by C. M. Wright
He'd been watching as the cabinet opened and is now grinning like a fool. Then with a strut in his step, he walks toward the armoire.
Shit!
No!
I fling the closet door open and yell, "Jake!"
Jake immediately stops and turns in my direction, his eyes wide from the surprise of seeing me not where he expected to - as if my fat ass could even fit in that damn cabinet!
He starts walking in my direction and I raise my gun.
"Jake, stop! Don't come any closer."
He stops and raises his hands. "What's the matter with you? I love you, Canada. Remember?" he says with a calm voice and a confident smile.
"Jake, where's Will?"
"Oh, come on!" He shouts at me with disgust. "Who the hell cares where Will is? This is about you and me and nobody else, damn it!"
"Jake, where the hell is my husband!" I scream at him.
He rushes me and I pull the trigger.
Chapter Fourteen
Click.
What the hell!
Again?
You gotta be frikken' kidding me!
I stare at the gun in disbelief until Jake's laugh has me swinging my head up at him. His eyes turn from humor to an intensity that takes my breath away...from fear this time, not lust.
I'm so screwed.
He stalks toward me and when he's directly over my head, he leans down, grabs my arm tight and pulls me to my feet. And of course, my phone falls out of my pocket. I say nothing and hope he doesn't notice, knowing he will just take it from me anyway.
"You're comin' with me now. You're mine," he growls at me, grinning.
He starts to pull me toward the door, but when I cry out because my body starts to collapse from only having one working foot, he stops, looks down at my cast, and swears.
"My crutches, Jake," I beg him. Then I want to smack myself upside the head. My crutches are with his bag, and I don't want him finding that bag!
"Hell no! I'm not giving you any damn thing to use as a weapon."
Then he scoops me up in his arms. The thought of going down all those steps like this scares the hell out of me. Yeah, I know I did it before, but Jake's different now. Dangerous. I don't feel safe with him at all. But obviously, I'm not in charge and have no say. I briefly consider causing us to fall down the stairs with some hope of getting away, but knowing my luck, he'd be ok and I wouldn't, and then he'd be incredibly pissed.
"Where are we going, Jake?" I ask him. The panic in my voice sickens me.
"To the armory in Kansas City," he responds.
He takes a look around the room. "Is there anything you need before we leave?"
I think of his duffel bag but there's no way in hell I'm going to let him know that I know about that. So I shake my head no. As we pass the armoire, I fix my eyes on it and see Mel peeking out of the crack between the doors. I mouth to her that I love her and to be quiet. Her eyes are filled with terror, but she nods. I pray she isn't too scared to come out when my family gets here and that she gets back to her parents safely. Then we're through the door and making our way to the back of the house.
Jake has no concern for anything but getting out, so when my cast bumps into and breaks whatever gets in the way, he just keeps going. When we reach the top of the porch steps, I again consider causing us to fall, until I look down at the ground so far away. Done it once before on the front steps, but I just can't do it again. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying he doesn't cause us to fall.
But we make it down safely and he props me against the outside wall of the garage as he opens the doors. Picking me up again, he carries me to the driver's side and sets me on the seat, then tells me to scoot over. I do and he gets in, starts the truck, and backs out. At the end of the driveway, he turns left. Away from Hill City. Away from my family.
After a few miles, he attempts to talk to me as if everything is the same as it was before I knew he was a freakin' nut. But I know better now. His outer shell is still so beautiful, but his inner-self is black with decay.
Before I start throwing up, I interrupt his claims of love for me and all the things he wants to do to me. "Jake? What are you going to do with me?" I can't hide the fear. I'm not strong enough to do that.
Damn it all!
I hate being such a wimp, so helpless and weak.
"I just told you!" he screams at me with intense anger, which causes me to cower in fear against the passenger door. "I'm going to finally have you and no one is going to stop us this time. You're going to love me and be with me forever. You're not going to leave me just because I have a bad day. You won't call me crazy and tell me you can't 'deal with me anymore.' You're mine! Mine, damn it! When the hell are you going to get that through your head?" And then his hand moves so fast I barely see it, but I feel it quite well when it slams into my face.
Blood spurts out of my nose and my lower lip swells instantly. I raise my hands to cover my face from any more abuse. And I cry. I scream at myself, "Stop crying! Stop being a little bitch!"
But I am a little bitch, because I continue crying. Silently as I can, but still crying.
I'm definitely scared of him now, even more than I was. I guess I thought since he "wanted me" so much, he wouldn't hurt me.
Boy was I wrong!
Suddenly, he stops the truck, hard and fast. Rocks and dust fly everywhere from the country road. When we finally come to a complete stop the truck is at an angle. Jake slams the truck into park and I cower as low as I can from him as he leans over me.
He gently runs his hand over my head and starts...crying! "I'm so sorry, Canada. I never meant to hurt you. I love you."
He lifts my head and smashes his mouth down onto mine, which hurts so much with the busted lip, but my protests and gasps from pain never registers in his mind. He grinds his lips against mine, and my moans of pain are apparently mistaken for moans of pleasure to him. His hands start frantically ripping my shirt open and my skin burns from the roughness of his hands, not a bit of gentleness in them.
Holy shit!
He's gonna rape me!
The moment he moves his mouth from my own, and starts to head down to my chest, I open my mouth, "Jake, please! You told me our first time would be in a bed. Remember?"
Oh, please let that still be important to him!
He raises his head and stares at me for a long moment. The anger I see in them scare me, as it makes me think he's going to hit me again. But just as the fear starts to become overwhelming, his eyes lose the anger and soften. He smiles and cups my cheek with his hand.
"You're right. I just can't resist you."
Oh good lord.
Resist me? Me?
What a nut!
I should have known he was crazier than shit the moment he started being interested in me. He's too pretty for someone like me. Way too pretty. But then again, being a frikken nut obviously cut his chances of having a woman even close to his degree of prettiness.
He holds his hand out to me. "Give me your phone."
I make a show of checking my pockets and then dramatically freak-out when I can't find it. "I must have lost it, Jake!"
Knowing he would, I submit to his search of my fatigues, although he spends far more time in certain places than he needs to.
Satisfied that I do not have my phone, he slides back in the driver's seat and puts the truck in gear. As he straightens the truck and continues down the road, I briefly wonder if I shouldn't have just let him do what he wanted and given my family time to come after us. But I dismiss that thought, unable to allow him to touch me - let alone do anything more - knowing what I know about him now.
I sit up in the seat and sneak a peek in the side mirror, praying for headlights, but I see nothing but dark empty road lined with tall dark trees. Hope disappears. I resign myself to the fact I'm on my own. Being as scared, as crippled, as beat up as I am, I'm screwed. I laugh at myself inside my head. Even without all that, I'm still too damn weak to take on someone like Jake.
You are a damn fool to even think you can.
Just forget it.
You're Jake's now, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
I let my body relax numbly against the seat, my head falling forward in defeat. So this is it. I will never see my kids or family again. I'm Jake's property now.
Jake reaches over and rests his hand on my leg. I look out the side window and just blank out my mind.
It's done.
It's all over.
I lose.
Chapter Fifteen
It seems like we've been on the road for days, but really it's only been an hour or so. Maybe two.
Whatever.
Does it even matter?
Nope.
We pull up to a gate similar to the two others we'd been to together. He starts to get out of the truck, then pauses, and slides back in and looks at me. Grinning he says, "I almost screwed up there, didn't I?"
Then he reaches over the seat and grabs the ropes that had held Sara at one time. He ties my hands behind my back, leaving me enough slack to be able to keep my arms down, and ties the rest of the rope around the headrest behind me.
"Can't very well take the keys, now can I? And there's no point taking the screwdriver. I know very well how clever you are," he tells me.
I watch as he gets out of the truck and opens the gate, runs back to the truck and drives inside, then gets back out and closes the gate. A few cars drive past, fast and unconcerned with anything but getting the hell away and safe. The dead are wandering all over KC, but there are quite a few people who are still alive. Some running for their lives, some driving like maniacs to get out, some being outnumbered and on their way to becoming zombies themselves. We passed several who begged for our help, a few even running alongside the truck, screaming at Jake to stop, to help them. But Jake ignored them all, even when I begged him to help. His concern didn't include anything - or anyone - else.
I met the eyes of so many of the people who only wanted one thing...to live. Little kids, babies, elderly, and everyone in between, all doomed for a horrible fate if they didn't get to safety soon.
Now as we're safely locked inside the armory fence, I look in the side mirror at a sight that is more horrifying than the zombies that were outside the armory in Springfield. I see the barrier packed with the living instead of the dead this time. Some are trying to climb the fence, uncaring of the razor wire wrapped around the top. Others are trying to knock the fence down. All are screaming, pleading, crying. I can see the undead being drawn to the voices, their own version of a dinner bell.
"Please! Please turn around. Look at them coming. Please! Run. Hide!" I whisper to them, terror filling me. And then something happens that terrifies me even more.
I hear Jake laugh loudly as he stands on the safe side of the fence. Laughing at these poor people who will soon be dead. The need to throw up is strong, but as he climbs back inside, the sickness is forgotten by his next words.
"Well! I wonder how many zombie assholes are inside this armory?" And in horror, I realize he's excited about it. "Yep! It's you and me cleaning house again." - And just what is he expecting me to be able to do in my condition? Really? Good lord! - "I missed that when I went to the Nebraska armory. Just wasn't the same. I was pissed off the whole time. And then the first thing I see when I get back is you and that asshole, Will, all cuddled up nice and cozy on the porch swing!" He says with such incredible anger and disgust.
"I can't believe you would marry a wimpy jackass like that. What were you thinking, anyway?" I don't respond and he laughs. "Well, it doesn't matter. We're together now. That's the only thing that matters. You will never refer to him as your husband again. In fact, you will never speak his name. The only name that will be on your lips, and in your mind, is mine. I am your husband now."
Oh dear God.
Jake pulls up to the back building that I assume will have more Hummer's inside, just as the others did. He gets out of the truck without hesitation and rolls the large door on its track to the side. I see four zombies turn and come toward Jake. As soon as each one gets close enough, he shoots and they drop to the cement floor. Then I can hear his muffled voice shouting at someone or something.
I assume he's trying to draw out more of the undead, so I'm a little shocked when I see a live military man come down the stairs. He walks toward Jake, his mouth moving, and I assume he's telling Jake what had happened to his fellow soldiers. When he's about ten feet from Jake, my eyes widen and I scream when Jake lifts his gun and kills the man. Before his body even falls, Jake is on his way back to the truck.
He slides into his seat and I stare at him in shock. He looks over at me, turns back to the windshield and rests his wrists on the top of the steering wheel. Then he ducks his head and sighs.
"Why do you do this? Why don't you trust me?" he asks me in a pitiful voice.
Seriously?
"Jake! Why did you kill that man? He was alive!" My voice raises steadily from beginning to end.
Mistake!
His hand slapping my already abused face comes out of nowhere. I feel like my eyes are about to pop out and I squeeze them shut to hold them in. My arms are still tied behind me, so I can't protect myself, and when his hand again slams into my face, all I can do is turn away.
His voice screaming close to the back of my head makes me jerk away even further in terror. "Stop making me do that! Don't you think if I kill someone I have a good reason?" - Not really, no! - "He'd been bit by one of those zombies. Would you have rather I let him attack me? You? I will do everything I can to protect you, even if that means killing someone who's infected even before they've turned."
"If you would really do anything to protect me, then prove it," I foolishly challenge him.
His eyes narrow and his lip curls. "And exactly how do I do that?"
"Well, for starters, stop frikken hitting me! Don't you think I've had enough head trauma?"
Jake stares at me intently, his eyes darkening dangerously. After what seems an eternity of holding my breath, he says, "Alright. I won't hit you again. You'll see. You'll see I love you more than anyone else ever has."
Not likely, Freak Boy.
He turns away from me and drives the truck inside the garage, parking next to another Hummer, one without blood, guts, body pieces, hair, and dents from bullets in it. He gets out and comes over to my side and finally unties me from the headrest. I'm disappointed when he leaves my hands tied, though.
Jake then carries me upstairs to a large room. This one already has cots set up, their bedding folded at the end of them. He carries me through a second door that ends up being a bathroom, complete with shower, where places me on a chair in the corner of the room and tells me he's going to "help me" go to the bathroom.
What the...!
Uh, no thanks.
When I tell him I can do it myself, he ignores me and lifts me up until I'm in standing on my good foot, then pulls on me until I'm forced to hop and follow, or fall on my face.
He unbuttons and unzips my fatigue bottoms, and I sit on the toilet and flash back to when I was uncomfortable with little Mel watching me. What I wouldn't give for it to be Mel watching me now!
But thankfully, Jake pays no attention to me as he goes over to turn the shower on. So I empty my bladder, but when I'm done I start panicking about how I'm going to wipe myself, considering I'm tied up. There is no way in hell I'm going to let him do that!
Ok.
"Maybe I am," I think to myself as he does exactly that.
Oh my god! Just kill me now!
But there is definitely no way in hell that I'm taking a shower while he's in here watching me!
Again, maybe I am.
Jake starts stripping my clothes off, having to untie me to get my shirt off. He grabs a plastic trash bag from the cabinet under the sink and seals my cast. He lifts me into the shower, then he shuts the curtain and I breathe a sigh of relief. Ok, I can deal with this. I relax and decid
e to just take advantage of the perfect almost hot shower, even though I had one not that long ago, but it's not as if I have much of a choice.
Just as I pick up the bottle of shampoo, the curtain toward the back of the shower flies open and I spin around, falling back against the side shower wall when I lose my balance. I gasp when a very naked Jake steps inside.
Oh dear god!
What a complete waste of an amazing body. A beautiful body with an incredibly twisted, ugly mind.
As his huge hands come up and move in my direction - breast high - I back away. But too soon, the shower wall slams into my back.
So this is it.
But he surprises me when all he does is take the shampoo bottle out of my hand.
"Turn around," he orders.
I do, and soon feel his hands smoothing the creamy mixture through my hair, his fingers gently massaging my scalp as he does his best to avoid the swollen, painful spots. He turns me so my back is to the spray of water, then rinses my hair. Turning me around again, he goes through the whole process with the conditioner, except this time - once he gets my hair thoroughly coated - he slowly, gently runs his hands down each side of my body, then slides them across my stomach. After that, his hands go on an intense exploration of my body.
I won't lie - Ha! What's the use? You'd know the truth, anyway. - but leaning against his hard-muscled chest, his hands on my body, his lips on my neck - Oh, yeah. Did I forget to mention the lips part? - and the fact I can't see him to remember who he is, all come together to make me lose my senses - if I ever really had any.
I relax against his chest, close my eyes and moan with the incredible pleasure his hands are giving. His lips make their way to my cheek and then tease at the corner of my mouth. I bring my arms up, running my own hands through his wet hair, and turn my head so that our lips can meet for a full kiss. When they do, I moan even louder and move my hands to the back of his neck to pull him firmer and closer to me.
Then he blows it.
