by Paige Weaver
Gavin and Roger followed him out but I didn’t notice. I sat heavily in the nearest chair as the tears choked my throat. Ryder was having no trouble staying away from me. This is what I wanted, wasn’t it? I had told him to leave me alone and he was doing a damn good job of it. Too good.
“I’m sorry, honey. You know how overprotective they can be,” Janice said, taking a seat at the table and reaching over to pat my hand.
I nodded, fighting the tears. I had cried so much in the last few weeks that I was surprised I had anymore tears left.
“It’s okay,” my dad said, taking my other hand. He attempted to smile but the side of his mouth drooped, more pronounced than it had been a few days ago.
I forced a smile for him. He was all I had left. My dad had been strong for me my whole life. Now it was my turn to be strong for him. I took a deep cleansing breath and squeezed his hand reassuringly.
The three of us sat for a while and talked about what might be happening in town. Each night, we heard on the handheld radio horrible stories of people dying of thirst and hunger. Robberies were now a common occurrence and people were being shot for basic supplies. It was now a dog–eat–dog world that we lived in.
I worried. The men could be walking into a dangerous situation. They were armed to the hilt with rifles and pistols but that didn’t make me feel better. What if something happened to Ryder? No matter what he thought of me, I still loved him and living without him wasn’t a possibility.
Not wanting to upset my dad with my unhappiness, I told them I was going to take a nap. I was exhausted. At night, sleep wouldn’t come and during the day I felt like a zombie.
Sitting in Ryder’s old room that I now occupied, I looked around slowly. There was nothing in here that was mine except a small backpack and a few clothes hanging in the closet. I lay back on the bed and stared out the open window.
I suddenly wished I could go home. Some more clothes and maybe some books would be nice to have. Gavin and Roger had gone over there last week to make sure everything was okay but I hadn’t known or I would have insisted on tagging along also.
I wanted to see my home again. I needed to be surrounded by my own stuff. Maybe it would make me feel better.
From my window, I could see Roger’s truck sitting in the barn. I knew where the keys were and I knew it still had gas. Janice would try to stop me but I decided it was time I went home.
Chapter Twenty–Nine
“Absolutely not, missy!” Janice said when I told her what I was going to do.
I checked the pistol to make sure it was loaded and the safety was on. Stuffing it into the back of my shorts, I met her terrified eyes.
“I’m not asking permission, Janice. I’m a grown woman and I make my own decisions,” I said, grabbing a bottle of water and putting it in my backpack.
“It’s too dangerous. There might be people traveling the roads and looking for supplies,” she pleaded, wringing her hands as she followed me around the kitchen.
“Yeah, well, I’m a good shot. Just ask your son. He taught me all I know,” I told her, grabbing the keys off of the key holder in the kitchen.
“Ryder will kill me for letting you go!”
I almost told her he had no control over me but I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t exactly true anyway. He did still have control over me — my heart and body responded to him just by hearing his name.
“I’ll go.”
Janice and I both turned around to see my dad leaning heavily on his cane inside the kitchen doorway.
“Dad…” I began. He was so weak that I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.
“Get mom’s things,” he said, quietly.
My heart softened at those words. He wanted to have my mother’s things. I realized that, like me, he just needed to go home.
“Okay, Dad, let me pull the truck to the porch and I’ll help you.”
“No, Maddie! You can’t go!” Janice cried, trying to step in front of the door.
I looked down, hiding my frustration from her and noticed that my cheap tennis shoes were barely hanging on my feet. I needed shoes and home had them.
Looking up, I recognized the scared expression on her face. How many times had I looked like that when I thought of Ryder in danger? The wrinkles on her face only emphasized her worry. I briefly thought of how much we had aged in the last few weeks. I might have been a silly college student when I left, but a woman had returned home.
“Janice, I need to go. Please?” I pleaded. My eyes shifted over to my dad, leaning heavily on his cane. “I don’t know how much time we have left.”
Her blue eyes, so much like Ryder’s, glanced at my dad. When she looked back at me, I saw her resolution.
“Okay, but be careful and remember to take the gun,” she said, pulling me close for a hug. As she tightened her arms around me, she whispered against my hair, “They are going to kill me, but I like your spunk.”
After helping my dad to the truck, I placed the backpack and the pistol between us on the old, worn–out seat. Within minutes, I was driving down the dirt road that would lead to our house. Tall weeds were starting to grow in the middle of the road, having free rein to travel wherever they pleased with the absence of cars. Within months, the road would be gone, just a thing of the past, at the mercy of nature and time.
“Maddie.”
I glanced over at my dad, trying not to cry at the weakness I saw in him.
“Ryder love you,” he said, watching me closely.
I shifted nervously in my seat. “No, Dad, he doesn’t love me,” I said, watching the road carefully.
“He told me.”
I looked over at him in shock, almost running off the road. I yanked the wheel to the left, righting the truck, and glanced at my dad again. He had a small smile on his face.
My mind went wild. Why would Ryder tell my dad that he loved me when he didn’t? I thought back to the day Ryder and I had fought, the day we stopped talking. I realized with sudden awareness that he had never denied loving me, he just said he didn’t fall in love. Such a tiny difference in words. How could I have missed that?
I shook my head in denial. It was a misunderstanding, it had to be. Ryder probably told my dad he loved me as a friend and my dad took it as something more. That was it. Just an innocent statement. I couldn’t let it get to me.
I pushed it out of my mind as I pulled into the driveway. Our small house sat closer to the road than Janice and Roger’s home. While their house was hidden, ours was right on the long, dirt road. I suddenly felt too exposed being here but by the time I parked by the back door, I had brushed off the uneasy feeling.
After helping my dad out of the truck, I grabbed my backpack and the pistol. Holding onto my dad’s elbow, we slowly climbed the porch steps.
The smothering heat from inside hit us as soon as the door was opened. I immediately started opening windows to let in a breeze.
“Okay, Dad, I’m going to start gathering stuff. I’ll pull out Mom’s box and you can go through it.”
“Miss her,” my dad whispered as I helped him down the hallway.
“Me too, Dad,” I said, letting him lean on me for support.
“My soul mate.”
I choked back a sob at his words. After all this time, he still loved her and missed her every day. I believed he never got over her death. How could someone when they loved that deeply?
“Ryder…you…belong together,” he forced the words out past his slack mouth. I shook my head, denying his words.
At the entrance to his bedroom, he stopped and turned to look at me. “When I’m gone, he’ll take care…you. He’ll love you like…I loved your mom. Soul mates.”
I blinked at the clearness of his words. For the moment, he sounded like my dad, not a man racked with sickness.
“Daddy, don’t talk that way.”
“No, I’ll see her again. Soon.”
I sniffled and helped him into the room. From the back of his closet, I pulled
out a large box while he watched me from the edge of the bed. As a little girl, I had loved to go through her keepsakes. It contained all kinds of things of my mom’s. Awards, pictures, a diary, her favorite perfume, and the love letters she and my dad wrote each other. I sat the box on the bed and watched as my dad gently lifted the top off. His eyes watered as he lightly touched each item.
I left him in his room and headed to mine. There was so much that I desperately wanted to take back with me – pictures, knickknacks, trophies, my favorite childhood stuffed animal. But I knew that I only needed what was necessary to survive.
I stared at the clothes hanging in my closet, thankful that I had not taken everything to college with me. I pulled out shorts, t–shirts, tennis shoes, and jeans. We still had a month before it turned cold but I grabbed a lightweight jacket anyway. Going to my dresser, I pulled out bras and panties. After grabbing socks, I was finished packing.
What else did I need? My eyes landed on my cluttered desk, covered with pictures and books. I picked up a photo of Eva and me on prom night. The silly expressions on our faces made me smile. Without thinking twice, I pulled the picture out of the frame and placed it on my pile of clothes.
I was placing the picture frame back on the desk when the one behind it caught my attention. It was a close–up of Ryder and me at my high school graduation. I wore the traditional graduation cap and gown. He had on a blue starched shirt that matched his eyes perfectly. We had our arms thrown around each other’s necks, smiling great big smiles for the camera. I immediately took it out of the frame, sitting it gently on top of the other.
In my dad’s room, I gathered more clothes for him and he picked out a few things to take with us.
When we were done, I helped my dad down the porch steps to the truck. While he waited for me, I made numerous trips to load everything into the truck bed.
Pausing as a cool breeze blew over my heated face, I glanced around at the overgrown yard. The grass was so high that it almost reached my knees in some places. The two horses my dad had were now at the Delaney’s, making our pasture quiet and empty.
A slight chill raced up my spine as I turned to go back inside. I squinted against the sun, looking into the distance. My eyes swept over the area, not seeing anything unusual but feeling as if we weren’t alone. Someone was watching us, I just knew it.
I rushed up the porch steps and practically ran into the house, the feeling of being watched still chasing me. I wanted to go through the house one more time before we left and some silly feeling wasn’t going to stop me.
Ryder’s parents had already emptied the kitchen of all food so I continued on through the house. In the bathroom, I grabbed all the toilet paper, shampoo, soap, and tampons that I could carry in a bag.
The eerie feeling was still tugging at me when I hurried out of the bathroom. I had just turned the corner into the hallway when the sound of an engine echoed through the house. My first thought was that the guys were already back and had decided to stop here first. I knew that there would be hell to pay if Ryder found me here.
The sound of shouting stopped me halfway down the hallway. It didn’t sound like anyone I knew. Panic filled me. If it wasn’t one of the men, that meant it was a stranger.
We weren’t alone.
Chapter Thirty
I felt sick with fear as I raced down the hallway, dropping the bag along the way. Oh, God! My dad! My heart pumped wildly in my chest when I thought of him outside, alone. Please, God, let him be okay!
I felt along my back, feeling the comforting steel of the gun wedged into my waistband. I could do this, I had a gun. I had to protect my dad.
When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, my feet refused to move another inch. My mind went blank. I became immobile.
A large man was walking through the backdoor. He was big and unkempt, taking up most of the doorway. His shaved head showed every ridge and valley in his skull, including the teardrops tattooed beneath his right eye.
I didn’t wait around to find out what he wanted. I had to get to my dad and the front door was now my only option for escape. Turning, I ran back down the hallway as fast as my legs would take me.
“Git her!”
I raced down the hallway, moving faster than ever before. The roaring in my ears couldn’t hide the sound of heavy booted feet running after me.
I was close to the door, so close, when I was grabbed roughly from behind. NOOOO!
Two large, beefy arms clamped around my waist, completely lifting me off the ground. I let out a pain–filled scream as an arm smashed my cracked rib. Dirty fingers immediately covered my mouth, stifling all sounds coming from me.
I fought. With everything I had, I fought. My legs kicked with strength and my arms flailed wildly, trying desperately to escape.
The man didn’t care how much I struggled. He held me tightly and effortlessly. “We found her, Robbie!” he said in a deep baritone voice.
When I saw the second man, all the blood drained from my face. For a second, I was confused. This couldn’t be possible!
The convict, Greasy, was in my kitchen. He stood feet away, looking skinnier and dirtier than last time I saw him. Those evil eyes and the sinister grin smeared across his face were forever seared into my brain, reminding me of that terrible day. But what the hell was he doing here?
“I been thinking of you a good long time now, sweetheart,” he said, ambling closer. His bad breath and body odor hit me, filling my nostrils and making my stomach roll with nausea.
When his dirt–encrusted hand reached out, panic overwhelmed me, flooding my head and body with the deathly need to get away.
I squirmed frantically in the man’s firm hold, desperate to get away. My fists connected with his head a few times and my legs kicked as hard and fast as possible but when my heels hit his shins painfully, he didn’t budge an inch. The man was strong, his massive body holding me tightly.
My struggling became even more frenzied when Greasy’s hand grabbed a handful of my hair.
“I like this hair, all dark and silky. I want to wrap myself in it.”
A shudder raced down my spine when his warm, repugnant breath washed over my face. I tried to scream but the other man still had his hand over my mouth, keeping my head secure and my body immobile. I opted to kick out with my feet, aiming for anyplace on Greasy that would keep him away from me.
Avoiding my legs, he yanked hard on my hair, stinging my scalp with pain as he giggled playfully. The sound was unnerving.
Greasy’s fingers let go of my hair and reached out to run along the top of my t–shirt. I whimpered in utter terror as they skimmed lightly along my collarbone.
The sounds coming from my mouth were muffled as the man behind me tightened his hold on my mouth and ribs, causing agony to unfold throughout my body. Stars appeared at the edge of my vision and tears pooled in my eyes.
“Put her down! You’re hurting the poor girl,” Greasy said with creepy concern.
Following orders like a henchman, the man dropped his arms from around me. I took a deep, gulping breath, finally filling my lungs with badly needed oxygen. My body shook violently. I felt weak with fright and unable to move.
Oh, God! Oh, God! I wasn’t going to survive this! My instincts screamed that these men would kill my dad and me without thinking twice. If I wanted to live, it was up to me to get us out of here.
Reaching behind me, I quickly grabbed for the gun hidden in my waistband. My hand came away empty.
The man behind me chuckled. “You looking for this, sweetheart?”
I whipped around to see him dangling the pistol between his thumb and forefinger.
Seeing his sinister grin, I felt hopeless. With no way to defend myself, I was at their mercy. There was no one to help and no one would come looking for us until much later. By then, it would be too late. My dad and I would not be alive.
No, I refused to think that.
“You ain’t very smart, girlie. I done saw that gun as s
oon as you turned tail and ran. Snatched it right up, real quick,” the man said in a thick Texas drawl.
Greasy snickered and took the pistol from his partner. “You want this, baby doll?” he asked, in a slimy voice that sounded like evil reincarnated. “It’s a nice piece. Well taken care of. Clean. Your boyfriend’s?”
I kept quiet. These men were scum and didn’t deserve any kind of answer.
Greasy shoved the gun in the front of his pants. I prayed it accidentally went off.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
I ignored his question as my eyes swept the room for any kind of weapon. A knife, a glass jar, anything would do. I just needed to get to my dad and a weapon was the only way to do that. Fear for his well–being overwhelmed me, making me frantic and not thinking clearly. I have to get out of here!
The adrenaline rushed through my body, giving me strength. I took off, making a wide circle around Greasy and heading to the hallway.
I didn’t get very far.
Greasy grabbed me, jerking me off my feet. I screamed as I hit the floor hard. The impact on my tailbone was excruciating.
“Why you have to be that way, girlie? I’m just trying to be nice and friendly like! This ain’t no way to greet an old friend,” Greasy said darkly as he dragged me down the hallway with a strong grip on my arm.
I smacked into a chair as I was dragged away. With my free hand, I reached up and desperately started scratching Greasy’s hand with my short fingernails. He didn’t notice as he continued to pull me along.
“I traveled all this way to see ya and ya ain’t even happy I’m here,” Greasy whined as he dragged me into the living room. The big guy followed close behind us with a huge smile plastered on his face.
I cried out with pain as Greasy threw me into a chair and stood over me threateningly. The look on his face was a cross between a lunatic and pure evil.
He gripped my jaw with strong, bruising fingers. “You ain’t talking no more?” he asked, looking me up and down slowly. Shrugging his thin shoulders, he hissed, “That’s okay, we don’t need no talking for what I have in mind.”