"I don't do the chasing game, Reese. If you want to stick with me, keep walking," he shouts back at me. I wasn't stopping so he'd stop, too. I wasn't stopping to get a reaction out of him. I stopped because I'm not sure I can be around him anymore. And as much as I thought he had all of these magical answers—ways out of this purgatory, I'm seeing now that he's no more knowledgeable on a form of escape than I am.
I've made up my mind. I'm stopping. I don't want to follow him anymore. "Sin," I yell over to him, unsure if he can hear me with how far away he is now.
But he does. He turns around, continuing to walk backwards. "What?"
"I'm not going with you."
"So you're just going to sit here until you rot and die? Good plan, smarty."
"I don't want to keep fighting against this pre-determined ending. I give up." Is that what I'm doing? Am I giving up? An hour ago, I refused to give up…but I was wrong. Is it the starvation that's finally making its way into my brain? Or the thirst my entire body is now quenching? There really is no way out, and I'm not sure how much more I can fight to pound this conclusion into my head. I'm tired. I'm weak. And this man hates me more than I hate myself. Maybe I am giving up. I got out of the shed. That's what I wanted to do. That's what I survived to accomplish. I just never assumed how much worse life could be on the outside of those wooden walls. I'm ready to call this what it is. What it has been for the last three years—a slow, painful, and miserable death.
I drop my bag to the ground, feeling the weight of my body anchor to the dirt. There are no trees to lean on now, there's just my bag, the ground and the sun. This red dirt will eventually swallow me up and take me into the earth where I must belong because I sure as hell don't belong here anymore. I rest my back against the backpack and lift my face up to the sky, feeling the scorching sun have its way with my already burnt skin.
Closing my eyes, I try to imagine Mom's face. I try to remember the happiness Mom and Dad had for each other before he died—the love that I hoped I would feel some day. Most of the girls I was friends with in school had divorced parents and stepparents and horror stories involving their largely blended family. I knew I was lucky to have two parents who didn't have to put me through that. Although luck only runs so deep since Dad was taken from us at such a young age. It was like the world was punishing us for having lives that were too perfect. Well, the world won again…our lives were destroyed. Mom's life has been destroyed twice, and mine twice. Now, the official destruction will occur as I lie here staring up into the ball of fire that most people consider to be spectacular. It'll be the death of me. It'll burn me alive, and I could only be so lucky to starve to death first.
Heaviness coats my chest, like someone were sitting on me or stealing the air out of my lungs. Is this how it's supposed to feel? I try to move my lips and my tongue, but neither budges. I even try to focus on the burning sensation covering my exposed skin, but I don't feel that either. My back doesn't ache and my feet aren't sore like they were. I feel like I'm lying on a pillow in the clouds, floating into oblivion. If this is what dying is supposed to feel like, I wish I had stopped fighting years ago.
20
Chapter Eight
SIN
I'm not turning back for her. That's what chicks like to do. They crave attention and they want you to go running after them so they can play up the dramatic bullshit. Love. Fuck love.
I don't know how long I've been walking since Reese stopped following me, but I'm guessing now that she was pretty serious about giving up on this idea of finding food and water. I thought it was just for attention; although, if that were the case, I would have assumed she'd pick up her pace when she realized I wasn't playing into her game and turning back for her. Twisting around to see if I can catch a glimpse, I see now that there is no sight of her for as far as I can look, which right now, is probably at least a couple of miles. I can't turn back for her. Not now. I need to get water and food. That's why we were coming out here. I'm surprised as hell that I've made it this far without croaking, but dammit to hell, I'm not giving up now. I can smell the water. Or I hope it's water. Drinkable water. She didn't realize how close we were.
I come up on a small creek…a creek thin enough to step over, but there's water. God, could I be lucky enough to find some fish or frogs in this murk? I dip my hand in slowly, testing it for the flesh eating crap that's in the water closer to the camp. Nothing so far. I grab a bottle out of my backpack and dunk it in. Pulling it out, I admire the floating particles of dirt and whatever other sediment is in this crap. I place the bottle down and search through my bag for the iodine I grabbed from Dad's dresser. That stuff is like gold in this town.
As I pour the iodine into the bottle and close it up to let it sit, I find myself looking back down the path I had been walking, wondering what the hell Reese is really up to. I heard her say she was giving up and I hadn't thought much about it until now. What did she mean by that? She was preaching to me just an hour ago about how we can't give up. How we've come this far and have to keep fighting. It seems odd she would just flip a switch. Although, adding in the combination of starvation, dehydration, and exhaustion, God knows what’s going on with the signals in her brain. God knows what's going on in mine, or what has been going on in mine for years. What has this place done to me?
Never mind. I know what she meant by that and I ignored her. I ignored her because deep down, I know damn well, I am my father and I refuse to let anyone know how much alike we are.
I screw the cap back on my water and drop it into my bag. Dammit, I swore to myself I wouldn't do this with her. I swore. Now I'm chasing after her like a moron.
She hasn't once struck me as the type to be brave enough to tough this place out alone. I know she has been trying to put on this whole tough girl act, but I see right through it, or I thought I saw right through it. I'm second-guessing myself now, though. Maybe the girl is batshit crazy.
I continue walking for what feels like way longer than the time it took to leave her, but there's no sight of her anywhere. No footprints, nothing.
As I see the tree line approach in the distance, I know for sure she was still following me past the point of where the trees ended.
Shit.
I pick up the speed, feeling the heaviness in my head weigh me down more than it already has been. Please don't tell me I'm seeing what I think I'm seeing. The closer I get, the more confirmation I have. My legs are carrying me at a speed I didn't think I was capable of at this point. I'm fearful of the damage that has already been done, and I'm fearful for the damage that might be irreversible.
Shouting as loud as I can, I startle every one of them to divert their attention from her to me. She's screaming. She's alive. Thank God. I whip my pistol out and start popping it at every moving target. There's a newbie, she looks like she was just caught robbing a bank, except this is nothing like robbing a bank. Her hands are up in the air, dried blood encircles her mouth and her eyes are large with fear, for good reason since my pistol is aimed directly at her head.
This is the fear I was trying to help Reese avoid. The desperation which follows starvation—cannibalism. All of them have fled, except for those who I shot dead. I let the woman, still staring at me with unblinking eyes, go. "Get the hell out of here!" I shout to her.
Reese is writhing in pain, lying ten feet in front of me. It takes me a second to analyze the landscape of damage covering her body. Bite marks, deep flesh wounds over fatty areas, blood dripping from her nose, likely from the fight she probably put up. There were at least eight of them, and only one of her. Slowly, I walk over, guilt saturating every fiber in my body. I am an asshole. I can't control my moods, my behavior, or my attitude and this is what it’s caused. I don't have enough medical supplies to treat her. I barely had enough to treat my head and I'm afraid we've used most of what we had for that.
I drop to my knees, scooping my hand under her head. I want to tell her I'm sorry, but it's too late for an apology. I want to te
ll her I was wrong. I want to tell her I love her, too, and that it's making me lose every piece of sense I thought I had left. People don't love each other after a week, but I think I loved her since the moment she tried to protect me in the hospital five years ago. She didn't know me then, yet she still believed I was good. Since that day, she's the only one who has believed I am good. But the truth is clear, I'm not good. I'm as evil as everyone else here.
"Hey," I say softly, nervous to hear her words. Nervous to see the look in her eyes when she opens them. She thinks she's seen it all now. She probably thought being kidnapped and locked up in a shed for three years was the most horror one could experience in a lifetime, and she should have been right about that. Survivors are supposed to get their time to share their story, grieve, and work on a form of survival after the storm has passed. I wanted that for her. The second I found her in the shed, I wanted her to have a survival story, but in truth, I'm not sure either one of us will have anything like that. If I manage to escape, I'll be nothing more than a runaway convict, regardless of doing nothing to earn that title.
Reese's eyes remain closed as her head twists from side to side. Her face is crunched in pain and her arms and legs are trembling. Her bare stomach is contracting and expanding quickly and each time she exhales, trickles of blood drip from her open wounds. I open my bag and pull out the last of the medical supplies, debating which of her wounds are worse. "Reese," I whisper softly.
She struggles to open her eyes and tears follow. "I wanted to die," she says. "That's all I wanted."
"You don't want that. You don't." Of course she does. That's all I've wanted, too.
"Yes, I do. Sin, please."
"Please, what?" No. No. Don't you fucking say it.
"Do it," she growls through a groan. "End me."
"No! Are you out of your mind?" I shout.
"Yeah, I am. So are you. Now do it."
I take my pistol back out, my hand shaking as I tighten my fingers around the pistol's grip. "This is what you want?" I press the barrel up to her temple, watching as her eyes clench tightly. "Open your eyes so I can see them one last time."
She does and I lean down and press my lips against hers, feeling her mouth tighten and tremble. Her tears fall between our noses and now tears are about to fall from my eyes, as well. I can't do this. I don't care how much she wants this. "Do it," she cries. "Don't drag it out."
"This isn't some sick love story, Reese. I'm not going to end you and then finish myself off so we can both rot here under the sun until some of those fucks come back here and dispose of our bodies to feed their starvation."
Her eyes unclench and she looks up at me, scared—but I think it's fear that what I'm saying is true—that I won't end her life. "Then give me the gun." She grits her teeth and reaches up to take it from my hand. "Give it to me, Sin."
"I have a plan," I tell her. It's the same plan I've had since I got here. "I think I can get us out."
I hate how hope fills her eyes. I hate the possibility of her believing what I'm saying. I hate that I've convinced myself of this lousy ounce of hope. "You can't get us out," she says, taking the pistol from my hand. I grab her wrist and twist it around so the barrel is against my forehead.
"Kill me first. If you can kill me, you can do what you want to yourself, but I'm not going on without you."
"I hate you," she grunts. "I hate you, Sin."
"I'm pretty sure you told me you loved me just a couple of hours ago."
"But I hate you now, because you reminded me of how fickle love is, and how confused I must have been for the past week."
"You weren't confused. I was confused. I love you, Reese. I shouldn't love you. It's been a week. But it's like we're the last two people standing on this godforsaken earth, and when that happens, you can either love the other person or hate them. And I don't hate you. I would have shot you dead if I did. And you would have shot me by now if you in fact hated me. There is no gray area here—there's love and hate. Your actions with that pistol will define which of those two you decide upon. Do you love me or hate me?"
She drops the pistol and lowers her head back down, closing her eyes. "Asshole," she breathes.
"Hold that thought," I warn her. I take the rubbing alcohol out and pour it over her oozing wounds. Her shrieks pierce my ears, but I deserve it. I didn't warn her first. I use the last two bandages to cover the largest of the flesh wounds. "You're going to be okay." I help her sit up, and as she's up straight, she slaps me with whatever strength she must have had left. It stings like a bitch, but I deserved that too. "Do you have more clothes in your bag from my mother's closet? Your shit is all torn up."
She nods her head, looking over toward her bag that's surprisingly still intact. That's how desperate these assholes are. They'll eat flesh before looking for actual food. I go through her bag and toss a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt at her. "How much farther is it to wherever we're going?"
"I found running water about five miles away."
"Help me up," she demands. Without thinking, I scoop my hands under her arms and bring her to her feet.
"Are you steady?"
She nods, holding her head with both hands. "Yeah, I'll be okay."
"Get changed," I tell her. I reach into my bag and grab the water I pulled from the stream. "Here, drink this."
She carefully slips off her ravaged pants and shirt, revealing how many more bite marks are covering her body. Jesus. "Where did they come from?" she asks.
"They were probably following us after our encounter with Rooter. Look, I know I'm a little controlling, and in your eyes, I'm probably acting as an arrogant know-it-all, but it's only because I've been here long enough to study these people, their behavioral patterns, and the stages of starvation. I can tell you just by looking at someone how long they've been here, how long they'll survive, and when is the last time they've likely eaten."
She pulls the shirt over her head, squinting against the pain. "Is that going to happen to me? Or you?"
I shrug my shoulders because I honestly don't know. I want to say it depends on the strength of our minds, but it's like our minds become diseased when hunger fully takes over. The next stage of starvation is what she just encountered. She and I aren't there yet, and I don't know exactly what will happen when we reach that point, but I'm hoping we find food. I just haven't found much hope in that department yet. "I can lie to you and say no, but I'm going to try my hardest to stop lying to you." The thought of doing to Reese what those animals just did to her causes a pain in my stomach, but when all control is lost, I'm not sure what will happen.
21
Chapter Nine
REESE
I thought I was dying. I even had a smile on my face. That was only until the shadows overwhelmed me with a cool breeze, followed by the heat of several mouths hovering over my exposed skin. We don't live in a world where vampires, zombies and werewolves exist, yet that was all I could consider. This isn't real life. But it is. They weren't monsters; they were starving human beings who will revert to any sort of behavior to satiate their hunger. I tried to fight back, but I lost the struggle when teeth sunk through the flesh on my thigh. The pain was like nothing I had ever experienced. I'm not sure I'd even know how to describe it, rather than thick nails plunging into me as if my skin were nothing more than a delicate piece of bread. I'm not sure how I have the strength to walk or continue on this endless trek, but I'm seeing now my choices are limited.
I sip on the oddly tasting water Sin has given me. He told me it's clean and I wouldn't care if it wasn't right now, but my body is craving every ounce of the liquid. "There's one thing I don't understand, Sin."
"Yeah?"
"There are starving people all over the world, and yet, I haven't heard of a case where those people suddenly turn into cannibals. So, why here?"
"'Why' is always the question. Why are we here? Why are we alive? Why do we fight for the food that is likely poisoning our brains?" The food. It's the foo
d. "Reese, they want us dead. All of us."
It isn't bad enough they're holding us here as prisoners? Why not just execute us and save the trouble? I'd ask, but I'm guessing there's a roundabout answer for that too, just like everything else.
We walk up on a small creek. Water. Nothing has ever looked so beautiful. I want to drink it and feel it, drown in it. "Is this real?"
Sin laughs quietly. "Yeah, it's dirty, but—"
"It's water." I peel off my shirt and my pants because I need to feel the water on my skin. Stepping out of my boots, I place them neatly along the edge, yearning to feel the coolness against my body.
"What are you doing?" Sin asks.
"Jumping in. What does it look like I'm doing?" I squat down to test my finger in the water, untrusting after the last pool of contamination we came across. I allow my finger to linger for several seconds before confirming the water won't try to eat me alive again.
"You have open wounds all over your body, Reese." I shouldn't have to be reminded of this. It hurts like hell, but the water made me forget about everything else for just a quick minute. I release a long breath, acknowledging that he's right. Am I in hell? Is that what this is? Did I do something so wrong in my life to deserve this?
I sit down on the edge, still in my underwear. "Are you going in?" I ask Sin.
"I wouldn't do that to you," he says quietly.
I look back at him, the look on his face, wanting to call his bluff after all of the shit he has done to me. "You can go in. Don't waste the opportunity because of me."
Sin walks over and sits down beside me. "I'm not going in." I hear his words, but my eyes and focus are directed on the toad perched on a rock across the creek.
Locked In: No Way Out Series - Book One Page 12
