Silas likes my response. He smiles back at me, and I don’t feel as empty anymore from my brother’s words. I feel warmth building inside. It consumes my entire chest from its origin within my heart. I feel it all the way out to my fingertips as I squeeze Silas’ hands one more time and then release him to go make my stand.
I walk back over to the dining room table and pick up the radio with the strength to defend myself, my feelings, and the man I love.
“You’ll never take away my pain completely, Jake. You couldn’t last year. You still can’t now. It’ll always be with me.” I let go of the talk button for a moment but keep the radio within a breath’s distance of my lips. “Silas helps me bear the burden of that pain. He gives me comfort, and he’s made me stronger, just like he said. Every moment I spent in that dark room ultimately made me stronger.
“I can’t change the way I feel. I won’t leave Silas, no matter what you say. We’re together, and I’m going to embrace him in this life.” My breathing turns more ragged, and my throat tightens painfully as I realize what this is: a goodbye. “If you won’t give me your understanding, all I can ask for is your forgiveness.” I let go of the talk button and hold the radio to my mouth to keep the building sobs from escaping my lips.
Silence.
The first tears start to fall. “Jake?”
There’s nothing. He’s not responding. No one’s there.
“Jake,” I try again, the name such a meaningless word to say when there is no one there to answer to it. I set the radio down on the table and collapse into the chair.
Silas kneels down next to me, searching my eyes. He doesn’t have to look far, though. The tears tell him everything.
“No goodbye,” I say flatly. “This is just like before. We don’t say goodbye, and I get to mourn losing my brother all over again.”
“This isn’t goodbye,” Silas argues. “He’s nearby. He’s safe.”
“He hates me. He won’t even talk to me.”
I brush away my tears, ready to be done with them and the weakness they instill within me. It’s time to focus on my physical and emotional strength again. I’m ready to show Jake just how happy and healthy and strong Silas can make me. It’s my opportunity to begin building the future Silas has envisioned, not just for me but for us together in this place.
Just the two of us against the entire fucking world.
My eyes meet Silas’ gaze with determination and the slightest hint of optimism. “Prove him wrong with me,” I implore. “Make me everything you need me to be.”
He nods in acceptance, his lips turning up in a pleased, but mischievous grin.
I will make them understand.
34
My breaths remain even despite the speed at which I’m moving down the dark hall. The cold metal of the pistol forms to my hand and guides me, a perfect extension of my arm trained in front of me, moving with each direction I face, searching for threats and any potential targets.
I keep to the right side of the hall, checking briefly inside each door with the flashlight before moving on to the next. Silas is about ten paces in front of me performing the same check on the left side, continuing to lead the way through this building that looked much smaller from the outside.
His quick, but quiet footsteps come to a halt as he pauses outside a particular door. Using the barrel of his AR-15, he slowly pushes the door open until it’s wide enough to fit through. When he looks back at me and nods toward it, I know it’s time to follow.
I hurry across the hall as Silas disappears through the door. My heart races when I cross the threshold into a large space just as dark as the hall, but I see the faint glow of natural light trying to break through toward the high ceiling to my right.
Shining the flashlight ahead, I see promising signs that we’ve arrived at our intended destination. Black walls traverse the left side of the space, and long black curtains drape down from the high ceiling in numerous rows spaced apart in front of us. We move silently past each row until we reach the front, breaking through a thicker curtain this time, one that is velvety and maroon in color.
We step out onto the stage and into the soft natural light pouring into the theater from the uncovered windows at the back of the balcony seats. It’s a relatively small and intimate venue, but the sea of orchestra-level seats extending out from the stage feels like it goes on forever.
The surface of the black painted stage remains intact but is littered with bits of trash left behind by whomever last passed through here. Based on the layer of dust clearly visible in the glow from the flashlight, it appears it’s been a while since anyone was here.
Silas takes the steps down from the stage and moves quickly down the middle aisle, turning back and forth to check each side as he moves silently through the theater. I keep my guard up and my gun trained forward as he disappears in the back for a moment then reappears at the balcony level, checking those seats, too.
It’s not until he slings the AR-15 over his shoulder and leans his hands on the railing of the balcony that I know he’s sure no one’s here. I flick the safety on my handgun and tuck it away behind me before beaming a smile up at him and moving on to the task at hand.
The stage is too large for me to bother cleaning up completely, but I use my feet to kick away the trash in the immediate area around me in the middle of the stage. Kneeling down, I carefully pull the strap of my violin case over my head to remove the instrument from where it was secured to my back. I set the flashlight next to the case for some extra light as I open the case and rosin the bow.
Taking the bow and violin in my hands, I stand and bring the instrument to my shoulder in the same movement. When I look out to the theater hall that’s empty except for the one seat in the middle balcony occupied by a comfortable-looking Silas, I can almost imagine myself back in Boston and out on stage in the hours before a performance. While everyone else was beautifying themselves in the green room or scrambling for more practice in the rehearsal room, I was always out alone on stage getting a feel for the space and solidifying my confidence to fill it with incredible music.
It feels like I’m back there right now, except this time there’s no long wait for the performance to begin. There’s no symphony to support me and no conductor to direct the music. My audience is one man instead of many people, but that’s all I need. I’m doing this for him and for me.
Drawing the bow across the violin strings and adjusting the tuning pegs at the same time, I quietly tune the instrument, then stop. After a deep breath to fill the momentary silence, I crash the bow back onto the strings and begin to play, the bright and full notes soaring out into the theater. The acoustics of the space make it sound like an army of violinists accompany me on stage as I play through the song that I’ve written over the last few weeks, a melody of strength and triumph in the face of adversity.
In these moments I forget that the first flakes of snow fell yesterday. I forget that I haven’t seen or talked to my brother in almost three months, relying solely on Joseph’s brief weekly check-ins over the radio to know they’re both okay. I forget that I fatally wounded a man we encountered on a supply run three days ago, barely getting my shot off in time to stop him from spraying us with bullets. The rest of the world and all of my past and present fade away as I play this song on the stage where I was always meant to be before my life was turned upside down exactly one year ago.
I absorb every bit of this feeling, savoring each second of this moment in time when it’s almost like the last year never happened. One could hardly tell from the quality of my music that my palm had been sliced open and surgically put back together, as my left hand now moves and functions almost as well as it did last year. By the vibrant expression on my face and spark of life in my eyes, one would never know that within the past four months, I lost absolutely everything and tried to end my life twice.
I shouldn’t be alive. I probably wouldn’t be if Silas hadn’t taken Jake and me from the forest that day, t
he day when he spotted me while he was hunting near the river. I don’t know that Jake and I would have survived on our own out in the residual chaos of the world.
In this moment, I’m glad to be alive. I’m grateful for what Silas has done for me despite the darkness in his methods. I look forward to the future, no matter how hard the challenges we face might be.
I’ll have a future in this world, and I’m ready to embrace it with Silas by my side.
As the final notes of my song play out across the strings and echo into the beautiful theater, I’m overcome by my emotions, but they aren’t exactly what I expect. There’s no sadness, no mourning for the person I was before or the future that never came to be. All I feel is warmth radiating from my chest as I look up to my audience in the balcony, to the man who has strengthened me and made me whole again, the man who is my future.
When the bow finally leaves the strings in a final dramatic flourish, he stands up and claps for me, his applause filling the entire theater as he beams with pride and grins at me. I reciprocate his smile and lower the violin to lean my upper body forward and dip my head in a little bow, riding the high of fulfilling this dream that I never thought would be my reality again.
Silas disappears to the back of the balcony as I’m packing up the instrument in its case. He reappears at the orchestra level seats and walks down the middle aisle as I grab the flashlight and throw the violin case over my shoulder to descend from the stage to meet him.
“You were incredible,” he compliments as he pulls me within his arms.
I tip my head up to see his face, our eyes connecting in the light from my flashlight. Our lips quickly find each other, and for a few moments I get lost in him as I continue to ride out the high from what I just did.
With a slight gasp for breath, I pull back from him and say, “Thank you for this.”
“You’ve earned it,” he responds automatically. “This was the perfect way to celebrate how far you’ve come.” His smile turns playful, and he suddenly adds, “I’d like to continue this celebration at home, perhaps with some wine and not all of this clothing between us.”
I’m tempted to grab for his jeans to see just how excited he is to get me home and naked in our warm bed together, but I manage to refrain as I respond, “I’m ready to go home.”
His smile only broadens when I say this. I know he loves it when I call the place he originally built for only himself our home, the home that we now share together.
Despite the fact that we checked the entire building for threats when we arrived, we have our guns drawn and maintain a heightened awareness as we move back through the building and out into the parking lot. The sky is grey, and the air is brisk, our breath clearly visible in front of us as we move. By the time we make it to the tree line, the occasional snowflake begins to fall all around us.
It takes a good twenty minutes to trek through the trees and brush to where we hid the truck on a backroad nearby. Silas takes no chances as we approach it, his rifle fully drawn as he checks either side of it and under it, then moves up to look in the cab and check in front of the vehicle. With one final visual sweep of the area around us, he slings the rifle over his shoulder by its strap and gets his keys out to unlock the truck.
I feel instant relief from the cold air when we get in the cab even though it’s not much warmer inside. We quickly unload our weapons and gear onto the back seat and floor of the extended cab. Silas looks at me with the briefest moment of admiration before turning on the truck and blasting the heat.
He takes us back down the rough dirt road until we hit the smoother road that got us here. I keep my eyes trained through the windshield and through the side windows, watching for any sign of danger while Silas is driving, but at the same time, I settle back in my seat and get comfortable. We’re not too far from home, but I know we have a bit of a drive ahead of us.
After a few minutes, I can’t help noticing Silas’ occasional glances to the side to check on me. When I catch him in his most recent attempt, he smiles and asks, “How did it feel to be back on stage?”
“It was bittersweet,” I respond, unable to hide the hint of sadness in my tone. “Things are so much different now than a year ago. Music is still part of me, but it’s not who I am anymore.”
It’s strange to think that a year ago at this time I was mid-performance with my college’s symphony playing all sorts of traditional holiday music, blissfully ignorant of the fact that within hours, the future I had worked so hard for was going to be ripped away from me. After everything that’s happened since then, I’m back to being physically able to play the violin, but there’s still no future for me in it.
“It was a good final performance,” I conclude, firmly deciding that I’ll never step onto a stage again. “I have other things to focus on now.”
I set my left hand on Silas’ leg, my touch bringing a warm grin to his face. He covers my hand with his and curls his fingers underneath until the tips touch the scar on my palm.
We remain connected like this the entire drive home, though I can’t say my touch has remained completely innocent. A few times my hand has wandered just a little more to feel the solid bulge hidden beneath Silas’ jeans.
By the time we’re pulling into the driveway in the darkness of early evening, the heat that’s been building between us makes the cab feel like a sauna, and Silas barely gets the truck in park before his mouth is covering mine. His lips devour me while his hand creeps up under my shirt and black sweater to find my breast. He squeezes me in his hand over and over as our kiss escalates to the point that I know we’re going to be stripping each other down in here if we don’t put a pause on our actions right now.
“Wait,” I manage to squeeze out as Silas grabs for the button of my dark jeans with his free hand. “We should go inside first.”
“I’ll keep you plenty warm,” he growls in a whisper by my ear before pressing his lips to my neck just below it. I exhale in a moan as he kisses me there with the same fervor he was using before, and suddenly I’m perfectly fine staying in this vehicle right now.
The hand that was on my breast works its way down into my jeans beneath the thin silky fabric of my black thong. His fingers find my eager clit and tease it with their touch, rubbing me in gentle circles that cause raging heat to build inside me. The fingers find my opening and tease me there, too, fueling my wetness, making me desperate for his cock to fill me completely.
Silas redirects his assault of kisses from my neck to my lips as his wet fingers find my clit again. They increase their speed and pressure against it, and I quickly lose all control, my body exploding with the pleasure of orgasm. I rock back and forth against his touch as each residual wave of pleasure rolls through me until they’re gone.
When Silas finally removes his hand from my jeans and pulls back from me, I’m left gasping for breath while he maintains a calm and satisfied grin in the light from the dashboard. He turns off the truck and brings his mouth close to my ear as he whispers, “Now I’ll take you inside.”
I bite my lip at the double entendre in his words and waste no time in popping the truck door open to step outside into the cold. Silas grabs his rifle and exits the truck to go close the driveway gate as I take the violin case from the back seat and grab my handgun and flashlight from the cab floor.
A slight dusting of snow covers the driveway and stone path as we walk together with the flashlight guiding our way through the darkness to the front door. Within seconds of Silas’ unlocking it and the two of us stepping inside, we’ve dropped the items we were carrying and our lips are connected in all-consuming passion again. He takes my hands and lifts them above my head as he presses me up against the hallway wall to devour me once more.
He breaks our kiss to pull my bra with my shirt and sweater over my head, but when they’re gone and his mouth returns to me, it finds my nipple instead. He cups my breast as he sucks on me, forcing my nipple to its most hardened state and erect position. I hold on to the
wall behind me with one hand and run my fingers through his dark hair with my other hand as he continues to work at my breast with his tongue and mouth, and I’m brought right back to the height of pleasure, the point where I was just a few minutes before in the truck.
“Take me upstairs,” I beg, desperate for him to fill me. “Fuck me on our bed.”
He groans with desire just before my nipple pops out of his mouth and he straightens up to look at me. “I don’t know if I can make it that far without being inside you.”
His touch turns desperate as he grabs for my jeans on each side and yanks them down over my hips. He pulls my thong down then releases the button and lowers the zipper of his jeans to free his cock from his boxer briefs. With my back against the wall, he lifts my leg up and hooks it around his side to give him perfect access where he needs to be. He directs the tip of his cock to my opening, and I gasp as he plunges it inside me.
With a hand on my hip and another supporting my lifted leg, he grinds himself against me, pumping his cock in and out as he finds the deepest points of pleasure inside. My breaths come in shorter frantic bursts as I feel myself getting close to orgasm again. I’m just about ready to fly off the edge of it when Silas suddenly stops moving.
“What’s wrong?” I breathe out.
He lowers my leg and removes himself from me just as I hear a sound from outside. It comes across as a distant buzzing noise, but as it gradually gets louder, I realize it’s the building sound of an engine approaching.
A motorcycle engine.
“Oh my God,” I whisper as Silas meets my gaze. I pull up my thong and wiggle back into my jeans as Silas puts himself away and puts his jeans back on. He quickly helps me put my bra back in place and pulls my shirt and sweater back over my head.
We haven’t seen Joseph or Jake since the day they stormed out of the driveway after seeing the dark room. We haven’t heard more than a few words from Joseph on his weekly radio calls since the night I tried and failed to convince them not to hate Silas for what he did to me. We have no idea what to expect from whichever one of them is showing up unexpectedly at our doorstep right now, so I’m not overly surprised when Silas grabs the pistol we brought in from the truck and sticks it in the waistband of his jeans.
Falling Ash Page 30