“Did you want to talk about earlier?” he asks me. His voice is husky, it sounds heavy, worried. I’m still looking at him, taking in every beautiful thing about him. His hair is messed up, standing on end at odd angles, blood dried in it. I wipe the tears away, knowing more will come, but savoring the momentary relief. I cradle my still bleeding elbow. It’s not a bad cut, but it’s deep. I’m going to need to nurse it soon.
“I just feel like something… broke inside of me. Like, it hurts. I… killed him” I tell him, the tears making their return. I’m so tired of crying, so tired of tears, of pain. Paul seems to stiffen then, his face twisting in sadness. He pulls over on the side of the road then. I look away, peering through the window into the darkness.
“You did exactly what anyone would do. You did him a favor. I’d want you to do the same for me in that situation. Never let me become one of those… those monsters” he tells me. I feel his acceptance there. I sense the feelings between us. They are thick, physical.
“…but Riley. She can’t even look at me. They all blame me, and I don’t think I can handle that. I don’t think I can get over this Paul. I don’t want to feel like this anymore” I tell him, my voice thick with tears. My nose is stuffed uncomfortably. I put my face in my hands, but his own hands stop me.
“She will realize with time that you did the only thing you could. You saved him from something worse than… worse than death” he says, his throat bobbing. I can almost see the amount of effort his words cost him. I mull that over, as the tears persist. He’s right, isn’t he? Drew would rather have died, right?
I notice then that the windows are foggy, my breath closing us in behind opaquely fogged glass. It hides us from the world, trapped behind a foggy curtain, protecting us from what our lives have become. I straighten up then. Drew’s face in my mind the whole time. I am absolutely broken up about his death, but I did not kill him. Those things did. I saved him from what he would become, from what he was doomed to be. I hope the others will see this with time, but that is not my fault. I would give anything to not have to kill him, to not have to watch as his blood, his brains splatter onto my skin, my clothes.
We sit there, my tears slowing, my mind racing. I lean into him after a minute, his arms wrapping around me. He pulls me to him, and I cry again. My tears are beginning to wane, to cease. Soon I will be dry-eyed. Soon I will be done crying. Paul strokes my hair, making me feel loved, accepted.
“We should get going” he tells me. I sit up, pulling away from him. I look again at the foggy windows. He seems to notice it too because he reaches up and turns on the defrost button. I reach for his phone, turning on music to stop the silence. Drew is there, the gunshot that killed him filling every moment of silence.
“Did you set the GPS coordinates already?” I ask over the music, knowing he did. I guess a part of me just wants to hear his voice again, to cling to it like a lifejacket. I know I shouldn’t let myself open up like this, I should stop hoping right now.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here huh?” he asks, turning the music up then. He moves forward, pulling back onto the interstate. I roll my window down, appreciating the night air, the cold wind on my skin, my soul. The tears finally stop a few minutes later. I feel shaky still, but my cheeks no longer have endless streams of stupid teardrops. We finally pull off the side road of the rest area and turn right. We are headed away from the hotel, away from the death we’ve witnessed. I shudder at the memories of the people who have already died in front of me. This has been a crazy few days.
We speed down the interstate, his eyes trained on the road ahead, mine are trained directly on his face. I can see his lips moving, as he sings along to the words playing on the stereo at the moment.
“Are we okay now, like really okay?” I ask suddenly. My lips sting; chapped from crying so much. My voice is hollow, strained from a lack of use. I wonder if it sounds dead to him, dead, like I feel.
“Of course, we’re okay. I’ve always cared about you, but I had to step away after what you did” he says, his eyes never leaving the road.
I can see his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. He looks like he’s going to lose it for some reason. I clasp my hands together, still trying to get them to stop shaking. I’m not sure why I chose to have this conversation now, when I’m in the process of falling apart. I might be on the edge of going into shock, but sure let’s have a heart—to-heart about why you left me.
“I’m sorry for… for all of it” I say, the simple string of words sailing through the car like a bird. I should have said this months ago. I should have owned up to it all. I should have taken responsibility.
I’m about to say more, when we come into the town. The lights surprise me after the darkness. I see that the streets are not packed like in the city. There are no infected visible, other than a single straggler by the trees. Paul continues for a few minutes, but then we see Chase’s car. It’s parked in the empty parking lot of a Waffle House. Paul pulls from the highway, turning into the restaurant. I look around, but Emily’s car isn’t here yet. Maybe she passed before Chase stopped. Paul parks the car, before turning to me. He flashes me a sad smile, before stepping out of the car.
TWENTY-ONE
I start to walk toward the restaurant, but Paul catches my hand. He pulls me to face him. His eyes are searching me, as we stand there. I look behind him, searching for the danger. When he doesn’t move, I realize he’s just worried about me. He’s just caring. Caring, even though he decided he didn’t want to anymore.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks me, his lips pressed tightly together. His cheeks flushed slightly, as we stand there in the parking lot. I can see that Chase is waiting in his car behind us. I wave over at him, before turning to look Paul in the eyes.
“I’m okay. I’m trying to manage it. Let’s just go in and eat some food” I tell him, before dropping his hand. We stand there for a moment; soaking up the quiet, the darkness blanketing us from the grief we know is hiding beneath the surface. I force a smile.
Paul smiles back, before squeezing my hand in the shadow of the night. He turns back to the restaurant then, and we walk over to meet Chase at his car. Paul’s concern, his love is heavy on my mind, as my feet hit the pavement, the quiet thud filling the night. I hold onto the look in his eyes, pushing the pain down.
We stop at the car, Chase rolling down his window. He looks at me, his lips rising in what was supposed to be a smile, but the pain in his face makes it impossible. It looks more like a grimace. I rest my hand on top of his.
“It’s weird that they haven’t gotten here isn’t it?” I ask, unable to keep my worries inside for another moment. Chase finds my eyes, he registers the worry there, and he nods slightly. He isn’t going to sugar coat it. He’s too honest.
“It is weird, but they’ll be here soon. What do you say we go inside and cook some food while we wait though?” he says.
Peyton and Lily follow us over to the door. I see immediately that it’s broken. Someone has already been here, someone broke in. I look around, the chilly wind nipping at my legs. I get a weird feeling then, like someone is watching us. I turn to look at Chase. He takes in the same broken glass, his throat bobs.
“Let’s clear it before we go in” he says simply. I nod in agreement, as Lily and Peyton walk back to the car. I make sure they are safely locked in, before turning back to Chase. I look at Paul as well. We’re standing around in a triangle formation.
“I’ll take the back door, if you want to check the parking lot Paul. Ben will you go through the front door?” Chase asks, I nod again, tightening my fingers around the handle of the gun in my pocket. Chase takes off running then. Paul gives me a look, before taking off for the parking lot. I watch after him, watching his muscular legs propel him forward. I turn to the broken door then. I push the frame forward; it scoots the shards of glass inward. The sounds rings through the silent store like a bullhorn. I look around again. Nothing has changed, no one has found
us. I take another step.
The second door is broken too. I head right inside the store. The dark scene before me is creeping me out. I search the shadows, waiting for a silhouette, a growl, a gunshot. Nothing comes. Each step brings me deeper into the darkness. I reach down to pull my phone from my pocket. I’m just pulling it out, when a snarl fills the silence. I drop my phone, whirling around to find three of the infected coming from the bathroom area. I jump back, reaching for the gun. Before I have the chance to pull it out, the lights come on. I close my eyes reflexively, the sudden brightness leaving me blind.
There is a struggle in the brief moment, before I regain my vision. I open my eyes then Chase is herding the three monsters through the hallway. He slams the door of the men’s bathroom behind them, sliding a mop into the handle, locking the beasts inside. I blink at him, before relaxing.
“Thanks… I was… Thanks” I say, my voice sounding tired, my mind not cooperating with me.
We stand there in the brightly lit restaurant then. He’s looking me up and down. I move across the room. I wrap my arms around him. He shakes slightly, when my arms tighten. Then he hugs me back. I let him hug me, while we hold each other together. It’s a quiet moment for just the two of us.
“Are you… you know… never…” he says, looking down at me. I feel his breath.
“It’s… I just… what about you?” I interrupt him. We pull apart then. We both know the pain, the utter suffocation going on inside of each other. We are the only ones in the group who has killed a human so far. It wasn’t like killing one of the infected. We’ve both killed a loved one. Chase does something I’m not expecting then. He grabs ahold of me, pulling me to him. He cups my face, pressing his lips to mine. He kisses me tenderly, his breath shaking with what sounds like a hostage sob.
Paul and the others come in, just as we’re pulling apart. Paul looks between the two of us, his eyes flashing with some emotion. I look away, turning to the kitchen. Chase moves on seamlessly. He walks behind the kitchen, scoping out what is left. I’m looking between him and Paul, as he disappears into the back.
“I’m so hungry” Peyton whines, breaking the silence. Chase comes back then. He’s carrying packages, his eyes downcast. I watch as he moves to the grill. He begins to prepare the food. Lily joins him, leaving Paul, Peyton, and I alone.
I decide to walk over to the jukebox, unable to handle the look Paul keeps shooting at me. It’s somewhere between pissed and hurt. I don’t have it in me to sort through those feelings right now. I begin to scroll through the library of the jukebox, before putting in a five-dollar bill. That’s when Elvis comes out of the speakers.
Peyton picks a couple songs, so in just a couple minutes, my five dollars is spent. We walk back over to the bar, the smell of bacon filling the room. I avoid Paul’s eyes, as I march over to a booth. I slide in, before remembering my phone. I jump up.
Heading right over, I stoop down and pick my phone up off the ground. I see immediately that there is a crack skirting up the side of the screen. I sigh in irritation. Of freaking course. Peyton comes to sit in my booth as I sit back down. Her small face forms a sad smile, as she takes in my appearance.
“You look really bad Mr. Ben” she tells me simply. Kids are definitely honest, aren’t they? I just force a smile, before looking back down my phone. I can tell she’s about to say something, but I’m still hoping she doesn’t when the words come out.
“So, were you and daddy kissing when we came in?” she asks me. I drop my phone again. I can almost hear Paul’s head whip to the side. The sizzling of bacon is much louder now. I lean down to get my phone off the floor, taking in each word of the song. It’s by The Doors, and usually one of my favorites.
“Uh… well… I mean… I…” I stumble, unable to figure out a coherent answer. Chase comes over then, asking if I want anything in my hash-browns. He does the absolute worst thing in that moment. He puts his hand on my arm, as he looks me in the face.
“Peyton. You know better than to ask questions you have no business asking” he scolds her, before winking at me. I’m left speechless. I swing around to look at Paul. He looks like someone hit him over the head with a chair. He looks like he might cry. I feel like complete garbage in that moment.
“Well food is ready guys” he says then. Chase and Lily walk over, several plates of steaming food laden in their arms. Chase sits across from me with Lily and Peyton. Paul comes to sit beside me. I notice he is sitting as far from me, as the bench will allow.
“So, where did you learn to cook like this?” I ask, taking in the mounds of food. Gloriously scrambled eggs, melted cheese, bacon. I see fresh biscuits, sausage, and even gravy. I realize then how hungry I really am. I pile food onto my plate. I ignore the mushrooms piled beside the hash-browns. I’ve never liked mushrooms.
“I actually went to a professional culinary program for a few years. It’s always been my passion. Do you like it?” he asks me, his voice rising an octave. He is seeking my approval. I’m beginning to realize that he may have a slight case of feelings. I’m so confused by all this behavior. I’m not accustomed.
“It’s very good… thanks” I say, and Paul snorts slightly. I re-analyze the words. I feel really uncomfortable at that moment. I close my eyes.
“I have to use the rest room” I announce to the table, waving for Paul to let me out. He does so wordlessly. I walk into the hall, ignoring the men’s room. I walk inside, without looking back. I sigh in relief, as I close the door behind me. I turn to look in the mirror. I sigh again.
“You can do this” I say to myself. I study my eyes in the mirror. I attempt to count the things I know. I’m trying to calm down, while I have the chance to be alone.
I turn the water on, running my fingers under the stream of cool water. I lift my dripping fingers and run them through my hair. I feel gross. I need a shower. I realize that I have blood in my hair. His blood. I begin to shake again. The feeling of panic creeping in. I start to cry to myself.
At first it is quiet, but after a few moments, I let it all out. I sob, sinking to the bathroom floor. I hit myself in the face, trying to make the hurting stop. I try to make my sobs muffled, but someone must hear me.
A knock on the door, breaks through my solitude of crying. I look up, tears soaking my face, streaming down my shaking fingers. I go to stand up, but the door opens then. Lily is standing over me. Her grey and black hair hanging loosely around her face. I go to wipe my tears away, but she stops me with a wave of her hand. She sits beside me then.
“Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?” she asks, her eyes soft. I just shake my head, waving at nothing in particular, as I put my face back into my hands. She seems to get that because she puts an arm around me.
“It is never easy to see a loved one die. I have too much experience in this. Where I come from, people die all the time. We grow accustomed to it, but it is never easy. I have never had to carry the weight of killing someone, let alone someone I love. That is something only you and my son know the pain of” she tells me. I continue to cry there. Her warm arm draped over me. I look up again.
“I’m sorry about your daughter. I really liked her” I tell her. She smiles sadly at that. Her eyes fill with tears. She wraps her arm tighter around me. We sit there together. I wonder if I should tell her that Brooke was pregnant… Would that make things worse?
“Where are you from?” I ask her, my curiosity getting the best of me. I decide not to tell them, it would only make the grief worse.
“I was born and raised in The Czech Republic, until my parents were killed” she explains. I gasp in horror. Lily continues then.
“My father had a gambling problem, and he had gotten on the bad side of some infamous loan shark in our country” she says, painting the story like a blank canvas, her words the paint.
“I remember the night he and his men came. Dad had me hide under all the dirty laundry in a hamper. I heard everything…” she says, and even though I wish I could
hear more of the story, she stops there. “I won’t weigh you down with the details though…” she says, as my imagination dies into blackness.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you. How did you recover?” I ask, my voice filled with horror.
“I didn’t. I just learned to live with the pain until it got smaller, until it became easier to manage.” She says. I don’t pursue her anymore.
After another few minutes of crying, we stand up together. I hug her once more, before she looks at me. I can tell more advice is coming, but I don’t mind it from her. I really like her. She is just so motherly.
“About my son. Just be mindful of his heart. It is broken. He has come such a long way. I know you cannot control what you feel but be mindful of the bonds you build” she warns me. Her smile sad.
“I understand. Thank you again Lily” I tell her. I can hear the hoarse sound of my voice. I probably look awful. I ignore my reflection though. I leave the bathroom.
“I’m really getting worried now. They should have been here way before now” I say, as I come to a stop at the end of the table. I purposely avoid the eyes of Paul and Chase. I need to think clearly right now.
“Well, let’s pack stuff up. That should give them a few more minutes to find us. We will think of something else, if they still aren’t here after that” Chase says, moving over to look in the back area again.
“That’s fine I guess” I tell him, not meeting his eyes. I move robotically then. I move around, trying to gather up all the food we didn’t eat. We need to pack some leftovers. I work because the other choices are too painful.
I can work, I can repeatedly relive killing Drew, or I can deal with the apparent love triangle I’m watching develop. Work sounds great right about now.
TWENTY-TWO
We move around the restaurant, trying to make sure everything of importance is packed. I feel a twinge of guilt at wiping a place clean like this, but part of me knows it will never reopen for business. We have entered a point of no return in my opinion. We will not go back to normal. The items will never be missed. I know instinctively that most of the employees, if not all are probably dead, or worse. I turn back to the task at hand, scooping up all the knives. They aren’t very sharp but could prove useful against the roaming infected. I tie them up in a grocery bag and slide them into a box. I can’t get my mind off of Emily and my siblings. The whole car full of people I care about is still missing.
We Are The Hunted (Book 1): We Are The Hunted Page 14