Once he was sure they were outside, Cory pushed himself out from under Stewart’s corpse and rescued his katana from under the seat in front of him. He then went to one of the louvered windows to peek through the slats. Two of the men were going through the supplies pulled from the luggage compartment underneath the bus. Another one was waiting behind them, overseeing their progress. The last man remained next to the two women. He was casually waving a handgun at them. He must have gotten cocky, because when he moved a little too close to the taller woman, she hit him hard and started running. But she could not run so well on her wounded leg. The man casually wiped his mouth with the heel of his hand. Then he raised his pistol, and fired.
The bullet took her low in the spine. Her head snapped backward as she fell. She did not get up.
The leader of the group stormed over and hit the man who had killed her with the stock of his rifle. The remaining woman used the brief window of opportunity to sprint away and vanish behind a burned-out sedan. The men hunted her, tracking her into the trees that ran along the road. They called out for her, yelling about the things they planned to do to her once they caught her.
Cory debated whether to run, or try to help. He did not debate for long. It took him less than ten minutes to gut the first two guys from behind, take the third in the neck. The fourth, after the guy dropped his gun and begged for his life, got skewered through the eye socket, out the back of his skull, and into the tree behind him.
After killing the men, Cory shouted for the woman. He knew her as Janice. She was nice enough, and he had spoken with her a few times inside the bunker, but after repeatedly calling for her, she never responded, nor did he ever see her again.
When Eve returned, he stared at her for a long, hard second. She reminded him of Janice.
“You hungry?” she said, motioning him to follow.
“Starving.”
He picked up his jacket, pack, and the sword. She led him into the house through the back door and into the kitchen. Warmth radiated from a wood-burning stove. A few candles illuminated the space, giving the place a pale orange glow. A small table with four chairs sat off to one side, nestled up against a wall. Hanging above the table were various Peanuts cartoons. Snoopy, Charlie Brown, and Lucy were all there. Cory searched until he found one strip with his favorite character in it, Woodstock. He grinned at the caption. Then his eyes fell on a bowl of apples sitting in the middle of the table.
Apples, fresh, red, round, juicy apples. He had picked some small green ones a few days ago, but he was saving them to eat later.
“Take one,” she said.
He took an apple from the bowl and bit into it. It had a satisfying crunch, and the sweet-tart flavor exploded in his mouth. Savoring it, he let the juices run down the corners of his lips as he chewed. Spotting a corrugated, metal water container on the counter, he removed his water bottles and went to fill them.
“You don’t need to do that. Sit,” she said.
“Why?”
“Oh, go ahead then. But you won’t need them anymore.” She removed a pair of pint-sized glasses with a chipped orange and blue picture of a horse painted on the sides.
“Fill these, will you?” she asked.
He did, downed one, refilled it, and downed that one, too.
“Thirsty?” she commented.
He returned to the table with two refilled glasses and pulled out a chair. He sat, placing both hands in front of him on the plaid tablecloth. She went to the pantry and began to remove some items. She opened a jar on the counter and scooped out a spoonful of something light brown, which she put into a frying pan on the stove. From a green cooler, she removed two cleaned fish, both trout. Both must have weighed at least a pound.
He swallowed in anticipation.
She smiled and presented the fish to him for closer inspection. “There is a lake less than a mile from here,” she said. “Usually, these are reserved for Noah. Tonight, they are yours.”
He leaned back in the chair and rocked it onto two legs. He wanted to escape, but now thought it might be better to do so on a full stomach. Plus, it seemed he was being fattened up for something, and he was fairly certain it was not for slaughter. They wanted him here, and he wanted to know why.
Eve set the fish in the pan. The sizzling, cooking fish smelled remarkable. He was hungry enough to have eaten them raw. When she set them down in front of him, he reached out with his fingers, and then stopped when she offered him a fork. She had put both fish on his plate and had only taken a small portion for herself. He grabbed her plate and divided it equally. She gave him an assessing look as if she had not expected him to do that.
They ate together slowly, with manners, something he was a little rusty at. Every morsel, he savored. He almost teared up after setting the last bite in his mouth and washing it all down with another full glass of cool water.
After one of the most satisfying experiences in the past few months, he pushed away from the table and wiped his lips on a clean cloth napkin, apparently another luxury this place had to offer.
“Thank you,” he said, genuinely sated.
“You’re welcome.”
They sat in silence.
She let him wait there for a few minutes before clearing the table and dropping the dishes in the sink. Returning, she touched him on the arm.
“Come with me,” she said.
“For what?”
“Just come.”
He had some idea of what she meant as she guided him up from the chair and took a lit candle from the table.
“Where? Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
She led him through the house and up a narrow flight of stairs. At the top, she turned right. The wallpaper was yellowing and peeling at the seams. Black and white pictures hung in a row along both walls. They looked as if they had been taken when the house was part of a larger farm. He could see tractors and plowed fields in the background along with a stout-looking family. None of them looked anything like Noah. She stopped at the last door in the hallway. A padlock hung from a latch installed outside the door. She handed him the candle to hold then removed a key hanging from a chain around her neck. She unlocked the lock and pushed the door open. It squeaked as it swung inward. The room held a large bed, neatly made with a quilted cover. A dresser in the corner had a couple of photos of Eve with friends or family. The people were smiling and had their arms wrapped around each other, happy people, happier times. He paused for a beat, taking in the scenes of a former life depicted by the snapshots.
She took the candle from him and set it on the dresser next to the photographs. Backpedaling, he bumped into the bed and sat down on the side.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing, just remembering,” he replied. “You have your own room here?”
“Yes,” she said. “Now, take your shirt off.”
He reflexively crossed his arms.
“I should clean those scratches. The ones I saw earlier. Now take it off. Please.”
He had been wearing his jacket the entire time he was out there with the raptors. He was sure nothing had scratched him, nothing at all.
“Please,” she said again.
He removed his shirt.
She tsked as she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back. “You have a lot of scars. Raptors?”
He said nothing.
“They look like—”
He got up from the bed.
“Wait. I didn’t mean to—”
He sat back down on the side, and she bent in close to him.
“Take me with you,” she whispered.
Surprised, he pulled away and turned to look at her.
“Take me with you,” she whispered again.
He did not have to think about it for long. “No.”
“So, you are leaving. I knew it.”
She sprang from the bed and raced across the room toward the door. Then she stopped when he did not follow. She
raised a finger.
“Are you planning on telling him?” he asked.
She seemed to consider this, and then said, “No, I won’t say anything, but you really do need to stay.”
She returned and sat behind him. She poked at one of the scars on his back. He turned to look at her again. She was afraid of something.
“Lie down,” she said. “I need to clean out these scratches so they won’t get infected.” She pushed him onto his stomach.
He complied, stretching out across the bed, knowing there were no scratches, only scars.
“Hmm. Nothing here seems very recent. You weren’t even touched tonight. Amazing. Know that?”
He tried to shrug, but found the gesture difficult to do while on his stomach, so he just kept silent.
She set a bowl of water on the table next to the bed and dipped a cloth into it. With a gentle, swirling motion, she began washing his back. It felt good, really good.
She stopped. “Sit up,” she said and moved closer, barely an inch from his ear. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek and could feel something else stirring. He tried to will it away, but it had been a long time, too long.
She moved closer still, close enough that her breasts pushed against his back and he could feel the beating of her heart.
Then, she tried to turn his head and kiss him. He pulled away.
“You don’t want me to?” she asked.
“No, no, that is not it. I—”
She sat up straight. “You can? You can’t? You won’t? What?”
He shook his head and scooted farther away from her.
She grinned, flashing a seductive smile. “Oh, come on. Don’t you find me attractive?”
He struggled to control his impulses. “I can sleep outside.” He grabbed his shirt and went to stand by the dresser.
“You can’t leave. Noah would… would be upset.”
He was sure now. He had suspected Noah was a controlling her. She had just confirmed it. Her offer was tempting, but he could not allow himself to give in to the temptation. Part of him found it a necessary bodily function, and he could use the release, but another part of him found the entire act vile and disgusting, especially after what he had seen done to his sister so many years ago.
“I will stay tonight. Here with you. But, I am not—”
She lowered her head. “You sure? I can make it worth your while. You really don’t find me attractive?”
He said nothing.
“Would you prefer someone else? A man? A boy perhaps?”
“No. That—” He sat down on the side of the bed, waving his hands. “—is not it. No.”
She scooted next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. He did not resist. She began to breathe softly as if lost in some private thought. He became conscious of his own breathing. Having her so near threw off the rhythm. She smelled of lilacs and rosemary. It was an intoxicating smell.
-21-
SPLIT
IT WAS STILL dark outside when Cory woke. The clock inside his head told him it was close to three or four in the morning. He never could sleep for more than a few hours at a time no matter how tired he was. Eve was lying next to him, making light snoring noises. It felt remarkably good to be near someone, which surprised him. Normally, he wanted nothing to do with anyone else. Somehow, this was different. But it would not last. It never did.
He carefully disentangled himself and silently picked up his belongings from a chair near the window then checked on her again. She had turned onto her side. She was still fast asleep. Trying the door, he twisted the knob and pulled gently. It did not open. Someone had locked the padlock on the outside. He had assumed that would happen. He checked the window. It was one of those old push up types with single-pane glass. The paint on the surrounding moldings was thick and soft to the touch. He flipped a small brass lock mechanism and pushed up with the heels of his hands. The window refused to budge. Was it jammed? It felt loose enough in its frame. He probed around the molding, searching for whatever was keeping it shut. His hand landed on something that stuck out, a nail.
He set his pack down next to the window and carefully withdrew a pocketknife from it.
Eve stirred.
He froze with the knife halfway open.
She patted the bed and rolled over, pulling the sheets with her.
He checked around the window frame again for anything else, but found nothing and returned to the nail. He pulled on the head with the thick edge of the knife blade while also rocking it back and forth. The nail came free with a jolt, and his knuckles hit the window. He froze and glanced at Eve.
Nothing. She had not moved.
Exhaling, he dropped the nail in a jacket pocket and opened the window an inch, then another, and kept going. He stopped when it was open just enough to crawl through. Taking one last glance back at her, he mouthed, “Sorry.”
With his bag and shoes and jacket held out front, he crawled through the open window, closed it, and padded softly over to the side of the roof. He stopped and knelt down on one knee. The shingles creaked lightly under his feet. He put on his jacket, sat, and slipped on his shoes. Overhead, the clouds had returned and now blocked out the moon and stars. He could not have timed it any more perfectly.
Two guards were keeping watch, standing on a platform near the eastern wall. They were guiding the makeshift spotlight and scanning the tree line in a slow, deliberate arc. Cory grinned. The two would be night-blind from the brightness of the light, so their chances of spotting him accidentally were low.
He carefully scouted the area until he found something else he had suspected. Ryan and Matt were sitting on a bench near the wall where they would have a clear view of the window he had just exited. They were playing cards in the spill of light below the platform and were absorbed in their game. He reached into his pack, feeling around inside for something heavy. Whatever it was, it had to be large enough that he could throw it over the wall and out into the field. He paused his search and directed his attention back to the men on the bench. One of them was now gazing in his direction. Cory remained stock-still. He was not sure which guy it was. Ryan maybe? Not that it would matter much. If any of those four men got in his way, he would not hesitate to kill them.
He was committed now.
The man did not seem able to see him. Instead, he got up from the bench and started walking toward the house. He stopped and made a whistling sound through his teeth while motioning his partner to come join him. The two men passed beneath Cory and disappeared under the eave.
“Check this out,” one of the men whispered from below.
Cory had heard it too, bedsprings, creaking, grunting. He drew a breath, knowing the guy below had not seen him. He probed deeper into his backpack, silent as death. His hand locked around something hard and round, an apple. He pulled it out and squeezed it then slowly cocked his arm back to throw. Then he stopped. The apple felt firm in his hand and reminded him of the one he had eaten with Eve earlier, not even realizing until later the symbolism of the moment. He had tasted the forbidden fruit. He longed for that taste again. Then he remembered something else. He had stuffed some road flares in his bag near the bottom. They would be perfect, and he would not be throwing away a potential meal.
He stuck the apple in his jacket pocket and dug through his bag again until locating one of the flares. He drew it out, and then a second one, just in case. The first one came out easily. With the second, the end cap popped off as it came free and tinked once before rolling away. He snatched for it but missed, ending up on his stomach.
The cap vanished over the edge.
“What was that?” one of the guys below said.
Cory quickly flicked the road flare over the wall and out into the darkness.
On the platform, the spotlight swung to a new downward angle. The two guards stepped out from under the eaves to investigate. Cory watched the backs of their heads as they walked away, consciously willing them not to turn in his direction.
“Hey, what’s going on?” one guy said.
“Shhh,” a guy on the platform said. “I heard something out there.”
Ryan and Matt climbed up the short ladder leading to the platform. All four men moved closer to the wall and peered over the side. One lifted a pair of binoculars and began scanning the field with them.
“Not seeing nothin’.”
“I heard something, damn it. Close, too.”
“Rabbit?”
“Ain’t no rabbit.”
“No, I seen one two days ago. I swear.”
“You didn’t see no rabbit.”
Cory took the second flare and tossed it over the wall in a different direction. It made a small thump in the field where it landed.
“There it goes again. I heard it. A rabbit.”
“Christ! It ain’t no damned rabbit.”
“Is too.”
“Shut up. Keep it down.” It was Ryan who spoke last. He turned to look back at the house and up at the window Cory had exited. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the spotlight.
Cory held his breath. He figured he could run to the other side of the roof and jump down where it did not seem so high. Once on the ground, he could draw his sword and fight his way out. It would take precious seconds for the other guards to respond. They would be too confused to be effective.
Ryan started pulling on Matt’s shirt.
“Wait. Hold on,” Matt said. “Over there. I heard it too. Sounded like it came from—”
“Nah,” Ryan said. Matt was pounding him on the shoulder and pointing out into the field. “Okay, okay!” Ryan turned to look where Matt had indicated. “You’re hearing things. Gimme those.”
“Rabbit,” the man with the binoculars said as he gave them up to Ryan.
“It ain’t no gad-danged rabbit!” the other guy said.
“Keep your voices down, you’ll wake him,” Ryan said.
“Wake him? Didn’t you jus’ hear them going at it? He’s got his new one in there with ‘em. She’s a squealer.”
“I didn’t hear no—”
Cory tuned them out. Fortunately, they remained with their backs to him. Holding his pack in one hand, he crouched low and crept until he came to the back of the house, somewhere over the kitchen. From there, he padded along the edge until he found a suitable spot, where the jump down would not be so bad. With his pack over his shoulder, he scooted off the roof and landed on his hands and feet, like a cat, trying to remain as silent as a whisper.
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