Chapter 5

Even if someone were to speak, I don't think anyone would know what to say.

Eli takes the van down a so called "shortcut" on a dirt road for ten ongoing minutes. Our van continues down the dirt road until dirt meets the paved back-roads.

Most call the kind of silence between our group painful, but I call it necessary and quite frankly, I enjoy it in some odd way or another. It gives me more time to think and less time worrying about the 'what ifs'. The what if New York is destroyed? What if I can't save it? What if I can't even save Evan and Ema? What if I die on this trip and never come back? What if no one ever knows that I died? What if I find my father? What if he's still alive? So many what if's, and I honestly am over thinking about all my questions and problems. I need to focus on the here and now. I need to worry about the future when it comes and fpcus on staying strictly in the present. 

I look down to the gun that rests in my lap and realize that I'm not sure how to feel about it. I've never seen a gun this close, yet alone held a weapon of any sort. This being the case, why am I so comfortable with having a weapon on my person? It didn't add up and it definitely didn't make sense. Yet, somehow it makes perfect sense. Perfect sense that I am familiar with a weapon without ever holding or operating one. Perfect sense that I am in my element, even though I've never left the Pure State. 

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We are almost two hours out when things take an unexpected turn. Curses fly from Eli's lips as he slams on the brakes. The tires squeal as theytry to gain traction on the pavement. The vehicle screeches to a sudden stop. Casper, who sits in the middle seat, barely has time to react before he shoots torwards the front of the vehicle, his face hitting against the dashboard. A loud pop echoes across the van along with the faint sound of cracking glass. I have no time to look at what is happening as I'm thrown forwards and into the back of the driver's seat. My cheek collides with the weathered, torn fabric on the back of the seat. My jaw pops on impact and a hiss of pain flees my lips. Once the car comes to a complete stop, I sit back in a daze as I rub my jaw. That will leave a nice bruise.

Casper falls back beside me, his fingers touching his bleeding forehead. A curse falls from his cracked and bleeding lips. With rage painted across his face, he pushes me back against my seat in order to get around me and outside of the van.

"What the hell happened?" He shouts as he runs around to the driver's seat, pulling an unconscious Eli out.

As Bunk struggles with the half-awake Eli, I crawl forwards to see what damage had been done and what Eli tried so hard to avoid hitting. Blood stains the passenger side of the windshield, the glass cracked and shattered. I have to force myself to look over to where the passenger sits. The boy's head hangs low, blood runs down the side of his forehead and seeps out from the left corner of his mouth. Two shards of glass embed themselves in the boys' head and neck. My hand clasps over my mouth. He's dead. The boy that rode up front next to Eli—whose name I don't even know—is dead. The sight distracts me from checking the damage and seeing what caused the commotion in the first place. 

Casper sets Eli against the road divider and slaps him on the cheek. Eli opens his eyes slowly with a groan. As Eli regains consciousness, Casper moves around to the other side of the car. My eyes follow the Nebraskan as he walks around the back of the car to get to the passenger side. Bunk yanks open the door and removes the dead body from the van as if it doesn't even phase him.

I remain with my arms propped up on the front dashboard, watching him closely to see what he finds. As he makes his way to the front of the car, he stops dead in his tracks. I lean forwards as far as I can in order to see over the front end of the car. There, in the middle of the road, lies a girl curled up and braced for impact.

I shove my gun into my back pocket and move slowly to get out of the car, slipping through the passenger door that Casper left opened. I stand close to the Nebraskan who stares at the stranger in an odd way. I don't know what it is, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Bunk knows the girl that we nearly ran over with our fourteen passenger van.

As I scoot closer to Casper, I see the girl's hands are covered in blood, clutching at her hair which has fallen out of place. She sits at an odd angle across from us, not looking up as she rocks back and forth. From the way she behaves I can tell she has been through a lot just in the past couple of days. The way she sits on the pavement indicates she braced herself for death. Maybe she wanted to die. Perhaps she ran in front of our vehicle on purpose. I couldn't speak for her, but there's this feeling in my gut that she doesn't want to be alive anymore. What better way to kill yourself than to make it look like an accident?

From observing the girl, I can see that the left side of her head has been shaved bald. What remains of her hair is a long, blonde rat's nest. On the bare side of her scalp, the skin that shows is covered in peach fuzz and a large tattoo that resembles a circuit board. The series of complex lines and patterns stretch from her scalp and disappear down her neck, hiding away beneath her shirt. The tattoo reappears on her upper arm before it too disappears beneath her shirt. Her green shirt. Suddenly it makes sense. Casper does know this girl. He grumbles a string of obscenities that are too horrific to ever repeat.

Casper breaks out of his daze and barges towards the quivering girl. I stand there in complete shock as I dwell on the color she wears. Casper said there were no survivors. So just who was she? Could he have got it wrong? Or did he lie?

In one swift jerk, Bunk yanks the girl up by her blonde, tangled hair. A loud yelp echoes across the early-morning sky. Several birds fly out of the tree after being startled by such a terrible noise. Her head jerks back and reveals her bloody lips that curl into a snarl. Her blue eyes are distressed and blood shot as she tries to break away from Casper's grip. The girl has her bloody hands curled into fists. The way she looks at Casper Bunk tells me they are anything but friends.

My hand creeps to my back pocket and pulls out the gun I was given, aiming it at the distraught looking stranger. I don't know why I feel threatened by her, all I know is I'm not taking any chances. If Casper seems to despise her, maybe even fear her, then I'm going to be leery about her.

"Who is she, Bunk?" I demand, my gun not once leaving the struggling girl's body.

He doesn't answer me, he just stares at the girl.

"You said there were no survivors!" I raise my voice an octave higher.

"That's because there weren't any!" He barks.

"Then how the hell do you explain her?"

The girl struggles against Casper's grip. It's obvious she's weak and confused. Supposedly, as far as I'm concerned, she escapes the destruction of Nebraska, barely avoids getting hit by a van, and now she's being held captive by a stranger while another stranger points a gun at her. I'd be confused too. Granted, this is quite possibly the worst first impression known to man. So I can't say I blame her for what she says next.

"If you two imbeciles are done chatting, I'd really like to get the hell away from here." She seethes, her words like fire, "Not that this isn't fun and all, but I really couldn't care less about what you say or do. You're not going to hurt me. Especially not you." She spits in Casper's face.

Casper yells and pulls her hair, throwing her against the hood of the car. She screams and falls to the ground in a crumpled heap. Before she can collect her bearings, he forces her back to her feet and pins her there.

I narrow my eyes at her, "I wouldn't be so sure if I was you."

"I've already been hurt by Casper, not like he can do any more damage to me, sunshine. Hell, I'd like to see him do some more."

I look at Casper and raise my eyebrows. She knows him? My original assumption had been correct. "Casper?"

He averts his gaze.

"What's your name?" I ask the girl when he doesn't reply.

"Cas how rude that you didn't speak of me to your new girlfriend." The girl smirks.

"She isn't my girlfriend." He growls. "We just met."

"Sure, whatever you say, honey. So, Bunk, would you like to tell her? Or should I?"

"Avery Redgrove." Casper says through gritted teeth. His eyes never leave Avery. "That's her name."

"See, was that so hard, Cas?" Avery spits at him.

"Get in the van." He growls and shoves her towards the car.

Casper keeps his grasp on Avery Redgrove, all while he grabs Eli up with his free hand and thrusts him towards the car. Luckily Eli is plenty coherent to drive us the rest of the way. We get into the van in silence. Casper gets in first, then Avery, then me.

"Drive." Bunk tells Eli. 

Eli begins to drive in silence. No one in the van dares speak about events that just occurred. Unless, of course, you're me.

I remain in silence for twenty-seven seconds before I lean over Avery so I can talk to Casper. At first I wasn't sure what to say.

"You said there were no survivors." I hiss at him after twenty extra seconds of staring at him.

"That's because there weren't any." He says yet again.

"Then how do you explain her?" I glance at Avery, whom I am still leaning over.

"It's a long story."

"Well we have all day, and then some." I growl, my patience with him dissipating.

"Tell her, Romeo. Before I do." Avery groans.

Casper directs his attention to Avery Redgrove, who is still shaking where she sits. The girl has been through hell and back. I lean back so Casper can lean forwards. He stares at her, and her at him, for sixty-seven seconds. His features twist in disgust as he looks at her.

"How are you still alive?" He demands in a harsh whisper, "I killed you myself."

I look at him intently upon hearing those words. This young man attempted to kill this Nebraskan girl? He didn't strike me as one to kill a person just for fun. There has to be a reason he even attempted killing her. However Casper knows Avery, it isn't in a good way.

"Not my fault you're a bad shot." Avery grunts with a deep growl. She doesn't bother to look at him as she runs her fingers through her matted hair.

Casper's face turns as cold as stone. Without even blinking, his hand clenches into a fist. He swings blindly and hits her square in the jaw. Avery yelps and falls against me. My body collides with the door and a grunt flees my lips.

"Enough!" I scream at him and shove Avery off of me.

Bunk's face remains red, his nostrils flared in pure anger. Everything about his demeanor screams rage and fury and hatred. Whatever this girl did to him, I wasn't anxious to find out.

"You should've stayed dead, Redgrove!" He shouts at her.

"Trust me, I wish I could've." She retorts in an even tone. She seems more relaxed than Casper.

I look between them as the tension thickens. I roll my eyes and point my finger at Casper, "Look, Bunk. You obviously know her, there's no denying that."

"She's an old friend, alright?" He snaps.

"The way you're treating her doesn't strike me as friendly." I snarl.

He looks at me and with a mocking tone says, "It doesn't? Gee, I thought it was obvious that the two of us are best buds."

"Oh for God's sake!" Avery interrupts, throwing her hands up in the air, "Just tell her, Casper."

Casper looks between the two of us before sighing. Before he looks at me, he glowers at Avery. He runs his fingers through his thick blonde hair, heaving a breath as he looks me in the eyes.

"Zachary, I'd like you to meet my step-sister."