The man grinned, patting his hand on the truck, causing a loud sound to echo in the relative silence. “You can hop on in here with us.”
Ash smiled, forced. “That’s kind of you, sir. I think we will jump in the back of the truck, if that’s okay.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his eyebrow raised. “It’s mighty cold out here.”
“We’re sure,” Ash insisted, pulling me toward the back of the truck. He let down the tailgate and helped me climb in before climbing in behind me. There were a few thick blankets in the back, smelling strongly of horse and manure but they were warm. I pulled one over me but couldn’t stop the shivering that was coursing through my body.
“Come here,” Ash said, holding his arms out to me. I hesitated for a moment before scooting closer to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around me, pulling the blanket over the both of us. The truck roared to life and bounced onto the road. Ash’s arms tightened around me, and soon I fell asleep.
I fell straight into another nightmare. It was a variation of the first, the spooky slow motion night of the dance. I danced with Ash. I discovered I was blue. I ran through the slower dancers before crashing into the bathroom and finding the body on the floor. There was blood all over my hands and bits of flesh on my dress.
I had killed my father. The scene played over and over in my head, until I woke with a start, gasping for air.
“Another bad dream?” Ash whispered. I nodded, pressing my face into his chest. “I’m sorry. But I have some good news; I think we made it. I think we’re in Constance.”
I sat up, the blanket falling off my shoulders. We were in Constance, making our way down the small main street of the town. It was late, way past the prime hours of Constance, which meant that most of the stores were closed. There were no Awakened, which made me wonder if Constance really was safe. We passed the elementary school, and the truck came to a stop.
“Where am I taking you?” the man asked, leaning out the window to call to us.
“There are a few houses on the outskirts of town,” I called back. “About a mile or two.”
He continued driving, passing a few houses. I pointed out my mother’s house as we came closer, my heart slamming harder and harder in my chest. It looked perfect, exactly the way it always looked. There were a couple lights on in the house, and my mom’s jeep was parked in the long driveway. The man made the turn off and drove the bumpy road up to the house.
Ash hopped out of the back of the truck and held his hand out to me to help me jump down. There was wet, white crunchy show underneath my feet, and I shivered. He leaned through the window to thank the man, and after a few exchanged words, he pulled away, the truck groaning and coughing back down the road.
“Are you ready?” Ash asked, holding out his hand to me. “We made it.”
“I’m terrified,” I admitted to him, grabbing his hand and holding it like a lifeline. We walked up the frozen steps and crossed the porch to the front door. I raised my free hand, hesitating before knocking on the door, afraid of what I would find on the other side.
MY MOTHER OPENED THE DOOR slowly, peeking out. Her eyes fell on Ash first and narrowed in suspicion. He stepped back, letting me step forward into the light. She threw the door open and stepped outside, a shiver going through her as the cold wind bit on her bare skin. She was wearing a long white sweater and jeans, with her long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looked tired but so young, so beautiful. It felt like it had been so long since I’d seen her.
“Zoey?”
“Hi, Mom,” I said.
“Oh my god, Zoey,” she said, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me into a hug. A flash of pain went through my face as it was pressed firmly against her chest. She pulled back and looked from me to Ash. “You made it. You were supposed to be here days ago. What happened? Where’s Frank?”
The words got caught in the back of my throat, and I shook my head, pressing my lips tight together.
“He…he didn’t make it,” Ash said, softly.
My mom’s hand flew to her mouth, tears in her eyes, and I felt a surge of anger. She didn’t get to feel that way. She wasn’t allowed to be sad. “Oh my god,” she repeated.
“Where’s Caspar?” I said sharply, pushing past her to get into the house, immediately warmth seeping over me. I pulled my coat off, tossing it aside.
My mom and Ash followed me inside. Her eyes were still full of tears. “Caspar…he isn’t here.”
I faltered, turning back to look at her. “What do you mean, he isn’t here?” I asked, looking around the entryway.
“He was…he was in Los Angeles when the Awakened hit the city. He was meeting with his publicist; he had just finished a book. He tried to get a flight out, but there were no flights leaving.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I don’t know if he got out when the bombs hit. The phones don’t work.”
I wanted to say something, anything. But I had nothing to say. What did you say about the man who you had held responsible for ruining your family? “Sorry,” I managed to say.
“Who is this?” my mom said, looking over at Ash.
“This is Ash Matthews,” I said. “He lives…lived next door.”
“Ash Matthews,” she repeated, looking up at him. He smiled at her, a hesitant, shy smile but containing all that Matthews charm nonetheless. A small smile played on her own lips, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “I remember you. You’ve grown up.”
“Yes, ma’am” he answered, nodding his head.
She nodded and reached for the light switch. The lights came on and threw us all into clarity. She gasped as her eyes fell on my face. I turned away, a blush rushing through my cheeks.
“I’m tired,” I said, avoiding her eyes. “I think I’ll go upstairs and sleep.”
“Zoey, what happened to your face?” she asked, horrified.
“Nothing,” I said, heading for the stairs.
“We got attacked on the way here,” Ash started to explain before I shot him a dark look. He was silenced immediately. He looked awkward for a moment, his hands sinking into the pockets of his jeans.
“Oh,” my mom said, softly, sounding sad. “My poor baby. My poor little girl. You were so beautiful.”
I felt something in me snap, and I spun around to face her, my face only inches away from hers. “Are you serious right now? That’s what you have to say? Dad is dead, Mom. He is dead, and I had to burn his body on the side of the road by a cornfield that I’ll never see again. I’ll never remember where it was. And Caspar is probably dead too. People are dying. I just spent five days trying to get to you, starving and freezing and running from stupid Awakened, okay? And yeah, one of them cut my face. Whether I’m still beautiful or not isn’t the thing to worry about right now. But I’m glad you have your priorities straight.”
I flashed a look over at Ash and turned on my heel, stomping up the stairs, crossing the hallway to my room and slamming the door behind me. My shoulders shook, and I could feel the blood boiling under my skin. I clenched my fists tight before taking a deep breath and releasing them. I kicked off my boots and peeled all my clothes off, leaving only my tank top and underwear on. I climbed up into my bed and was about to turn off the light when Ash came in.
“Next time, it would probably be a good thing to knock, Ash,” I said, dryly.
“Sorry,” he said, not sounding very sorry. “Did I almost walk in on something exciting?”
“You wish,” I said, pulling the covers up to my chin. “Did you need something?”
“Your mom sent me up here. She didn’t look very happy.”
“She tends to not look very happy when I’m around,” I admitted. “What did you need?”
“I’m exhausted, and I just really want to sleep,” he said, looking longingly toward the bed.
I shook my head. “No way. You’re not sleeping in this bed. There’s a guest bedroom down the hall.”
He sighed. “I don’t have to sleep in the bed. I can sl
eep on the floor. I just…I don’t really want to be alone. Not yet.”
I softened a little at the words. “No funny business?”
The corners of his lips twitched a bit. “No funny business,” he promised.
I relented. “There’s a trundle bed under this bed. You just slide it out. You can sleep there.”
He smiled. “Thank you, Z.”
“Zoey,” I corrected sleepily, turning away as he slid the bed out from underneath mine. I heard him getting ready for bed, and the creak of the mattress as he lay down. I stayed awake, listening for the sound of his deep breathing and his soft snores before I fell into sleep myself.
When I woke in the morning, sunlight was streaming through the pale pink curtains that lined my large windows. I blinked several times, my eyes adjusting to the brightness. I rolled over, my hair tangled across my pillow, and looked down at the trundle bed. It was empty, blankets tossed to the side.
I climbed out of bed, my socks hitting the hardwood floors. I walked over to the dressers set right across from the bed and nearly cried with happiness at the sight of clothes in them. I wasn’t completely positive that they would fit but they were my clothes and I wanted nothing more than to take off the dirty, bloody, torn clothing that I was wearing.
I grabbed a new outfit, a soft t-shirt and jeans, and a new pair of underwear and a perfect, clean bra. I held them close to me, smelling the lemon-scented detergent. I took them to the bathroom, and grabbed a towel from the cupboard. I stripped, tossing the dirty, offensive clothing in the trashcan. I would burn them later. I never wanted to see that clothing again.
The water was miraculously warm. It wasn’t hot, like I would have hoped. Back home, I loved my showers hot and scalding, leaving my back bright red when I stepped out of the shower. But after washing in frozen cold streams, a lukewarm shower felt like heaven. I stayed under the water for what felt like hours, washing my hair, scrubbing it clean with coconut-scented shampoo. The bottom of the tub was a mix of blood and dirt, and I watched as it washed down the drain until the water at my feet was clear. I scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin felt raw.
I climbed out of the shower, wrapping the towel tight around me as I sifted through the drawers and cabinets in search of a comb. I found one quickly and went to work on the impossible tangles and knots that had worked their way into my hair over the past week. I winced as the comb tore out strands of my hair, falling in swirls toward the wet floor.
I found as many products underneath the sink as I could. I rubbed cocoa butter lotion all over my chapped skin, ignoring the puckered skin of my scars over my body. I brushed my teeth, feeling the glorious minty feeling in my mouth. I searched the drawers for make-up, powder, cover-up, something but there was nothing to be found. I sighed and put the clothes on, enjoying the softness of the clean fabric.
Voices reached my ears as I made my way downstairs and across the foyer to the kitchen. I paused when I heard the low rumble of Ash’s voice and the clear mid-western accent of my mother’s.
“She’s been through a lot,” Ash was saying. “I don’t think reminding her of the cut on her face is going to be helpful for you. And I did the best I could to fix it. I’m not exactly a doctor.”
“You did a fine job, Ash,” my mom said, her voice soft. I peeked around the corner, seeing the mug in front of her, clutched between her small hands. The smell of freshly brewed tea reached my nose. I inhaled, feeling a wave of nostalgia. No one drank as much tea as my mom did. “You’ve been protecting my daughter. You brought her home. I can ask for no more.”
“I’m worried about her though,” he admitted, his fingers tracing the grooves in the old wood table. “She hasn’t cried. Since Frank, since New York…she hasn’t cried. She’s shed a few tears, but she hasn’t cried.”
“Shock?” my mom suggested, sighing. “Zoey has always been a tough one, refusing to back down. She’s a fighter, always has been. She’s never been an overly emotional or affectionate person. It got worse after her father and I got divorced.”
I felt my face flush, and I knew I should move forward, but I was too fascinated by the conversation.
“But it’s her dad. She needs to cry. She needs a good cry.”
“Crying would be seen as a sign of weakness. And crying would mean accepting that he is gone, saying goodbye once and for all. I’m not sure she can handle that.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked into the kitchen, making no indication that I had heard what they were talking about. “Good morning,” I said.
“Afternoon,” Ash corrected me, a lazy grin on his face. “You slept through the entire morning.”
“I think I deserved it,” I said, sliding into one of the rickety chairs next to him. “And the shower too.”
“Did you leave any hot water for me?” he joked.
“It was admittedly kind of warm,” I said. “But I wouldn’t count on any of it for your shower.”
He laughed, but I could see the worry in his eyes. He bit his lip, his eyes darting to my mom, but she didn’t flinch. Whether or not she knew I had heard them didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, standing up and crossing to the stove. She lifted the teakettle and poured steaming hot water into a mug, dunking a tea bag into it. She placed in front of me. I wanted to pick up the cup and throw it, smash it on the wall, send the pieces flying across the floor but it smelled too good. It wasn’t a cup of coffee-oh god, coffee-but it was the next best thing. “I could make you something.”
“Yes, thank you,” I said, stiffly.
She nodded, pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail before opening the refrigerator and rummaging through it. I leaned forward and was surprised to find that it was quite full.
“Where have you been getting the food?” I asked curiously, as she pulled out the makings for a sandwich.
“I was just telling Ash, things in Constance…they’re quite different than what you’ve been experiencing. There were no bombs in Nebraska, not even in Omaha or Lincoln. People here…they just left. I don’t know where, but they left. It’s a ghost town, so the stores, everything, is just abandoned. So I went into town and stocked up.”
“So…there are no Awakened here?” I asked confused, as she slid a ham and cheese sandwich in front of me. I swallowed hard as I saw it was cut into four tiny triangles, the way I liked it when I was a kid.
She shook her head, taking her seat across from me again. “Nope. Well, at least none that have been spotted here. You guys say you were attacked by Awakened near the border, but none have made it to Constance. It’s safe here. You’re safe here.”
“I’m grateful for you letting me stay, Ms. Flynn,” Ash said. I flinched a little at the sound of his voice. It had felt like ages since I had heard his “charm” voice, the dip that he put into his voice that made it lower, sexier, and more apt to get people to fall madly in love with him.
My mom preened a little, and I felt a stab of jealously. Was I really getting jealous of my mom right now? My memory flashed to the feel of Ash’s lips on my collarbone and I felt myself get hot. This was getting ridiculous. “Jennifer, please. And it’s not a problem. I couldn’t turn you out, not when you will be so safe here. And I could never do something like that to someone that Zoey cares about.”
There was a long silence at the words. I turned away from them, a small smile creeping up on my lips. My eyes met Ash’s, and he looked taken aback, and a little hurt at my reaction.
“Am I missing something?” my mom asked, looking confused. “Ash is your boyfriend, am I right?”
I coughed loudly, my face heating up. “Um, no. No, no, no. He’s not my boyfriend. No way. Not in this world. No.”
The corner of Ash’s mouth turned upward a bit. “I’m not her boyfriend,” he told my mom.
She looked back and forth between us. “Pity,” she said, sighing, throwing me an exasperated look.
I rolled my eyes and stood up, already done
with the conversation. “We need to get some things straight. We’re safe…for now. But we spotted Awakened not even five hours away from here.”
Ash and my mom exchanged looks but didn’t say anything.
“I don’t want to rain on your parade,” I said, firmly. “I think we’re safe here too. But I don’t want to take that chance. We’ll continue with practicing our shooting, Ash.” I looked at my mom. “And you’re going to learn.”
She frowned. “I know how to shoot a gun, young lady.”
I paused. “When was the last time you shot a gun?”
She paused to think about it. “Oh, well, probably back when your father and I were still together…”
“Exactly,” I said, cutting her off before she could continue. “You’re going to practice. We have an extra handgun that was…that was Dad’s. You have to keep it on you at all times.” I sighed, looking out the window at the flat lands that surrounded my mother’s house. “You just never know what is going to happen.”
I turned on my heel and walked away from them, back up the stairs to my room. I shut the door behind me, my eyes catching on the bookshelf that stood in the corner of the room. I rushed across the room toward it, my fingers tracing the spines. My heart was slamming in my chest, full of emotion, at the sight of my favorite titles. It seemed silly to miss books so much, but I had. There was nothing like curling up with a book, a blanket tucked around me, and falling into a world so different from my own.
Now I looked at the titles and wondered what could possibly make me feel better. So many of the titles on my shelves were fantasy and science fiction. I felt like I had fallen into my own sci-fi novel. I found it was not nearly as fun as it had been before. My hands fell on my worn copy of Gone with the Wind, given to me by my grandmother before she had died. Scarlett O’Hara had dealt with an impossible war and had overcome. I could too.
I pulled the book off the shelf and carried the tome over to my bed. I pulled the blanket up over my legs and settled the open book in my lap. I heard the sound of rain hitting the tin roof of the shed that was no more than a hundred yards away from the back porch. I tried remembering how long it had been since I had left New York and what today’s date was. It was sometime after the New Year. It had to have been. It was winter, and I knew we would be spending a lot of time indoors. Together.
The Awakened Page 16