by M. D. Massey
“Dude, like open it already,” Justin quipped.
Finally, Dean pulled out a wad of hot-pink tissue paper and then removed the layers of tissue. “Well, Twinkle Me Mary, my dear ole granddaddy had one like this,” Dean exclaimed, holding the black, leather, western hat gingerly in his hands. “It’s even got a snakeskin band.” He seemed pleased.
“Put it on. You can take a selfie,” Justin said, pulling out his phone.
“What in tarnation is a selfie?” Dean’s eyes crinkled playfully. He obligingly tried on the western hat, adjusting the brim just so to give it that cowboy mystique. Then Dean sauntered through the lobby, hands on hips, in what looked like an attempt to mimic John Wayne. “Well, I’ll tell ya . . .” Instead, his impersonation ended up sounding more like Johnny Cash. Everyone burst out laughing.
“Scarlett, thank you for thinking of me. But, I told you not to go on any more of those shopping sprees,” he scolded in jest.
“Luther, this is for you.” Scarlett didn’t want Luther to feel left out, so last night she had sorted through the special items she had acquired on her recent scavenger hunts with Justin. She decided the Swiss Colony Old-Fashioned Fudge tin was perfect for him; it didn’t expire until March. The rather large man had an affinity for edible items.
Luther held the Hello Kitty gift bag as far away as possible as if it were a pair of stinky socks.
“Sorry, uh, masculine gift bags are a rarity these days,” Scarlett apologized.
“I loved Hello Kitty—when I was about six,” Luther said, enjoying the attention. “Umm um, Swiss Colony Fudge.” He held up the red and white tin for everyone to see. “I see you know Luther already.” Luther gave her a hug.
“Now that we’ve managed to rouse-up every dead-head in the city—best we be on our way,” Dean said. He gave Scarlett a long hug and whispered in her ear, “Promise me . . .”
All she could get out was an “Uh huh.” She turned quickly, hoping no one saw the tears brewing. Scarlett stood back and watched everyone say their goodbyes, but she couldn’t talk. Her throat ached from holding back the sobs.
“See you soon,” Scarlett uttered as they closed the door behind them. The words fell flat onto the stone flooring. If she trusted her strange vision-like dreams, she would have pleaded with Dean to stay. But she didn’t. She didn’t trust this new sensation, this new sense that had developed since the Super Summer flu . . . and she didn’t beg him to stay.
Justin had given Dean a cell phone that still had a signal; although for how long, no one knew. Justin had been completely wonderstruck when Dean had told him he didn’t know how to charge a cell phone. But then again, she thought, Dean was probably pulling Justin’s leg, just to get a rise out of the young whippersnapper, thinking it sounded like something Dean would say.
Justin and Ella were extremely gloomy after Dean and Luther’s departure, so Scarlett followed through on her promise to keep an eye on Ella and decided to make it a play-day.
“Anyone up for a game of Gin Rummy?” Scarlett asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Uh, like nobody plays with actual cards anymore,” Justin retorted as if Scarlett were a hundred years old.
“They do these days,” Scarlett quipped back and shuffled the deck of Bicycle playing cards.
They sat around the coffee table in the lobby, and Scarlett dealt the cards. Paxton and Nate left out the front entrance without saying a word. She was greatly relieved when she heard their trucks take off. Scarlett cheerfully taught them to play Gin Rummy (one of her favorite games as a child). They seemed to appreciate the distraction. It felt rather like a group therapy session. All the while, her mind kept wandering to Dean and Luther. Her heart pained like an anxiety attack threatening to implode, and her gut wrenched. So, she made a silly promise and said a prayer to herself after every hand of Gin Rummy, praying Dean and Luther were all right.
Scarlett and Justin helped Ella prepare a quick dinner of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese with canned milk and buttered flavor Crisco: Justin and Ella’s favorite quick meal. Scarlett was relieved the Stockton Boys didn’t show up for dinner. Things were going much smoother than she had anticipated. After dinner, they decided it was time to call Dean and Luther. The phone rang and rang. At midnight, they agreed it was time to get some sleep.
Scarlett snuck into Dean’s room, searching for the bottle of Crown Royal. I know it’s here somewhere. Dean had confided it often took him two to three drinks to get to sleep some nights. She desperately needed a drink. “There it is!” She grabbed the bottle and crept back to her room.
Images blurred by. A cloudy, hazy dream of suffocating . . . Scarlett woke up unable to breathe. A commotion in the hallway brought Scarlett out of bed instantly. The door to her room burst open. Justin stood in the doorway yelling. What’s he saying? He ranted and waved his arms about wildly. Just another crazy dream? It took a moment for his words to register.
“Fire, like we’ve got to get out—Now! The hotel’s on fire!” Justin raved on and on.
She automatically slipped on her jeans and her shoes, thinking this was part of her dream. “What?” Scarlett, groggy from the alcohol, was puzzled by the strange sensation burning her eyes—until she choked from the smoke. “Fire?” she gasped.
“We have to jump!” Justin yelled. He stood in her doorway, Ella clinging to him.
“LuLu?” Scarlett choked, taking in a whiff of smoke into her lungs.
“Not in her room,” Justin answered.
“The stairs,” Scarlett said, trying to think logically.
“Too late. Both stairwells are on fire—” Justin spluttered.
“Come in,” Scarlett said firmly. She slammed the door, hoping to buy them a few precious minutes. “Keep low to the ground.” But, he wasn’t listening.
“We’ve got to jump!” Justin shrieked.
“Okay, okay,” Scarlett rattled, trying to calm him down. “Ella, are you all right?” All she got was a meek nod from her.
“We’ll climb down my balcony,” Scarlett said, thinking out loud. It was the only thing she could think of.
“Are you cuh-ray-zee?” Ella stared wide-eyed.
There was no time to argue. Scarlett ripped off a sheet from the bedding. She tied one end of the sheet to the balcony’s rod-iron railing and then dangled the other end over the balcony. It was about a five-foot drop but their only option. Much to her relief LuLu scurried around in the parking lot below, yelling something at them.
“Justin, you first. Then you can help Ella,” Scarlett ordered.
Justin slid down the sheet. He jumped to the parking lot below. “Easy-peasy!” he hollered up to Ella and Scarlett.
“Ella, you're next,” Scarlett rasped. The smoke seeped in from under the door.
“No!”
“You can do this. Hold onto the sheet as tightly as you can. Justin will catch you,” Scarlett encouraged. Will the knotted sheet hold?
Ella stood there with a blank stare.
“Ella!” Justin yelled up.
It seemed to jolt the young girl back. Ella seized the sheet, which served as a lifesaving-rope while Scarlett helped her over the railing. Justin stood below ready to catch Ella. A loud explosion rocked the building. Justin and Ella tumbled onto the pavement.
“Are you all right?” Scarlett shouted, her voice muffled by the roaring fire. At that moment, Nate and Paxton showed up in their trucks.
“Your turn,” Justin yelled to Scarlett. Scarlett climbed over the balcony’s railing. She let herself down with trembling arms. Strong hands grabbed hold of her. She let go of the sheet and turned around, never so happy to see Paxton.
“In the trucks you morons! A horde busted through the fence,” Nate screeched.
Paxton snatched Ella with one arm and carried her by the waist like a petite mannequin. He tossed Ella in the backseat of the double cabbed truck. Justin scrambled in next to Ella. LuLu ran into Nate’s truck. Scarlett doubled over in a coughing spasm and leaned against the truck, reliev
ed everyone had made it out.
“No time for that,” Paxton said, manhandling her into the front passenger’s seat. She didn’t bother to resist. Paxton shifted the truck into gear. “Buckle up, this could get messy,” Paxton warned.
Paxton spun-out around the corner of the burning building, tires squealing. Scarlett wobbled around the front seat feeling like a human bobblehead. She grabbed onto the handy-dandy, hold-onto-your-life handle the manufacturer must have designed with insane drivers like Paxton in mind. She was too busy choking and coughing to be irritated with his reckless driving.
“Dammit, woman, don’t be puking in my truck. Stick your head out the window,” Paxton shouted while sideswiping a pack of creepers. “Yeah, that’s what I call vehicular warfare!” Paxton whooped.
A series of high-pitched squeals and muted thuds nauseated her even more. Something slimy splattered her cheek. “Yuck!” She gagged, swinging her head back inside the truck. She swore Paxton was laughing, but with everything that was happening—the roar of the trucks, Ella’s sobs, and Justin’s muttering—she really wasn’t sure.
Justin bellowed, “Dude, did you see those Zs in helmets? Think we just ran over Vaca High’s entire football team!”
“Touchdown, baby!” Paxton cheered.
Is Paxton enjoying this? Meanwhile, Ella sobbed in panting-like gasps. She wanted to ensure Ella everything was all right, only she couldn’t stop coughing long enough to speak. Scarlett finally caught her breath and peered out the flesh-splattered windshield for the first time. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Creepers everywhere! They jerked their way toward the hotel as if mesmerized by the enormous starburst of flames licking at the dark-dead night.
“Where’re we going?” Scarlett rasped, her lungs wreathing of smoke.
“I know a place.” That’s all Paxton said to them as he kept the truck at a steady pace.
The next thing Scarlett knew, they were on the highway going extremely fast with vehicles blurring by her spinning head.
Scarlett sluggishly opened her stinging eyes. The pink and lavender walls blared out at her. Reluctantly, she dragged her depleted body out of the miniature bed. Then she noticed Ella on a bed adjacent to hers, still sleeping. Scarlett realized they were in a child’s room. Jeez, is this another one of my dreams? The constant throbbing of her head convinced her this was not a dream.
The memories of last night’s firestorm emerged. Fire! “Dear God,” her throat croaked. Ella seemed all right, her breathing deep and even. She didn’t see any burns or injuries on either of them. Where are we? Beside the bed stood a pale-pink nightstand adorned with a cutesy lamp with a pink, feathery lampshade. A stack of neatly folded clothes next to the lamp caught her attention: a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, a jean jacket, and even a set of underwear, all in her size. Her pair of Sketchers and a pair of tennis shoes sat at the foot of the nightstand. She pulled back the pink, polka-dotted curtains only to find the window boarded-up from the outside.
Dazed, she removed her smoke-laden clothing and then automatically changed into the clothes neatly folded on the nightstand. She noticed a set of clothing on the nightstand next to Ella’s bed as well. The room seemed surreal, a time before the world had gone mad, such a contrast after last night’s hellish escape—from Hades to Disneyland. Her brain found it difficult to comprehend the transition.
Had Paxton and Nate found help? She was too disoriented to make sense out of all the incongruities; everything seemed perfectly normal, yet an unreasonable fear deep within screamed of danger. She ran to the bedroom door with an urgent need to relieve her bladder. The door didn’t budge. She twisted the knob repeatedly. A wave of claustrophobia smothered her. Trapped! Get a grip, Scarlett scolded. Hmm. The door was locked from the outside. Thinking logically, she shoved back her hysteria, and simply tapped on the door, not wanting to disturb Ella.
“Justin, you there?” she whisper-yelled.
Finally, the door opened. There stood Paxton with a surly grin. “Sleeping Beauty awakens,” Paxton said, his eyes blatantly probing every inch of her body.
Scarlett quickly closed her jacket, feeling violated. “Did you actually lock us in the room?” she accused with unexpected anger. Her anger caused her head to pound more violently, and her hands rushed to her forehead in an attempt for instant pain relief.
“Making sure the little ones are safe and sound.” He dangled a set of keys in front of her nose.
“The little girl’s room is the next door to your left,” he said, an unsettling grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.
Scarlett absentmindedly pushed her way past Paxton. “I need the bathroom.” Paxton let her pass, but not without brushing up against her in an awkward moment.
When Scarlett joined them in the kitchen, Paxton and Nate were arguing again about something. She was relieved to see everything had returned to normal with the two of them. Or Not? The tension between the two men gave her the heebie-jeebies.
“Where are we?” Scarlett whimpered, rubbing her temples. Paxton tossed her a bottle of Tylenol. He pointed to a case of Glacier bottled waters on the kitchen’s black, granite countertop. She mouthed, “Thank you so much.” She chugged down half the bottle. “Is everyone all right? Where’s Justin?”
“Front porch. Guard duty,” Nate barked, apparently still mad at whatever had transpired before she had interrupted them.
“What, we have guard duty now?” Scarlett said a bit confused.
“Nate, have you forgotten your manners? Offer our guest breakfast.” Paxton’s sickening-sweet voice oozed like rancid maple syrup dripping from a toxic-coated spoon.
Nate glared at Paxton. “Don’t you tell me what to do. I’m not your little bitch-boy,” Nate snarled.
“Shhhhh, can’t you see the poor thing’s got a headache,” Paxton continued in that same sickening tone.
Scarlett didn’t know what the heck was going on with those two, but food sounded absolutely amazing, and she sat down at the white Ikea-like dinette table adjacent to the kitchen counter. The dinette set overlooked the backyard patio, giving her a great view of a child’s playground set. She started to feel comfortable in the homey house after the blandness of the hotel.
Nate shoved a plastic bowl and a box of Cocoa Puffs in front of her.
“Do you have a spoon?” she asked, eyeballing the rather unhealthy cereal box like it was an alien life form. Who eats this stuff?
“Yes’m, Miss Scarlett,” Nate shrilled, his high-pitched voice clamoring at her head.
Jeez Louise, Nate’s pissed. It must have been some argument. She really didn’t care at the moment. “So, where are we?” she asked again before stuffing her mouth with a spoonful of milk-less sugar-balls. The dry cereal went down harshly, but her body thanked her for the calories.
Nate and Paxton exchanged glances. She took another bite. Come on, Tylenol, kick in. “Paxton, I’m serious. Where the heck are we?” She wasn’t in the mood for their juvenile behavior. What is this, flippin’ first grade? Her elementary students behaved better than the two of them.
Paxton was so lovin’ it. Keeping Scarlett clueless, savoring the moment—the moment when she finally realized she was his. He enjoyed toying with her. He couldn’t wait to see the disbelief, the pain, the fear in her eyes when she realized that she belonged to him, and there wasn’t a thing in hell she could do about it. He was the bossman. And he’d do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, as many times as he wanted. So, Paxton smiled sweetly at her, savoring the moment—waiting to spring it on her like a clever panther lusting over its long-coveted prey.
“We got here early this morning. Don’t worry, we made sure it’s zombie-safe. It’s a great place to hang for a while,” Paxton said vaguely.
“When are we going to check out the hotel? And what about Dean and Luther?” she asked.
Paxton, aware Scarlett was still under the effects of the Quaalude he’d given her last night, decided, No, Scarlett baby, you’re not ready yet. This was all forep
lay. He relished every second of his cunning charade. “We already went there. The hotel’s crawling with Zs, we better wait awhile,” Paxton lied, enjoying the moment.
LuLu stomped through the dining room giving everyone a dirty look. She sat at the kitchen counter, poured a bowl of Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes, and then stared into her bowl.
Scarlett scraped her bowl for one last bite. “If you guys don’t mind, think I’ll go back to the room and rest until the Tylenol kicks in. I can help Justin with guard duty later.” Scarlett left the room, holding her head in her hands.
“Man, you gonna let her walk off like that?” Nate shook his head.
“Patience. Nothing’s worth having if you don’t have to work for it. Gotta wait for it—and when the moment’s right—Bam!” Paxton struck his fist on the table.
“Wha da fuck? You psycho or something? I want Ella—tonight!” Nate demanded.
“Nate, follow my lead.” This time, Paxton gave him a warning look that could kill. Paxton knew how far he could push Nate. And Nate was getting close to his breaking point. Careful now. He needed to keep Nate distracted a little longer . . . to Paxton, they were characters in his very own screenplay. And he was the sadistic director. Everyone’s gonna have to play the Paxton way. I’m lovin’ every fuckin’ minute.
LuLu gave them both a look that could peel the paint off the wall as she threw her spoon down on the granite countertop.
“Wha you lookin’ at, ho?” Nate spewed. “Shit, we don’t even need this bitch no mo’. Now we got ourselves some prime-pussy,” Nate said, glaring at LuLu with abhorrence.
LuLu’s eyes widened. Paxton reveled in the hatred and terror consuming her. This is one fantastic mother f’n day . . .
It was almost dusk when Scarlett finally dragged herself out of bed again. Her throbbing head had eased to a dull ache. Ella wasn’t there. Scarlett selfishly hoped she was preparing a huge feast; she was absolutely famished.
Scarlett found Ella in the kitchen stirring a pot of something that smelled fantastic. “How are you feeling?” Scarlett worried, giving Ella a comforting, happy-to-see-you hug.
