Falling Ash

by Douglas, A. T.

  I’m not sure if it’s the gloomy weather or the events that have just occurred, but even wearing jeans and a worn sweatshirt, I’m still freezing walking the wood floors of this house. I’m about to make my way to the living room to grab a blanket when I hear something coming from the dining room. Adrenaline courses through me as I realize it’s a scratchy voice and that it doesn’t belong to Silas.

  For a moment I think to run back to the bedroom and hide, but when I hear the hint of static, I quickly recognize that the voice isn’t from someone physically in the house; it’s coming from some kind of radio communication device.

  As I step forward into the dining room, my entire body jumps as the voice appears again, a man’s voice. “Silas? Come on. Fucking pick up already.”

  I follow the sound of the voice to the far corner of the dining room nearest the kitchen. There’s nothing here, though, only the wall and the wooden floorboards, but there’s no indication of a hidden space here.

  “God damn it, Silas. You’re going to make me come over there, aren’t you?” the voice grumbles, allowing me to ascertain that it’s behind me now. It has to be around the table.

  The surface of the dark wood table is clear, so I bend down and look underneath it. Despite the lack of light, I spot the black two-way radio and remove it from where it’s attached by a thick strap under the corner of the table.

  Ignoring the numerous dials on top of the device, I compress the long button on the side that I’m assuming allows me to respond and I say, “Hello?”

  There’s a long moment of silence in which I begin to wonder if I’m doing this right after all, but then a response comes through. “Ash?”

  My heart rate picks up at hearing someone other than Silas say this version of my name. It can only be one person on the other end of this radio. “Joseph?”

  “Yes.” He clears his throat, sounding uncomfortable talking to me like this. “I heard gunfire coming from your direction. Everything okay over there?”

  I’m about to respond when I hear the back door open in the kitchen. Silas’ heavy footsteps quickly follow and move right into the dining room where he spots me and rips the two-way radio out of my hand.

  “We’re fine,” he speaks into it quickly. “We had a couple of uninvited guests, but I dealt with them.”

  Silas eyes me with his hardened gaze as he speaks, and I can’t deny the anxiety it causes to well up within me. It reminds me that at any moment I could be on the receiving end of his rage again.

  “You think there’s more? I can come over and patrol.”

  “These two were alone. We should be fine.”

  Silence fills the air for a moment before Joseph finally seems to agree. “Okay. I’ll keep the radio on me just in case.”

  “Stay safe,” Silas offers as his goodbye.

  “You, too.”

  I involuntarily flinch as Silas slams the radio down the moment the conversation is over. He braces himself with his hands as he leans on the table, peering over at me angrily. “You know who that was, then?”

  Nodding slightly, I reply, “He knew my name. Who else could it be?”

  My answer does nothing to alleviate the fury and frustration in Silas’ face. “You didn’t listen to me. I told you to hide.”

  It was clearly a mistake, not only to disobey Silas’ orders, but to not prepare myself for how to explain my disobedience. Slowly backing a few steps away from him, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I was worried about you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Silas moves around the table and approaches me with malicious intent in his eyes. When I step backward again to find I’m being trapped against the wall behind me, I turn to run down the hallway, but Silas manages to grab my arm first and swings me back into the dining room.

  “Did you hear that?” he rages as he slams my face down onto the table a foot away from the two-way radio. “Joseph just showed you the perfect example of loyalty and obedience. You could learn a thing or two from him.”

  Internally I’m terrified to be at Silas’ mercy like this again, but I refuse to let myself cry. I need to muster whatever courage I have left and be stronger than that in front of this man who controls my life more than fate.

  “I couldn’t hide away not knowing what was going on outside,” I exclaim in my defense.

  Silas reestablishes his grip on me, grasping a handful of hair at the back of my head as he presses my face harder into the surface of the table. He holds me there as his fury finally seems to boil over, causing him to almost instantly release his grasp and step away from me.

  I stagger for a moment to find vertical again, steadying myself by leaning against the back of one of the dining room chairs as I rub the side of my face with my right hand. As I glance up at Silas, I notice a line of bright red working itself slowly down his left arm.

  “You’re bleeding,” I say to him with a nod toward his arm.

  He curses under his breath as he lifts the torn short sleeve of his shirt to reveal a bloody gash near his shoulder.

  “It’s just a graze,” he says dismissively, seeming perfectly content to ignore it, but I’m not ready to let it go that easily.

  “Sit down,” I demand, and before he can protest, I add, “and tell me where you put the first-aid kit.”

  To my surprise, Silas pulls out a chair at the table and collapses into it. “It’s in the drawer of the nightstand.”

  I run down the hall and quickly retrieve the first-aid kit from the bedroom. By the time I’m back in the dining room, Silas already has his shirt off and is waiting for me.

  My body pauses involuntarily as I take in the full view of his bare chest, a sight that I haven’t dared to fully inspect in the light before. The lines of his muscles are just as defined as they looked under the wet fabric that was conforming to them in the rain earlier. The skin of his chest and abs is perfectly smooth except for the occasional faint scar, a couple of them an inch or two across in straight lines and at least two others that are round and about the size of a dime.

  It’s too late to cover my gawking completely, but I do my best to quickly refocus on what I’m actually supposed to be doing right now as I toss the first-aid kit on the table and open it up. Before I can even grab anything inside, Silas begins taking out the supplies he knows I’ll need in order to clean and dress his wound, even though I’ve seen him dig into this first-aid kit to treat my injuries enough that I could easily pick out the supplies myself.

  “I know what to do,” I insist as I open the rubbing alcohol. With more satisfaction than I’d like to admit, I slowly douse the wound with it. From experience I know it must sting like hell, but Silas’ expression remains unaffected the entire time, showing no sign of pain or discomfort. Using some cotton balls, I carefully blot the area dry.

  “Here.” Silas digs in the first-aid kit until he pulls out a small, round mirror. “Hold this for me so I can see it.”

  I set the cotton balls aside and take up the mirror to position it for Silas, trying my best to align it correctly for him to see in the light coming from the kitchen. After a moment of inspection, Silas looks away and says, “It’s not that deep. No need for stitches.”

  Internally I’m relieved for his assessment, because I’m not sure I could handle working a needle through his skin right now.

  I put the mirror away and grab for the ointment instead, spreading it across the open gash in his skin. After applying some medical tape over the top edge of a new piece of gauze, I affix it loosely to Silas’ skin and apply more tape to the remaining edges to hold the bandage in place.

  I feel the weight of Silas’ stare on me as I put the remaining supplies back into the first- aid kit. I’m about to reach for the bloody cotton balls to throw them away when Silas grabs my hand with his instead.

  “Thank you,” he says appreciatively, “both for this and for the assist earlier.”

  I remain motionless as I try to process this strange moment of gratitude from the m
an who was physically rough with me only minutes before.

  He seems to sense my confusion, standing up from the chair to face me while maintaining a firm grasp of my hand. His free hand is suddenly on the side of my face, slowly caressing me in the spot where he caused my latest source of physical pain. While my initial reaction is to withdraw and turn away from him, his soft touch feels comforting against my sore skin. He rubs his thumb across my cheekbone, soothing me to the point that my eyes close involuntarily. I haven’t been touched like this by a man in years.

  My heart races at the uncertainty of what’s going to happen next. I should resist. I should be terrified. I should do anything other than stand here immobile, waiting for Silas to make the next move for me.

  His hand suddenly leaves the side of my face, and I instantly miss the contact. I feel the cold breeze that’s left behind as he walks away. It’s only when his footsteps are far enough down the hall to be very faint that I dare to open my eyes and face my lonely reality again.

  17

  “Something wrong with your soup?” Silas asks from the other side of the kitchen, tearing me away from my thoughts.

  I realize now that I’ve been in a daze slowly stirring the homemade tomato soup in my bowl for the last few minutes, making no attempt to eat it. Silas is at the kitchen sink rinsing his bowl out, apparently having finished his soup already.

  “No, it’s fine,” I reply quietly. “I just don’t have much of an appetite.”

  His brow furrows. “You didn’t eat breakfast. You should be starving.” He puts his clean bowl in the drying rack and narrows his eyes at me. “You can’t pull off that hunger strike shit with me again.”

  A shiver runs through me at the thought of what I put myself through before, and I immediately shake my head. “I’m not. I won’t do that again.”

  “What is it, then?” Silas stares at me expectantly for a long moment before he takes a seat on the barstool next to me at the kitchen island. “This must be about what happened yesterday.”

  My eyes meet Silas’ gaze, probably giving him the perfect window into my thoughts. He’s right that yesterday’s events have haunted me every minute since, plaguing me with confusion, doubt, and fear. Watching Silas single-handedly take down two intruders in the course of seconds was a stark reminder of just how dangerous and unpredictable he really is, and there I was, fearing for his life and trying to help protect him from the intruders who could have been good people. That could just as easily have been Jake and me trying to get into this house to find supplies for survival, just like we’d planned if I had managed to get the guns from the man in the woods.

  I could have let that woman shoot and kill Silas, and I would have been free. This house and everything in it could have been mine for years to come giving me the best chance of survival without being controlled or manipulated. I could have been free of constant fear of physical or emotional pain right now instead of fighting for that freedom in the future, but instead I had saved the devil’s life.

  I let him hold me against him and caress my skin, and instead of pushing him away, I embraced his touch.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  The intensity of Silas’ stare becomes too much, and I have to look away. His fingers find my shoulder, and my muscles instantly tense at the contact.

  “Hey.” His soothing voice reaches out to me, but I do what I can to resist it, tightly closing my eyes and imagining myself anywhere but in this room with this monster circling around me.

  “I can’t do this right now,” I whisper through the tightness building in my throat.

  “Yes, you can,” Silas insists, his hand now fully on my back.

  I try to flinch from his contact, but he hooks his hand around the other side of my waist, reaffirming his hold on me and keeping me in place on the barstool. I know I could fight harder against him, but deep down that’s not what I want. It would be easy to give in to him, to move the few inches that would be required to rest my head against his shoulder and wrap myself up in the comfort he provides, but I can’t let myself do that again.

  With a deep breath, I get my emotions in check and turn to face Silas. “How did you know those people were going to attack you?”

  “I didn’t,” he replies simply.

  A moment of silence and horrifying understanding follows as I realize the full extent of Silas’ brutality. “You had no intention of letting them leave alive, did you?”

  He lets go of my side and leans his arms forward on the counter of the island, completely avoiding my gaze. “They found the house. I couldn’t let them go spread the word and gather more people to come back.”

  I shake my head in disbelief at how easily he justifies taking the lives of two people. “What about the militia? Aren’t you worried about them showing up at your door?”

  “The militia won’t be a problem,” he confirms confidently. “The militia leaders and I have a truce. They steer clear of this house and the farm where Joseph lives, and I don’t pick off their troops every chance I get while gathering supplies or hunting.”

  “Hunting animals or innocent young women?” I ask with bite, letting my emotions take over a little more than I probably should.

  Silas gives me an irritated look. “As much as you may think otherwise, I wasn’t out in search of a woman to bring home the day I found you.”

  “You sure about that? It feels like I was your prey the day you took me.”

  The ensuing silence causes the mood in the room to become deathly serious between us until Silas finally says, “I had no idea I would actually go through with this until the moment I saw you. I was hunting deer that day, but I found you instead, and you were the best prize I could have ever brought home.”

  I hate being reminded of how perfect Silas thinks I am for him and how that ultimately led to Silas destroying what was left of my family and my life. With the fury I can feel rising inside of me, I know that if I open my mouth to say another word on this subject, I’ll live to regret it. Despite the difficulty of it, I manage to keep my mouth shut and just internally fume instead.

  “You’ve given me a great idea,” Silas suddenly pipes up next to me, the uptick in his excitement only furthering the decline in my mood. “We should go hunting together.”

  Silas’ idea causes a wave of anxiety to rush through me because I think I’ve developed a fear of the outside world. Despite the horrible things that have happened to me in this house, I feel safe here away from the remnants of society, protected by Silas and the tall wooden fence around this property. The outside world isn’t as appealing these days as it used to be because of the constant threat of attack that’s more prominent out there in the open on unfamiliar ground.

  I clear my throat, delaying any response long enough to come up with some valid excuse to stay here. “You were shot yesterday. You need to give yourself time to heal.”

  Silas shakes his head dismissively. “It’s just a graze. I’m perfectly fine.”

  “But I’m not fine,” I retort, lifting my scabbed wrists in the air between us.

  He laughs and gently grabs my hands and pulls them down to his lap, his fingers finding each of my palms to avoid touching the healing skin on my wrists. “You can still easily manage to hold a gun, and this,” he says as he slowly runs a finger back and forth over the thick scar on my left palm, “this won’t be a problem, either. I promise.”

  I’m a little distracted by the contact of his skin against mine, but when I finally realize what he’s saying, I’m fully back in the moment. “You want me to use a gun?”

  He nods. “You need to learn. This is the perfect opportunity.”

  I glance at him skeptically. “I’ve barely even started training with a knife. You really think I’m ready to move up to a firearm?”

  “I have full confidence in you.” When he sees that he still hasn’t convinced me, he says, “We’ll take a few days away in a remote area to avoid drawing attention, and maybe we’ll come across som
e game you can practice on.”

  “A few days?” I ask as my concern hits its peak. “Aren’t you worried about leaving the house for that long?”

  Silas stands up from the chair and casually replies, “Joseph can watch the house. He’s done it for me before.” He walks toward the doorway to the dining room, grasping its frame as he turns back to me. “I’ll try to get him on the radio. You finish eating, and then we should pack.”

  I don’t even get a chance to respond or protest as Silas disappears through the doorway to find the radio that he’s hidden away somewhere else in this house to keep me from finding it.

  My stomach is even more uneasy now than it was before, but I know I need to eat. I’ll need all the help I can get to make it through this next experience with Silas. I need to be strong, so I can face these fears and whatever the outside world is about to throw at me.

  By the time I’ve forced myself to finish every last spoonful of soup, Silas is already back in the dining room. I don’t bother to look for him as I go to the sink to wash out my bowl, but I can just imagine the excitement and anticipation on his face as I listen to his hurried steps and the rustling of supplies he’s gathering for our trip.

  The thought of being outside these walls in the woods again causes my heart rate to quicken exponentially. I set the clean bowl and spoon in the drying rack just in time to brace both hands against the edge of the counter, catching myself as dizziness unsteadies me and threatens to overcome my ability to stay on my feet.

  My entire body flinches as I feel fingers wrap themselves around my arms near my elbows. Despite the warmth of their touch, goosebumps still break out across my skin.

  “What’s wrong?” Silas asks from behind me as his fingers move up to my shoulders, rubbing them slightly.

  “I’m fine,” I breathe out unsteadily, swallowing hard before attempting to speak again. “I just need a minute.”