“This isn’t working.” Zach peaks up at me. “I need a third hand. It’s gonna be a little tight, but I need you to push down the gas pedal when I tell you to. Okay?”
“Okay.” With no other obvious way to fit, I get on top of Zach and reach down until my hand touches the pedal. With my body fully pressed against his, that same tingle runs through me. I clear my mind. Force out thoughts of Marcus and try to block everything out. But I can’t ignore the heat of his body, the light scent of his sweat mixed with campfire smoke, and soft skin—the way our bodies rub together with every breath. I try to fight off the urges, but it’s no use as I start getting hard. I hope he doesn’t notice.
Zach shoots me a quizzical look that morphs into recognition, and his face turns beet red. “Um…what’s that?”
“Sorry! It just happened.” I’m so damn embarrassed. “I can’t help it.”
Zach laughs nervously. “Uh—I guess I’m sorry, too, then.”
That’s when something stiff rubs up against me.
Zach clears his throat loudly. “Okay! I need to concentrate. For now, I’m going to ignore everything going on down there.”
“That works for me,” I blurt out.
We both do our best to ignore it.
In a moment, Zach regains his composure. “Okay, when I say go, push down on the gas. Ready? Go!”
Sparks fly, and the engine turns over. As I push down on the gas pedal, the engine revs. It almost catches. So close.
“One more time,” Zach says. “Ready? Go!”
The engine sputters and groans. I press down on the pedal once, then twice. The third time, the engine roars to life. I pulse the pedal a couple more times for good measure. The engine purrs as the RPMs ramp up. It’s a wonderful sound.
We both cheer, then hug each other. A hug of comradery and joy.We did it.
When we climb out of the footwell, I take the driver’s seat, and Zach is happy to be the passenger. We don’t talk about the elephant in the room.Or the boners in the car? Zach has let it drop, and I’m relieved. That’s a conversation I don’t feel like having right now, with all its complications.
It takes a bit of honking and inching forward to convince Daisy to let us by, but she finally relents. I drive out of the garage and turn toward the junkyard exit. Zach freaks out a bit as I punch the accelerator, heading toward the outer fence, but the aluminum links are no match for the ton and a half of steel. It might not be the best thing for the paint job, but we’re not trying to win any car shows.
I pull the car over outside the junkyard. Daisy follows us out and goes running off into the woods.
“Probably going to find some dinner,” I say.
“I’m glad she’s free.”
Zach looks back at the garage we just left. “It doesn’t feel right leaving Ezra like that.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t.”
In the nearby woods, we find some fallen twigs and small logs. We drag them back to Ezra’s remains and cover up the body.
But coming back turns out to be a blessing in disguise. As Zach prepares the pyre, I spot something I hadn’t seen before.
“Hey, Zach, look at that.” I point to a circular hatch on the ground toward the back of the garage. It’s about the size of a manhole cover.
“That looks like the entrance to a bomb shelter. Ezra never mentioned it.”
“He had the car parked right over it. That’s why we didn’t see it before.”
“Let’s check it out.”
The hatch has a latching mechanism. It’s hard to disengage by hand, but kicking it does the trick. I open the hatch and stare into a dark abyss. A metal ladder on the side heads downward.
It descends about twenty feet to a cement floor. With a flashlight in hand, I scan the surroundings. It has all the earmarks of a bomb shelter. A long, narrow room extends back about fifty feet. Shelves stuffed with canned food, weapons, and other supplies line the walls.
Zach climbs down and stands beside me.
