by Jones, Isla
Through the fog of night, the outline of the road forked into two. And right in the middle of the separation was a building.
Castle eased his foot on the pedal and we crept further along the road. When we neared, he turned off the engine and the tyres rolled. The engine didn’t make a sound.
The blur around the building faded, and the sign in front of the driveway cleared.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I whispered.
Castle turned to face me; we looked at each other for a moment, faces hard and stunned.
And then, a wide grin lit up my face and a smirk tugged at his lips. We both glanced back at the shop sign: ‘TOYS FOR BOYS’
*
I watched as Castle pushed a unit against the door.
“It’s sexist,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Women have guns too.”
Castle looked over his shoulder at me, his brow arched. “Did you?”
“Well, I didn’t,” I said. “But I’ll bet Lisa and Tatiana did.”
Despite that I’d used them as examples, their faces had already begun to blur in my mind. I’d only met them the night of the attack at the farmhouse, and it hadn’t been for long, but it still frightened me that I was forgetting people so quickly.
I tried to summon Cleo’s face. It worked; the tension in my shoulders eased. As long as I never forgot Cleo, it didn’t matter who I forgot. But then, Leo’s name sprung to mind—I stomped it back down to the place of pain.
“Tatiana,” said Castle, pulling from the door, “was a personal shopper before all this.”
My lips thinned into a tight smile. “Yeah, right.”
Castle strode past me, further into the shop. He jumped over the counter—glass that looked down a spread of weapons—then looked up at me. “If she’s still alive, and we see her again, you can ask her for yourself.”
He disappeared. Castle ducked down behind the counter, and the sound of rummaging followed. When he remerged, he was holding a small set of tiny keys.
“Adam guessed her profession a while back.” He tried the keys in the small locks on the counter. “And Lisa was a bartender at a pretty rough part of her town. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d had more than a few guns stashed away.”
“See,” I said smarmily. “Lisa had guns. Therefore, guns are toys for boys and girls.”
“Not quite as catchy,” he said.
“I’ll take all-inclusive language over catchy slogans any day,” I snapped.
Castle hummed and tried another key. I dragged myself over to the counter, eyeing the merchandise. I faked an interest for the sake of my argument.
I lifted myself onto a unit. “Has anyone guessed where you’re from?”
Castle shook his head and tried another key.
I licked my lips, roaming my gaze around the shop as though I’d find answers tucked in a corner. “You were from a state like this one,” I said. “And—”
He unlocked the case. “A state like Oklahoma?”
“You know what I mean,” I said. “A southern state.”
The implications hung in the air. Republican, gun-slinger, alt-right. He just lifted the case and pulled out the handguns and revolvers, piling them on a wooden display slab at his side.
“Well?”
“Well what?” He glanced up at me. “Your guess is vague.”
“Am I on the right track?”
He eyed me for a moment. “I’m from Texas.”
I clicked my grimy fingers. “I called it.”
He inspected the guns. “Leo is, too.”
My brows raised at the mention of Leo. “Is that how you met?”
“We signed up together.”
“And advanced together, apparently.”
All Castle did was nod. “Come here.”
With a huff, I slid off of the unit and limped over to the counter. Castle handed me a silvery gun.
“It’s a semi-automatic,” he said. “And those,” he said, pointing to the wall—on the fixtures were black machine guns that looked like modern versions of the AK I’d used—“are M4s. I’ll show you how to use them in the morning.”
The question was in my eyes; why?
His eyes were blocks of green ice when he said, “I’d feel safer knowing you can shoot with your eyes open.”
Castle showed me how to dismantle the handgun and clean it, how to reload it, and what bullets to use. We must’ve cleaned guns for two hours before a familiar heavy tug pulled at my stomach. It twisted and, suddenly, it was as if a knife stabbed into my lower stomach. I winced and pressed my hands into my tummy.
Castle ran his eyes over me. “What’s the matter?”
I grimaced. “There’s gotta be a toilet back there,” I said, glancing at the door behind the counter. Castle hadn’t wanted us to open it, but it was a need-or-bleed sort of situation.
I patted my bag and gave him a steady look. He understood; he strode to the counter.
“If there is a toilet,” he said, “it won’t work.”
“I just need to sit on it,” I said. “While I ... you know.”
Castle screwed a silencer on the silvery gun. “Who’s embarrassed now?” he said, a hint of smugness in the way he looked at me.
He handed me the gun before fixing a silencer onto a second one. We were armed and ready when we got to the door.
Castle turned the handle and slowly opened the door. It creaked in a whisper.
I did what I always did in these situations—rapped my weapon against the panel.
Castle stilled and I didn’t think he was too pleased by what I did. But nothing came jumping out of the dark corridor. Just silence and abandonment.
I shadowed Castle further into the hallway. There were only two doors, one to the right halfway up and another facing us from the end of the corridor. We checked the first one—it was an office with a dirty mattress on the floor. It hadn’t been used in a long time.
We crept up to the other door. I reached out to tap the door again, but Castle’s free hand shot out and snatched my wrist. I shot him a scathing look and made to speak, but his eyes touched to mine—the gleam of danger alarmed me. He shook his head and looked back at the door. I tiptoed closer and hovered my ear next to the wood.
And then I heard it. A rustle, like the sound of a newspaper being opened.
There was something in there.
Castle released my wrist and guided me behind him. I inched closer to his back, the gun clasped in both of my hands.
He coiled his fingers around the doorknob and turned—it swung open.
Castle didn’t move. I stared at his back, waiting for the all clear.
But instead, a rough voice said, “Drop them.”
9.
Castle didn’t drop his gun. I could almost feel the tightness of his muscles as I tucked myself closer to his back. My body tilted and I peeked around his arm. A greasy man held a shotgun, aimed at castle’s torso. His beast eyes darted to mine. “You too, pretty. Or your boyfriend here gets his guts all over you.”
I stepped out of Castle’s shadow slowly and lowered my gun to the floor.
The man looked at Castle but he didn’t budge. The barrel of his gun pointed at the man’s head.
“Did you hear me, boy?”
“I’m not your boy,” whispered Castle. It might’ve been a whisper but the danger in his voice halted me. I crouched, frozen, with the gun in my hand a foot off ground.
“Don’t think I won’t blow a hole through your stomach.”
“I’ll think what I like,” said Castle. “For several reasons.”
“And what are those?”
“For one, you know that if you pull that trigger, I will too. We will both die. Then there’s the business with the noise that gun will make—noise that will attract unwelcome visitors. And,” finished Castle firmly, “your shotgun isn’t pumped.”
The man lifted his chin and looked down the barrel at Castle. “How’d you know that?”
Castl
e’s voice was devoid of fear; “You didn’t have time to pump it. And you know that if you try now, a bullet will lodge itself in your forehead before you hear the cartilage enter the chamber.”
My eyes darted between the two as I got to my feet. The crouching position wasn’t good for my aching ankle. The gun stayed clasped in my hand.
The man grinned—he didn’t have most of his teeth. I pursed my lips and tried not to show the disgust on my face.
“All right,” he said and lowered the shotgun. “You got me.” He placed the shotgun on the floor and put his hands behind his head. “Now what do we do?”
Castle didn’t consult with me. Though, I’d be surprised if he did.
“Where is your toilet?” asked Castle. “It’s a slight emergency.”
The stranger took a slow, purposeful step to the side. Behind him, was a storage room—with a toilet stuck to the wall at the far corner. I groaned.
“Go,” said Castle. He gestured for the man to move out of the doorway. I slinked behind Castle, then into the storage room.
I shut the door behind me.
Castle had tied the man up at the front of the store. I was glad. The man’s eyes followed me wherever I went and I knew that look. I stayed close to Castle.
He sensed my unease as I followed him around the shop; he would turn around every so often and look up, to check that I was still with him.
“What are we going to do with him?” I whispered as Castle browsed a rack of holsters.
“That depends,” said Castle. He plucked a thin black strap from the rack and inspected it. “How squeamish are you?”
“I don’t support killing people in cold blood,” I said. There was doubt in my tone; the fear induced by the man’s hungry gaze. I wonder if he has seen a woman since the end of everything. And if he had, what had he done to her?
Castle handed me the holster. “This one is good for hunting knives,” he said. “You should put it on.”
I took it and glanced back at the man tied to the chair.
He leered across the shop. “You plannin’ on payin’ for that?”
I glowered at him. “I won’t break your nose for looking at me the way you are—how’s that for payment?”
Castle snorted.
The man grumbled and shifted in the chair, though his space was limited with all the wire and duct-tape coiled around him.
“Sounds like a decent deal,” said Castle. He handed me another holster; one for a handgun instead. “If I were her, I’d cut that smile off your face.”
My lips twitched into a smirk. Castle strode down the low shelves and I scurried after him. He slowed his pace for my limp to keep up.
“How long you gonna stay in my shop taking what you please?”
I huffed. “It’s not like you’re using any of this.” My gaze shifted to his before roaming around the weaponry. “Have you just been here hiding for this whole time?”
“It’s the end of the world, sweet lips. What else is there to do?”
“Find people, maybe? A purpose. A group.”
“Never liked people much. Just fine out here by myself.”
Castle tugged me closer. “Don’t talk to him,” he said quietly. He guided me further down the shelves to the boxes of ammo. Then, he started to stack them in his left arm. “We’ll be taking these.”
“We can’t carry all that,” I said. “The Jeep is crammed as it is.”
“We need it. We’ll make room.”
“I don’t think we need as much as you’re taking.”
Castle looked at me. “At the farmhouse, the infectees came first. You know why?”
I shook my head.
“To flush out our ammunition. They stripped down our defences to come in after and steal the cargo. And if they didn’t get it, they’d face a lesser threat attacking again.”
My lips formed an O. Castle gestured for me to help. With a sigh, I set to work.
Castle stacked the ammo and guns into a bag that he was also stealing. I’d wandered over to the front window and peeked through the black curtains. There weren’t any rotters roaming the road, but I couldn’t rid myself of the churning feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something just seemed off.
The man tied to the chair was too calm. He was either confident we’d let him live or had something brewing in his head. I couldn’t be sure.
Castle suspected the same. He didn’t tell me that, but I felt his gaze switch from me to the stranger every other second. He was on edge, too.
My gaze scanned the road and trees again. The Jeep was parked behind the building to hide it from anyone who passed us by. After all, the other group was still out there; the defected deltas. Though, whether or not they still hunted us was unknown. I’d rather not find out.
Castle appeared behind me.
I hadn’t heard him approach; I must’ve been lost in my thoughts.
“I need to check the storage room; see what’s in there. Do you think you can watch him?”
I pulled the gun from my holster and nodded.
Castle went out back. I perched myself on the wooden shelf, facing the old creep. The gun hung limply in my loose grip and my steady gaze stayed fixed on the man.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“It’s not sweetheart,” I said.
He gave me a toothless grin. “I’m Billy.”
I said nothing. I merely stared at him.
After a moment, he nudged his head to the back door. “He with you?”
“Obviously.”
Billy leaned forward, a feral grin on his face. “D’you let him put meat in your burger?”
I curled my lip at him.
Billy chuckled, a sickening sound that sent shivers over my skin. “I just wanna know if you’re claimed, that’s all.”
“No one can be claimed,” I spat. “Besides, even if we weren’t together that way, you wouldn’t stand a chance. Stay in your redneck lane.”
He ran his tongue over his wrinkled lip. A tremor ran down my spine, but I masked it by shifting on the shelf.
“I can be persuasive,” he said.
“I doubt that.” My tone was as icy as my eyes—something I likely mastered in Castle’s company. I shot the door a glance, hoping he’d come back soon. Even with Billy tied up, I didn’t feel safe. It was as if I’d been transported through time to my days on the streets. Men like Billy were no stranger to me.
“Not a good boyfriend, is he?” said Billy. “Leaving you alone with me. I could be a bad man for all he knows.”
“You are.” My words came out firm. “And I’m the one with the gun. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“So you—”
“Shut up.” I hardened my words by flicking off the safety on the gun. “You talk too much. Just sit there and look pretty.”
His false grin faded and the mask slipped. I was faced with the monster he’d tried to hide; the one I’d recognised despite his efforts.
Billy leaned back in the seat and stared at me. Silence pressed down on us. It wasn’t until Castle burst through the door that the silence shattered.
My gaze swerved to him, and took in the rage that twisted his face. But that anger wasn’t directed at me—his deadly eyes were on Billy.
Billy craned his neck to see Castle. He didn’t have to.
Castle stormed over to him, and just as I was about to ask what had happened, his fist reeled back and—crunch.
My hands slapped to my open mouth as he pulled back, then punched Billy again. His fist connected with the same sickening crunch as before.
“Castle!” I jumped off the shelf and limped, fast, over to him. “Castle, what the hell!”
My hands snatched out for his arm, and he stilled as if only just realising I was there. Castle looked over his shoulder at me, a fierce rage simmering behind the coldness of his green eyes.
“What are you doing?” I spat, though my words shook—I didn’t want to know the cause for the outburst. I didn’t want to know w
hat Castle had found to release his rage.
Castle turned and grabbed my shoulders. A battle clashed in his eyes; calmness fighting bloodlust. “Go to the storage room,” he said. “Go there, and wait for me.”
“What?” I looked between him and Billy, whose nose had flattened like a crushed can. “Why? Castle, what’s going on?”
He shook his head; he didn’t want to tell me, or he couldn’t tell me. “Just go.”
I knew that if I left that room, Castle would really hurt Billy. It’s not that I cared about the creep, but he really hadn’t done anything to us. It didn’t sit well in my heart knowing that if I walked through that door, he probably wouldn’t live.
“Storage room,” said Castle steadily. “Now.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Tell me what’s going on first.”
Castle clenched his jaw and sucked in a deep breath. He wasn’t used to being challenged all the time. But I wasn’t his puppet, and I wasn’t going to treat him like everyone else had back at the group. He’d saved my life and I’d saved his.
We were even.
We were equals.
“I’m not moving until you tell me what happened.” I folded my arms over my chest and lifted my chin. “So talk.”
Billy’s wheezing was almost drowned out by the sound of Castle’s internal screaming. Sometimes, in moments like these, I truly think he hates me, really hates me.
“This piece of shit,” spat Castle, “has a disturbing collection of photographs. I found them in the study. He deserves to die.”
Billy spat blood onto the floor. It almost touched my shoes; I slid a step away. “They ain’t mine,” said Billy. “I swear, they ain’t mine.”
Castle slid his fierce stare to Billy. “You’re in the pictures.”
“I just…” Billy shook his hanging head. “I was there, but I didn’t do nothin’.”
Bile burned my throat. My eyes closed and I tried to block it out.
Castle, still holding onto my shoulders, pulled me closer. I kept my eyes shut.
“Storage room,” he said. “And wait for me.”
I opened my eyes, revealing the tears that had welled in them. My conscience left me—I nodded and limped over to the counter. My bag sat on top of it, beside a car magazine that I’d been reading. I took both and walked through the door. When I shut it behind me, I pressed my hands to my ears and quickly made my way down the corridor, as far from the shop-front as possible.