Desolation ✔️

Chapter 10: Nostalgia

Ash and I sit on opposite benches in the SWAT vehicle.

I have my knees pulled to my chest. Ash is hanging his head between his shoulders, elbows propped on his knees. The gun is still in his hand.

There are so many thoughts clustering together in my head, it's hard to separate which are pieces of reality or figments of my imagination. Which idea am I supposed to grasp first? The fact that there are two threats out there? The possibility of Ash being one of them? What happened back at the Safe House? My head pounds and the air is like sandpaper to my lungs. It's only getting later in the night and everything just keeps getting more and more confusing. I just want to sleep.

"There's a med kit in here," Ash says suddenly, barely audible. I look up at him. He's lifted his head, but his eyes are trained somewhere below me. I follow his gaze to the floor of the truck. There are bullets and paper and empty water bottles littering the place. Tucked neatly under the bench, right beneath me, is a dark green bag.

"You'll find aspirin in the front pouch, white bottle. Take some for your ankle."

I lift my eyes back to meet his. The concern in his voice fails to match the apathy in his eyes. "I don't need any," I lie.

He studies me carefully. "You limped the entire way here and I had to lift you into the car. Obviously, you do."

Well, actions do speak louder than words, don't they? The pain in my ankle has increased to a consistent throbbing and the skin feels hot. I lower my legs and reach for the bag beneath the bench. When I pull it up, I unzip the front pouch and pull out the white bottle of pills. I unscrew the lid and shake two pills into my hand before popping them into my mouth. The taste is bitter and I hold them on my tongue for longer than necessary.

"You take them just like that?" Ash inquires.

Well, does it look like we have any water? I want to say, but the pills have begun dissolving on my tongue and I feel like spitting them out. Ash moves from the bench to the front of the car, rummages around for a few seconds, and returns with an unopened bottle of water. He opens it for me and I grab it from his hand, swigging down a few gulps. The taste of water feels so refreshing and I just want to gulp it all down.

"Is that the only one?" I ask, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Yeah," he says.

Of course. I pass the bottle back to him. "Thanks," I say, leaning back against the cushioned bench. Ash nods and takes his own plentiful sip before capping it. He sets it on the floor between us. "Help yourself to more if you like, there'll be more tomorrow."

I straighten up. "Huh?"

"What, did you think we're setting up permanent camp here?"

I don't respond because...well, I guess maybe I thought that?

He must interpret the look on my face, because one corner of his lip curls into a faint, crooked smile. "First thing in the morning, we'll go."

"Go where? The store? In case you haven't noticed, we've now entered full apocalypse mode."

"No," he shakes his head, sitting back on the bench across from me. "My house."

My eyes widen. "Your house?"

"Last I was there, it was still intact. That's where I was heading tonight, but, well, you know..." His voice trails off, and I can't catch the emotion that seeps onto his last word.

Hm. Well, if I don't really have a specific destination in mind right now, what's the harm in it? "Okay," I say, picturing what his house might look like. A small flame of anger burns the core of my chest at the idea that everyone's houses were destroyed in the chaos, yet his is still pristine and stocked. "Why would you choose leave at night? That's the absolute worst time to travel."

Ash sighs, but it's not out of exasperation. Maybe...a stall tactic? "I had to do something earlier today..." He hesitates over the right words. "And miscalculated the time. I thought the trip would be faster than it was, but I ended up getting caught in the dark."

His explanation doesn't sound like a complete lie, but there's a small part of me that doesn't believe it. "What did you have to do?" I ask.

"Doesn't matter anymore."

I raise an eyebrow. "Yeah right. Does it have anything to do with, I don't know, the Safe House?" I can't help the accusation that enters my tone.

"It's complicated," he answers.

"Things are only as complicated as you make them," I say.

He runs a hand through his messy hair again and leans forward on his knees. The silver dog tags dangle from his neck and swing in front of his chest. "In this case, I only wish I could make things simpler. Why do you care, anyway? Did you pass the Safe House on the way to that flower shop?"

"Actually no," I answer. "I was in the Safe House when it all went down."

He quirks an eyebrow. "You were in there?"

"Yeah. But it was before whatever happened when your...friend...was there. I woke up to the whole thing being infested. Everyone was dead, and a couple are still missing... Do you know what happened there?"

"No, my teammates and I went there after everything inside was wrecked. We didn't pass the gates because it was too risky. But obviously, that damn good-guy Neil thought he could find survivors."

I ponder everything for a moment. Someone went back to the Safe House. How soon after I left did it happen? It seems to only have happened recently; a few hours ago? And I've been gone from the Safe House for a couple weeks. It happened today. Someone went back to the Safe House today. My mind jumps back to the small conversation I had with Keilah just this morning:

Does the sky look strange to you at all?
It's just a little foggy, that's all...why?

Why? Now I know why. Smoke filled the air. Bombs went off, like the night my parents died. There was some kind of show-down at the Safe House today, and Ash's teammates were involved. What happened?

"How did you get out?" Ash asks, interrupting my thoughts. I put my own questions aside for now.

"I'm still trying to figure that one out," I answer honestly. My eyes lower once again to the glinting silver dangling from Ash's neck. "I didn't realize the SWAT Team wore dog tags."

Ash's shoulders tense. He looks down suddenly, takes the dangling tags in a gloved hand, and observes them briefly before tucking them into his shirt. "We don't. Not really, but what a lot of people don't realize is that a SWAT member is only a glorified police officer. The police chiefs wear the tags."

"Is that what you call yourself?"

He shrugs, frowning. "I'm not the chief."

"Then who is?"

"Our boss." He pauses and redirects his words. "Do I look old enough to be a chief?"

"No..." I scan his face clearly without the mask. His olive-toned skin appears unblemished and seems to glow, despite being smudged with dirt. There's still that boyish look to him that makes him appear not so intimidating. Maybe it's the lack of a mask. "I meant to ask about that... Aren't you a little young to even be on the team?"

"Technically, yeah. I'm only eighteen. But the story behind that..." he says seriously, "is complicated."

I nod slowly. There's that word again. "Sure. Okay. Well tomorrow we'll have plenty of time for storytelling. I'm calling it a night, so...goodnight." I pull my legs onto the cushioned bench and lie down, my back towards Ashton. I hardly have any room, but it's better than the tiled floor in Keilah's flower shop. I sort of expect him to speak up, to start explaining, telling his story while he thinks I'm asleep, but the entire truck is silent. And cold. I listen intently to the wind outside the car, my cheek pressed against one of my hands. I close my eyes.

But just when I do, the car shifts slightly as Ash changes positions on the bench. The movement is accompanied by what sounds like jingling keys. I peer over my shoulder silently. Ash is still sitting up on the bench, but he's turned towards the back of the truck. The dog tags clank around in his hands as he touches them softly, almost nostalgically, and he stares out the circular window with the same longing I've felt since this whole disaster began.