Chapter 101: Chapter 101 - Avoidance
The road rolled on in long quiet stretches, fields passing slow and familiar, the kind of view that reached into Iyisha without asking and pulled something old to the surface.
Early spring earth, soft greens just beginning to return, fences half sunk in mud, all of it made her feel unexpectedly nostalgic. She leaned her head back for a moment, breathing out, letting the steady hum of the engine ground her.
The walkie crackled again, abrupt but not sharp.
"Hey," Waldo’s voice came through, casual and a little tired. "Just checking we’re still good on the route. Back roads east, cut through Paris, then Indiana farmland, Rockville edge, Bridgeton."
Malcolm reached for the radio without shifting his gaze. "Yeah. Same plan."
"Alright," Waldo said. "We’ll stay on you."
The channel went quiet.
Malcolm muted the walkie.
The silence that followed felt louder than the radio ever had.
Iyisha glanced at him, then looked away just as quickly, unsettled by the sudden tightness in her chest. They were sitting inches apart again, sharing the same space after days of almost missing each other entirely, and it felt strange in a way she had not expected.
Was it actually awkward.
Or was it just her.
It had been too long since they had been like this. Not moving past each other with something urgent to do. Not exchanging quick words before disappearing again. Just sitting. Existing in the same quiet.
Malcolm kept his eyes on the road, posture steady, expression unreadable, like none of it touched him.
But he did not turn the walkie back on.
That choice made the silence feel intentional, as if he was allowing it to sit instead of filling it, as if he was waiting.
Iyisha watched the fields slide past the window and exhaled slowly.
Maybe the quiet was not something to fix.
Maybe it was just space neither of them had had in a long time.
She cleared her throat, the sound breaking the stillness.
"Why are we going to Bridgeton?"
Malcolm answered without looking at her. "We’re steering away from the free zone."
Iyisha nodded automatically, then the words settled differently, heavier.
She remembered Ester talking about it weeks ago, sitting on a crate behind the hospital while generators hummed and the air smelled faintly of fuel. Ester had mentioned a free zone down south, somewhere people still called Brazil out of habit, a place marked red on the ERG maps.
Back then Iyisha had not asked many questions. Free zones were already bad enough. No patrols. No rules. Everyone armed. Everyone desperate.
Red marked free zone had been new to her.
Everyone grew up knowing the ERG system. Green zones meant controlled and safe. Yellow meant unstable but monitored. Orange meant high risk with active threats. Red meant avoid if possible.
But a red marked free zone was something else entirely.
The silence stretched again.
Iyisha sat very still, hands folded in her lap, shoulders squared like she was bracing for something invisible. She told herself to be brave. To keep it together. Whatever had been bothering her since they left the gate pressed harder now, heavy and persistent, but the words would not come out right.
So she did the only thing she could think of.
She reached over and rested her hand lightly on his thigh.
It was not dramatic. Not demanding. Just contact.
Malcolm did not move.
He did not look at her. He did not tense. He did not acknowledge it at all.
The seconds dragged.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
The quiet turned awkward fast, sharp and uncomfortable in a way she could not ignore. Her fingers curled slightly, then stilled, waiting for some sign that never came.
Why would he not even react.
She let out a small huff under her breath and pulled her hand back, folding it neatly into her lap like it had never been there.
More silence.
Her jaw tightened, irritation bubbling up where fear had been. She stared out the window for a moment, then turned back to him before she could stop herself.
"Were you avoiding me?"
The question landed flat between them.
"I mean," she added quickly, already half regretting it, "I don’t even know why you would. You don’t have a reason to. I just—"
She stopped.
Malcolm’s jaw tightened.
Just once, but enough that she saw it.
The road hummed beneath the tires as he kept his eyes forward, hands steady on the wheel, tension now visible where before there had only been control.
She tried to let it go, but her mind would not release it.
Mary’s voice echoed in her head, joking about him glowering.
Ester laughing about how he scared half the hospital staff.
Michael standing awkwardly in the doorway with a paper bag.
Still, it was the only explanation she could land on, and she hated herself a little for circling it.
Was he jealous.
The thought felt ridiculous the instant it formed, and yet it would not leave. She shifted in her seat, discomfort tightening in her chest, then turned back to him again before she could stop herself.
"Were you jealous?"
The words hung there, exposed and foolish.
Malcolm finally looked at her.
Not sharply. Not angrily. Just a slow turn of his head, brow creasing slightly, eyes searching her face like he was trying to understand how she had arrived at that question at all.
Her stomach dropped.
She regretted it immediately.
"I was being funny," she muttered, heat rushing up her neck. "I didn’t mean it like that."
Malcolm said nothing.
He turned his eyes back to the road and kept driving, posture unchanged, hands steady, as if the question had never been asked.
Iyisha sank back into her seat, embarrassed now, puzzled and frustrated all at once. Her thoughts tangled tighter, denial pressing hard against something softer and more dangerous beneath it.
She stared out the window, cheeks warm, wishing she could rewind the last thirty seconds, wishing even more that silence did not feel like an answer all on its own.
They drove like that for a while, the road stretching on, the silence settling thick but no longer sharp.
Then Malcolm spoke.
"I’m not avoiding you," he muttered.
The words were quiet, almost reluctant, like they had been pulled out of him rather than offered.
Iyisha felt the tension drain out of her all at once. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, shoulders easing as relief washed through her.
He was like this most of the time. Closed. Sparse with words. But maybe she imagined something that isn’t there.
"Okay," she said softly.
She turned her gaze back to the window, a small smile settling on her lips as the fields rolled past again, sunlight catching on wet earth. Whatever she had built up in her head faded, replaced by a steadier calm.
That was enough.
What she didn’t see was his hand tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles paling as his grip turned white, jaw locked hard as if holding back something far heavier than the road ahead.
And he did not look at her again.
