course she did."
I send him a grimace, because his tone isn't impressed, it's just unsurprised. "I can't stress enough the convenience of a freezer and frozen food. The power grid is still up in many areas because there's less people to use that electricity. When the outbreak happened, plenty of supermarkets, shops and suppliers never bothered to turn off the lights. That means food is still frozen, and it's still sometimes good to eat. Meat, vegetables, fruit, deserts. It's all still there."
"Is this a good time to tell you that I'm a vegetarian?" Frank asks, voice overly innocent.
My glare is murderous. "What is it with you idiots and your habit of leaving it until the last possible moment to tell me important information?"
He throws up his hands, mouth open indignantly. "It's not like I knew you were bringing more food!"
"You'll need whole different sources of protein!" I snarl, "Is there anything else you need to tell me?"
"No!" He snaps.
We glower at each other for a moment, distaste shining clearly on both our faces. Gerard coughs, and I'm distracted.
"Let's break."
"I don't need a break, I've only just started." I roll my eyes, and move back towards the car.
Gerard gets in my way, frowning. "You and Frank worked all day yesterday with barely a moment to breathe. You didn't eat properly. You're insisting we take better care of ourselves, but you're not setting a good example."
He squirms under my scrutiny, uncertain as to how I will take his little speech and his demand. Honestly, it sounds perfectly reasonable. But I let him sweat a moment more.
"Okay." I say finally, trying not to spit it through gritted teeth.
Gerard beams, ecstatic that he has managed to persuade me. The four of us trudge inside, and find Mike in the kitchen.
"This is decent handiwork." Mike nods, and he's inspecting the hole I've drilled and the wire taped down.
"Thank you."
Gerard makes sandwiches for everyone, and we linger mostly in silence as he works. I stand at a counter, arms crossed, Pandora leaning against my hip.
"Has she ever attacked anyone?" Ray asks. His hair is tied back, and he's perched on the counter opposite me, legs crossed. Frank is sitting on the floor beneath him, back against the cupboard. It doesn't feel cramped, just pressed in close. They're obviously used to the proximity. I'm not.
"Only on my orders." I shrug, and tug at her ears. She yips and pants happily.
Ray looks only a little disturbed by the answer.
"You don't, like..." Ray purses his lips and seems to choose his words carefully. "You don't go out of your way to hurt people, do you?"
I tilt my head. "Why would you assume that?"
Everyone seems to tense. Gerard fumbles the knife he's using to cut the sandwiches into triangles.
"You just seem..." Ray shrugs, awkward and unable to meet my eyes. "You seem so..."
"Frightening?" Frank provides, but he's fighting a smile. "Hostile?"
I want to be angry, I want to be bitter about this diagnoses of my character. But I find only that their judgement exhausts me. "I wasn't always this way."
Ray seems taken aback. Frank's smile dies, and guilt sweeps immediately into it's place. He looks down at his hands, fiddles with his fingers.
"I'm not a deranged monster." I say it firmly, for all of them to hear. "I'm not a wild animal, incapable of reason. I'm not going to lash out randomly, or attack you for the fun of it."
"We know that," Gerard says insistently.
"No, you don't." I sigh, "Because I don't exactly reassure anyone that I'm not like that."
"So why act like it?" Frank challenges. His gaze is unafraid and searching. "Why maintain this charade of nastiness?"
Nasty? Is that how I come across? Is that what I've morphed into? A mean-spirited and hateful person? No one ever regarded me as that before.
My face must look stunned, because Frank seems to regret his question. He opens his mouth, so does Gerard, but I beat them both to it.
"I'm whatever I need to be." I say, and there is a hard, cold edge to my voice. "I would love to be nice, and kind, and full of... Gentleness. But I can't. I can't because the world we live in now won't allow it. It's been crushed out of me. Perhaps I have become something monstrous, or nasty, but... It wasn't on purpose. It was necessary."
"We haven't changed." Frank says earnestly. "We didn't force ourselves to become something we weren't."
"And how did that go for you?" I retort, expression scornful. "You burrowed into this bus. You hid away. You starved."
Frank and I stare at each other, opposite ends of a difficult perspective. I understand what he's saying, but I don't agree. I think he understands what I'm saying, but he doesn't agree either. The fact is... I have survived. I have done awful things to achieve that, but I've done it. They... They are in the process of dying. Or were, two days ago.
They have kept those important pieces of themselves, which I admire. They have kept the fundamentals, the principals. None of them have been twisted or changed by this experience, by this new, horrific reality. That, in itself, is an achievement. But they have also wasted away. They have hid and cowered and fallen into denial.
I'm not built for that. I'm not built to surrender like that.
In this new world, I have found a way to thrive. Maybe that says something awful about me.
"What have you been doing all this time, anyway?" I ask, because the atmosphere feels like it's pressing hard on my throat.
They all relax. Mike passes Gerard a bottle of mayonnaise, and he lets it loose on our sandwiches.
"I've been drawing." Gerard sends me a bashful smile. "For a comic book series."
"Like superheroes and stuff?" I ask politely.
"Something like that." He chuckles.
"The rest of us find things to do." Ray shrugs, and scratches at his shin. "We started working on a record, but..." He laughs and sends a look round at his friends. "It started to drive us crazy. There was no room to breathe, nowhere to go when it pissed us off. We stopped after a while."
"Has it been hell living on top of one another?" I can only imagine what that's been like. This is the one thing that makes me really sympathise with them.
The looks on their faces in response to my question has me tipping my head back to laugh. It's a proper laugh, and they all seem surprised by the sound. Pandora barks in response, joining in with the noise. I hush her, still grinning.
"So the answer is yes." I confirm.
Gerard's smiling too. "It's been okay. Necessary, you know? We spread out as best we can. Mikey often takes the kitchen, I'll take the living room, Ray will take the bedroom."
"Frank gets the roof?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Nah," Ray leans down to ruffle Frank's mop of dark hair, "He's small enough to pop in the bathroom."
Frank, face outraged, reaches up to smack Ray's hands away. The four of them laugh.
"We rotate often, swapping the spaces between us." Gerard continues, and passes out the sandwiches he's made.
"Thank you." I murmur as I take mine.
"You're welcome," he says easily, "And we have a rule that if someone is in their bunk and the curtain is pulled across, we leave them alone."
I don't ask any follow up questions on bunk privacy, because I can only imagine the awkward situations that have passed between the four of them.
"It's not hard to hang out together," Ray says fondly, "We don't avoid each other, or anything like that. But it's easier to breathe when you spend some time alone."
I nod, understanding this completely.
"And, you know," Gerard says around a mouthful of bread, "We've always been really close. There's a lot of love between us, for sure. So we know how to exist around one another, and how to talk to each other. We're careful not to piss each other off, especially in such close quarters."
They're so... Considerate.
I know for a fact that if I'd spent all this time inside with my group, someone would have ended up dead. Mark and Alissa, for sure, would have been in danger of being thrown out for the corpses to feast on. If I hadn't had the option of walking away, I'd have been too tempted to punch them.
"What about your group?" Frank asks, and he's wiping mayonnaise off his chin.
"What about them?" I frown. I feed the crusts of my bread to Pandora, who snaps them up and wolfs them down.
"Here, I set this aside for her." Gerard rushes over and offers a handful of ham slices. Pandora doesn't even let him pass them over to me, she eats them right out of Gerard's palms. He winces every time her jaws snap, but she never nicks his skin.
"Well," Frank brushes the crumbs off his jeans, "You're in a house, I guess?"
I nod, "Nothing as convenient as this." I wave a hand at the room, encompassing the bus. "I pick a house, prepare it, we move in. We live there for a few weeks, never more than a month or two, and then we pack up again."
"Why the moving?" Ray frowns. "I know you mentioned that before, but you never explained."
"When I spoke to my uncle on the day everything happened, he said that the longer you stay in a place, the easier it is for the corpses to sniff you out. I suppose it's something to do with the warmth of human bodies, or the potency of a scent. I don't know the science, but he was right. We've been attacked at home a few times, so I move us on to avoid that happening."
They look unsettled by the information.
"I wonder why they've not found us." Gerard frowns.
My snort is crude. "But they have."
Gerard tilts his head. "They never approach the bus."
"I killed three corpses yesterday that were running straight towards us." I disagree, "Do you ever have the skylight open?"
"Only when we're cooking." Mike says, lips pinched.
"Do you find that they come out into the car park when that happens? Loiter around?"
My question gives them all pause, and they glance between each other as they think.
"It might have happened," Frank's tone is defensive again. "Sometimes."
"Sometimes." I snort, mocking him. "When the door is open, like it was yesterday, they came running. They linger after the skylight has been open because your stink will be like a homing beacon. By the time they wander near, you would have often closed it. They know humans are around, but when the bus is locked up it'll contain your scent."
"You can't know that." Frank rolls his eyes, "You enjoy scaring people."
My tone becomes frosty. "You're a fucking idiot if you think I'm saying this for the fun of it."
Frank bristles and his face twists, ready to argue immediately. I speak over him.
"Believe me, don't believe me." I sneer, "It's not like I've been out there every day for ten months. Whatever, I guess. But I'll warn you anyway; those fucking things know that there are people here. They know and they're looking. That's probably why they're wandering around that mall."
"They're not that smart." Frank snaps, irritated.
"They might have lost their human consciousness," I agree, nodding, "But they've kept their animal instincts."
Frank doesn't have a retort for that.
***
The second task on my list is fixing the engine.
Frank is my assistant again, despite the frosty air between us. He sits on the stairs, keeping watch with Pandora. I keep my head buried in the engine, tinkering with its innards. I brought my toolkit and the spare parts, now all I need is patience.
The work is fiddly and troublesome, but I don't ask for help. I doubt Frank knows the difference between a ratchet and a torque wrench, so I decide I'm saving myself time by struggling through on my own.
"Okay, give it a try!" I call after an hour of swearing, and Frank rushes to do as he's told.
The engine splutters, roars, whines, and shudders into the land of the living. Once it has woken, it hums, vibrating loudly. Frank gives a whoop and pounds down the stairs, emerging into the afternoon sun with an elated smile.
"You're a genius!" He announces, and he seems finally impressed with me.
"You say that like I wasn't already aware of the fact." I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling too.
More shouts, and Gerard, Mikey and Ray rush out into the air. They're crowing and howling and whistling, making far too much noise. Gerard wastes no time; he sweeps me up into a hug and spins me round in a tight circle, laughing all the while.
"You fucking did it!" He shouts in my ear.
He drops me, and Ray and Mikey come in close to pat me on the back. No hugs from anyone else, of course, but I'm appreciated for my effort.
"Time to go inside for a while." I grouch, but I'm losing the fight against my smile. "All this noise, something would have heard that."
They're still chattering at me, impressed and overjoyed with my accomplishment. They're easy to herd though, and I get them inside after a minute. Frank is the last in, having gathered up my tools while I was distracted. He turns towards me, my toolkit swinging from his fingertips, and offers up a smile. His lip ring only compliments the curve of his mouth.
"Thank you." I offer, and motion for the heavy bag.
"I've got it," he shakes his head, "Go on in."
I let him do me the favour; a small show of trust, of thanks. A tiny apology between us, for being so unfriendly.
He follows behind and locks the door, and we join everyone else in the living room. Their energy is infectious, their elation a physical presence.
"Any other jobs to do today, Nevaeh?" Gerard asks, and his eyes are bright.
"Well, there's more supplies in the car. Not food, but essentials. Blankets, matches, flashlights, batteries. That sort of stuff. Survival gear, basically. We'll have to organise it all properly, but it can wait for an hour. Just in case any corpses come running."
"Would you like to shower, in the meantime?" Gerard offers.
I glance down at myself. I suppose I am a mess. My jeans, shirt and arms are covered in grease and oil. I feel streaks of it on my face too. My hair is a nest of ratty snarls and sweat.
"That would be great. I've got spare clothes in the car," I nod, and turn back towards the door.
"No need to risk it," Frank says, "We've got plenty."
"I'm not here to waste your supplies." I protest.
He looks at me like I'm an idiot. "It's called a kindness, sweetheart. It's not a big deal."
Gerard ushers me through to the bedroom before an argument can blossom, and collects a bundle of clothes. I carry spare underwear in my backpack (just in case, always useful) so Gerard provides a pair of black jogging bottoms and a black shirt.
There's not room enough in the bathroom for Pandora, so I leave her outside the door.
The shower is only lukewarm, but it's better than nothing. I steal some shampoo and conditioner, and scrub down my grotty body.
Ten months ago, I was often described as chubby. If people felt mean, they'd call me 'big'. Now... My hip bones and ribs swell and push against my flesh. Where before I could sink my fingers into warm, soft, pliant skin, now I press down and feel the firm presence of muscle. My shoulders and thighs are thick with it. My cheekbones are sharp and my jaw is a harsh line. My round baby face is a thing of the past.
I'm stronger now. More capable, more durable. But I am... Lesser too, somehow. I wonder if the people who existed back then would recognise me now. I wonder what... What the people I've lost would think of me.
I change quickly and scrape a brush through the knotty wasteland of my hair. When it glides smoothly through the tresses, made pitch black by the water, I put the brush back and join the men in the living room.
They're gathered together, talking in low voices. I know they're talking about me, because they grow quiet when I appear.
Gerard and Mikey smile in response to my arrival, and Gerard jumps up to offer me a seat. I take the space next to Ray on one of the sofas, Mikey and Frank sit opposite, and Gerard sits at one of the small tables. Pandora lays at my feet.
"We were wondering if you wanted to stay for dinner, Nevaeh." Gerard says, voice apprehensive but hopeful.
I tilt my head, "I have to be home before dark."
"We'll eat early." Mikey replies.
I frown, "I have to cook for everyone else."
Frank grunts, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm sure you've trained them well enough to cope for one meal."
My eyes narrow, suspicion mottling in my chest. "Why do you want me here?"
Gerard's eyes flare wide, shocked. "Why wouldn't we? You've done so much for us in such a short time, it shouldn't be strange that we want to thank you."
This gives me pause. I blink.
"That, or we've concocted a plan to slip rohypnol into your meal." Frank quips.
"Frank!" Gerard and Ray exclaim, and Mikey smacks him in the chest. Frank dissolves into laughter, mostly at the look on my face, I think.
"You know what? Forget it," Gerard grumbles, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. "I understand if you don't want to spend time with people who clearly have horrendous manners."
He throws such a murderous look at Frank that I can't help but chuckle. Frank laughs too, delighted.
"No, I'll stay." I surprise myself by responding.
Gerard beams at the news, and even Frank looks pleased.
"We'll get started," Gerard says, jumping up. Mikey moves to help.
I think about following them as they leave to make sure Frank really was joking. But when I check, I find him watching me, amusement obvious. His gaze dares me to follow them, dares me to prove him wrong, dares me to trust them.
Taking a breath, I settle deeper into the sofa and refuse to move.
He laughs quietly to himself. Ray is glancing between the two of us, dark eyes judging.
"I'm starting to think you're both as strange as each other." He comments drily, and moves to one of the little tables. He occupies himself with a small console, thumbs whirling.
Mikey arrives again with a can of pepsi-max, which he hands over to me with a smile. He's got a bowl of water for Pandora too.
"What the fuck is this?" Frank demands, aghast. He's staring at Mike like he's a traitor. "You've never in your life delivered me a fucking drink."
Mikey shoots him a middle finger. "She's a guest, and you're an asshole."
The insult is delivered with amusement, and though Frank takes a moment to gape in horror, his face falls into a smile when Mikey turns away.
"You'll have to come back tomorrow," the words are such a change in direction that it takes me a moment to realise Frank is talking to me.
"What?"
He crosses his legs and motions for Pandora, who actually bounds over to him. "That's one of my favourite shirts. You'll have to bring it back tomorrow. I can't live without it."
I glance down, and figure out that it's band merchandise. The image registers quickly; The Misfits.
"I've seen them live." I announce, surprised. "Not long ago. Well, about a year before everything."
Frank's eyebrows rise. "They're from New Jersey, same as us."
"Small world." I say, plucking at the front of the shirt. "They played in this shitty club where you could catch at least seven diseases." Frank chuckles, "I got slammed into a speaker and a guy bit me."
"Bit you? Like with teeth?"
"With his actual teeth," I confirm, shaking my head. "He leaned down over my back and bit into my shoulder. He didn't draw blood or anything, but he definitely sucked at me."
"What did you do?" Frank grins.
"I elbowed him in the stomach and smacked him in the mouth."
Frank snorts with laughter, delighted with this response. Ray is chuckling. Pandora barks, just to add to the noise, and Frank scratches at her neck.
Dinner doesn't take long for the men to make, and it starts to smell good long before they finish. Mikey pops his head through the door to ask Frank to help, and though I stand to offer my services, Frank forcibly sits me back down with a hand on my shoulder.
Huffing at the gentle shove, I fall back into the sofa and watch the two leave.
"Are the rest of your group like you?" Ray asks when we're alone.
I frown, "How do you mean?"
"Well," he purses his lips, considers his words. He's got a thick layer of stubble on his chin. It'll be enough to call a beard soon. "Are they fighters?"
I tilt my head, think through his question.
"Not really. Natalie was always pretty eager to help where she could, but we ran into those men." I sigh, "Mark and Alissa... They let me do the heavy lifting. Mostly because I'm the best qualified, you know? It's not their fault they can't do the things I can."
"But they don't try to help?" Ray's put his console down. His stare is sombre.
"I've trained them a little." I wince, "In the end I considered it a waste of ammunition. Alissa got pretty good at throwing knives, Mark took an interest in first-aid. I taught all three of them to drive and to cook. But..." I shrug, "It's quicker and easier to do a lot by myself. There's no room for error, no situation where a mistake doesn't mean your life."
Ray's nodding, considering this. "You don't resent them for it?"
I know it would be nicer of me to deny it, but I have to be honest. "Sometimes. Not that I'd ever stop going out or looking after them. Never to that degree. But I look at their bodies with barely a scratch or a scar and I look at mine, and well..." My sigh is heavy. My forearms are displayed, and this is evidence enough of the changes. There's a mottled burn on my right forearm, pink and ugly. My left wrist has a barely healed jagged cut, scabbed over and still an angry red. My knuckles are scuffed and bruised.
Ray is looking too, picking at his lip.
"Are they good people though?" He asks, and I wonder why he cares so much. "Do you care about them?"
I spin up onto my knees and face the window, looking out towards the car park. It's an opportunity to hide my face and the thoughts stuck there.
"I do care about them." I tell him without turning back. "We were friends at school. Natalie is my best friend, and she means a lot to me. They're all difficult in their own ways, and I suppose I am too. Just like you guys. They do their best - their bests just look different to mine, I guess. I don't hate them for that, but it can be exhausting."
I'm not sure what Ray thinks of this analysis, because at that moment the rest of the guys arrive. Frank is carrying cutlery and a plate and has condiments tucked under his elbow. Mikey and Gerard follow close behind, and they're carrying two plates each.
"What're you looking at?" Frank asks, tilting his head.
"You have the skylight open?" I ask.
Gerard confirms it with a nod.
"Told you so." I jerk my chin at the window, and the four of them gather behind me, still holding plates. Gerard sucks in a sharp breath. Mikey curses. Ray and Frank have nothing to say.
The car park is full. Corpses twist and turn and open their mouths to screech. They're bloodied and battered, with missing limbs and savage injuries. They're not running, just milling about. They number around twenty, at least.
"Did you close the skylight?"
"Ten minutes ago, yeah." Mikey assures me.
"Lucky." I scoff, and turn away from the window. At my dismissal of the horde, the men seem to relax too. They back away from the window and take their seats. Gerard hands me a plate, Mikey hands Ray one. Frank passes around cutlery.
It's a decent meal; rice, salmon and vegetables, all soaked in soy sauce. Pandora even has a bowl of the leftover fish.
"So you think we should move on?" Ray asks as we eat. He's looking at me.
"Absolutely." I nod, "As soon as you're able."
"That depends on you, surely?" Mikey looks up from his plate, eyebrows raised behind his thick-rimmed glasses. "When do you think we'll be ready?"
I consider carefully, "I'll be finished by tomorrow night. One more big haul of supplies, and I think I'll have equipped you as best I can."
"Wait," Gerard is frowning, fork halfway to his mouth. "So tomorrow we're supposed to pack up and leave?"
"Yes." I frown, "What's keeping you on this stupid hill? I'll pick up a road map tomorrow and teach you how to read it. If you aim for smaller towns and villages, avoiding the cities, you'll be fine."
"So..." Gerard looks between the guys, anxiety clear in his face. He looks back at me. "Tomorrow you're going to say goodbye and we're not going to see you again?"
I'm taken aback by this, because I wasn't aware that he would want me around after my work was finished. Sure, he seems to like me well enough, but I assumed that was more to do with his politeness rather than my likeability.
"It won't exactly be easy to maintain lines of communication," I say, baffled. "It's not like there's a postal service."
Gerard doesn't find this funny, he just looks more panicked. "I don't want to communicate through the fucking post, I don't want to say goodbye at all."
I blink, still confused. "That was the arrangement, Gerard. I fix your bus and we go our separate ways. What did you think was going to happen?"
"Maybe he thought you were gonna stick around." Frank mutters, tone cold.
I bristle, immediately annoyed. "I have my own group to look after, remember? Every moment I'm helping you I'm leaving them unprotected. I've done what I can, which is probably more than anyone else in the fucking world would have bothered with."
Ray motions for calm. "We appreciate that, of course. We'll forever be grateful for your help."
"Yes, obviously." Gerard dismisses this, "But I thought things would take longer. I didn't think you'd leave so soon. I just-... I don't-" He splutters to a stop and looks away. Looks down at his plate, still full. His chin wobbles and his hands shake.
My heart constricts when I realise he's fighting tears.
"What do you want from me, Gerard?" I demand, because tears make me panic and panic makes me angry. My tone is sharper than I want it to be.
"I don't want you to go." He says stubbornly, and still won't look at me. "I want you to stay. I want you to stay with us."
My stomach tightens, and my chest squeezes in on itself. He wants me to stick around? He wants me to, what... Move in? It's impossible. As if I haven't got enough on my fucking shoulders. As if I don't already have responsibilities. He doesn't even know me, and I don't know them.
"And what does the rest of the fellowship think?" I snap. I'm so thrown and unsettled by this turn of events, I can't help but be annoyed. My mind rebels against any sort of big change. Especially to routine.
My face must be a mask of stormy ferocity, because when I settle my gaze on Mikey and Ray, they shrink back. Frank, of course, leans forward.
"I'm with Gerard." He says it with calm certainty, but there's a wildness in his eyes. A manic sort of amusement, like he's invested but hates that he is. "You're the only interesting thing that's happened to us in this whole shit mess."
"You want me around because I entertain you?" It's a snarl of outrage, but he doesn't waver.
"I want you around because it's logical." He retorts, voice rising. "We're losing our fucking minds in this bus, and that will happen regardless of us moving tomorrow. There's more we can learn, and you could navigate us around the country."
"That all sounds very convenient for you," I glare, "But I don't see any fucking benefit to taking on the burden."
"Of course there's a benefit." Frank scoffs, "You get the bus. I bet it's hell staying in your car while you travel. I bet those are the worst days of your life, worrying about being so unprotected."
I don't have a reply, because he's right. In the days it takes us to move house, I don't sleep a wink. I barely have time to eat or breathe. I spend the whole time delirious with worry.
"We stay together," Frank continues, in a voice he forces to sound reasonable, "You get the protection and advantage of the bus. We get a teacher and a navigator, and someone else to talk to."
"To argue with, more like." I glower, but the bite has gone out of my argument.
I can't deny... It sounds like a halfway decent arrangement.
"I come with baggage," I warn, halfway hoping this will be a deal-breaker. "I won't leave my group behind."
Gerard's head snaps up, and hope blooms in his dark eyes. His cheeks have gone splotchy, his eyelashes glisten silver. Still, his smile is small. "We wouldn't ask you to do that. The offer extends to them, of course."
I scoop up a mouthful of rice, which has lost some of it's heat. I chew on it, harder than necessary.
"I'll think about it." I announce.
Gerard beams.