by Jolene Perry
I’m starving, I’m sure she’s starving and we need a place to stay. I don’t figure there’s much point in trying to call all the harbors around here right now. I’m sure they’re only open for boat traffic this late at night.
We have less than 3,000 left in our stash. If we have to wait here for long, it’s going to run out. I stop the car on the street. There’s a Holiday Inn on one side and a Super 8 on the other. Either will work if there’s room. Towns like this probably book up fast in the summer. Addie wakes up when the car turns off.
“It’s dark.” She sits up.
“We were so close that I just wanted to get here.” I pull out the keys and stand up, stretching my stiff body.
“You should have woken me.” She gets out of her side of the car and wipes her face with a hand.
“So you could worry for longer? We’re here, Addie. We made it. Let’s get a room.” I smile over the car.
When she smiles back it kinda takes my breath away. All the stiffness and grogginess from the car ride start to fade away. We made it. We’re here.
“So, we really made it, didn’t we?” She steps around the front of the car.
“We really did.” I take her in my arms and breathe her in. I don’t know how it’s possible, but she still smells wonderful. Hundreds of miles in a decrepit Subaru, two nights in hotels, and I’m breathing her in.
“Hey, you.” Her voice comes out breathless as she takes my mouth with hers, kissing me forcefully.
“Why don’t we…find somewhere to camp before this gets out of hand…” I chuckle and pull away from her.
“Let’s.”
I dig in the back and pull out our packs. We’ll need to do laundry soon. I take Addie under the other one and weigh our options. The Holiday looks about ten years newer than the Super 8. Easy choice. As I step onto the sidewalk a chill passes through me. Not again. My heart’s racing and I’m completely panicked.
Addie screams. It’s short, but makes me clamp her in my arms, just the same.
I squeeze more tightly around her and head for the front door. The door is my focus, as soon as I let myself look at them, I’ll panic. Suddenly it’s like we’re being swarmed. Shadows blur past us so quickly I can’t see where they’ve come from or where they’re going to. Rushes of chills pierce through me, around me. They’re moving so fast there’s no way I could know how many there are.
How can I protect her from this?
Her arms are cradled over her head and I have my arm as tightly around her as I can manage. The shadows pass in front of me, around me. Their limbs touch me with nothing but coolness. Do their arms and hands run down me or pass through me? The air is freezing and each touch heightens my panic and makes me even more desperate to keep Addie safe. I let go with one hand and swipe with the other, afraid to see if my arm passes through them, or knocks them out of the way.
There’s no pressure, just cold. Frigid cold.
I spin and sprint the opposite direction, we’ll stay at the other hotel, the door is further, but it’s like they’re between us and the hotel, maybe we can get to the next one. I have no idea what to do if it doesn’t work. If they head us off again, what do we do? Keep moving? Hope they leave us alone once we’re inside? Run for the car? I let go of Addie’s shoulders to grab her hand. We have to make a run for it. She’s crying next to me in fear.
“Why did we have to wait until it’s dark!”
I don’t think it matters.
“They’re shadows! How can it not matter!” Her voice is scared, angry and panicked.
Finally I feel the Carolina warm air, instead of the frigid cold of the shadows.
We burst through the doors of the Super 8. Breathless and tired of running. It doesn’t seem like we’re followed in here, but it’s only a matter of time. I force my legs to stop a few steps in. I wonder how soon they’ll collapse underneath me?
The small lobby’s deserted. Probably because anyone with any sense, and without shadows chasing them, are next door. I’m able to touch the person at the counter, leaving Addie out of the process. Everyone demands a credit card. Well, until I change that. Addie’s clutching my side, shaking, her chin on my shoulder and her eyes closed.
We get more than one curious look from the three people behind the counter. As much as I hate doing this, I send her not a thought, but a direction. Something I need her to do. Take a deep breath. Stand up. Stop crying. I feel like an ass for doing it, but it needs to be done. All I need to do is get us to our room and calm her down so I can calm me down. Guilt washes through me when she does the exact steps I sent to her. The two extra clerks disperse as I pick up my room key, but I feel like crap about it. There’s just no winning.
THIRTY-ONE
Addison
Dean’s digging through his pack. I’m scanning the room. Every movement, every shadow. It feels as if there’s no escape. I clutch my legs more tightly with my arms, leaning against the headboard of our bed, under the covers. I’m still freezing. My body ‘s jerking with each sniffle, or each time I hold in a sob trying to escape. I should care that he practically forced me to do things, but I don’t. It just doesn’t matter. It got us to our room and that’s enough.
“Got it.” He holds up a bottle of Jack Daniels. His eyes meet mine and his worried look is back. “They’ve never bothered us in a room before, Addie.”
“What do they want? How do we make it stop?” My lip is trembling and a tear falls from my cheek to the blanket below.
“I don’t know.” He sits next to me on the bed. “This was a graduation present. It might help you relax.”
Right now I’d take anything for this gnawing fear to go away. I try to nod and Dean passes the open bottle to me after taking a few swallows. And then a few more.
“Do you want me to get some ice?” he asks as he wipes his mouth and coughs a few times.
“No.” No way I want to be alone right now. I take the bottle and bring it to my lips before giving myself time to think. I’ve never had whiskey before, but I’ve seen enough people drink it to know that it doesn’t taste good. I need to make sure I get enough to do something for me.
I’m coughing, gasping for air on my burning tongue and throat as I lower the bottle. “That’s terrible.” I use both hands to wipe my mouth.
Dean laughs and looks at me in the way that I love. Like he never wants to take his eyes from me. “Maybe you shouldn’t have taken such a huge swallow.”
“Maybe.” But the warm tingles from Dean’s eyes and the warm tingles from the whiskey are starting to spread through me, hitting me in places that feel like they’ve been strung up on tension wires forever.
He scoots forward until our knees are touching. “You’re beautiful.”
“Kiss me.” If his eyes are having this effect, I can’t wait to see what his lips will do.
Dean doesn’t hesitate in taking my mouth in his. He kisses me like he’ll never stop. His hand reaches toward my hand and the bottle, our lips still together.
“Don’t hog it all.” I hold the bottle out to the side, keeping it from him, but all it does is bring his body as close as his lips. I stare at his chest, that’s good too. The warm tingles are making me feel relaxed, but also tense as the feeling settles in my gut.
“Come on.” Dean reaches further forward but now his breath mixes with mine, and it feels like I’ll go crazy. As our lips touch again, the desperate feeling sweeps through me. We can’t get close enough, soon enough.
He pulls back.
I still have the bottle. “I will give you this bottle, if you give me your shirt.” My hand reaches out between us, palm up, waiting for his offering.
He cocks his head to the side, looking at me. “Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
A corner of his mouth pulls up and he takes his T-shirt off in one easy swipe.
I hand him the bottle as I stare at his chest.
Dean probably outdoes me, tipping the bottle up for an impossibly long amount
of time. I stop counting the glugs on the bottle makes at maybe four. Maybe a lot more.
The fuzziness spreads a smile across my face.
“What?” He already looks more relaxed.
“My turn.” Do I need more? It couldn’t hurt. I’m starting to feel so…good. I don’t care. I’m not scared. The world is warm, soft, and Dean’s here, with no shirt. That’s pretty fabulously awesome.
“You’ve probably had enough.”
I grab the bottom of my shirt, pulling it off and hand it to him. “I’m offering a trade.”
His smile disappears as he hands me the bottle. He takes my top in his other hand and tosses it to the side. Dean’s eyes follow my movement closely as I tip the bottle up, taking more of the awful, burning stuff in my mouth. It’s not as bad this time. And I feel even warmer, and more relaxed…
“What do I need to trade you to get another drink?” Dean leans closer to me.
“Nothing,” I whisper.
He tilts the top to his lips just enough to take a few more swallows and as he puts it on the nightstand, I pull him down on top of me. He’s hot. His skin against mine makes me want more. This is better. This is what I need. My mind is spinning, but it doesn’t matter right now. It’s Dean. I’m with Dean and we need to be closer.
“Addie, I don’t think, I…”
But I grab his arms and keep our bodies pressed together. We’ve never been this close before. His hands are on my back, my sides, run over my front. I want more of him, more of him next to me. I slide off my pants and kick them away under the blankets. I reach for his jeans. I’ve done this before and I need it now. I need a break, a release and I feel so good. Powerful. Unstoppable.
“Wait, Addie…I…”
“Dean. I need this.”
His mouth is on me again, kissing my lips, my neck, across my chest.
“Do you have…?”
“In my pack.” He rolls away from me and starts digging around on the floor. “I’m already seriously buzzed, Addie. Once the rest of that hits me, I’m gone.” He chuckles as he fumbles around.
I roll with him and kiss on his back. My eyes open to take him in. This is Dean. Dean. Suddenly seeing him almost naked feels like too much. Maybe I’m too drunk to notice. I’m not sure. I roll away from him and the room spins wildly around me. My eyes flash back to Dean who almost falls off the bed in his attempt for a condom.
What are we doing? It shouldn’t be like this. I’m not too drunk to know this.
He climbs back on the bed and immediately grabs me in his arms with the same urgency we had before. But now it feels like too much, and I don’t know how to respond. His touches feel desperate, and I just want away. He’s suddenly like Chase, grabbing instead of touching.
“Dean.” I wonder if it’s loud enough for him to hear.
His lips cross mine again, sloppy. “Hmm” His hands slide down to my hips, as his fingers grab my thigh, pulling me toward him.
“Dean.” I can’t breathe. Can’t he feel how things are different? How I can’t move?
“Addie…” His arms wrap around me and I’m suffocated from being held so tight.
“I can’t…” I start to push him away.
He pauses as he exhales and flops over on his back. It sounds like a breath of exasperation. He sounds like any and every other guy would in this situation. My chest caves because he’s not supposed to be any other guy and this isn’t supposed to be like any other relationship. This isn’t me and Chase, it’s me and Dean. I can feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes because to top it all off, I’m not supposed to feel like just any other girl. And right now, I do.
“I’m sorry.” My voice comes out in a soft whimper.
Dean’s turns to face me.
Please say something to make me feel better. Please say something that will make me feel better…
“I need to clear my head.” Dean sits up slowly, stands, and heads for the bathroom. He rests his hand out against the wall once for balance.
I want to cry. I want to curl up in a ball of self-pity and cry. Instead I sit up and dig around for my clothes. How could I be so stupid? I should have known better. The room swims as I get dressed. I swim as I get dressed. The shower turns on in the bathroom. Oh. Fine. He can relax in the shower while I’m stuck out here alone. Something I should have expected. Because we’re not special anymore. We’re just...anybody. Anybody being chased by things that can’t possibly be real.
THIRTY-TWO
Dean
I’m such a pansy-ass lightweight.
This is why I never drink.
I step into the shower, letting the hot water run over me. On an empty stomach too. What was I thinking? I’m still buzzed, well, more than buzzed, but things are starting to be clearer as the water continues to run. My hands rest on the side of the shower, and I stare at the water swirling on the floor of the tub. The heat runs over my head and down my face. I wonder if hotels run out of hot water. I wonder how Addie is.
Then I think about her lying in our bed. Alone. After I walked out. Shit. I wonder if I could have screwed with her more if I’d tried. I hit the water off, suddenly disgusted with myself.
It takes me two reaches to get a towel. My body still isn’t working right. I hate drinking. What the hell was I thinking?
I wrap a towel on my waist and suddenly feel desperate to talk to her, right now. I step out of the bathroom. “Addie?” I squint in the lamplight. “Addie?”
Silence.
I step toward the bed. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing softly under the blankets. She’s dressed again, in a long-sleeved t-shirt and probably back in her pants. I’m such an ass. Why couldn’t I have said, ‘I’m sorry Addie, I’m an ass. I’m a terrible drunk, remember I told you?’ but instead I said… I don’t even remember what I said, which means that it was probably pathetic.
I throw on my shorts and a T-shirt. The room is small. I should probably sleep on the floor, but I’m too damn tired and she’ll probably read too much into anything I do at this point. I crawl in next to her, and as I stare at her back all I want to do is to reach out and touch her, have her lie on me, smile at me.
But I obviously screwed that possibility up, even though my brain is still too fuzzy for specifics. I treated her probably how she’d expect to be treated from someone who didn’t care about her as much. Someone like Chase. Could I really not have stuck around to talk?
The room is still spinning and I’m frustrated with Katy and the stupid bottle of Whiskey. This is Dean, promising himself to never drink again. Ever.
My eyes feel heavy and I drift off next to Addison—the short distance feels like miles.
* * *
When I open my eyes, Addie’s sitting on the far side of the room, staring at me. “I’m ready to go. I’ll wait for you in the lobby.” She stands up and heads for the door.
I beg my mind to clear so I can come up with a response. “Okay.” Shit. She definitely thinks I’m an asshole. She opens the door, and walks out.
I gotta get my crap together. I throw on jeans and the T-shirt I wore the first day—now officially out of clean clothes. I scramble to get my shoes on and my pack over my shoulder. The clock reads five minutes to eleven. Eleven? How is this possible?
My pack is stuffed to the brim. I resist the urge to smash the small whiskey bottle sitting on the nightstand. When I step out the door I see Addie running toward me.
“Dean we gotta go.” Her eyes are wide in a look that I’ve come to dread because it means something’s after us.
“What’s going on?”
“Someone’s rummaging through our car, and I saw two guys nod to them from the hotel across the street. They’re coming here next, I’m sure of it.”
I reach for her hand when she gets close, but she doesn’t take it. Not even now. I’ve really screwed up.
“Come on, Dean.” She continues to run down the hallway toward the door at the opposite end, and I follow.
I step
out into the sun and get an instant headache. I have to clear this haze away if I’m going to do anything to protect us today. My stomach’s rolling, I’m hung over, my chest hurts from screwing up with Addison, and I have no idea what to do next.
Addie takes off at a run up the street. I sprint to catch up, but she disappears around a corner, and I almost run into her when I follow.
“Where are we going?” I ask, completely out of breath. We’re still walking fast. Too fast for me to keep up with my head pounding like this.
“Well, we can’t use our car. I thought we’d walk along the beach or on a road near the water and we can stop at harbors as we see them. Try to blend in with the tourists for the day.” She’s determined. Focused.
“Good plan.” I have no idea if it’s a good plan or not. My brain isn’t working, and I feel like shit in a million different ways.
“I had some time to put it together.” Her words come out hard and flat.
Right, because I was sleeping.
“Do you have a hat?”
“What?”
“In your pack, do you have a hat?” Her voice is terse, tired.
I start digging and pull out a black baseball hat. I never wear it, and I’m not sure what prompted me to pack it.
“Thanks.” She pulls her hair up, and stuffs the hat on her head. Her neck’s exposed and small wisps of hair hang around her face, and I’m really wishing I felt okay to touch her.
“Addie, I’m so—”
“I’m not ready to talk yet.” Her lips are tight. “It’s just. If we weren’t in this crazy situation, I’d take the day to be alone, you know? To think. But I can’t do that. So, I just need space.” She rubs her forehead. “I’m sure I’m overreacting, and I messed up and you messed up…” She sighs. “I just need quiet for a while so I can think because I want to be alone, but can’t be. And now I’m rambling and repeating myself.”