by Emery Skye
"Beth this is ridiculous. Where is your phone? I'm calling for help," I tell her, having had my share of adventure for the day. I like being prepared and ready for when shit hits the fan. Being in the mountains, hiking on an unmarked trail, with no gear is far from prepared. Not to mention that there’s a murderer after me.
"No service," I remark when I see the "x" at the top of her phone. It's darker now and everything looks the same. I swear, I've seen that bush a hundred freaking times.
The smell of a stream nearby beckons me. I read somewhere that when you're lost you should follow a stream or something. I don't know, but it's gotta be better than going nowhere; and we are going nowhere fast.
We snap our heads around when we hear a howling. Beth and I huddle closer together. The proximity would normally be way too close for me. I'm a big fan of my bubble, but under the circumstances, It’s okay.
"What was that?" she asks with a tremble. She's so close; the aroma of flowers fills my nostrils. Beth has a natural florally smell about her. It's not the typical grandma smell; it's sweeter.
"How am I supposed to know?" I snap.
"I'm so sorry, Lexi," she whines and I feel like crap for being short with her. "I swear I thought I knew where we were at," she surveys the area, perplexed.
I sigh. "It's okay. I'm sure we're really not even that far away," I reply sweetly and feel better when she smiles.
"Is it okay?" I ask about the furry critter she’s cradling.
"Fluky," she coos and the bunny moves.
"Fluky?" I raise a questioning brow.
"It means blessed and stuff," she tells me.
I really hope it doesn't die. She seems to have grown attached to the poor creature.
I grab her by the elbow and pull her to follow me. "Beth," I start.
"Yes," she answers. If you heard Beth's voice you would think we were on the way to a frat party. "Earlier, why were you so annoyed with Hunter?"
Beth's hand squeezes mine.
"Oh, he's irritating with his mean looks," she sounds like a little kid when she talks about Hunter.
"I guess." I marvel at how someone who always seems so playful could sound so bitter.
I haven't seen my hair-tie that has been doubling as an identifying element, so I can only assume we aren't walking in circles anymore. This assumption does nothing to set me at ease. Nature is comforting, don't get me wrong, but with all the crazy happenings, only a brain-dead moron would fancy themselves alone in the woods. Step after step, I grow more worried we're hiking in the wrong direction. I imagine myself grunting but know I'm silent.
Silent until...I gasp the instant my stomach muscles churn.
"Is everything okay?" Beth bends at the waist and places a settling hand on the small place between my shoulders.
It’s a nice gesture, but, eww, the black plague.
"Um...yeah. Everything's fine," I try to reassure her. Little wrinkles form as her brows dip into a frown; I'm fairly certain she's dismissed my claim.
Our attention is redirected to the shuffling in the surrounding shrubbery. Beth inches closer to me. If there’s a wild creature or Horde, I'm on my own.
My blood pulses under my skin; my heart might explode. Calm down, I repeat my mental mantra.
What if it is a Horde? I have no clue what to do. It's not like I would really do that great against a human murderer, but I mean, at least I know that if I stick my fingers in whoever's eye sockets it'll do damage and give me a chance.
Do Horde's have eyes like humans? Is their blood poisonous? I make a note to ask Hunter these questions. Horde one-on-one is definitely more useful than AP English right now.
Hunter used a knife on the Horde he killed. I frantically search the immediate surrounding for any potential weapons. I reach down and grab a branch. I must look one of those silly girls in the horror movies...the ones who die during beginning credits.
I squint my eyes to make out any shapes, but the darkness impairs my vision.
"Oh, it's you. You scared the crap out of us!" Beth says bitterly, but noticeably relaxes.
I gape at her like she's flipping crazy, but my eyes drift back to the narrow opening when a stick snaps.
He approaches so quickly it shocks me. "A stick," Hunter sneers crossly, suddenly we are toe-to-toe and I jolt backward. He reaches for the stick and takes it from my numbed fingers. He proceeds to snap it with his thumb and index finger like it's a twig. "What the hell were you planning to do with this?" He inquires.
I frown at my once weapon, that's now a bundle of twigs resting in his hands.
"Do you have any idea how long you've been gone?" he addresses me.
I shake my head.
"Don't be mean," Beth tells him.
"You," he points at Beth. "Don't start with me. We'll talk about this later." I'm shocked at the way he speaks to Beth. She didn't do anything wrong. How was she supposed to know that we would get lost in the mountains and not be able to find our way back? It's not entirely her fault either. I should have been paying attention.
"What's that thing you're holding?" he asks Beth.
"That's fluky." I answer. He cocks his head. “The blessed goffer."
"Elizabeth," he sighs.
“Hunter, he’s hurt." Her lips dip down as she pouts.
"What are you going to do with it? You can't keep it. What? You nurse it back to health and then what?" he asks patronizingly.
"Then, we let Fluky go do what Fluky wants," I tell him.
"I've been searching for you both for hours. How could you act so senseless after everything that's happened?" he scolds us both.
I lower my head away from his heated gaze and stare at the dirt. He sighs. "Let's go," he says in a defeated way that makes me feel selfish and pint-sized.
We walk the short couple hours back to the dorms, but it feels more like days, the air pregnant with anxiety. It figures we would be lost in our own backyard. Pfft.
We barely make it back in time for dinner. I realize we had only been gone for eight hours. That's a long time, but it felt like twelve.
Beth refuses to speak. She coos to Fluky the whole walk back, but other than that, she's silent like a rock. I'm pretty sure it's Hunter’s presence that's the big ball-buster. I can't say I blame her. Although, I think the tension between them is different than the tension between me and Hunter. She's acting like a little kid that got reprimanded by her father and I'm acting.... well, I'm not sure what it relates to and that's probably due to my lack of personal relationships.
Hunter's jaw is clenched shut and his shoulders are tense. I hope he isn't being too hard on himself. He was worried about us. Sure, he could have handled it better, but he's right, considering the circumstances. Even a saint would have struggled to keep his cool.
It hurts that he called me senseless. I’m an idiot and hate feeling that way.
Hunter walks us back to our dorm after we eat. No matter the rigidity in the air, neither Hunter nor Beth lost their appetites. They scarfed down two plates each of cheesy potatoes, red meat skewers and green bean casserole. I nibbled on my mushy casserole--my usual appetite a mere ghost.
Once our door shuts, Beth unloads, "I hate him," she yells at no one in particular. She walks briskly to her oak dresser and removes her gold dangly earrings and proceeds to unzip and remove her boots. She grabs some clothes from the middle drawer, slams it shut and then locks herself in the bathroom for an extensive amount of time.
I'm confused by her outburst and decide to ask her more about it when she finishes her shower. Normally, I would've been pissed at her for taking the bathroom first, now I don't care.
I’m playing Solitaire when Beth walks into the room; her cheeks are flushed from the heat. She's wearing some obscene bell-bottom cotton pajama pants and a tank top coated in luminescent sparkles that carry a glimmer missing from her eyes.
Beth purses her lips. She directs her eyes to the ceiling as if in a gesture to calm herself and her cheeks puff up as she inhales.
Casually, she maneuvers herself into a sitting position on my bed.
"Wanna talk about it?" I ask offhandedly.
"Seriously? You're going to tell me that Hunter doesn't irritate you?" she flings her hands up.
I think about it and realize that Hunter does sometimes irritate me, but I think this thing with Beth is different. "He used to, but not so much anymore. He's just a guy,” and vampire killer, but I don't say that. She'd think I'm nuts. Maybe it's a good thing Caity isn't here. She would ask me what's wrong, I'd have to lie. I mean come on and she'd know I was lying to her.
She shakes her head. "Can you believe he yelled at me like that!" she storms and falls back onto my bed in a mess of annoyance. "Who does he think he is? My father?" She says mordantly.
I laugh.
"It's not funny!" she snaps.
"Of course not," I raise my hands in a meek defense.
Her eyes widen like a crazed cougar's and at first, I think she might attack me, but those green orbs soften and soon, she erupts into a fit of giggles too.
"You like him. Don't you?" she raises a knowing eyebrow.
Thank God I don't have anything in my mouth, because I'm sure the contents would now be spewed all over my white comforter.
"Like' is a strong word." I get up from the bed to grab my belongings and prepare to take a shower. I'm not a fan of the direction the conversation is taking.
"Do you like him?" I counter.
"Ew!" she retorts with such forcefulness that I'm stunned. Maybe she's a lesbian. I didn't think it possible that anyone of the female sex could not find Hunter attractive.
"Okayyyy. So why do you let him get to you so much?"
She groans loudly and leans up. Her deep green eyes stab at me like pine needles. "Ugh, you wouldn't get it!"
TWENTY-EIGHT
Saturday is boring. Hunter walks me to the library so we can do homework. I assure him I don't need his company, but he insists.
The three hours at the library primarily consist of me trying to study, while Hunter ogles a table of girls a few tables down. My heart aches at his complete disregard for me. When I stand up to go to the restroom, he jumps to his feet and grabs my wrist.
"Where are you going?"
"The bathroom," I tell him.
The other night, we had cuddled up in a hotel room. I mentally smack myself for stupidly thinking it could have been more. I told myself the first day I met him that guys like him didn't go for girls like me and it took me less than a month to drop my defenses. Clearly, he was trying to comfort me under the circumstances. Obviously, Hunter is another guy/vampire slayer who never had any real interest in me other than the protector/brother-killer interests.
"You can go play with your little friends," I mock. "You don't have to stay with me," I tell him. He’s been surveying a group of female students for the last twenty minutes.
He cocks a brow. "Are you jealous, Lex?"
He ignores me all day and when he's not ignoring me, he spouts off snide remarks.
"Annoyed is more like it," I mutter.
"What was that?" he leans forward, invading my personal space.
I lean back, "This is my space," I say slowly and gesture around my immediate surroundings. "No Hunter allowed. Got it?"
He scoffs and backs away.
I miss the closeness of his body to mine.
The next day is a lot like the last. Hunter is my shadow. We don't talk, unless he remarks how I really am the most uncoordinated person he's ever met. I tell him that if I had superpowers like him, I would probably be more coordinated. He tells me that it would take more than superpowers. I can't believe I worried about him pitying me.
When he gives me crap for my human flaws, I turn toward the supernatural discussion that I know he doesn't want and it shuts him up.
"What's your deal? Is prick the flavor of the day?" I ask after lunch when he arrive at the doors to the library.
He raises a brow. "What are you talking about now?"
My anger ripens as I stare him down. He’s dressed in a tight, black thermal and dark blue jeans.
"Oh, I'm just wondering, should I plan on you being a prick all day or maybe all week?" I'm seething.
"Plan what you want," he growls low.
"Why are you spending time with me?" I ask the question picking at my mind.
"It's my job."
"So, that's all I am. A job?"
He inhales, "Yes."
"I thought you were the good guy."
"I never said that."
"I did," I tell him. The lump in my throat betrays me and leaves my voice small and weak.
I snap at the waist as a clawing pain infests my stomach and groan loudly as my hand reaches up to clutch my lower abdomen. The vomit is crawling up my throat.
"Lex, what is it?"
I turn and through the watery haze, I steer myself toward a clearing in the shrubbery. I convulse as my stomach empties its contents.
"Lexi, are you okay? What was that about?" He's rubbing the space between my shoulders.
"I need to lay down."
Before I can protest, he cradles me in his arms and within seconds, we are at my door. My hair blows forward entering my open mouth.
"What the hell was that?" I ask as another wave of dizziness washes over me.
"You said you needed to lie down," his voice takes on a husky quality that compels my stomach to do a flip flop.
"Yeah, but..." I look around, trying to get my bearings. "We were on the other side of the campus. How did we get here so quick?" The second wave comes over me and is followed by little stars that splotch Hunter's face.
"It's a skill."
"You mean superpower." He nods. "That's not fair. I need to get me some of those. Volleyball would be my bitch if I could do that. What else can you do?"
His face lifts in amusement. "Volleyball?"
"Yeah, volleyball. See, us little, normal humans have normal, human problems and volleyball happens to be one of mine.”
He shakes his head. "You need to rest." Then, he's gone. A soft breeze lifts my hair playfully behind my shoulders.
I can't wait to learn more about Hunter.
…
The stomach pains subside later that night and I crawl out of bed. Beth is passed out, wearing pink earmuffs and a leopard print eye mask. I smile. When I asked about her earmuffs, she said she wears them because she gets cold at night.
Did I believe her? Not a shot. That girl wore them because of my late-night episodes. Just another reason to like her.
I reach into my purse and pull out some bills for a vending machine snack and a soda. It's been a long time since I've had a nice, cold soda and my cravings can no longer be kept at bay.
I'm a little more than pissed when I realize that I have very little money on me. Normally, a kid with dead parents and a large checking account would use their debit card for incidents like this, but I'm far from normal and have a grandma who's gonna have a shit ton of hospital bills. The debit card is going to have to keep its place in my wallet warm for another night.
It's been a long time since I've been to Rabby's. I look to Beth again and really, I have no choice in the matter.
…
Within the hour, I'm dressed in jeans and a red hoodie with my hair pulled back into a clip standing outside the hole-in-the-wall bar titled Rabby's, but the sign is missing the "y" so it reads Rabb 's. The new name isn't much better or worse, for that matter.
I walk into the bar casually. I've been here many times before. One could even call me a "regular patron." Pathetic, I know. A few customers fire rounds of denigrating glares that I have no problem returning with interest. Jerks. They're the ones searching for answers at the bottom of bottle.
Rob, the bartender, says my name as I'm about to walk into the back room where I know a game is well in motion. "Hey, Lexi. Been a while," he says with a hint of restraint in his tone. He's holding something back. The way he's standing with two hands cupping the bar, lea
ning toward me. The way his jaw is corked sideways to the frightened look in his brown eyes.
"What's up, Rob?" I ask, glancing around the bar with searching eyes. Now that Rob's caught my attention, I notice something does feel off about this place. I can't put my hand on it.
He inhales. Rob's in his early thirties and been a bartender since he got out of high school. He constantly tells me to get a real job and stop coming into Rabby's. Says a girl like me has no reason to come to a place like this even with how well I play. He's probably right, but he doesn't know my situation. At least that's my excuse for right now and I'm sticking to it.
He waves me over and so I turn away from the backdoor and walk across the hardwood floors toward the bar listening as my feet making a sticking noise with every step. The sound is familiar, but I try and push the frightening memory deep into my mind where it will cease to cause a hindrance.
He hands me a tall glass of ice water and a soda.
"Thanks," I say, airing caution. Usually, he gives me crap when I ask for water. He'll ask for ID or something and when I don't comply, he'll say that maybe I should find water at gas station like normal teenagers. Something's definitely up.
The bar stool cuts me off from direct contact with the bar and I make no effort to move it aside.
"You here to play?"
"Yeah, I have ten bucks to buy in," I say with a touch of melancholy. I'm seriously poor right now. It's not even funny.
"That's not enough," he says quickly, heatedly, like he's in a hurry to get me out of there. His AC/DC, black t-shirt clings to his thin body awkwardly, making his joints look knobby. The closer I look, the deeper I examine him, the more I see the sheen of sweat shimmering on his skin. No wonder his shirt's clinging to him.
"Is everything okay, Rob?" I ask, surveying the dimly lit room for the second time. The red-felted, blacklegged pool table sits in the corner of the room with balls spread across it haphazardly. I count eleven men in the room. Ashtrays litter both unoccupied and occupied tables and the air is thick with a suffocating smoky haze. I don't know how Rabby, the owner of Rabby's, got past the various city and state smoking ordinances, but he did.
