by C. M. Wright
I tear my eyes away from his cocky grin and turn away, then I ease myself back down on the sofa and just wait. I study him, and can clearly see his appearance is the same as yesterday: pale, red cheeks, and sweating.
When he finally finishes eating, I struggle to get up from the sofa, but apparently I can't move as fast as he wants me to. His plate comes flying across the room and just barely misses my head. I hear his loud disgusting laughter follow me to the kitchen as I once again gather what I need to clean up the glass and leftover food. Finished with that, and his dishes washed, I'm exhausted and ready for bed. The storm and gloominess outside doesn't help the exhaustion.
I go in and start pulling on the sofa, amazed at how difficult it is to get out compared to putting it back in. Of course Jake doesn't help. He just sits and watches me fight with the damn thing and laughs. When I give a hard tug, it jumps free and throws me back - off-balance and straight on my ass. My ass hurts, my hands hurt from catching myself, and of course every other part of me hurts. The bastard laughs even harder.
Extreme pain is becoming my natural state; I wonder how nice it would feel to not hurt for once.
I crawl back to the bed, using it to pull myself up. Then I straighten the blankets and throw the pillows on top. As I sit down on the bed, I can't stop the sigh that escapes my lips. I lie down and cover my body with the blanket as my head sinks into the pillow. Closing my eyes, I will my body to relax and to stop hurting so badly.
But my body isn't going to let me relax with Jake awake. And my mind sure as hell won't. When I hear the chair creak and his footsteps come my way, my eyes fly open. He comes next to the bed and stands over me, and my body tenses up even more, expecting pain.
"Comfy?"
No, but I could be if you'd disappear...for good.
Not gonna happen, I think, as he strips naked and climbs into bed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
This is how it goes for the next four days. He leaves most of the day and I cook, clean, and get beat. The violent sex increases to include mornings, and even afternoons when he returns. I've learned to sleep as much as I can because he won't give me the time I need to heal. One day he didn't beat me at all, but my body still felt like he had because I was so tensed-up from waiting and expecting it. His appearance now includes dark circles around his eyes and blotchy skin. His fever is still very high.
On the last day, he surprises me when he wakes me from the deep sleep of my nap and announces we're leaving...right now.
Terror fills my body as I realize that, even though I didn't want my family to find me, a small part of me did want them to. But in my dreams, they won. They lived, not Jake.
But going so far away where they have no hope of finding me shatters any dreams, any hopes, no matter how unrealistic they are. I swallow the sobs wanting desperately to escape, because all that will get me is just more abuse.
I pull my body up out of the bed and grab my shoes and socks. Then I pick up the fatigues I'd gotten out several days ago, dreading having to ask Jake to cut them for me. Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I go in search of him. Surprisingly, he does nothing more than take it from me, cut it, and hand it back...all with a "loving and caring" attitude. I stand and stare at him for a few moments before I scream at myself to get the hell out before he snaps.
I thank him, turn, and haul ass back to the other room. After I get my sock and shoe on, I stuff the other sock inside the shoe I can't wear and leave it on the floor. Jake has been coming in and out of the back rooms with box after box, setting them by the door. He brings in a small grocery bag and puts my shoe with the sock inside. Then ties it and hands it to me to carry. I slip the loops over my wrist and stay seated, waiting and watching.
He opens the door to the hall, disappears briefly, then reappears with a large cart. He loads the boxes on the cart, and then motions for me to follow him as he pushes the cart down the hall. I use the wall to keep my balance with my free hand, and hop way faster than my body can handle, as I stare daggers into the back of Jake's head. When he stops abruptly and turns to me, I hop a few times in place quickly to keep from falling. I look up at him, expecting to see anger, but he looks concerned instead.
"Honey, I'm sorry. I know you have to be tired from all that jumping around." I'm not jumping, I'm hopping. There's a difference...sort of.
I can't respond because I'm too busy sucking in air, and wiping the sweat off my face. He comes over to me and gently grabs hold of my arm and leads me to the cart. Then he picks me up with both hands on my waist, and sets me on top of the cart.
Aww, how sweet. Now what are you going to do? Ram me into a wall? Slam me into a doorway? Knock the cart over with me on it? Push me down the stairs?
But incredibly all he does is push the cart, being extra careful that I not get hurt. As I said before, I believe this Jekyll and Hyde shit is worse than him being full-time Hyde. At least then I know what to expect.
When we reach the stairs, he spends a moment coming up with a plan on how to get both me and the cart down without leaving me alone at either end. As if I'd have a chance in hell of getting very far, either way. Finally, I suggest that I go down the concrete stairs beside him on my butt. It will hurt like hell, but just standing here while Mr. Brains figures something out isn't too pleasant on me either.
He agrees and then does something to the bottom of the cart that make the wheels disappear up inside it so that now he can slide it down the stairs easily.
With his body strength alone, he's able to control the huge cart loaded with the boxes of food, clothes, and other items easily.
Does that give you any idea of the kind of hurt that bastard has put on me?
My ass is on fire by the time we make it to the bottom so I stand and rub my butt while Jake puts the wheels back down, then he picks me back up and sets me on the cart again. We reach the front door, but he keeps right on going. The bangs on the door intensify when the undead, just on the other side, see us. Jake wheels us down the hall, turns down another hall, and then one more turn until we are at the back door. I can't hear any sounds from the other side of this door, but it won't take them long to come for us. I know there's a small cement slab just outside the door, with metal handrails on each side that extend about eight feet.
Can't wait to see how he plans to get us out of this.
But I watch in astonishment as he walks right up to the door and throws it open. A scream is stuck in my throat, but dies when I see that he's made some kind of metal tunnel between the back door and all down the metal railing. At the other end, the tunnel wall goes right up to the truck, and the two passenger side doors of the truck are safely inside the wall.
So this must be what he's been up to when he's left me alone upstairs.
"This barricade is only a temporary thing so it's not held together real well. We're going to have to hurry and be very quiet, alright?" I nod. "You get in the front while I put this shit in, then get out so I can get in the driver's seat." I nod again and start to slide off the cart when he grabs my arm tight and digs his fingers into the sensitive inner flesh. "Don't even think about trying anything. Keep the door open."
I hadn't planned to jackass!
Only because I didn't think of it.
I nod and he lets me go. I get off the cart and hop as quietly as I can to the truck, open the door, and get inside. All the windows that are exposed to the outside are covered in dark plastic material that I can't see out of, and the undead can't see in. I can hear them, though. The moans and grunts of the zombies send enough terror through a person without even having to see them. Just the knowledge that only one bite can turn you into a monster who feasts on the flesh of the living, with no regard for the love you might have for the person you're about to devour, is enough.
Jake loads box after box, and I have a few moments of real fear every time one of the undead hit or bump into the truck. The noise seems deafening, although with the bullet-proof material of the truck's bo
dy and windows, it can't be as loud as it seems.
Finally, Jake closes the side door as quietly as he can and pushes the cart away a few feet. I get out so he can climb in, then I follow him back inside. Once I have the door shut, he starts the truck, and the noise outside gets a little louder and a little more intense - but when he rips off the material covering his side window and the front window, the zombies go nuts! Jake tears away from the makeshift tunnel before they can group up and make it impossible to get through.
He orders me to take the rest of the material off the windows I can reach. I do, but I can only reach my side window and the side window directly behind me. I ask him if he wants me to climb in the back to take all of the others down and he tells me no, that he doesn't want me climbing all over the boxes.
Actually, you don't want me near the guns. Smart man. Damn it!
Jake drives to the side gate and plows right through the few undead just coming in, probably drawn inside by the increased noise of the ones who are salivating for us already. When we make it through the gate, Jake turns right and has us on the highway out of Kansas City within fifteen minutes.
I still have no idea where we're going and have no plans to ask. I've learned it's better to just keep my mouth shut. At first I watch as the mile markers fly by, and each one sends an arrow shooting painfully into my heart. I fight like hell to keep the tears from falling, and I keep my eyes out the window next to me so that Jake can't see the one or two that do manage to fall.
After an hour, Jake pulls into a rest area and stops in a parking spot. There's only one car here and two zombies, so when Jake tells me we're going to use the restroom and then get something to eat, I'm not too worried about it. He comes around and helps me out then holds my arm as I hop up to the building. One of the zombies is coming toward us from the direction of the building but we don't even break our stride - or hop as my case may be - when Jake raises his gun and takes him down. The second one is inside, impatiently waiting at the window as she watches us. She's a tiny elderly woman, wearing a pink jacket, white silk dress shirt underneath, and a pair of gray dress pants. She has gray dress shoes on and her light pink-tinted hair was probably once nicely done. Not so nice now though.
When we reach the doors, Jake pulls me back behind him as the old lady turns into a fighting little beast. Her fingers leave bloody trails behind as she becomes frantic in her need to get to us. Jake puts his hands on the door and shoves it open so hard, it throws the old woman off her feet and on her back several feet away. I hop in after him and watch as he aims and fires into her cotton candy hair.
The room echoes from the gunshot and my ears ring. Jake turns back to me and grabs my arm once again. He guides me to the door of the womens restroom and after a quick check inside, tells me to go ahead, and he'll keep watch outside the door.
I go in and use the restroom, wash my hands and face, then open the door to find Jake talking to a woman. I jump in surprise, but I don't think she even notices me. She's incredibly scared, crying and begging Jake to help her. She looks to be a few years older than me and, like me, she's got a little extra padding. Her blond hair is up in a ponytail, and she has more tattoos than I can count.
Jake's arms are crossed over his chest and one leg is crossed over the other. His head is resting back against the wall as he looks down at her with very little interest.
"Who are you?" he asks her calmly and with a hint of 'I don't really give a shit.'
"Jessica!" she almost screams at him.
I can tell he's about to either beat the hell out of her or shoot her, so I grab her arm, lead her to the wall, and tell her to sit. She does, and I tell Jake that I'll watch her and try to calm her down so he can go to the bathroom.
Boy, how stupid can I get!
His face and eyes harden, and when he growls, "Follow me," I realize how badly I screwed up. But I hop after him into the bathroom, knowing if I refuse it'll be so much worse.
Even though I expect it, his hand striking my face still causes me to cry out from the incredible strength he uses. I'm thrown against the wall and catch myself before I fall onto the floor. He grabs my arm tightly in one hand and jerks me against him. His lips are almost touching mine when he practically snarls, "Do you think I'm stupid? I know what you're planning to do, and you're not leaving me. You're not, damn it!"
I throw my arms around his neck and allow the tears I've been wanting to release from the pain of his hand to flow. Who cares if he thinks they are for him and not because of him?
"Jake, I'm not leaving you. I love you very much. How would I leave you even if I did want to? You have the keys to the truck, and that little car out there - even if the keys are right in the ignition - would hardly be fast or powerful enough to outrun you. Damn it, Jake! I really do love you and I want to stay with you, but please stop hurting me. Please!"
I continue sobbing into his neck until I finally feel him relax and he wraps his arms around me. He holds me tight for a few moments before he raises my head up to him, and then smashes his lips to mine for a long and intense kiss.
He pulls back, but keeps his hand on the back of my neck. Jake searches my eyes, looking for the lies. I force myself to maintain eye contact, terrified he'll see the truth. Relief floods through me as he grins and kisses me again.
"Alright, I believe you, and I promise I won't hurt you anymore. As long as you don't try to leave me, we'll be ok." He releases me and I smile up at him. Then we pass each other as he goes further in the room and I go back into the lobby.
Jessica is still sitting where I'd left her - and still crying, but it's a quieter, more controlled cry. I slide down the wall beside her and sit on the cold, hard floor.
"Jessica, where were you when we came in? We didn't see you, just the old lady."
"I was in the mens room. I sat on the floor and had my back against the door so she couldn't get in."
"How long have you been here?" I ask her.
"Only about half an hour before you got here. We thought we were the only ones here."
"We? Who's we, Jessica?"
"The man outside was my uncle. The old lady was my aunt," she says in a shaky voice as she nods her head at the older woman, who's body is lying just a few feet in front of us.
Oh, shit.
"Jessica, I'm so sorry."
She shrugs, "Not your fault. There was a maintenance guy that works here that got my uncle outside as we were walking up. Then my uncle managed to bite my aunt before I got her away from him and we ran inside. Then she turned into one of those things and I had to run and hide. We were on our way to St. Louis to find their daughter, my cousin."
We both spend some time staring at the floor, unsure what to say. Without looking up, she asks me, "Did that asshole hit you when he made you go in the bathroom with him? 'Cause it sure as hell sounded like he did."
I know better than to say he did, especially since just before she asked the question, I'd heard the faint creak of the restroom door opening. He's listening, and I know this may be my only chance to "prove" I love him and save my ass from being beat to death.
I give a small laugh and say, "Jake? No, Jake would never hurt me. He's a good man and he loves me very much, as much as I love him. He was just worried about leaving me with a stranger. He's very protective."
Ok, ok. Shut up! Don't over do it.
But I can tell she's not fooled one bit as she narrows her eyes. I really don't give a shit if she believes me, but I sure as hell hope he does.
"Oh yeah? Then what's with the flaming red hand print on the side of your face?"
Shut...the...hell...up!
Still smiling, I tell her simply, "Zombie." I'm hoping she'll accept that and shut her damn mouth since she hardly got a good look at me before.
Jessica studies my face and I do my best to keep the smile in place and the look of complete honesty on it too. Then she looks up over my head. I force the shiver of fear away before I turn and smile up at Jake.
"H
ey, Baby." I tell him as I reach for his hand. He grabs hold tight and kneels down beside me. With his other hand, he runs it over my hair like a man would do with a woman he really treasured...and didn't beat. Then he looks over at Jessica while I do everything I can not to show any reaction to the pain his damn rubbing is doing to my head.
"So, what are we going to do with you then?" he asks her.
"You don't need to do anything with me. Now that I can get out of here, I'm going to take my aunt and uncle's car and take myself. I don't need help from an asshole like you."
I feel Jake's body tighten and I know her attitude is going to get her - and possibly myself - hurt. Before he has a chance to do anything, I squeeze his hand and ask him to help me up. He does, but he never takes his frosty glare off her. I wrap my arms around Jake's neck, pull him down to me, and kiss him as I stare right into his eyes. I whisper I'd rather be alone with him anyway, and soon, I get exactly what I'd hoped for - a grin - and his body relaxes.
Jessica stands up and walks over to her aunt's body. She slips her hand inside her aunt's jacket pocket and pulls out a set of keys.
I notice Jessica doesn't linger over her aunt - not even for a quick goodbye - and I guess I don't blame her. I wouldn't want to see anyone I love like that, either. Bad enough I saw Will the way he was when― No! I can't think about him anymore! The pain is too damn much!
Jake and I follow Jessica out the door until Jessica screams and shoves us back inside. On the other side of the glass is a man in a maintenance uniform - or he was a man anyway. Now he's a member of the zombie crew.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jessica is still screaming and my head is starting to pound. I try to get her to shut up but she's too scared to hear me. Jake shuts her up though, by sticking the gun in her face. Her terror increases and I feel bad for what Jake did, but my aching head thanks him. At least he didn't shoot her.
Jessica runs to the back of the room and sinks to the floor, while Jake and I turn back to the window and study the man outside. Just one man. No big deal after all the shit we've gone through already. Jake walks to the door, pulls it open, and the man comes straight for him. But he drops to the ground with a hole in his head long before he reaches Jake.