I nodded once and turned away. Sam was still next to me, her body tight to mine and Alexa’s. She was saying she was sorry to her over and over, as if any of this was her fault. It wasn’t. It was Trent’s. All Trent’s.
We had all missed the monster that he really was.
A way scarier monster than any of those things outside.
All I could think about was…god…was the little girl that he said he’d tried to save. Had he tried to save her? Or…
It didn’t bear thinking about, and yet I couldn’t stop my thoughts from going there, to that dark place where evil lived and breathed.
A shudder wracked my body, goose bumps trailing down my arms. I gave one last glance back as Jamie picked up something from one of the tables and walked closer to Trent.
“Come on, man. You’re not going to hurt me. Just let me go. Let me out of here and you’ll never see me again!”
I turned away as we left the bar, and the sound of Trent crying out was heard loudly, even above the sound of Alexa’s crying.
Chapter six.
Sam
I wanted to hug Alexa. I wanted to hug her and tell her how sorry I was a hundred more times, because this was my fault. I should have told someone what I’d suspected. I could have protected her, but I hadn’t. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t been sure. I still should have said something. A false accusation would have been better than this.
We were walking hurriedly away from the restaurant, with Rose guiding a still-shaking Alexa in front of me. I moved up so that I was parallel with the two, so close that my shoulders brushed the young girl’s and Rose and I made a protective shield around her. As long as I was there, nothing would happen to that kid. Not again.
Trent was a lascivious clown that I wanted to drop an anvil on—smash him flatter than a fucking pancake. And not in a cartoonish way. No, I was seething. I wanted the blood that came with reality.
I jumped when a scream let loose behind us. Alexa’s shaking increased twofold and Rose held her tighter. I thought we were far enough away that we wouldn’t hear any more of the beating—the fists pounding down on flesh, Trent’s protests, his whimpers—denying what he’d done until the bitter end. Jamie had picked up one of the half-drunk glasses of liquor off the table just as we’d rushed out of the bar. I was sure it had done more damage to Trent than drinking the liquid had done to Alexa.
And he fucking deserved it.
“It’s okay, Alexa. We’re almost there. You’re safe now.” Rose gave Alexa a squeeze. “It’s okay.” She said the words, knowing they were useless, but she said them anyways. Because that’s what people do when there’s been a tragedy or an unsavory happening. They say “it’ll get better,” and “it’s okay,” but really? It was never going to be okay again. I knew that. I knew it from fucking experience. Nothing got better after my dad died, nothing had been okay since. You don’t get over someone eventually, and you don’t get over something like this ever.
I should have told someone. I should have said something.
God, why was I even still alive? I thought maybe I had a purpose—shit, I’d been scratched by a zombie and infected with its zombie goo, and yet I hadn’t died like everyone else…at least I hadn’t fucking died yet. And that should have meant something. That should have meant I was destined to do something good. Shouldn’t it? Shouldn’t it!
We were at the security door. Rose rapped on it with her free hand. When no one answered, she knocked again, this time her fist pissed while her body language stayed soothing for Alexa’s sake. “Karla, open the bloody door!”
I heard Karla sniffle from the other side. I wondered if she’d seen us go into the restaurant and come out again without the others. I wondered what she thought had happened.
“I’m coming.” Her voice was small, not the boisterous, self-assured woman we’d come to know in the short while since meeting her.
The door swung open a few moments later, revealing Karla, her shirt collar soaked and her face a sad mask. “Baby girl, what happened to you? Where’d you go? I was scared half to death. I was supposed to protect you.” She pushed her bulk out of the security area and wrapped her arms around both Rose and Alexa. She was shaking almost as bad as the young girl. Something about seeing the older woman have a meltdown caused Alexa’s body to calm.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, her face pressed into Karla’s shoulder.
There it was again—it’s okay. Because there was really nothing else to say. Nothing at all.
We were all quiet for a moment, then Alexa spoke once more, her voice still that whisper that spoke of memories she’d never forget. “Like you said before”—she hiccupped around the words but managed to keep her voice steady otherwise—“people be crazy.”
Karla pulled away from the hug, staring deeply at the kid. There were questions in her eyes, a sort of understanding as her gaze flicked behind us and she realized the others still hadn’t returned.
“Where are the others?” she asked, and when Alexa averted her gaze she tried again. “Trent?”
Her eyes met mine and I tried to convey an answer to her question that might satisfy her curiosity. He’s gone. He’s gone for good. And thank God for that.
*
When the men did come back, Trent wasn’t with them. Jamie was covered in specks of blood, though he’d obviously tried to clean up some of the mess. All the men were solemn, a darkness shrouding them. None of us asked where Trent was.
Barrett had cleaned up too—though his top was a lost cause, and he was now shirtless. His skin was once again a ruddy, rich tan. And I found myself staring.
Again.
And, just like last time, he caught me looking. He didn’t wink this time though. No. A small smile crept over his face, and that “going to creep into my cheeks no matter what I do” blush crept over mine. I’d always been that way: see boy, like boy, give all to boy.
Of course, most of the men I was typically attracted to weren’t drug dealers that I’d helped break out of prison. Times were a changing.
Jamie beelined for Alexa, who was now sleeping on the floor, her head resting in Rose’s lap. He and Rose exchanged a look, and Jamie supported his daughter’s head while Rose shifted her body away from the girl so that Jamie could take up her position. He brushed his fingers through his daughter’s hair and I could see tears welling up in his eyes. The rage had burned off, leaving behind that infinite sadness of a parent who had realized they couldn’t protect their child against everything in the world. Because the world was an utterly dark place, full of pitch and tar and abominations like Trent. And I had thought the zombies were the only thing left to fear in this world. God, how wrong I was.
My own eyes filled with tears.
I was pulled away from the scene of father and daughter by a casual yet cutting request for food from Barrett. “So, the girl’s back, the bastard’s bloody, any chance of food now, boss man?” The boss man part sounded so condescending that I almost winced for Nolan, who the question was obviously directed at.
“Food’s over there. Take what you need, not what the hell you want. We’ve got more than just you to feed here.” Nolan pointed at the small stash of food and water bottles. “And put a shirt on.” He grabbed a shirt from a clean pile of clothes we’d salvaged from one of the stores and threw it at Barrett.
The soft smile Barrett had given me was a sneer now. “You got it, boss man.”
He walked over to the small store of food, the satchel of drugs squarely on his back and not looking like he was planning on taking it off anytime soon. I mean, he’d barehandedly wrestled a monster to get the drugs. I had a feeling he valued the money the product would bring over any life in the room.
A can of baked beans in one hand a bottle of water in the other, Barrett strolled over to the center chair in front of the largest bank of monitors. He took up position there, settling leaned back with his feet propped up on the table. Nolan might have been acting like the leader, taking up the mantl
e in the crisis, but Barrett looked like he was in charge. And I, for one, wouldn’t argue with him if he decided he wanted to be head honcho. Because sitting there, all stretched out and spooning beans into his mouth, he looked like a giant. A relaxed, apocalypse-ready giant.
Nolan wasn’t anything to be sniffed at either of course. I mean, there was no denying his masculine good looks, but there was a lot to be said for Barrett’s steely and demanding attitude.
The brown leather jacket he wore swished against the floor as he shifted. The room was silent, as if holding its breath, and I glanced around, realizing that everyone, not just me, was watching the recent addition to our group of survivors. And we literally were not breathing.
It was like we were all waiting for the other shoe to drop—for this formidable man to decide we were all expendable. Kill us, walk out with the drugs. He’d probably make it more easily on his own. That was the type of person I could see beneath the…the appearance that kept sucking me in like a moth to flame.
Get a hold of yourself, moron, I chided, watching Barrett take another bite of beans. Beans… which normally would have zip in the way of sexual appeal. But Christ, his lips…I’d be those beans in a heartbeat. You’ve been scratched by a zombie, somehow lived through it—at least so far—and now you’re going to go tits-up over a drug runner just because he’s got a killer bod and attitude for days. Good. Fucking. Job. You should have kept the personal “massager,” if you’re that hard up.
Shit. He was beautiful though, in a “should be on a fireman’s charity calendar in only a pair of suspenders” way.
“I thought you said you had this place on lockdown?” Barrett’s deep voice cut through my thoughts, and the sound flowing through the space seemed to make everyone realize that they had been suspended in time. “Right? You said you got this place safe as houses?” he said around a mouthful of beans.
Nolan stepped forward, his brow furrowed and an argument ready to come to life in his voice. “Yeah, that’s right. We nearly killed ourselves making this place safe.”
“Awesome.” Barrett took another spoonful of food, so devil-may-care. “You might want to tell that to the horde of uglies pouring in through British Airways. I don’t think they’re too concerned with picking up Chanel at the duty-free shop.” He swiveled around in the chair, lifting his boots away from the desk and lowering his legs to stand in one smooth, practiced motion. He looked at Rose. “What do ya think, UK? Some of your people come to claim you?” He quirked an eyebrow, then waggled it suggestively. “Might not let them have you. You’re pretty enough for a bonus with the drugs. Might bring repeat business.”
Rose bristled, taking a step forward. “I’m beginning to regret letting you out,” she spat fiercely, her hands in fists. “And stop calling me UK.”
“How about just Brit, then?” His smile only widened, and Rose’s hands raised a fraction, like she meant to make use of her fists. Finally, Barrett held his hands up, as if conceding that in some far-off alternate reality, Rose could have actually beaten him in a fight. “All right, all right. Rose it is. Though that opens the door to a slew of Titanic jokes that are going to jack you up worse.”
Rose sputtered at him, trying to think of a comeback. He’d already moved on though.
“So this place isn’t as secure as you imagined.” He was looking at Nolan. “I have to say, I’m absolutely surprised by that.” Barrett’s slur added to the obvious sarcasm.
“Now listen here, you son of a bitch. We’ve been doing fine without you. But you? You’d still be rotting in that fucking cage without us. Maybe you should show us a little more gratitude.” Nolan moved past Rose, who’d lost some of her fire now that Barrett’s attention wasn’t on her.
Barrett laughed, a deep baritone sound echoing out from his enormous chest. “Gratitude? Did you miss the part where I said those things are getting in here?”
Nolan opened his mouth to say something but I stepped forward, feeling nervous but determined to stop the argument before it escalated.
“Please, just stop.” I spoke evenly, but loud enough to be heard. “This isn’t helping. We’re in the middle of enough awful, awful shit as it is.” I crossed my arms over my body, feeling like the heat that had been rampaging through me had finally cooled, but not enough to make me stop worrying over my fate just yet. “We’ve just seen what…what humans can do when they’re at their worst.” My gaze went to Alexa. I hadn’t realized she was awake, sitting up next to her father, who had his arm around her in a way that said he’d never let her out of his sight again. “Nolan, Barrett’s out now. He’s here with us. Make the best of it. Barrett”—my voice broke a little on his name, which made me feel like a stupid little girl with a crush—“Nolan’s done a good job of keeping us alive so far. This place was secure. It was safe. Now it’s not. Can we deal with that before we all die?”
I stopped speaking, what I’d planned to say running dry on my lips—a fountain with an off switch. Thankfully, Rose stepped up and finished my thoughts.
“Sam’s right. We need to figure out a plan, and quick. That’s all we can do. So no more fighting. If you want to measure up, then go to the bathroom and get it over with.”
Karla had been sitting while we’d been talking. She still hadn’t recovered from not having protected Alexa. Rose had told her, more than once, that it wasn’t her fault. But the security guard was just like me—it didn’t matter if what happened was our fault or not. The fact was, had we taken a certain action at a certain time, we could have prevented it. That rested on our shoulders, no matter who delivered the damage.
“All right then.” Barrett nodded, his eyes on me and not Rose, who’d spoken more recently. “Let’s come up with a game plan. Because we can’t stay here anymore.” He gestured to the ever-growing horde, which was now spilling into the terminal.
Nolan started to protest, but Rose held up a hand. “No, Nolan, he’s right. It’s not safe anymore. If that many monsters are getting in, then more are going to follow. We don’t want to sit here, do we? Run out of food, water? Sit in our shit and starve to death?”
The shake of Nolan’s head was nearly imperceptible.
Rose nodded in response. “You’ve done great so far at keeping us all alive, and now we need your help to figure out a plan to get us out of here alive,” she said, shaking her hands a little as if they were stiff with tension. I know mine were, like the stress of what was happening would never properly leave my body and I’d be an emotional, hyper-adrenaline mess for the rest of my life.
“We need to get a vehicle and get the hell out of here,” I stammered out, wanting to contribute, wanting to forget about the future, because I might not even be in it. The rest of my life might be mere hours or days or months.
“Yes, girl,” Karla said with an excited nod of her head.
“Okay, we’re going to need a couple of vehicles. Karla?” Nolan turned to her and she was already nodding.
“There’s the rental place out in the central parking lot. Lots of vehicles, though I don’t know how overrun that might be with these things. There’s only a couple of flimsy ticket barriers stopping people from driving straight in. That ain’t going to stop a man walking right on up to it.”
“Sounds promising, as long as it’s not too overrun,” Nolan said.
“Ain’t like we got much choice,” Barrett replied, and turned away from us all. He stared back at the monitor. He started humming, walking close and studying the screen that showed where the monsters were entering. Then, his humming changed to song. And it was melancholy and disturbing and sent shivers up my spine—for the first time not in a good way. “Hush-a-bye, cry and cry, go to sleep my little baby. When you wake, you shall find, all the hungry little zombies.” You had to strain to hear the words, but they were haunting the way he sang them.
I looked over at Rose, who was looking equally unnerved, and she shrugged and swallowed. Glancing around the room, I saw everyone wore the same haunted expression. Worry an
d anxiety at having to leave this place and go out into the uncertain world outside were filling us all with dread.
When he turned around, the shadows of the lyrics were gone from him. He looked his typical cocky self, ready to jump into the fray like it was a Sunday post-church stroll. “Well, ain’t no day like today for fading away.”
“Should have left him in the cage,” Karla said, hands on hips, voicing what every one of us was thinking. “Singing like that, all creepy and shit. I’m going to be all up in the ‘I told you so’ when he flips his lid and starts killing us instead of the monsters.”
“Oh, now, ma’am.” Barrett gave her the full force of his twangy charm and a sly grin to boot. “Like I told the rest of your fine company, I wouldn’t hurt a June bug. Not even on a hot, damp Texas night when my disposition’s not so pleasing.” He was really playing up his accent. I noticed he did that sometimes, more so when he was teasing or “laying it on thick,” as my dad used to say.
Karla harrumphed and turned away from him, going to check over the weapons and see what we were still working with. Which was good…because I was pretty sure trying to snag rental cars wasn’t going to be an easy, or bloodless business. I looked down at my feet, thinking of the past and how I’d once only cared about the next balloné or brisé volé.
I hoped I lived to dance again.
Karla knew where the rent-a-car was, where they kept the keys. She knew everything, but she damn sure didn’t want to lead the charge. I didn’t blame her, but we all had to go together this time. No one was staying behind. Because no one was coming back.
“I knew when I woke up that I shouldn’t have come to work. But I brought my ass in anyways, because I’m not a deadbeat and I got bills to pay.” Karla was mumbling as we left the security room, her fingers death-gripping a gun as she took second position behind Nolan. Between complaints about coming to work and getting trapped in an Armageddon, she gave him directions. We made our way slowly, ducking into stores at the slightest sound. We had to be more vigilant now. We had to pass near the terminal that was acting like the floodgates of hell.
Red Eye | Season 1 | Episode 3 Page 6