Page 13 of Last Light

“I feel better,” I say into the silence. It’s not completely dark yet, and I know Travis is awake because he occasionally shifts position.

He grunts.

“I mean after eating. Thanks for making me.”

He grunts again.

I turn my head and frown at him. “You can do more than grunt, you know.”

He’s lying with one arm bent and tucked behind his head. The other is fiddling with the comforter. He hasn’t pulled it over himself. His gun is on the floor beside him, next to his belt, which has his sheathed hunting knife attached. He doesn’t turn to look at me as he mumbles something incoherent.

“That was just a multisyllable grunt.”

He turns his head and glares at me with narrow eyes. “I said go to sleep, girl.”

I roll my eyes and turn over onto my side with my back to him.

I was trying to be nice. Friendly. Make conversation in an awkward situation. But evidently that’s beyond Travis’s abilities or interests.

He talked more earlier today. He told me about himself, but that was when I was pointing a gun at him. Since then the only things he’s said have been purely practical. He doesn’t want to get to know me.

I shouldn’t complain.

If he doesn’t want to be my friend, he doesn’t have to be. He can lie there in silence and stare at the ceiling till the sun comes up for all I care.

He hasn’t asked for anything in exchange for letting me ride along with him, so my payment will be putting up with his annoyingly closemouthed personality without complaining.

If he wants a silent traveling companion, he’ll get one.

It’s getting cooler in the room, so I cover up. Overall, this bed is pretty comfortable.

And I do feel safe.

I close my eyes and amuse myself with everything I’d say to Travis if I were allowed.

He needs a haircut.

He should respond to polite comments with more than a grunt.

I’m almost twenty-one. He doesn’t have to call me “girl.”

I’m so sorry his little daughter died.

I hope his ex-wife is okay in Fort Knox. Hopefully we’ll be able to find her and the rest of Meadows before it’s too late.

Does he still feel the urge to smoke cigarettes, or has he kicked the habit for good?

Does he think we have any chance of reaching Fort Knox before the drove overtakes all the people we know and love?

He’s got really good arms.

Maybe he’ll be friendlier tomorrow.

I’m glad he isn’t a creep.

It’s on that thought that I fall asleep.

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