by Paige Weaver
When I had staunched the blood some, I tucked the box under my arm and limped out of the bathroom. I needed to find some thread. Cat wasn’t the type of girl to sew but I would try her room anyway.
It took me a while to find it but when I did, I knew it was hers instantly. Her smell, her very presence, wrapped around me. I expected Cat to come barreling into the room with a smug smile on her face and mischief in her eyes. She didn’t appear but I wished to God she would.
I pushed the thought away and hobbled into the room. I wasn’t there to daydream. I was there to find a needle and thread.
I headed across the room to Cat’s dresser. After setting the first aid kit on top, I pulled open a drawer and started searching it. Silk panties fell through my fingers like liquid gold. I remembered ripping one of them off her, sliding it out from under her dress.
I swallowed hard and paused, my hand buried deep in lacy underthings. I felt like a sick prick, going through her underwear drawer. I had come here to find her, not sift through her unmentionables. She wasn’t my responsibility and she wasn’t mine to worry about, but I was here doing just that.
My hand skimmed over a piece of paper at the bottom of the drawer. I pulled it out, stuffing down that feeling that it was wrong nosing around her personal stuff. It was a picture of her with a man. It wasn’t her brother, not with the way he had his arm around her waist. I shouldn’t have felt jealous but I did. Was it Luke, the man whose initials were tattooed on her hip?
Didn’t matter, I thought. Cat and I were done. I had heard that much from her before all hell broke loose.
I shut the drawer and checked the next one. It held skimpy, lacy bras and little silk pajamas sets. I had almost given up, almost called it a stupid idea, when my hand closed on something plastic.
A travel-sized sewing kit.
I gripped it tightly, saying a silent thank you to Cat. I might just survive.
I grabbed the kit and first aid container then turned to head out of the room. But I was too far-gone. Riding all night and walking around on my leg was catching up to me. The fever was building. The world spun at a crazy speed. I leaned against the dresser and slid to the floor. It was getting harder to breath and focus. I knew my time was limited.
I have to do it now.
I ripped open the sewing kit and grabbed the towel that I had dropped. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I withdrew my knife from my boot and cut a slit my jeans.
The bandage I had put on was soaked. I winced when I pulled it back. The moonlight streaming in through a window gave me just enough light to see the open gash on my leg. I tried not to grimace at the sight of it. The open wound wasn’t a pretty sight.
“Time to get down to business,” I whispered to myself.
I set the flashlight beside me and popped open the first aid kit. Some gauze, medical tape, two pain pills, ointment, tweezers, and something I sorely needed - blood clotting powder – stared back at me. I ripped open the powder and poured it all in the wound. After that, I grabbed the pills and popped them in my mouth, swallowing them dry.
Before I thought twice about it, I grabbed the needle out of the travel kit. My hands were shaking and my vision was blurry but after a few attempts I finally threaded the needle with black thread. There was no time to sterilize it. I would either die from infection or blood loss, but I wouldn’t die from not trying.
The needle was tiny between my fingers. I almost dropped it a time or two. When I got a good grip on it again, I put it near the edge of the gash and paused.
Beads of perspiration broke out on my forehead. A chill went through me. I couldn’t stop shaking. I grabbed the towel and placed it near the gash, catching some drops of blood.
I glanced around the dark room, looking for something to take my mind off the pain. Cat’s bed caught my eye. I imagined her there, smiling and saying we were a mistake but beckoning for me to join her in bed.
The thought made me angry. I clenched my jaw. I was tired of being so damn confused about her. I would fucking resist her or die trying.
But as I sat there, the pain and fever ravaging my body, I imagined her long legs swinging out of bed. A seductive grin was on her face. I was really losing my mind now, seeing things that were not there.
I tried to blink the image away but it wouldn’t disappear. I saw her strolling toward me, wearing nothing but a pair of lacy red panties.
My hands shook as she came closer. My heart pounded too hard. The fever made me hallucinate more and more. The needle stayed near the gash in my thigh as I watched Cat’s tits bounce as she walked toward me.
I blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind. I knew she was an illusion. A product of pain and fever. But as she dropped to my feet and started crawling up my body, I didn’t care if I was dying; I couldn’t look away.
Her hair fell down over her shoulders, touching on the tips of her breasts and brushing against my jeans.
“Do you want me, Cash?” she asked in that provocative voice I dreamed about.
“No,” I whispered. “You’re not real.”
“And if I were?”
“No,” I answered hoarsely.
“Liar.”
She was right. I wanted to reach out and touch her, run my finger over her nipple. But I didn’t want my blood on her. I wouldn’t mark her that way.
She smiled at me with that wicked way she had. God, even in my fever-induced hallucination she was beautiful and sexy.
“You need to fix your leg, Cash. People need you,” she whispered.
I forgot about the pain. Forgot about the chills that shook me. “Do you need me, Cat?” I asked hoarsely around my dry mouth.
She smirked and eased back down my legs. “I don’t need anyone, cowboy, but do this for me. Live.”
And just like that she was gone.
It took me a second to realize I was alone. The house was still empty and quiet. I was just seeing things that were not there.
I ran a clammy hand over my face, calling myself crazy and insane. I was burning up and bleeding. It was time to do what Cat wanted.
Live.
I swallowed past the hot bile in my mouth and looked down at my thigh. Holding my breath, I did the unthinkable.
I plunged the needle into my skin.
Hellish agony ripped through me. Pain shredded my leg and ate away at my thigh. I wanted to scream. I wanted to give into the blackness creeping along my vision. Instead, I stuck the needle into the other side of the gash, gathering the edges together as quickly as I could. I was on the verge of passing out. I could feel it coming for me.
I don’t know how many stitches I put in. I just knew that with the last one the world tilted. My eyelids drooped. Darkness took over.
And I lost the fight.
~~~~
For days I drifted in and out of consciousness. Fever raged in my body. My thigh burned with infection.
In one of my conscious moments, I dragged myself downstairs. I needed water like a dying man lost in a desert. My mouth felt like sand and my lips were chapped to the point of pain. I found water in the fridge. It was warm but wet, just what I needed.
I emptied the bottle, not really caring if the water ran down my chin. As soon as I had swallowed every drop of the water, I passed out again, disappearing into emptiness.
I woke up sometime later. Sunlight blinded me. It lay across my legs, lighting up the kitchen and highlighting the dried blood on my jeans. I shifted, uncomfortable. The tile floor was hard. The closed-up house was like an oven. I welcomed the discomfort. It meant my fever was gone. The chills had disappeared.
And I was going to be okay.
The stainless steel fridge was at my back. I pushed myself up into a higher sitting position, dragging my leg with me. My ripped jeans were stiff with blood and sweat. I peeled the edges back and poked around on my thigh. The gash was closed, the stitches holding strong.
“Thank God.” The words were the first I had spoken in days. They c
ame out hoarse. Raspy. No one heard them. No one came around the corner to check on me.
I was still alone.
It took a few minutes of struggling but I managed to climb to my feet. I tried to put weight on my leg. It hurt but not as much as before.
The first thing on my mind was the electricity. I checked to see if it had come back on. It hadn’t. Just to be sure, I checked the phone that lay nearby. Silence answered, not the sound of a dial tone in my ears.
“Damn,” I muttered. My stomach suddenly rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t ate in a while. I dragged my leg and started searching until I found a box of Fruit Loops. It wasn’t my idea of a healthy meal, but in minutes I was full and my energy was replaced.
As I was drinking another bottle of water – my third in less than an hour – I wondered what the hell I should do. I was still weak and probably needed to give my thigh some more time to recover, but something was prodding me to leave. To go. To find everyone.
With my mind made up, I grabbed a grocery bag from the kitchen and filled it with the rest of the water bottles and a few cans of food that I found. I would repay Cat later if I saw her.
When I saw her.
I had left my duffle bag and shotgun in the kitchen days ago. I stuffed the grocery bag in the duffle bag then grabbed the gun. I slung the bag on my shoulder then turned to leave, but I was still wearing the ripped, bloody jeans. My bare thigh was showing underneath one leg and the other was covered in dark, dried blood. I couldn’t leave looking like that. I needed to change.
I dropped my bag and gun in the living room then made my way to the stairs. It took forever but I climbed them again and limped down the long hallway. I bypassed Cat’s room and found a room that must have belonged to one of her brothers. Yeah, I knew I had jeans in my bag but I needed to conserve supplies.
I found a pair of jeans hanging in her brother’s closet that looked about my size. Pulling them on made me sweat and grimace but something was urging me to hurry and leave.
On my way back down the hallway, my steps slowed when near Cat’s room. I stopped in the doorway, staring inside. I saw Cat everywhere, from the fluffy queen-size bed to the clothes strewn on the floor. What I didn’t see was the girl that had walked away from me. The one that sometimes appeared sad and hurt, hiding pain that seemed too much for one person to handle.
I wanted to take it from her, squash it beneath my boots and shield her from everything. But I had no right to do that because she wanted nothing else to do with me.
I set my jaw tightly and pushed away from the doorframe. Downstairs, I grabbed my cowboy hat from the floor and stuck it on my head. After grabbing my bag and shotgun, I opened the back door and walked out, making sure it locked behind me.
The late July sun was hot on my back as I limped around the house, searching for my horse. I found her wandering around the yard, the reins trailing behind her. It took some sweat and tears but I managed to saddle her and mound up. A few minutes later, I was riding away.
It was time to move on. Cat was my past. Now I had to face my uncertain future.
Chapter Twenty–Six
Cat
I had lived through hell. I had buried my best friend and boyfriend. I had become every woman’s nightmare and every man’s dream. I went to bed with Jack Daniels and woke up with strangers. I had money to spend and no one to tell me I couldn’t do it. I lived life to the fullest and hated every single moment of it.
But I had never had to live like this.
“Everyone know what to do?”
I watched as Nathan stuffed supplies in a backpack. A can of food. A reusable bottle filled with water. It wasn’t enough for four people.
We were on our second week without power. Our fourteenth day without supplies or help. But now the waiting was over. We were going out.
“We should never let you out of our sight,” Keely said, answering Nathan’s question as she slung her messenger bag over her shoulder.
“And we shouldn’t talk to anyone,” Tate added, wrapping a hand towel around the blade of a kitchen knife.
Nathan stuffed another reused water bottle in his backpack then glanced at me. “And? What else, Cat?”
I braided my hair into one long plait and let it drop down my back. “And if we get separated, head back here. Don’t stop. Don’t slow down. Just get back home.”
Nathan nodded then slung the backpack over his shoulder. “Then let’s do this.”
He opened the front door and walked out into the sunlight. I stood in the middle of my living room, watching Keely and Tate follow, but I was unable to do the same. I didn’t want to leave. Something was telling me that walking out the door would be wrong. A decision we would regret.
But I had a lot of those nowadays.
“Hey? You coming?” Keely asked, stopping at the door and turning around to look at me.
I sighed. I was the one that argued we shouldn’t leave. The one that had said we should continue to wait it out in my apartment. Me – the one that didn’t play by the rules.
But one rule I wouldn’t break is where my brothers went, I went. No question and with no hesitation. We were alone and we were on our own. No one was coming to help us.
No one.
I thought of my mom and dad. Were they okay? Was my dad safe in Dubai? My mother was in New York City? Were they waiting it out like us or was that part of the country and world even affected? And what about Tessa? Was she with Junior and her parents? Was she safe?
The questions bombarded me night and day. And there were no answers. I could only hope one day I would find out.
My parents and Keely were not the only ones on my mind. I also thought about Cash. I couldn’t seem to help it. I dreamed about him at night. I tried not to think about him during the day. I was worried about everyone, including a cowboy that had stolen my breath away.
“Come on, Cat. We’ll be okay,” Keely said, motioning at me to leave.
I took a deep breath and then headed for the door. Something was telling me that she was wrong but I would go anyway.
She gave me a small, reassuring smile as I shut the front door and stepped out into blinding sunlight. A cloud floated in front of the sun, giving a moment’s relief before it drifted away.
As I locked the door, Keely walked over to the top of the stairs and waited for me patiently. She was dressed in a white t-shirt and shorts, looking more like she was going out for a day in the park instead of searching for supplies and help during a war. But what did one wear for the end of the world anyway?
I bypassed her and headed down the stairs at a quick jog. Nathan and Tate were waiting for us at the bottom, watching the parking lot carefully. If trouble was here, it would find us. I could almost guarantee it.
As I rushed down the rest of the stairs, I glanced around. A few people lingered outside. Some sat on balconies, hoping for a cool breeze. Pieces of laundry hung out of some of the apartment windows, making the place look like a poor village in a third-world country instead of a housing complex near a prestigious college. Trash blew everywhere. Evidence that without proper garbage pickup, the town had become a dumping ground.
“Let’s head deeper into the city. See if anything is going on or if there’s any news,” Nathan said, keeping a tight grip on his backpack and watching a small crowd of people lingering nearby.
“Downtown is not far from here,” Keely added, shielding her eyes with her hand to look at him. “I think we should go there first.” Her cheeks were already red from the heat, her pale coloring a curse under the sun.
Nathan nodded then looked at Tate. “You ready for this? It might be crazy.”
Tate curled his lip up at Nathan. “I ain’t a kid,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m ready for any kind of shit. I’ll fight if I have to.”
Nathan shifted to his other foot and glared at Tate as another cloud passed by.
“There’ll be no fighting, Tate,” he said. “We’re just going to find out what’s going on
. You pull out that knife, I’ll rip you apart when we get back. Understand?”
Tate kicked at a loose piece of asphalt with the toe of his boot. “We’ll see,” he mumbled.
Nathan ground his teeth but didn’t say anything else. Sometimes arguing with Tate was a moot point. I knew firsthand.
“Let’s go,” he muttered, giving one more warning look at Tate.
We followed him across the parking lot. I was the last to bring up our little group. Keely was sticking to Nathan like glue and Tate was still grumbling about bossy older brothers a few steps behind her.
I couldn’t help but stare at the student housing across the street as we walked by it. The building was nothing but a shell. The windows were gone. The bricks were dark with soot and blackened by fire.
We stayed close to Nathan and turned onto the main road. Thunder rumbled off in the distance. A glint reflected off of something up ahead. I shielded my eyes to see what it was, but a few minutes later I found out.
Cars were parked everywhere. On the curb. Against the curb. On the sidewalk. Against a streetlight. It was as if they had just froze where they were, paused in the middle of driving.
Some were smashed into poles while others were smashed into each other. Fenders were crushed in and doors were left open. It was a scene from a movie. An image that didn’t make sense.
Keely, Tate, and I walked slower, staring at the cars as we passed them. One car had a stuffed animal in the back, sitting in the seat as if it were still waiting for its owner. Another car had bloodstains on the door.
I started shaking. All I could think about was Luke and Jenna and the blood that had coated my hands the night they had died.
But Nathan wasn’t going to slow down. He charged ahead. He had already explored the streets and seen the vehicles. The sight of them was nothing new to him.
We maneuvered around cars and passed the little convenience store on the corner. The large picture windows in the front were gone, only jagged edges remaining. The shelves looked empty. The place destroyed.