OTHERS (Formerly The Scarlet Effect)

9 - P U S H I N G / T H E / L I M I T

I wake up to darkness as usual. The same absolute blackness encapsulates the shelter without the humming generator providing light, despite the time of day—whatever it may be. When I sit up in bed, I glance to my left and listen as Emmie and Travis continue to sleep, and it brings me to wonder if morning has actually arrived or not.

Deciding to get up, I toss the covers off of me and stand up. My mind doesn't last long by itself without being occupied, so I figure I'll feel my way to the table and munch on some canned fruit, or at least prepare it for when the others wake. As I scoot along blindly, I take an extra second to pause near Travis's sleeping spot after hearing total silence. I reach my hand out toward the bed and freeze at the emptiness.

There. Is. No. Possible. Way.

Due to the lack of body heat in the sheets, I know he's been gone for a while. The thumping of my heart transforms to thrashing as anxiety courses through my veins. He can't be gone. Not after last night. He kissed me, for crying out loud. He wouldn't...he couldn't...

I flip on the generator to double check my sanity and come to grips that he truly has left again; however, as I search the place, I find his backpack hanging off the bedpost, and the keys...gone. Befuddled at the scene, I shake my head and glimpse at Emmie once more, who is sleeping away.

I'm going out there.

With one final breath, I head up the steps and thrust one of the steel doors open, shedding bright light into the shelter and burning my unadjusted eyes. I wince and step out, hike through the section of the cornfield, and enter the yard. The barn doors are wide open, so I hurry to investigate. Did he drive somewhere? As I near the barn, crunching leaves set me on high alert, and I whip my head around to see Travis hunched over, hauling a huge pile of wood on a tarp over to the firepit. He's sweating like a boxer after a match, his face dark red and his teeth clenched.

He's working.

"Need help?" I ask and he flinches at my voice. I walk up to him with a smile, and he drops the blue, tattered tarp to wipe the dripping sweat from his forehead.

"Hey. Uh...no. I think I'm okay," he pants. "You worried about me again, huh?"

I cross my arms. "Well, for good reason. But I had faith when I saw you left all your stuff behind. Just thought I'd see what you were up to."

He brushes his hand along his forehead again. "Figured I'd get moving, you know? Be...productive. I found an axe in the barn so I thought I'd split a few logs." He jabs his thumb behind him. "Also found the water pump, which was cool. Didn't have to go back down there to get a drink. Oh, and I trimmed back some of the garden weeds," he admits with a chuckle.

"Um...wow, Travis. You didn't have to do all that." I scan the yard and notice the trimmed hedges and flower bushes in my mother's garden. He's outdone himself. Big time.

"I used to do the yardwork for my mom at home," he confesses as he looks around with me, completely ignoring my obvious astonishment. "Do you think I should mow?"

"Mow? No, Travis, that's crazy. You've done way more than enough."

He takes my chin in his hand. "I'll take that as a yes," he says before heading off to the barn. "Hopefully there's enough gas left to do the entire yard," he calls.

Who is this guy and what has he done with Travis McCormack?

I follow him in as he heads for the ride-on. "Maybe you should use the manual mower?" I suggest. "We usually just use it in the garden or awkward spots. Keep it quiet."