“Fuck me.”
~*~
With everyone’s best interest at heart, Fletcher had left the keys on the driver’s seat of the unlocked minivan in case they needed to make a quick evacuation. He didn’t want to run the risk that someone might have the keys on them as they got swarmed, possibly leaving the other’s stranded. Marek raced down the flight of stairs, suddenly worried not everyone had everyone else’s best interest at heart. He breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the minivan still parked outside the front door. Of course it was; he would have heard the engine start if she had tried to take it. Now the question was: where the hell had she gone?
Closing the front door behind him, Marek raced around the house. The girl had a bad leg – she couldn’t get very far all that fast. And if she encountered trouble out there… Marek hoped he’d find her before trouble did.
He should go back inside for one of the candles they’d found. But the wind was likely to blow the light away and it would cost him time. Not to mention the aforementioned trouble might spot said light and track him down.
As he rounded the house, Marek noticed the flung open doors of the cellar and the noises drifting from inside. Upon his approach he saw a flash of light bouncing around within. When the light neared the cellars opening, he took a step back as Ambrose climbed out and turned off her flashlight. Marek’s first thought was: Where the hell did the girl find the flashlight?
Once outside, Ambrose turned back to secure the cellar doors. The backpack she owned was joined by a pitchfork secured beneath the pack, as well as a large bulging satchel at her side. She began to move toward the woods, and that’s when Marek realized she hadn’t seen him yet.
“Not even a goodbye?” He asked.
Ambrose twirled around, a giant cleaver in hand. Though her breath hitched, at least the girl was smart enough not to scream.
“Don’t you think your friends would worry?”
She shook her head. “They’re not my friends.”
“You sure? Kinda looks to me like they’ve all taken a shine to you. Between Blake wanting playtime, Shelly wanting girl time, and Fletcher unable to keep his eyes off of you, I’d say they at least like you.” Even in the eerie blue darkness, Marek could see the blush spreading across her face. “Oh come on. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed? All girls notice when a guy who looks like that, looks their way.”
“I’m not some fucking airhead, bimbo trying to catch some guy’s attention.” She growled. “So excuse me for not noticing.”
“Maybe, but you sure are being pretty stupid right now, aren’t you?”
“What’s it to you?” She spat. “Look; do us both a favor – head back inside, go to sleep. I’m not your concern. I wasn’t your concern when you saw me at the book store; I’m not your concern now.”
“Wow. You’re also pretty bitchy for someone who’s usually so quiet. You wanna go get eaten – fine by me. Just try not to come back here when you’re drooling for flesh.”
Disgust and pain flared across her face. Marek wouldn’t take the words back, even if he did feel like shit for saying them. Eloquence had never been his forte. A part of him hoped his words were strong enough to sway her from what she was about to do.
“I don’t belong here.” Her voice sounded pleading to Marek’s ears. Pleading for what, he couldn’t tell, but it seemed to him now was not the time to leave her alone. Not when it seemed there might be a chance to get her back inside.
“Neither do I.” He started. “I belong on a road trip across the country with my girlfriend. You know where my girlfriend is? Out there somewhere with them; looking for you, and me, and the others, so she can rip us all to shreds and feast on our insides. And here we are instead. None of us exactly belong here, but this is all that’s left.”
“If this is all that’s left – why keep fighting to live?”
“I don’t know.” Marek admitted. “I’m still trying to figure that one out.”
They stood there a while, not speaking as they stared at one another. He didn’t know if she would stay or not until her shoulders slumped and she began to cry.
Awkwardly, he reached out a hand to pat her shoulder. When the tears didn’t stop, he mustered his awkwardness and pulled her into his chest. Perhaps it had something to do with the lack of physical contact over the past few months, but she felt nice in his arms, fitting easily into the crook of his neck. The next words out of her mouth told Marek he had still failed.
“Go back inside,” she whispered. “Go to sleep.”
Chapter Thirteen
Scrambled Eggs
There was absolutely no reason for her to be angry. What Ambrose and Marek did was their own business. At least they had waited late into the night before sneaking off together. Honestly though, Shelly was more worried about Fletcher. How deep was his crush on the new girl? Would he want to split away from them once he found out? Would Marek take the dog if he left? Shelly didn’t care if Marek left them or not. She cared about how attached Blake had become to the dog. At least… that’s what she kept telling herself.
As she thought about the scene she’d witnessed when she’d stared out her bedroom window, Shelly patted the blankets into place on the bed a bit rougher than she had intended. With the bed fixed, Shelly really needed something else to do to keep her mind busy. The answer was breakfast. Blake would need to eat soon, so would Fletcher. She wondered how rude it would be not to make anything for the others. It’s not like she was their maid.
Downstairs, she realized someone had beaten her to the punch. Marek stood before the fireplace, shirt off as sweat trickled down his back from the roaring heat, as he stirred whatever contents were in a frying pan. That’s where they would be doing their cooking. The stove was electric, which meant they had to get used to the fireplace – the very hot, very uncomfortable, fireplace. Making the spaghetti last night had been pure torture. Marek must have heard her come down because he turned around to stare at her.
He was sucking on one of his fingers as he explained, “Minor accident.” Moving away from the fireplace, he tilted the pan over five plates, shuffling eggs – real, yellow, fluffy eggs – onto each setting. “Can you believe it?” He smiled. “Fletcher found two chickens hiding with a stash of eggs in the barn this morning. I know we found Altered when we first got here, but they must have taken care of this place right up to the end.” He shrugged somberly remembering the two women they had found tied up in separate bedrooms. Shelly sent a small prayer their way, hoping the women had peace wherever they were now.
“You should have Ambrose look at your finger.” Shelly muttered.
Looking uncomfortable, Marek replied, “Ambrose? Umm… I don’t think… umm…”
“Have me look at what?”
Shelly and Marek turned to the front door where Ambrose stood. “I just… I thought,” Marek stuttered, “umm…”
“He burned his finger.” Shelly snipped a little more than she’d meant to. “Didn’t you say you came across some first aid stuff yesterday?”
Nodding her head, Ambrose limped away to retrieve her findings. Marek followed her with his eyes as if Ambrose were more ghost than girl. “Wipe the drool off your face before Fletcher notices, would you?”
With that, Shelly walked away, ignoring the hungry grumbling of her belly.
~*~
Fletcher found her moping in the barn’s loft. She smiled as he joined her, two plates of eggs and sausage – sausage? – in hand. “We found the stored meats.” He smiled at her reaction as he handed her a plate. “This is a really good place to stay.”
Shelly moved the food around with her fork, soaking the scrambled eggs in the juices of the meat. “How long do you think we can last here?”
Fletcher sighed as if he hadn’t wanted to touch that subject. “I don’t know.” He said honestly. “But maybe we can find a way to fortify the place.”
“I was hoping for that too, but I don’ think that’s possible, Fletch. This isn’t lik
e the apartment complex. It’s too open; we don’t know where the road goes. What if a horde comes though? I don’t think it would be safe to run into the woods. Then you have Ambrose’s ankle to worry about…”
Shelly stopped talking as that bashful smile appeared over Fletcher’s face. He tried to hide it and failed miserably.
“I don’t think you should get attached to her.” Shelly whispered her warning. At Fletcher’s quizzical look, she elaborated, “Umm… I saw her, last night, with Marek. It was pretty late when they snuck out of the house together. I think—”
“Oh… umm… wow. Okay. Sure, thanks for letting me know.” Fletcher feigned a smile as he shrugged his shoulders before staring at his plate, but not before Shelly saw the slight hurt in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Fletch—”
“It’s okay. I barely know her, right?”
It was hard to watch the disappointment in Fletcher’s bearing. With his angelic features, most girls swooned at his mere presence. Her cousin however, had never taken much interest in the girls with fake nails, too much makeup, and ratty extensions. It would be his luck to fall for a girl in the apocalypse, only to have her reject him for the only other guy in the world.
“Where’s Blake?” She asked, trying to change the subject.
“Trying to teach No-name to play fetch out front.”
“He’s outside? By himself!”
“Easy, Shell.” He gripped her arm before she could storm off. “Ambrose is with him; and Marek too.” He sighed. They finished breakfast, each lost in their own thoughts. “We’ll stay for as long as possible.” Fletcher announced. “Today we’ll pack the van with everything we can. We should be well stocked if he had to leave ASAP.”
“Will that include them?”
“There’s no reason to leave them behind. Besides, we’re stronger in numbers.”
Shelly looked at Fletcher a long time. “You really believe that lie – don’t you?”
Chapter Fourteen
Heavy Lifting
“You’re still here.”
Marek stood beside her on the front porch as they kept an eye on Blake. Ambrose had the suspicion Marek was keeping an eye on her too. “My ankle hurts,” was all she allowed.
Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak…
Ambrose could hear her backpack – now joined by the satchel – shouting at her from where they hid beneath her bed. Her breath rattled in her chest as she tried to ignore the taunts by focusing on her plate of food instead. “This is good.” She said, shoveling a forkful of food into her mouth.
“I used to go camping a lot; with my dad and brothers. I hated fishing so I usually stayed behind to make breakfast. Cooking in an indoor fireplace isn’t all that different from a fire pit, but breakfast is really all I’m good at. Maybe Shelly and I can take turns prepping meals.”
“I didn’t ask for your personal history.” Ambrose muttered. “I just said this was good.”
Marek smirked. “And here I thought you’d be friendlier after last night.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth when Shelly and Fletcher rounded the corner of the house. Ambrose heard the strange hitch in Shelly’s breath at the same time she saw Fletcher’s face draw tight. “What’s wrong?” Ambrose asked. “Is it time to leave?”
Fletcher recovered first. “No… umm… no but, we should head inside. There’s a few things we need to discuss.”
Ambrose didn’t know what the hell Marek had been talking about last night; Fletcher barely looked her in the eye as he spoke and walked right past her into the house. After calling Blake inside, Shelly marched up the stairs and followed Fletcher. She too, did not deign to look at them. The delicious food turned to dirt in Ambrose’s mouth. “Did you tell them about last night?”
Marek shrugged. “It’s not place to talk about it.”
Reaching down for her hand, Marek helped tug her off the porch swing, then walked a few steps behind her as he allowed her to hobble into the house first. Ambrose placed her dish beside the others on the coffee table; she’d have to get more water to wash them or risk the bugs coming to swarm. She was about to plop down on the floor for the impromptu meeting when Marek grabbed her elbow. “Nope. You sit on the couch. C’mon – put your leg up on the table.”
Ambrose lifted an eyebrow at him. Was he really Mother Hen-ing her? She rolled her eyes at him even as she obliged. She didn’t have the mental strength to deal with him in front of the others. After she was situated, Fletcher began. “We have two tasks today. One: load up the van; food and water inside, clothes and extra necessities on the roof. Two: get rid of all the spoiled items keeping our food supply company. We don’t want the rot to spread.”
“Ambrose needs to stay off her leg.” Marek said.
“I can move around just fine, thank you.”
“It’ll take longer to heal if you’re moving about so much. That injury can make a big difference between life and death. You’re staying off it.”
“We’ll need someone on look-out duty.” Fletcher interrupted. “She can sit on the porch, we’ll drive the van around to the cellar and get that part done quickly.”
“Yes; and when Shufflers or worse – Runners – come at her, she can scream them away.” Marek quipped.
“We’ve been here a few days.” Shelly spoke up, “Nothing’s attacked. Maybe they’re all far away.”
“And maybe they’ve been shuffling this way over the last few days. I’m not taking that risk. I’ll keep watch. Ambrose, you help pack things up, but Fletcher and Shelly should load the car.”
They all kept arguing over who would take over which duties. Ambrose couldn’t understand the sudden arguing. Shelly and Fletcher had been so easy going untill now. Ugh – she really should have left last night. They were giving her a massive headache.
“Enough!” She finally screamed. “I don’t mind helping; it’s the least I can do after you guys helped me.” Stealing herself she added, “And then I’m gone.”
~*~
It took a lot longer than she would have liked to load the van and clear out all the rotten food. So much longer that she was forced to spend another night at the farm or risk moving through the woods in the darkness.
Marek had shadowed her all day, making sure she didn’t split before he could continue to try and talk her out of her decision. Why was he trying so hard to keep her around, anyway? Irritated, Ambrose organized her pack again, making sure the supplies she had chosen to take with her were the right ones. It reminded her of when Shelly had done the same not all that long ago. There was a knock at her door and Ambrose sighed. Marek just wasn’t going to give up, was he? When she opened the door, it wasn’t Marek who waited on the other side.
“Don’t leave.” Fletcher said.
“Not you too.” Moving away from the door, Ambrose motioned for Fletcher to come in. Might as well get this over with.
“I didn’t mean to come off as such an ass earlier.”
“You didn’t.” Ambrose sighed. “I just… I don’t feel comfortable here.”
“Why? I mean, we’re not that annoying, are we?” Fletcher gave her one of his small smiles – the smiles that seemed to have a domino effect of tingles in her body, despite her feigned ignorance to it when Marek had brought it up. Ambrose worked to look away. This was not the time to lose her head to stupidity.
“It’s not you guys.” She said. “I just don’t think I fit in with you.”
“Why?” He asked again.
“I don’t do well in groups. I’m not a very good person.” Ambrose kept her gaze away as she finally admitted the words out loud. It was a weight off her shoulders; a small weight, but a weight none-the-less. The screams that constantly reverberated through her mind quieted a notch. But it seemed that now that she had unlocked the door to her shame, the rest of her would stay hidden no longer. “I’ve killed people.”
“They’re not people anymore.” Fletcher tried to console.
“Not them.” She finally
turned to him, needing to see his reaction when he found out what she’d done. For some reason, she needed to know if he could forgive her – that someone, somewhere, could forgive her. “I killed the people I used to travel with.”
Chapter Fifteen
Night Time Visits
It was well past midnight and Fletcher still hadn’t come out of Ambrose’s room. That was more than fine with Marek – it meant he could get some sleep without having to worry about her sneaking off. But sleeping on the couch wasn’t very comfortable. He tossed and turned atop the lumpy cushions, stopping every now and then to punch the lumps into place. He was just settling in when the floorboards creaked. Instantly alert, Marek feigned sleep as he slowly dropped his hand to the floor, his fingers curling around his ever-present crowbar.
“It’s just me.” Shelly’s voice wafted through the dark. Marek relaxed as he sat up onto his elbows. She came around the couch and swatted at his feet, making him move so she could sit at the end. “I couldn’t sleep.” Sitting forward, Marek laced his fingers as he placed his hands between his knees and waited for Shelly to elaborate. “You really think she’ll leave?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “She seemed pretty determined last night. I think she might have if I hadn’t caught her.”
“Is that what you were doing last night?”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” She said quickly – a little too quickly. “Umm… would you go – would you go with her?” Marek shifted to look at her. “I just… it’s Blake.” Shelly gulped. “He’s grown really attached to the dog. If you go, will you take the pup with you?”
“She’s not mine.” He bit back his smile. “She can stay with Blake if she wants.” Shelly’s profile instantly deflated. He took a second to savor the meaning behind her reaction before adding, “But, I don’t think that would be an issue either way. If Ambrose leaves, it’s because she wants to be alone. I’d like to stick around – if that’s okay with you?”
Red Paint: Proceed with Caution Page 6
