Wilder (Savage #2)

by Jade C. Jamison

  Chapter Eighteen

  I sat in the gray cell staring at the wall and wondering what the fuck I’d gotten us into.

  It had seemed simple enough at first. We’d been offered something to drink while we waited, and we gladly accepted iced tea, a beverage I hadn’t had in ages. The soldier continued to act distant but briefed us on what was to come. He said Kevin’s motorcycle would be safely stored but that we would be held in the county jail for three days. Admitting it wasn’t ideal, he told us it was the best they had. We’d be able to roam about freely within the confines of the jail, but we’d have to stay there for three days and then “be processed” before being released into the general population of Winchester.

  Sounded like incarceration to me.

  Further instructions, he said, would be given after the seventy-two hours were up. He dismissed himself then, stating he had matters to attend to, but I got the feeling he didn’t want to answer the remaining questions he could see in our eyes. After about an hour of waiting in the tiny office, a large white van showed up on the other side of the building—where a sidewalk would have been if Winchester had bothered putting one out that far—and we were escorted to the county jail.

  Then things got even weirder. The driver wore a surgical mask and gloves, as if protecting himself from us. Another soldier, sans mask, accompanied us on the drive. There was a cage between us and the front of the van, and the back area was laid out like a shuttle, with seats on either side facing each other. Kevin and I sat next to one another, the soldier on the other side. He didn’t stare at us, but he had no problems making us uneasy.

  Well, making me uneasy. Savage, as always, was cool and collected.

  Once we got to the jail, we met the “warden,” for all intents and purposes. She was a heavy-set woman with dark hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. She seemed pleasant but weary. The more I began to see the “protocols” and faces of those left here, I started to think we had no idea what we’d missed while we’d been experiencing our own private little hell. I hadn’t seen a single person smile, or even feign one, since we’d been back.

  The warden explained to us that she would assign us cells. They wouldn’t be locked, unless other “guests” arrived, and then it would be for our own protection but, for now, Kevin and I were the only people there under observation. She said we could have our own cells or share one. It was up to us. I didn’t even hesitate when I told her we would share one, and then I reached over and grabbed Kevin’s hand. He gave me a look, letting me know it was fine with him, but I could see that he too was dubious about the whole situation.

  After she completed our five-minute orientation and filled out paperwork, marking our official in time as five-fifty-two on the early evening of Tuesday, March twenty-fourth, she stood and asked us to follow her.

  I felt a little better that she wasn’t wearing a mask like the driver of the bus had been. It made it even more difficult to communicate when it was hard to see others’ full faces, but the driver had been the only person we’d seen covering his face. The warden seemed stiff, however, and ready to pass us on to the next station.

  We walked the quiet cells of the old sheriff’s building, a place I’d only ever seen from the outside, because I’d had no reason to be inside. The ceilings were higher than I would have expected, but I understood once we passed behind the locked gate and saw two levels of cells. It was dim inside the area, but the warden flipped a switch and turned on some lights.

  Kevin and I looked at each other. Electricity! Oh, how we’d missed it.

  The warden saw the looks on our faces and said, “It’s limited. For now, we can use power, but we’re encouraged to be sparing with it. After going without for so long, we’re not complaining.” She closed the wired gate behind her and I heard it lock. Ah—made sense. They had to have power here to be able to confine people. No electricity, no lock. The warden walked through the cavernous space that appeared to be an old area for both dining and socializing, and she said, “A few things—two meals a day. The first one between nine and eleven, whenever it gets here, and the second one between five and seven. Don’t worry. We already ordered two dinners for you for this evening.” She paused and turned to look at us. “Oh. Any dietary needs I should be aware of?” When Kevin and I looked at each other, she prompted us. “Allergies? Gluten intolerance?”

  I shook my head and saw Kevin do the same, and so she started marching once more across the room. “No official time to go to bed or get up in the morning. That’s up to you.” Having reached the farthest wall and a metal set of stairs, she turned once more to face us. “Would you rather sleep upstairs or down?”

  I shrugged and looked at Kevin. I could tell he was considering our options and putting each one through the paces. It wasn’t an easy decision for him, though. Finally, he said, “Down.” She nodded and waved her hand. “Take your pick. As I said earlier, if we get more guests, we’ll give you the option of having your cell door locked each night. Otherwise, it’s just the two of you and you can roam freely. Each cell, as you’ll notice, has its own toilet and sink”—I almost sighed aloud when I saw a full roll of toilet paper; we’d been rationing ours for so long, I’d forgotten what a luxury it was—“as well as a desk and bed. We can also get you a battery-operated lamp if you want to stay up past sundown.” That too would seem extravagant, as we had stayed up past sundown all winter, but we had only firelight. We didn’t rely on candles or the flashlight because they were so limited, so we’d usually talk for a while around the fire and then go to bed. “Otherwise, we do turn off most of the power at ten PM and back on at seven, but we ask that you limit turning on lights unless you need them.”

  So maybe it wasn’t like it used to be, but I was already feeling better about our situation. We were going to have access to things we hadn’t in a long while.

  As we followed her through the metal door into another area, my mind flashed to Vera and Larry. Vera’s death was nothing less than tragic, and I wondered what she’d done that had finally sent her husband over the edge—not that he had far to go. I wondered even more about Larry, where he’d gone to and what he was doing. Would I ever see him again? I knew I didn’t want to, not knowing the monster he’d become.

  We turned down one small hall after another, and I hoped I’d be able to find my way around once Kevin and I were left on our own. The warden continued to talk as she led us, letting us know that there would always be a guard stationed there, in the event we needed something. “If, by some chance, one of you was infected…” Her voice drifted off, but Kevin pressed her.

  “What?”

  She hesitated and kept walking, not facing us. “At that point, we’d have to have the health authorities take you into custody.”

  “Custody? And then what?”

  “They treat you.”

  “Treat?”

  “Yes.” We walked into a room and she flipped another light switch on. Based on her tone of voice, I gathered she wasn’t interested in answering any more questions about what would happen if we turned up ill. “It looks like you folks haven’t had a change of clothes in a while. We have some here, men’s over there and women’s on this side. Go ahead and look through them. You can try them on to see what you like. I’ll show you the showers in a minute. You can leave all dirty laundry in there, in a pile on the floor.” I walked over to one of the shelves holding plain t-shirts. One thing I’d say—there was little variety, which, I supposed, was no big deal nowadays. Fashion had, no doubt, been thrown out the window for the meantime. “If there’s anything you want to keep, leave it in your cell.”

  I had no particular attachment to the clothes I wore. Yes, at one time, they’d belonged to Aunt Lou, but I’d been wearing this set for a couple of weeks and had no desire to ever see them again.

  “There are also sheets, pillows, and blankets over there,” she said, pointing to another wall, “You’ll want them for your beds. Let me show you where the showers are and
then you can eat dinner.”

  There were male and female showers and each had towels, soap, and shampoo. No conditioner. I wasn’t going to complain like a spoiled child even though, in my old life, I required conditioner to stop my hair from tangling. I was going to be grateful for the shower…and maybe tonight I’d skip washing my hair since I’d already done it the night before—but, after the past several months of bathing with a washcloth and a tub of water in front of a fire—I wasn’t going to skip the opportunity for a shower.

  The warden showed us a few additional key areas, especially showing us where we could get outside into a fenced yard. Again, she reminded us, because we weren’t prisoners, we could roam freely behind the locked doors—we just had to stay quarantined for the allotted time frame.

  Then she led us back to the open area surrounded by cells. “If you’d rather shower and change clothes before dinner, I’ll make sure we keep your food hot for you.”

  We thanked her and then looked at each other. A shower it was. Kevin said, “Race ya,” and took off toward the double doors. I needed to run after him just to make sure I could find where we needed to go, because one tour around the big building wasn’t enough to solidify the map in my mind.

  I was laughing by the time I caught up to him in the men’s showers, and he was already peeling clothes off. I joined him, glad to be rid of the old clothes I’d been wearing. They’d seen better days, and I knew fresh ones would smell amazing. The shower area was an open tiled space with drains every few feet and shower heads located at various points. He turned on two next to each other before I could even join him. I asked, “Do you have soap over there?”

  “Shit. No.”

  I looked around and saw an unwrapped bar by a sink where we’d taken our clothes off and grabbed it. When I made it back to him, he pulled me close and kissed me. “Prison, quarantine, they can call it whatever the fuck they want. It feels like a goddamn vacation.”

  I giggled. “Yeah.” I loved the way he was viewing what could have ruined the next several days for us. “No water hauling, no keeping a fire going, no rationing water, no cooking on a fire and—”

  “An awesome shower.”

  I repeated him before kissing his bearded chin. “An awesome shower.” I slid the bar of soap up his back. I was so tempted to do a ton of naughty things to him, but I knew he was as eager about our meal as I was. I only hoped I wasn’t setting myself up for supreme disappointment. If dinner was something akin to gruel, I was going to be sad.

  We finished bathing, and it had been one of the best times I’d had in years. We’d played, laughing and talking and appreciating life. While he shut off the water, I found the towels and tossed him one. I hadn’t shampooed my hair, but it was wet nonetheless. The warden hadn’t mentioned it but I was happy to find that there were a few combs, razors, and shaving cream by the towels.

  “Oh, hell,” I said.

  Kevin joined me, rubbing his head with the towel. “What?”

  “I’m gonna shave my legs.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I might have to do some shaving, too.”

  “I like your legs hairy.”

  He grinned. “Smart ass.” I grabbed a can of shaving cream and a razor, heading back to the shower area, and he slapped my ass as I passed by him. I giggled and soon turned on the shower again. It wasn’t long before I was relishing the feel of the blade against my skin as it cut off all the hair that I might have grown used to if I’d seen my legs much over the last few months.

  By the time I finished it and was toweling off once more, Kevin was rinsing off the blade one last time. He had his towel wrapped around his waist and, as I approached him from behind, I appreciated the way his body looked. I hadn’t been able to see much of it before, but now, here, where we had light and privacy, I was able to see how his body was carved. It was a masterpiece—beautiful, smooth skin, rock hard muscles. I wrapped my arms around his torso and kissed his back. “Who is that?”

  Still feeling playful. “Guess.”

  He turned when I loosened my arms. He looked down at me, the silly jokes gone. He had redefined the goatee he’d been sporting the first day we were reacquainted. He really was a handsome guy—I was pretty sure I’d think that even if I hadn’t had an unrequited decades-old crush on him. I didn’t know what I was reading in his eyes as he bent over and kissed me then, but I was feeling some pretty intense things for him, and I no doubt interpreted his look as more than it was. So, rather than ask what he was thinking, I said, “Guess we should get dressed and get some dinner.”

  “Yeah. Probably should grab some bedding, too.”

  So we spent a few minutes in the clothing room. I chose simple things—a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, along with a red flannel shirt. I spied bras and panties and probably should have grabbed some, but I’d been going so long without, I decided to go a little longer. I had my own undergarments at home that I’d be happy to wear, but for now, I’d bypass them. I grabbed a pair of socks and called it good. By the time I was done, Kevin already had a blanket, sheets, pillows, and shams. “Ready?”

  “More than.”

  We found the cell we’d initially chosen and then decided on a different one, now that we had more time to browse. The one we picked looked to have a nicer toilet. After dressing, we made the bed—he covered the pillows while I put the sheets on—and then we walked back to the bathroom for our forgotten shoes.

  The clothes? They felt amazing.

  Then we made our way back to the open area. I was ravenous, not that I was hungrier than I had been over the past several months; instead, I was hungry with expectation. But there was no food, and I couldn’t smell any. However, I did see a guard sitting at a desk several feet away in the open area on the other side of the bars. I called to him and, when he looked up, I asked, “Did we miss dinner?”

  “Nope. They’re just runnin’ late. Probably another ten minutes or so. You need something to eat right now?”

  “No. I think we’re okay.”

  He told us that, in the kitchen to the right, there were glasses and we could get some water while we waited for dinner. So we did. And, by the time the food arrived, we were hungrier than we’d been in a while.

  The man I called a guard, although I was sure he wouldn’t have appreciated that job title, unlocked the gate and wheeled a cart in. While he was setting food on the table, he said, “They bring us food, too. Smells pretty good. You like fried chicken?” My mouth started watering at the idea. I hadn’t had fried chicken in years; I probably hadn’t even had chicken in a year. He picked up two trays and set them on the table, followed by two bowls and two small plates. “Sometimes they send special drinks, too. Last night, we had orange juice, and last week, they made a dessert coffee. Anyway, enjoy. You can wash the dishes tonight or we can get them in the morning.”

  We thanked him and then pulled the lids off everything. The serving dishes reminded me of what they used in the hospital—kind of an insulated plastic designed to maintain the temperature until the food arrived at its destination. “Holy shit,” I said. It was a feast compared to what we’d been eating.

  “Holy shit is right.” Small bowls of salad with what looked like ranch dressing, plates of hot food—fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn—and small plates with brownies. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  “No kidding.” I didn’t wait, picking up the bowl and stabbing the salad with a fork, shoving it in my mouth before sitting down. I verbalized my pleasure, almost a moan, because I hadn’t had this kind of food in months. It was one of the most boring salads I’d ever seen—iceberg lettuce with shredded carrots and a glob of ranch dressing—but it was also the most delicious. I scarfed it and then realized I needed to slow down. My stomach was gurgling, and I knew it was because I wasn’t used to eating like this, nor this quickly.

  I looked up at Kevin, and bliss was written all over his face. He had a spoonful of mashed potatoes and he put it in his mouth, c
losing his eyes and taking his time. That inspired me, and I took a bite of mine, too. Wow. I’d never enjoyed potatoes this much before. “Oh, my God. This is amazing.”

  Kevin opened his eyes and smiled at me. “Mmm-hmm.” He looked so content, so happy, and, as much as I’d thought I was enjoying the experience, he was appreciating it that much more.

  “Better than sex?”

  He nodded. “Almost.”

  I smiled. “Really?” I hadn’t felt sexy in years, especially over the past several months, stranded out in the wilderness with no clean clothes and no makeup…but tonight? Tonight I was as close as I would ever get under the circumstances. I stood, no longer hungry. I wasn’t used to eating this much food this quickly, and I knew it would be here when my stomach calmed down. Maybe I’d enjoyed the idea of it more than the actual food, but I was appreciating it vicariously. “Then right now, Savage, you’re masturbating.”

  He chuckled and shrugged. “The date that never stands you up.” I grinned and straddled him, sitting on his lap facing him. He looked at me, his eyes dark, but I knew he was hungry—not just for me—and I wanted to join in the fun. I took his spoon from him and scooped up some mashed potatoes and guided them in his mouth. He smiled and ate them and then said, “Careful. I could get used to this.” I didn’t say anything, picking up another spoonful of potatoes, only this time, when I got them close to his mouth and he opened up, I pulled them back. I did it a couple of times until finally relenting and easing the spoon onto his tongue. After he finished the mouthful, he said, “Tease.”

  Then I felt him grow hard underneath me. Part of me wanted him to throw me on the table, but the guard was just outside the cage doors. It didn’t stop me from grinding against him, though, and I saw the look in his eyes. He clenched his jaw and gave me half a smile. Yeah, maybe dinner could wait.

  He reached over and grabbed the brownie. He broke a chunk off the corner, shoving some in his mouth and then putting a bite in mine. I sucked on his finger, not letting him take it out right away, and then his eyes changed from playful to serious. He took his finger out of my mouth and stood, his hands holding me up by my ass, and he wasted no time walking to our temporary bedroom, a six-by-eight foot gray space I’d only spent five minutes in.