All Is Silence - Deserted Lands #1

Chapter 13 - Part III

“You don’t trust anyone.” Zach glanced back at Nev. She rolled her eyes.

Vern held the door open and they stepped inside a cement building. “I taught History at Fairhaven before this all went down.” He said it as if he expected them to say something about themselves. The first question adults always asked each other was “What do you do?” The guy was odd, but Lizzie, as usual, had over-reacted.

Vern handed Zach a bag and a loaf of bread. It was rustic and warm.

“Thanks.” Zach dug through it to find carrots, string beans, broccoli, garlic, onions and cauliflower. “This is awesome. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Vern beamed. “There’s a gathering at Sehome High School gym tomorrow. We’re trying to figure things out here, too. Come. Bring your friends. Good to meet you folks. Lots to do. ” And he was off again.

Zach turned to Lizzie. “What’s the plan?”

“Why are you asking me?” Lizzie spun away and stomped out the doorway. “Hell if I know.”

Zach counted to ten. Act like the boss until you don’t want to make a decision. Nev put her hand on his shoulder. He saw sympathy, but not much help. She had never been one for confrontation. He followed Lizzie out the door. “Lizzie, wait.”

“What?” She spun around.

“Look, I just asked a question—”

“Never mind.” Lizzie strode away again.

Zach’s stomach rumbled, inspired by the smell of the fresh bread. “Let’s head home.”

                                        *        *        *

Back at the lake, Zach pulled marinating steak out of the fridge. “Ta Da!”

“Yah, Zach!” Nev clapped. She started flipping open cupboards. “We need a nice bottle of red wine.”

Nev was such a nice counterpoint to Lizzie’s negativity. He remembered Nev helping his mom cook, back in the days when everything was fine.

“Come on. It’s out in the garage.” Lizzie’s eyes focused on the steak. “I don’t know anything about wine. But I’ll help you pick a pretty bottle.”

Zach loved the attention his food and cooking skills got. It made up some for all the crap he took. He grilled the steaks on the barbecue while Lizzie got the wine open.

Nev made a salad of grated carrots, chopped greens, broccoli tips, onions, black olives, then tossed it with a raspberry vinaigrette she’d found in the pantry.

Lizzie set the table with some nice china she’d found in the cupboard and added candles. “This is more like it,” Zach said, slicing into his still pink-in-the-middle steak. “Ah.”

“It’s like perfect for training,” Nev said. She wiped dressing off her mouth with the back of her hand. “When I was getting ready for a half marathon, I’d eat protein and veggies. Never could get into the vegan thing, but I do love veggies.”

Spike seemed to sit up a little straighter. He tried to use the knife and fork, but Lizzie helped him cut the meat.

Zach decided his first judgment of a dumb dog was not fair. Spike was more like a smart dog, giant and bumbling. Maybe even a dumb kid, but it was hard to get over the six- foot height if he ever stood up. Acted like a kid at the dinner table, too. Only wanted steak and bread. His hair hung down over his eyes. Somebody better cut it soon. And that somebody is probably me.

After dinner, Nevaeh helped him clean up. They filled the dishwasher and ran it. When the water pump kicked in, the lights flickered. Zach wondered how well solar power would work in Bellingham, Washington in the winter. Was there anyone left even thinking about it?

Zach glanced around at the group sitting around the fake gas fire, considering where they’d all been a week or so ago. Lizzie’s dark mood had lifted a bit and she was singing Row Your Boat to Saj. Spike squatted, leaning his head on the soft leather arm of the chair and staring into the fire. Nev surfed what was left of the net on the expensive laptop he’d retrieved with Lizzie.

He closed his eyes; the sounds were soothing. Zach wished it was real wood popping and sputtering in a fireplace. But this is nice. It reminded him of the best of times, when Mom and Dad were together and happy and they were at Gramps when Granny Mae was still alive. In the summer, after working in the fields or hunting, they’d all sit by the fire, laughing and singing.

The thought of hunting made him think of the guns. Maybe they were just being paranoid. There weren’t really enough people to worry about. But they needed to stay away from C.J.’s brother.

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