Surge (87 page)

After my conversation with Carlos, I wasn’t looking forward to a run. When I went downstairs and told a fully dressed Olivia, she shrugged, but I could tell that she was confused as to why a three minute separation changed my decision so drastically. Not wanting to explain myself, I fainted exhaustion, and left her to her own devices, while I returned upstairs.

That would be why I’m now wide-awake in one of the dens, and staring at the ceiling. I’ve been up here for two hours, trying to come up with a way to persuade Olivia out of her suicide mission. I was all for helping her when I thought it would be Joe Shmo with a penchant for extreme BDSM, but now that I know that he is a notarized convict with experience, I’m not so sure. I’m not a trained professional in tracking or fighting, so really, I have nothing to recommend me to go along with Olivia on her expedition across the northeast. And I don’t care how much of a badass Olivia is, she isn’t equipped to deal with a situation of this magnitude either.

So, that leaves me with having to convince her to forget about the past, and push forward. I’m guessing that this is damn near impossible, since she’s already been on this path for months, so some guy that she’s only known for a month, is not going to have any chance at swaying her. Plus, I have responsibilities to the group, and I can’t abandon them; it’s just not an option for me. This brings me to option number two.

Option two would be to distance myself from her. Both physically and emotionally would be best, and I know that I could do this as much as it may kill me to. If I stay away from her as much as possible, I could forget about her smiles, her dry sense of humor, her nurturing nature, the way her eyes light up when she’s happy, her viper tongue, the sound of her voice, and her sexy attitude. I can and will do it. As I’ve said before, it’s only a month’s worth of attachment, so it can, and will be broken.

That way, when Olivia leaves, I won’t be broken when she never comes back.

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Showdown

“Don’t mix bad words with your bad mood. You’ll have many opportunities to change a mood, but you’ll never get the opportunity to replace the words you spoke.”

-Nishan Panwar

“You’ve been awful quiet,” Sarah says from beside me.

We’re back on the road, but since I’ve decided on going with option two, I’ve put as much distance between me and Olivia as possible. Meaning that I’m in the deceased Chelsea’s seat in the way back, while Olivia’s driving the van. Everyone assumed that I would be driving or riding passenger at least, so they left the seat open until I complained of a headache.

When Olivia stared at me like an unknown species that needed to be identified, I ushered Tommy into shotgun and climbed into the van without another word. Another second with that stare down and I would have been begging at her feet. Not to mention she would have pulled out one of her mom’s headache remedies and then I definitely would have spilled, and I couldn’t allow that to happen.

So, that’s how I ended up squished in this dwarf sized seat with my legs tucked up to my chin and a metal cup holder digging into my hip. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Olivia has purposely hit every pot hole just to spite me. When Sarah repeats her comment, I glance over at her. She has Morris on her lap and he’s sleepily ticking his tail back and forth to swipe me with the agitated end.

“Sorry, just a little tired.” When Sarah peers at me as if she’s trying to climb into my brain with her Jedi woman tricks, I put the brakes on that shit. “Really, I’ve been up since three and I’m exhausted.”

“I’m sure you are,” she agrees. “But I know you better than that. What’s wrong? You have a fight with Olivia or something?” Goddamn you, woman’s intuition.

“No, of course not,” I tell her. And it’s not a lie. Olivia and I did not have a fight; I just can’t condone suicide missions for either myself, or others, so I’ve taken myself out of the equation.

“Then why aren’t you up front?” Sarah asks.

“I told you already, I have a headache and the radio blasting up there would just make it worse.” Sarah lifts a brow and points to the speaker directly over my head, and blasting Radiohead’s “Creep.” Damn you to hell, Aunt Crystal, and your kickass surround system, too.

“It’s a little quieter back here...” I think of something for inspiration, and the sun’s glare coming in from Danny’s window on the right side, answers it. “Plus I don’t have the afternoon sun blasting me in the eyes like it would be if I were sitting on that side like Danny is.”

“Did you take any medicine?” Sarah asks with a worried frown.

That worried from makes me feel like fist pumping the air and then veering back to punch myself in the face, because I not only convinced Sarah that I have a false ailment, I also lied in order to do so. I completely suck as a person, but as the appointed leader, I have to make sacrifices for the good of the whole. And the whole would benefit more by having me around, as opposed to me being selfish and following Olivia around like the lost puppy Carlos suggested.

“Yeah, Rah-rah, I took some Advil before we left,” I reply.

Sarah nods and goes to pat a soothing hand over my head, grimaces a little at the sight of my burns, and then pats my hand instead. I’m rocking the Freddy look without the gauze wrap since I’m scabbed, and I couldn’t touch the gauze without envisioning my time doctoring Olivia; or vice versa, meaning I wound up hurling it across the room instead. Of course I then went to retrieve it after I cooled down; making sure it was packed with my stuff. See, I can still throw a temper tantrum like a two year old, but my mature brain eventually comes back around. Like it did to point out the fact that I, or someone in our group, would need that gauze somewhere in the future.

But Sarah’s grimace still reminds me of Olivia because even with all of the times she’s seen my burns, not once did she show any sign of disgust or fear. There was only openness and gentle care when she tended my wounds, and I’ll never get to experience that again. Hell, I won’t get to experience anything with her again since it seems that tonight will be the last one that I’ll be spending in the same place as Olivia. When she went over the map with the twins, she said that we’ll be able to complete the trip to the compound early tomorrow afternoon. Now, all I have to do is avoid her until then, and I’m golden.

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“How’s the head?”

I jump and slap a hand over my pounding heart at the sound of the voice. The weight I was lifting falls from my fingers and just misses my toes. I’ve been keeping my promise of avoiding Olivia, and it’s worked pretty well, until now.

Earlier this afternoon, we arrived at another of Olivia’s safe houses, this one a small Cape style, before she went to cook dinner. Since I don’t usually help with the cooking, I was able to avoid her then without drawing suspicion, and helped Whit with the laundry. During dinner, I sat with John and the twins in the living room since the dining room was too small for all of us to fit. After dinner, I convinced Danny that it would be the perfect time to get him to work out, even though the equipment available admittedly sucked.

There was a rusted bench press with an equally worn weight set, a bolted down bike that had seen its day about forty years ago, a stair climber that you didn’t even have to plug in, and a few dumbbells. I worked Danny until he literally fell over with his tired legs, and crawled his way upstairs to the nearest place to sleep. Yeah, I kind of took my frustration out on Danny by being a Nazi trainer, so I wouldn’t blame him in the slightest if he flips me off next time instead of taking me up on my offer. Hey, I had to do something to keep myself busy and avoid Olivia. But it looks like it was all done in vain, since she’s the one who searched me out this time.

“It’s alright,” I say with a shrug as I lean down to collect my dumbbell.

“Well, I’m pretty sure working out isn’t helping it, so, how about you go up to bed?”

“I’m not tired.”

“It’s four o’clock in the morning, your eyeballs are hanging out, and you look like you’re about to fall flat on your face. Which would be pretty damn dangerous in this room, ‘cuz you’d probably get tetanus when you impaled yourself on that rickety work bench.”