Austin stared at me, his eyes cold and calculating. “Sorry,” he said into the phone. “Although I'd love to sit and listen to all of these new nicknames you’ve come up for me, I have much more important things to do.”
He tossed the phone to the ground, a couple feet away from where I was standing. As I scrambled to get to it, he launched himself at me, knocking the gun from my hands and me to the ground.
Before I could recover from the attack, he hit me in the head with something hard and I blacked out.
11
I woke up sometime later in a musty bedroom with a splitting headache. Surprisingly, I was alone and my hands were free. I tried to swallow. My throat was so dry and scratchy, it had been hours since I’d had anything to drink or eat.
What I wouldn’t do for even a sip of pickle juice right now, I thought. Well, anything except allowing Austin to grope me.
I sat up and the springs of the mattress groaned under my weight.
Great, I thought, with all this noise, he’ll be in here any minute.
I slowly swung my feet to the ground and stood up. The pain shooting from my ankle was so intense, it made me dizzy. I knew that I had to suck it up, however, and do whatever I could to escape.
Hobbling to the door, I turned the handle and tried pushing it open but something heavy was blocking it from the other side. Frustrated, I scanned the room to find something I could use against Austin. There really wasn't much of anything, though; just the lumpy full-sized bed I'd woken up on, an old black and white television, and a distressed pine dresser with a matching nightstand, which both were void of anything useful.
I thought about the window and limped over to it. It seemed like a hell of a long way down, but I was desperate. I’d just gotten manhandled by a madman, and the next time he had his hands on me, it might prove to be much worse.
Hearing sudden shuffling noises on the other side of the door, I hopped quickly back into the bed and closed my eyes, just as the door opened.
“Cassie?” whispered Austin.
I pretended to breathe evenly as he moved closer to the bed. He put something down on the nightstand next to me and then sat down on the mattress.
“Sorry,” he whispered, putting a cool rag on my forehead. “Damn, I didn't want to hurt you, but you gave me no choice.”
He caressed my cheek gently and then ran a calloused finger down my neck, stopping just above the v-neckline of my black shirt. I forced my breathing to remain steady, although, I was completely unhinged by his actions at that point.
“You're so beautiful,” he said in a husky voice.
His touch made my skin crawl. Resisting the urge to bash in his skull, and not really understanding why I hadn't already, I remained as still as possible.
Just then my cell phone began to ring again and Austin got up off the bed. He answered it and walked away.
“Yes, she's fine... she's sleeping right now,” he murmured into the phone. “What? No, I can't do that, Kris. It's just too dangerous. There are zombies everywhere.”
I listened to him as he explained that my dad was still missing and we were holding up fine at the house. Hearing his lies infuriated me. I ignored the pain, jumped out of bed, and managed to snatch the phone from his grasp.
“Mom… dad's alive and Austin's… kidnapped me!” I shouted into the phone.
His already pissed off face turned scarlet and he rushed me, slamming me to the ground. I howled in pain as we wrestled for the phone. With my head throbbing and my ankle on fire, I was simply no match for him, though, even with his injuries. He quickly took possession of the phone and stood up.
“Mom!” I yelled, trying to stand back up myself. I was frustrated and in so much pain, that I began to cry.
Austin stepped away, aimed the gun at me, and pretended to fire it as a warning.
“Kris, she's fine,” he said calmly, opening the bedroom door. With one last fleeting glance toward me, he smiled smugly. “She's just very angry with me right now because I won't let her out of the house to search for her dad. It’s for her own good, of course. Listen, I have to go. No, you can talk to her later.” He then closed the door behind him and slid the heavy object back, trapping me once more.
Asshole, I thought. I'm getting out of here whether he likes it or not.
I stood and limped over to the window. It certainly was a long way down, but I was nobody’s prisoner. I removed the window screen and somehow managed to pull myself onto the roof. Then, just when I thought I was in the clear, my ankle exploded in pain while swinging my legs around.
“Oh, God!” I screamed silently. Blood rushed to my head and I was weak with dizziness. I closed my eyes and took a small breaths, waiting for the pain to ease just enough for it to be bearable. When the pain became somewhat manageable, I breathed in deeply and crawled down the side, eventually sliding down to the very edge of the roof. Then I dropped as quietly as I could onto the porch railing and found myself reeling from another wave of intense pain.
“Leaving so soon?” snickered Austin, who was leaning against the screen door. “Sorry to foil your plans for escape, but seriously, you made enough noise to attract any zombie within miles. Almost like ringing their dinner bell, I reckon. You know, I'd be very careful out there if I were you. You never know what kind of dangerous things you might encounter.”
Trying not to give in to my growing hysteria, I limped frantically away from him, hoping beyond hope for some kind of miracle.
The screen door slammed as he began to follow me. “Hey, where are you planning on going?” he yelled. “You're injured and you don't have any weapons. You're easy prey, Wild.”
I stopped at the edge of the cornfield and turned around to face him. “I'd rather have a fighting chance against the zombies or whatever wild animals I might encounter than be your prisoner, Austin.”
He walked toward me and shook his head. “Why can't you get it through your thick skull that I'm trying to protect you?”
My jaw dropped. “Since when is taking me away from my family, putting your hands all over me, and keeping me locked away considered protection?”
His mouth contorted grotesquely. “Damn it, girl!” he shouted. “You need me! I'm you're only hope for surviving in this shit!”
I gritted my teeth. “The only thing you are, Austin, is delusional.”
His eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his skull he was in such a rage. He stormed toward me and I backed away, this time thinking that maybe I’d went too far.
“No, please!” I cried, desperately trying to escape.
Then, amazingly enough, my much needed miracle happened; another seizure caught him off guard and he fell over. I watched in awe as his body writhed helplessly on the ground with each fierce spasm.
“Austin?” I whispered, hoarsely.
He didn’t answer me and I didn't hesitate any longer. I moved toward him as quickly as possible while he continued to thrash around on the grass. My hands shook almost as violently as he did while I struggled to get what I needed; first the keys, then the cell phone, and finally, the gun. I stood up and aimed it at Austin's head, desperate to be rid of him for good. But, standing over him, I just couldn't bring myself to do it; although his feelings for me were twisted and he was probably insane, I didn't have it in me to kill someone still breathing.
“For the last time,” I said, backing away from him. “If you can understand me at all, don't even think about following me.”
Then I turned and limped as quickly as possible toward the spot we'd left the truck.
***
Amazingly I made it back to the vehicle without Austin or any zombies interfering in my escape. Saying a silent thank you to my guardian angel, I climbed into the truck and locked the door.
Leave and then call Bryce, I thought.
I looked at the manual shift and frowned; damn stick shifts. I hadn't had any experience using a clutch except for the time I drove a friend home from a party who'd been drinking. Luckily, she'd been
lucid enough to explain the basic concept of how to drive a stick, but it had been over six months ago and that time hadn't been a picnic, either.
“Come on, bitch,” I mumbled, trying to get it into gear and moving successfully without having it stall on me.
After a few more attempts, I managed to get the truck moving smoothly and into the correct gear. When I finally made it to forty miles an hour in fifth gear without problems, I sighed with relief. I was finally moving.
12
“Bryce,” I cried, breathlessly, into my cell phone.
“Oh, thank God. Are you okay?” he asked.
I sighed. “Well, I have a headache and a sprained ankle. Other than that, I’m doing fine.”
My dad got on the phone. “Cassie, where are you, honey?”
Hearing my dad’s voice, I had to blink back fresh tears. “To be honest, I really don’t know. I’m driving somewhere south on Interstate Thirty-Five. There’s a lot of fields and farmland. I was too busy trying to get away from Austin to really find out.”
“He’s a dead man,” he growled.
“Actually, that’s closer to the truth than you could possibly imagine,” I said. It was obvious that he was having some kind of reaction to Brooke’s scratch.
“Good, it will save me the trouble. Where is he now?”
“I left him back at this old farmhouse. He was having some kind of weird seizure, so I took off.”
He sighed. “Did he… hurt you?”
I didn’t want to worry my dad any more than he already was. “Not really. Look, I’m going to keep driving until I figure out where the heck I am. I don’t have any kind of charger and don’t want to run my cell battery down again, so I’ll call you back.”
“Good idea.”
“Dad, mom called my phone earlier. Austin lied to her though; she has no idea what’s going on.”
“Get me that phone number so I can call her.”
“I’ll look on the incoming call log and text it to you.”
“I love you, honey. Call us back as soon as you can. We’ll come get you.”
I nodded. “Okay, I love you, too, dad.”
He hung up before I could ask to speak to Bryce; I so wanted to hear the sound of his voice again. I would have to wait until I saw him, next.
Thank goodness, I’d escaped.
It was just after four o’clock in the afternoon, according to my cell phone. My stomach was growling, my mouth so dry I would have pulled over to drink from a pond if I’d found one. But there was nothing, just trees, farmland, and an endless road.
I took out my cell phone and scrolled down the call list to get a phone number for my mom. Now, I know that driving and texting is a dangerous combination and I don’t usually do things that reckless, but my head was still pretty fuzzy. As I tried to steer the truck and text my mom’s phone number to my dad, I slammed into the back of an old Cadillac that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
“Shit!” I shrieked, watching as the car began to fishtail back and forth. The driver, a very elderly man wearing a cowboy hat, gained control of it. Then he laid on the horn, stuck his hand out the window, and flipped me the bird.
I was both embarrassed and relieved to have found another living person on the road. I followed behind him at a safe distance for another mile and then he motioned for me to pull over to the side of the road. As I pulled up behind him, he got out of his car and shuffled toward me, cussing the entire way. He was tall, very thin, and dressed sort of like the Marlboro Man.
Great, I thought, another cowboy.
His fists were clenched and the look on his face was anything but friendly. When he stopped outside my driver’s window, he snorted and shook his head.
“Well, now this makes sense,” he barked. “Teenaged girls shouldn’t be allowed on the road. None of them can drive worth squat.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s not fair. Look, I’m sorry for hitting you, it was an accident. But you don’t have to get all huffy about it.”
The cranky old man raised his hand, making a yapping motion with his fingers. “Are you still talking? Listen, that’s the problem with young people these days. I’ll bet you were even on your phone when you hit me. Come on, tell me I’m wrong?”
I wasn’t about to admit he was right, so I just stared at him defiantly.
His eyes narrowed as he pulled out a small container of chewing tobacco from his pocket. “You know, you could have killed me and my girlfriend. You’re just lucky she’s such a heavy sleeper. She’d have kicked your butt from here to Hong Kong.”
Just then, a woman got out of his car and walked over. The look on her face was both troubled and apologetic. She stared at the old man’s face and sighed. “Henry, you’re not giving this young girl a hard time, are you?”
Henry’s entire demeanor changed. He went from a total crab ass to some kind of Casanova.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he said tenderly. “Go back to the car and rest. I can handle this.”
“Hi, I’m Mary,” she said, holding her hand out to me. She looked a couple decades younger than Henry and reminded me of the Southern lady with the cooking show, Paula Deen. “I’m sorry for any trouble this old fart has caused you. I know he can be a little… ornery.”
“Actually, it’s my fault. I rear-ended you,” I admitted, although grateful for Mary’s kindness.
He spit out a brown wad of chewing tobacco and scowled. “You’re darn tootin’ it was your fault. You and your parents are going to pay for these damages, too. Get them on the horn and tell them I prefer cash; large bills.”
“Henry,” sighed Mary. “This isn’t even your car.” She looked at me again. “We took it from the parking lot of the retirement home I worked for. Henry here was one of the tenants.”
I bit back a smile. “Oh, he said you were his girlfriend.”
Mary threw her head back and roared with laughter. “Oh, lord! He tells everyone that. I tell you what, this old man’s so frisky, he makes Hugh Hefner seem under-sexed.”
Henry tilted his cowboy hat and grinned adoringly at Mary. “I’m eighty-nine with the libido of a twenty-five-year-old. Come on, Mary… live on the edge for once.”
She let out a ragged sigh and shook her head. “Those darn free samples of Viagra. Some salesperson dropped off a bunch during Bingo last week and Henry got his hands on some. Now he won’t keep his mitts to himself.”
He took out his chew tin again and started pinching more of the brown stuff between his gnarled old fingers. Before he placed it in his mouth, he smiled wickedly and said, “Good times are coming your way, Mary. You ever hear that expression ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’? I haven’t put my horses out to pasture yet, and by golly, I am one mean steed.”
“Okay,” I said, raising my own hands; this whole conversation was making me queasy. “This is interesting and all, but if everyone’s okay, I really should be going.”
Mary looked at me and frowned. “Are you okay, dear? You’re looking a little pale.”
I was indeed getting very lightheaded. “Actually, I’m not feeling so good.”
The last thing I remember before the darkness set in was the sound of Henry, groaning in dismay.
13
I woke up in the back of their Cadillac, listening to Johnny Cash. The air conditioner was on and the leather felt cool against my warm cheek. Trying to ignore the urge to puke, I slowly sat up.
“Oh good, she’s awake,” said Mary, smiling brightly at me from the front seat.
“Water, please?” I croaked. My throat was so dry it hurt to swallow.
“Of course, you poor dear,” she replied. She bent down in front of her legs and came back with a large bottle of water.
“Thanks,” I whispered gratefully. The cool water soothed my dehydrated throat and I couldn’t stop drinking the bottle until it was completely gone.
“I hope you don’t mind,” said Mary. “We had to take you with us on account of some zombies that were heading our way ri
ght when you were passing out. Don’t worry, though, we grabbed your gun and cell phone. There didn’t appear to be much more than that.”
Henry muttered, “No, mustn’t forget the girl’s cell phone.”
I ignored his sarcasm and thanked both of them instead. “Where are we going?” I asked as Mary handed me the phone and Ruger.
“We’re heading toward Nashville,” said Henry. “Meeting my grandson, Tiny, out there.”
Tiny?
“Well, where are we now?” I asked, looking out the window. The roads were all identical, nothing but farmland in the distance.
Henry pulled out an unlit cigar from his mouth, one he’d apparently been chewing on. “We’ve just passed through Canton and are heading south on Interstate Seventy-Four. We should be in Nashville in… oh… roughly eight hours. If we don’t run into any more trouble or crazy-assed drivers,” he answered with the hint of a smile.
“Honey, is there somewhere we can drop you off? I mean, you’re certainly welcome to stay with us,” said Mary. She bit the side of her lip. “That is… if you don’t have anyone left.”
“My dad and some close friends are heading toward Atlanta,” I said. “I suppose they can just meet us in Nashville; if you don’t mind me tagging along that far.”
Henry opened his mouth to say something but Mary cut him off. “Listen, we’d love your company. What’s your name, honey?”
“Cassandra Wild,” I said. “You can just call me Cassie.”
Henry snorted. “Wild, huh? Well if that just ain’t another sign from God to stay off the damn road.”
“Now, Henry,” murmured Mary. “Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy.”
My stomach growled. “You… you wouldn’t happen to have anything to eat?” I asked. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had food.
“Actually,” said Mary. “We were on our way to find something to eat ourselves. We didn’t exactly have time to prepare for a road trip.”
“There’s a diner coming up soon. Might be some food there,” said Henry.
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