by Mark Tufo
"Says here on the box, ‘Bixby.’ Is that your last name, Bixby?"
Bixby? Yes. I nodded in agreement. This caused excruciating pain to shoot through the side of my damaged face and I bit my lip, stopping myself from crying out. He saw the grimace and concern furrowed his brow.
"Sorry about the pain, kid. But we’ll have you fixed up in no time." He stopped at the curb in front of an idling white pickup truck. I hadn't even noticed it there. Its door stood wide open, and he handed me off to the blonde woman inside. I automatically reached out for him at the loss of contact. The little time I had spent in his arms was the safest I’d felt in a very long time. Responding to my whimper of protest, he took both my grasping hands in his giant palm and squeezed them reassuringly.
"This here is Olivia. She's gonna take real good care of you. Olivia, this is Bixby. Now she's been a real brave soldier so far, but I think she's gonna need our help from here on out. We'll keep you safe, little Bixby, I promise. Or my name isn't Captain John Cooper."
Chapter 30
Eight years later
* * *
"Straight flush!" I yell and spread my cards triumphantly across the scarred wood of the table top. The tiny room echoes with the sound of my undisguised gloating. Cackling with glee, I drag the loot of still sealed batteries, bags of MRE pretzels, and the candy to my side of the table. The five other faces illuminated in the watery glow from the naked bulb hanging above the table don't seem to be as pleased as I am.
"There's no way you're this good at poker all the time," Cal says in disgust as he throws his cards down. He scowls at me over black-rimmed glasses held together in the center with a dirty mound of tape.
I stop hoarding and stare back over my pile of winnings at the newest member of our group.
"You accusing me of cheating?" I say with quiet menace, narrowing my eyes.
"Uh-oh," Badger mutters as his skinny frame vacates his chair in a hurry, leaving an empty spot at the table between Cal and me.
"I’m not accusing you of anything other than being extremely lucky. Maybe that's what we should call you from now on—Lucky."
I shake my head, not quite sure if I heard him right.
"You think I, of all people, should be called Lucky? Are you fucking kidding me?" I quickly pull one of my knives out of its leather sheath and practically leap over the table, jamming the tip in the soft fold underneath his dark chin before he can move away. The eyes behind the glasses open wide in shock.
"Maybe I should change your definition of lucky then. Maybe I should cut you open and put you outside the gate, see how many leeches you can outrun. If you live, then that...that would be real lucky, and we get to change your name. How 'bout that?"
"Jesus Christ, Bixby! I wasn't being serious," Cal hisses through gritted teeth, holding his chin high off of my knife. His eyes dart around the table, pleading for help.
"Come on guys, tell her to back off."
Blank stares meet his plea.
"Sorry, Cal, man. You accused her of cheating. Bix don't like that. That's what Sellers did, and well, why do you think we needed a new hunter?"
His frantic dark eyes flit back to me. I don't back off an inch. They let him stew for a bit before they finally crack up laughing.
"Don't get your panties in a knot, Cal. She's just shittin' with ya." Luke laughs as he slaps Cal on the back, causing him to lurch forward, and the tip of my knife digs in slightly. A tiny bead of blood forms at the entry point.
"Ah, dammit, Cal. Look what you did. Now you done messed up my knife."
Pulling it away from his chin, I wipe the blood off on my pants leg with disgust as Cal watches me with wary eyes. He dabs at his chin with his sleeve.
"You’re as crazy as what I heard," he mutters, then quickly tries to backtrack as my head snaps his way. "I mean, others have said..."
"Why don't you just leave it at that, Cal," I warn softly. Picking up a silvery bag of pretzels from my loot pile, I toss them his way. "Here. No hard feelings."
The bag hits him squarely in the chest, but he snags it before it can hit the floor.
"Thanks, I guess, since those were mine to begin with."
"Hey, all’s fair in love and poker," I say with a shrug.
"If you're gonna give Cal back his shit." Dom reaches for another of the silvery packets, and I jam my knife into the table, missing his grasping fingers by a hair.
"Don't even think about it," I snarl. He yanks his hand back in a hurry.
"Jesus. Pms'ing much, Bixby?" His lips curl in anger but his flaming face reveals his embarrassment at everyone's laughter.
"Just as much as you, bitch," I toss back with a sweet smile. "We must be on the same cycle."
Out of the five other hunters sitting around the table, Dominic is the only one who can push me to this level of bitchiness. There are a couple reasons why. Number one, he’s a male chauvinist pig. Doesn't matter that I’m a much better hunter than he will ever be, all he sees when he looks at me is a girl. And the way he looks at me sometimes, it makes my skin crawl. I'm glad I can't see into his twisted thoughts, since I'm sure just a tiny taste would be enough to give me nightmares.
Number two, he’s an all-around asshole. And for the life of me I can't figure out why he’s even assigned to our group. He would make a much better guard than a hunter. He has that “my shit don't stink" vibe about him that most guards at the Grand seemed to attain after a while. I mentioned to Cooper a few times about Dom not fitting in as a hunter, but he just laughed at me and told me it was good to have someone around to challenge all my decisions. That it would keep me on my toes.
Luke also doesn't seem to get Dom's nasty side. He tells me often that Dom isn't really that bad of a guy, and I make him out to be worse than he really is.
Luke is a dumbass. A beautiful, caring, giant of a man, but a dumbass just the same. He refuses to see the bad in anyone. He always says there are so few of us left in the world that we need to believe everyone is basically decent. There are times I want to rip those rose-colored glasses right off of his damn face. Mostly though, I'm grateful for his calm demeanor. He keeps me grounded.
I watch him now as he clasps Dom on the shoulder, turning the other man’s anger away from me.
"Chill out, my friend. No harm, no foul." He smiles at Dom and whispers, "Women," under his breath like that’s the answer for everything wrong in the world. But it seems to appease Dom, and he grins in agreement. I get a quick wink from Luke before he stands up, blocking Dom from my view. The wink seems to say 'no offense, Bix,' but I don't take any. I'm just glad the situation was defused before it escalated into one of our heated debates. It's been a hard week, and I don't think I have it in me right now to argue with Dom.
Luke, the peacekeeper. I'm sure Dom and I would have torn out each other’s throats by now if it weren't for him. He is our unofficial leader: level-headed, cautious, and methodical. Everything I'm not. Only a couple of years older than me, but experience wise, he’s a grizzled vet. More than once he’s gotten us out of an ass-ripping in the field, whereas I would’ve just gone balls-to-the-wall to escape the leeches. His instincts are infallible. We’ve never lost a man under his watch, and I'm lucky to call him friend. And lover.
"Come on, Bix. You can keep the damned batteries, but at least share the rest of your loot. It's movie night. Gotta have snacks for movie night, and you took all my shit." This is from Gordon- the youngest member of our group. Barely seventeen, his freckled face and slight stature make him look far younger than his years. But the kid is a super-fast runner, which is one of the most important requirements of a hunter. Sometimes it's all that keeps us alive.
"Movie night?" Shit. I had forgotten. Amy is going to be pissed at me. I promised to come see her before movie night. That had been what--a week ago? Yup, she’s going to be upset. I'm hoping my newest acquirement for her collection will be enough to lighten her mood.
"Yeah, they're showing Raiders of the Lost Ark tonight. Love that one!
" The irony of the boy’s eagerness is not lost on me. That movie had been out long before we’d even been born. Gordon has probably seen it at least twenty or thirty times since the Grand's entire movie collection consisted of a handful of titles, all shown on an old-school projector and movie reel. Yet he's still as excited as if it's a brand new release. And since new movie releases have gone the way of the dinosaur, we've all learned an appreciation for the classics.
"Did you know-" he continues eagerly, "-in that movie, Harrison Ford kept losing his hat, so at one point they stapled it to his forehead? I read that somewhere." He looks around at us all like he’d just revealed the secret of the Lost Ark itself.
"Yeah, we did," Dom grounds out. "And I still don't give a shit any more than I did the last three times you told us."
Even though I actually agree with Dom on this one, I'm sure as hell not about to say that. Instead I ignore him and sigh at Gordon, tossing a bag of candy his way. "What's the point of beating your asses if I'm just gonna hand it all back to you losers?"
He snatches the bag out of the air and grins at me, taking no offense at Dom's rudeness. The kid really doesn’t take offense to much, although whether he’s too stupid or too young to care, I’m not sure. "You know you're only doing this ‘cause somewhere in that hard shell you call a heart, you’ve got a soft spot for us all."
I join in with his laughter. He has this happy-go-lucky way about him that always cracks me up. But then the snide comment hits my ears.
"Yeah, go figure Bixby would have a soft spot for morons. Not to mention the oldies, cripples, and 'tards, that live here as well. The biggest non-contributors to our survival. As far as I'm concerned, they should all be put outside the gate and--"
Dom doesn't get to finish that sentence. An intense wave of hate floods my body, literally making me see red.
I lunge at him before he can dodge. Taking him down to the floor, I land on top of him, straddling his chest. Laying my left forearm heavy across his throat, I hold my knife inches above his right eye.
"Take that back you ignorant prick, or I swear I will cut your fucking eyeballs right out of your head and pop 'em like grapes!"
Dominic's eyes narrow in undisguised fury as he spits in my face. The spittle runs down my cheek and drips from my chin, turning my anger into a raging inferno. I drop the knife like a hot potato, hitting fast and fierce with three quick punches to his face. Blood spurts from his split lip, but the sight of it only fuels my wrath. I need to inflict more damage. I pull back for another punch, but my anger makes me sloppy. Dom quickly recovers from the surprise attack and lurches to the side, throwing me off of him. My head hits the nightstand next to the bed, and the blow stuns me. Dom takes advantage of my confusion and flips me onto my back, grabbing my arms as he stares down at me.
"Don't you ever threaten me again, bitch," he snarls.
I yank my left hand up to my face, pulling him over me. Not giving him any chance to retaliate, I place my right knee between us and brace my left foot against his hip, pushing with all my might. It forces me out of his grasp, and I roll nimbly to my feet. He's still on his knees, and I move in for a good swift kick to the balls. Nothing I want more than to see this asshat squirming in pain.
Lucky for him, I don't connect. Gordon and Badger jerk him to his feet and pull him out of reach. He struggles against their confinement, but they refuse to let go of his arms. I don't protest their involvement; all the easier for me to kick his damn ass. I know it's a dick move to attack an unarmed guy, but I’m beyond caring at this point in time. He so deserves an ass whooping. I leap at him, but I'm plucked out of the air mid-jump.
"Let. Me. Go." I huff at the arms binding me like a vise, but Luke doesn't let up on me in the least. His lips bury in my hair as he quietly hisses at me, "Calm down, Bix. Calm the hell down."
"Get your hands off of me," Dom says as he pulls his arms free. Gordon and Badger back off, but only after they’re convinced he's not planning to retaliate.
"Bix?" Luke questions quietly, and my nod is abrupt. He still doesn't let go.
"I'm done!" I snap, and he finally releases me. I shake him off as I move away. No one says a word as I wipe the remaining spittle from my face with the back of my sleeve and stare at Dom in hatred. Luke finally breaks the heavy silence.
"What the hell was that?" Even after the drama that just unfolded, he sounds so calm and in control. I, on the other hand, am still pissed to no end.
"You know damn well what that was—Dom being the complete jackass that he is." I turn my glare from the moron across the room and stare pleadingly at Luke. "You just heard him. You heard what he said about the old folks and Amy and Cooper. He's not joking. He truly believes the shit spewing out of his own mouth, so why is he still a part of this group?"
"You know that's not up to me—" Luke begins his usual defense, but I don't want to hear it. Not this time.
"But you can talk to Cooper. He will listen to you," I say in frustration.
"Why don't you go see Cooper yourself, Bixby?" Dom's eyes are as back as coal as he dabs at the blood on his lip with his sleeve. "From what I hear, you have him just as pussy whipped as Thor here."
"That's enough, Dom," Luke growls a warning and I can tell by the throbbing vein at his temple he’s trying hard to hold his temper in check. For a moment, I think do it. I want him to lose control. But right away I feel guilty, since my dislike of Dom isn't Luke's problem.
"What? You don't want me saying out loud what the rest of us already know about your girlfriend, Whitman?" Dom goads, his words filled with insinuation.
"It's not like that," Luke is using his best don’t-fuck-with-me tone, but it only makes Dom snort sarcastically. The laughter grates along my spine like nails on a chalkboard.
"Says who? Her? Like she's gonna tell you the truth. Word has it she's been sleeping with Cooper and you both at the same time. I wouldn't be surprised to find a few more names on that list, either."
"Except for yours," I fire back. "Is that what this is about, Dom? You jealous ‘cause you're feeling left out?" My fists curl again, just itching for some more contact with his leering face. But I know from experience it's pointless. Dom never changes his opinion on anything, no matter how warped that opinion is. I found that out the hard way from our numerous arguments over the years. Why he’s even allowed to live at the Grand with us is a mystery to me. Cooper shares Luke's mindset, believing every life essential. Too bad Dom doesn't feel the same way.
This isn't the first time I've heard his snide comments against the weaker members of the three hundred or so souls that call the Grand home. If it were up to him, the old and the disabled would be put out as fodder for the leeches. He believes if you don't contribute substantially, then you don't belong. I could learn to ignore him if I didn't know that there are others who share his opinion. Although I can probably count them on one hand, it still makes me uneasy.
"Forget it, Luke," I mutter to the tense giant standing beside me. "Don't waste any more of your time talking to that narrow-minded, fuck-knuckle."
"Truth hurts, don't it, Bixby," Dom shrugs at me and I bite my lip, fighting hard against the urge to punch him again.
Instead I take a menacing step and growl, "Get the fuck out, Dom! All of you—get out."
To my relief, they obey. Cal and Badger send wary smiles my way as they pass by. Gordon even goes as far as picking up my knife and handing it to me, but the laughter following Dom's retreat pisses me off even more. I hold my temper in check until they clear the small room, but as soon as the door closes behind them, I take my wrath out on the poker table.
"Arrrggghhhh!" Furious, I stab my knife over and over into the soft wood, growling in frustration with each blow. Luke watches silently from the safety of the other side of the table.
"I think you killed it," he says dryly, as my attack on the table finally slows down. Giving one more stab for good measure, I lean over the table with a tight grip, catching my breath.
"
God, I really do hate that sonofabitch."
"You really shouldn't let him get to you so much. He enjoys goading you—and you fall for it every time. You know his bark is far worse than his bite. He doesn't believe half of what he says--"
"What?" I stare at him in disbelief. "Did we not just hear the same conversation? Not to mention he pretty much called me a whore. Thanks for defending me by the way," I say.
His soft chuckle only adds to my annoyance. Why is he laughing? There’s nothing funny about this situation.
"One thing I've learned about you over the years, Emma Bixby, you don't need defending by any man. Besides, the one time I did try to defend you, you nearly took my head off. I won't be that stupid again."
"Is that so?" My obvious anger only seems to cause him to laugh harder. "So not helping, Luke. And why are you even still here? I told all of you to get the hell out. That includes you, you big ape."
"Considering this is my room, I figured you would make a concession." His laughter finally dies down to a stupid grin. Folding his arms across his wide chest, he rocks back on his boot heels. "Besides, I can't leave you. You're all riled up now, and I alone know the only way to calm you down when your dander is up. Have I ever told you you're sexy as hell when you're pissed?"
He wiggles his eyebrows at me in an exaggerated leer.
"Sexy as hell?" I mock. "Really? Not the best time for one of your cheesy pick-up lines, Whitman."
"Cheesy, but true," he says, his chocolate brown eyes raking over me with such a look of heat my knees go weak. My mouth suddenly dries out like the Sahara as he drops his arms and ambles my way. His big hands grip my shoulders with an urgency that belies his leisurely approach. At 5'8 I’m no slouch, but still he towers above me. His blonde head dips toward mine and the feathery caress of his lips as they move up my neck and along my jawline sends shivers quivering down my spine.
"You're an ass," I mumble in protest. My anger still vibrates through me, competing with the arousal he’s awakening. He responds by nibbling on my neck.