“Hey, Koda? What’re you thinking about?”
“How much barbwire we should put on the side. I think we should stick to putting it under the windows and along the underside.”
“What if the wire comes loose and pops one of the tires?”
I didn’t think of that. Dakota frowned. “Good point,” he said.
“I think the wire under the windows is a good idea,” Steve said, slamming the hood into place. “I also think it might be good if we put some metal mesh over the windows.”
“Can we get that here?”
“I don’t see why not. Then again, it might not be the best thing for the front window. Might want to stick to something rubber for that. Don’t want it caving in and hitting one of us in the face.”
“I can’t drive this thing. It’s a boat.”
“It’s actually a bus,” Steve laughed. “Why can’t you drive it?”
“Because I haven’t been in anything bigger than a town car before. Put me behind the wheel of this and I’ll probably plow into a house.”
“It’d probably survive it.”
“Still, we don’t want to find out.”
Chuckling, Steve slapped Dakota’s back and circled the vehicle, checking any nooks and crannies he found that might be detrimental to their process. Once, he stopped and peered at something so closely that Dakota thought he might actually sink into it, but Steve rose shortly after and continued checking the tires. While he did this, Dakota pulled the door open and stepped into the vehicle, sighing when he took note of the leather seats and the welcome, inviting interior.
Won’t ride one of these to town. He settled down in the driver’s seat and ran his hand over the steering wheel, only briefly looking up when he saw Steve’s head pass across the back window in the rearview mirror. Ah well. Can’t do much about it.
“Hey, Steve!” he called. “What all do we need to do?”
“Start pounding the nails in. We’re gonna lace some wire.”
When night fell, along with their worries, chains snarled below windows and sweat marked the passage of their effort, snaking its way down their faces, tracing the curve of their cheeks and crossing the bridge of their noses. The silence whispered that all was well, that nothing was unaccounted for and that nothing would disturb them in the depths of their sleepy hollow. Even once, when a bird cried out bloody murder as something outside startled, then ate it alive, neither of them jumped. Instead, they slept blissfully in the cold aftermath of a day’s work, silently dreaming of things that wished them no ill and a world where the dead did not walk.
A bead of sweat ran down Dakota’s face, jumping his cheek and the sharp curve of his jaw, and the young man had one brief moment to sigh before it hit his hand.
He jumped; his knee collided with the dash.
Steve burst from sleep, sat up quickly, and hit his head on the bar connecting the overhead mirror. “Fuck,” he groaned.
“My bad,” Dakota said, looking down at his hand.
“What happened?”
“Woke up.”
“Bad dream?”
“No. I thought something touched my hand.”
“Did something?”
“It was just sweat.”
“Ah,” Steve chuckled, leaning back and rubbing his forehead. “I see.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s ok. I’ll just have a bruise in the morning.”
“You’re an asshole,” Dakota laughed, punching his friend’s arm.
“But you love me anyway.”
Smiling and unable to control himself, Dakota wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulder and leaned into his side. Ahead of them, nearly hidden by a storage shelf and the contents within it, a window offered a faint glimpse of the buildings across from them. Illuminated by moonlight and sharpened by reflection, their images cut a hole in Dakota’s mind and sent shivers down his spine.
“You ok?” Steve asked.
“Just a little nervous, that’s all.”
“About what?”
“Leaving.”
“Me too,” Steve said, setting an arm across Dakota’s back. “Trust me, buddy, I am too.”
Not sure what else to say, Dakota simply sat there, reveling in the closeness they shared. It took him less than a minute to turn his head, lean forward, and plant a brief kiss on his friend’s cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?” Steve asked.
“For coming back for me.”
Neither of them spoke.
They simply listened to the birds.
Morning came with a crisp lining of rain. Drizzle running down the window and a chill creeping into the garage, Steve and Dakota rose from their place in the bus and continued work on their modifications. Dakota hammered down the nails protruding into the bus and capped them with a protective lining, while Steve crawled onto the hood of the vehicle and strung rubber mesh across the windshield. Throughout this process, the weather continued to worsen. Rain sprinkled the street in five-minute bouts and fog threatened to overwhelm the city with its lingering presence, though whenever the weather seemed to get worse, it always cleared, offering a brief glimmer of hope in the form of sunshine. In a way, the sporadic work of Mother Nature reflected upon their current situation, almost to the point where it made Dakota uncomfortable.
You’re just being paranoid. His wandering mind nearly made him smash the hammer down on his fingers. Concentrate!
“Hey, Dakota?”
“What?” he called back.
“How close are you to being done with the nails?”
“Almost done with this side.”
“This weather’s starting to make me nervous.”
“You’re not worried about floods, are you?”
“How can you not be? We’ve had problems with flooding for the past four years.”
You’ve got a point, he thought, then sighed. He hammered down the last nail, then turned to work on the other side. “How soon can you be finished with the windows?” he asked.
“I can do a quick and dirty and just string one line of mesh across all the windows on both sides, but I guess it depends on what you think is safest.”
“Do you think it’s safer?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, we could hammer nails in above and below each window, like we did with the barbed wire.”
“Can we use the nails that we used on the barbed wire to secure the mesh?”
“We’d have to take the barbwire down.”
“That’s not going to happen. Do whatever you think is best. I’ll keep hammering these nails down.”
“But I…” Steve trailed off. Dakota leaned out into the aisle to look at his friend, offering a quizzical look out to the front of the bus. “Nevermind. I just realized we could hammer nails in on the sides of the windows, since they’re separated a few inches apart.”
“Whatever works best!” Dakota called out.
He slammed a nail down on the second nail on the left side.
An explosion sounded throughout the garage.
Frowning, Dakota looked down at his hammer, then offered the third nail a blunt slam to the side of the head. The sound it produced was nothing compared to the explosion that happened just a moment before.
“Dakota?” Steve’s asked, his voice’s strength wavering. “That wasn’t you, was it?”
Dakota gulped. He leaned into the aisle and shook his head. “No. It wasn’t me.”
Both men turned to look at the window.