by Rose Francis
She heard him laugh.
“Yeah. I’d say it’s pretty damned solid.”
“Okay, good. Are you going to sleep up there in the driver’s seat?”
He took a moment before answering. “I probably should.”
Serena wasn’t sure what to make of his response. “Anyway, there’s still space back here—more space than up there, anyway. You’ll get to stretch out a bit and get a better night—or day’s—rest, and we’ve got a long drive ahead. What’s top speed on these things, anyway?”
Again, he paused before answering.
“Forty,” he said, and something nibbled at her gut, but she had no clue what it was.
“Still shouldn’t take us more than a day or so to get there, right? It’s, what, about a seven or eight-hour drive under normal circumstances?”
She was guessing—she knew it took her about five hours to get to Vegas from San Diego. Where she figured they were headed was north of Vegas, but she wasn’t sure how far.
“Right,” he said. “We’ll have to make more than one stop, though. For various reasons. And it’s more dangerous to stop at night.”
“Why?”
It seemed that he let out a breath. “They become more and more dangerous if you don’t get them in the first few days of turning—they get smarter as they make it through each night. They’re super-slow in the daytime—sitting ducks, really. Lumbering. Stupid. The sunlight—UV rays in particular—really does them in. If they make it through their first night, they become smart enough to know that they should hide during the day, as much as they can—as much as they can stand it. So even if you’re not seeing any, it does not mean that they’re not peeking through some crevice, stalking you, watching you. They get reinvigorated as night approaches, and then they’re quick as hell throughout it—they pounce like panthers. And every night they live through, they get smarter and smarter, and could theoretically return to their previous intelligence level. So obviously, you can’t go out there at night—or even the daytime unless I’m with you, escorting you. You could probably take one out if you had to in the daytime, but you can’t even get scratched by one; the virus isn’t like the cold virus—it’s not airborne, thankfully. But once the surface is scratched and it gets under your skin, you’re finished. So I have to have my eyes on you at all times outside of this vehicle, Serena, at all times.”
Serena shrugged off the last part. How often would she need to leave the APC?
“Anyway, I’ll take you up on that offer—I’m coming back there to sleep,” he said.
Suddenly, Serena felt on edge again, and she decided it was time to examine why she was bothered. She realized that she needed to acknowledge Steven’s effect on her since they would be spending some time together alone.
She hadn’t been blind; she was aware that he had been attracted to her for a while; she had caught him looking at her with an expression she recognized immediately when she saw it pop up—almost out of nowhere—one day while she and her husband were out with him at a dive bar: a look of unmasked desire that woke something in her, to her utter surprise.
Their spark had not been immediate—upon Gregory first introducing them, their exchanges had been polite, and socially correct. Steven told her much later, as the three of them sat in his apartment chatting, ignoring the television mumbling in the background, that he hoped she wasn’t offended that he did not remember much of meeting her, but she waved off his odd apology; she understood completely. Back then, all she had been to him was just Gregory’s current squeeze, of which he had met many. Of course he had no reason to think that she would last more than a few days or weeks, no real reason to register her.
She also hadn’t been offended because she had not really remembered him either. She had a vague recollection of him on her first date with Gregory, when Steven happened to be in town and invited them both out to have drinks with him.
But a year after that first meeting, there it was—that spark of something else.
She had thought she was seeing things at first, but she saw the look pop up again as Steven brought drinks back to their table.
Is he crazy, exposing such a look to me with Gregory just a few feet away? she had wondered. Then she figured that he had probably tried to mask it, and had simply done a poor job. Or perhaps he had been unable to help himself.
Like you’re so amazing, she said to herself, but then she realized she was dressed up a bit differently than the way he normally saw her: her face was made up, her hair styled with care, and she was wearing formfitting clothing—her top, off the shoulder, and her bottoms clinging to her. And heels! A rare occurrence.
She brushed the glances off, thinking it was simple male appreciation—the same look she had caught on her own husband’s face sometimes when a pretty female walked by. Of course Gregory would not be offended if he caught Steven’s glances—he was probably proud, relishing the way his woman commanded male attention.
But then Serena started catching similar looks from Steven more often, even when she wasn’t dressed up, and each time she marveled that he didn’t seem to be trying to hide his appreciation from her.
What was wrong with him? Didn’t he know everything he was risking?
Yet somehow, her husband seemed not to pick up on those looks, and even encouraged their friendship. Once, he had even sent them to have lunch together.
“He’s lonely, and I feel bad, but I have to work,” he had said. “And Jason can’t go to lunch with him either. He’s been asking around, but no one else is available. Why don’t you go? He likes you, and thinks you’re an okay girl to hang with. You’re part of his family now, like we are. He’s back from hell and there’s no one to look forward to coming back to but us. Please?”
Serena had done it, despite feeling almost guilty about it. If she hadn’t picked up on Steven’s attraction to her, the outing would have meant nothing, but she had, and his attraction ended up having the effect of making her see him a bit differently. All of this her husband seemed not to know as he delighted in the growing friendship between her and his best friend.
Serena could have handled the lunch date better if Steven had taken his intensity down a notch, instead of staring at her like his eyes couldn’t get enough of her, as she sat opposite him in some Mexican food place. Didn’t he have the decency to at least try to avert his eyes and pretend like having her right in front of him didn’t matter? Couldn’t he have treated her like she was his other friend, Jason? She doubted he stared into Jason’s face like this.
Then she began to wonder—was he trying to unnerve her? Test her? Was this some sort of setup on behalf of her husband? A honey trap? But Steven couldn’t possibly be that good of an actor, could he?
She was glad when the lunch finally ended and, since she didn’t see him often, it was easy to put the whole thing out of her mind. The next thing she knew he would be off again, and she wouldn’t have to think about him for three or four months.
But then each hello and goodbye became more meaningful after. When they greeted each other upon his next return from overseas, his hug seemed to go on a tad too long. When they casually started throwing “love ya” around as he was about to leave for another work assignment, and no one knew if he would return alive, Steven’s “love you” seemed a little too ardent as he said goodbye, especially in the face of her own more casual one—the kind she gave to all types of friends she had around, whether she had known them a while or not; the kind she offered to her in-laws.
Serena chalked it up to him appropriately treating the moment with the gravity it deserved, since there was a very real possibility that they would never see each other again, and he was the one in danger of losing his life, after all. Obviously, he wanted those words to be the last ones she heard from him; he wanted to give her his sincerity and let her know that he treasured her. Understandable.
But in a moment of catching his expression on another return trip, she had run out of excuses. There was no other way
to interpret the look she had seen, and she almost confronted him about it.
You must not have him killed, she wanted to say to Steven—a silly thought because why would he kill her husband? Steven had been Gregory’s best friend since third grade—would he really consider taking him out because he wanted her for himself? Still, she knew that Steven had the means and all the required skills as a killer-for-hire of sorts, sanctioned by the government.
She wrote their attraction off as merely a forbidden fruit variety, no longer doubting that he desired her, since she had so often caught it darkening his bright blue eyes when they settled on her.
And now here she was, no longer technically forbidden fruit, and she wondered what it meant—if his attraction would persist.
She curled herself up on her side of the vehicle as Steven settled in for his nap opposite her.
When he turned his back to her, she relaxed again.
She chastised herself for being silly and stretched her body out, turning her back to him, and then curved into the seat.
Eventually she drifted to sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR: ADMISSION
Serena felt like her sixth sense had gone off.
Her eyes popped open, and she was afraid to look in Steven’s direction, suspecting she would find him staring at her.
“Are you awake?” she whispered, not turning around.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice husky, but languid.
“Did you get a good sleep at all?”
“Sort of. Not really.” She felt his energy shift. “I’m not sure back here is more comfortable,” he said, and it sounded like he was beginning to sit up.
She looked in his direction then, despite her fright.
She saw that he had a slight smile on his face, and it angered her a bit—was he laughing at her?
“What are you grinning at?” she asked, sitting up.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his mouth still slightly upturned.
“How could you possibly know what I’m thinking?”
He got up and she jumped.
She heard him chuckle as he went past her without touching her, heading toward the interior hatch opening to the front seats.
“I’ve known you for what, four years now?” he said, turning back around to look at her.
She folded her arms. “Hardly. You’re gone more than half the year. You spend, what, four months of the year here? With months in between each month you get to be home? And when you’re here, we spend maybe a week of that time with you…”
“Right. So basically, you don’t know what I’m capable of, and even though I know you’ll never admit it, you’re scared of me. As far as you knew, when I was gone, I was in some godforsaken country doing who knew what. As my dear friend Jason once so eloquently told you, I kill people for a living. You know I won’t kill you, despite the many ways I’m capable of doing so, because the very thing that keeps you safe is the thing that made you jump just now, the thing that has you at a different sort of disadvantage. But you shouldn’t be afraid of me, Serena, you have to trust me; your survival depends on you trusting me.” Then his voice lowered into a sort of a growl as he leaned toward her. “We both know I’m no longer some lion trapped behind a moral cage. The rules no longer apply with what’s going on around us. You’re still a mouse, but no longer out of my reach, so I don’t blame your fear one bit. But you need to trust me.”
With that he disappeared through the hatch to the driver’s seat.
*
Steven didn’t bother to chastise himself for his lack of verbal control; Serena needed to hear every word he had said.
Her personality was coming back full force, and her analytic nature was making its reappearance. But he had had enough of her questions and pretending she wasn’t vulnerable to him. Didn’t she know he could tell her anything anyway, true or not?
Forty miles per hour—he should have said twenty-five was the top speed for the APC. And he would stop for various reasons all right, and she was stuck with trusting him as to why.
Diesel, he’d say. Or to get some stuff from Target. Whatever.
He would find plenty of reasons to delay their arrival because he had lied to her, and not because he meant to, but because he had still been lying to himself up until just a few moments ago.
She was in danger. And it had nothing to do with the Morphs.
Serena had been able to deny him so much before, but now, she could deny him no longer, and he meant to take advantage of their circumstance—he had to satisfy his lust for her once and for all.
Steven had never been interested in black girls before Serena; he never really saw them—even though he had run into some while growing up. They didn’t exactly abound where he lived, but few existed here and there, and he never looked long enough—if at all—to figure out if he was attracted or not. Had there been only one black girl at his school, she wouldn’t have been missed by anyone, but he still wouldn’t have seen her as a romantic prospect, no matter what she looked like. He realized later that he had been programmed not to look too closely; society’s message was clear who a desired mate should be.
But then Gregory brought Serena home, and at first, Steven barely registered her, considering her one of the many women who came and went in his friend’s life. He had no reason to care about what she was like, and no reason to think she would hang around longer than a few months or weeks. Perhaps even a few days. But she was always there when he returned from his trips abroad, and in between, he had to endure his friend talking about her.
At first, it all sounded like blah blah blah to him, but then he started looking for all of the things Gregory said that she was, and he started analyzing and assessing her every move and reaction, every quirk of her personality to see why on earth she was still around.
The first thing he noticed when he actually started looking was that Serena was beautiful in a way that he wondered how it was possible to miss before. No one else seemed to miss it—whenever he tagged along with her and Gregory somewhere, some random person would tell her how beautiful she was, and she would take the compliment gracefully and with a heartbreaking smile, but the knowing smile of someone who heard the compliment every single day from people of all ages, races, and creeds.
The shape of her eyes, the symmetry of her face, the sensual full lips that he eventually realized in horror he had started wondering what it was like to kiss—he had a hard time not staring at her face once he finally saw her, her beauty calling to him like some Siren.
To make things worse, her body was unbelievably sexy when she decided to abandon her usual tomboyish clothes for more flattering outfits, her curves arousing more than his curiosity.
He found himself wondering what she looked like nude, and he longed to see what the feminine peaks and valleys of her body looked like, dipped in brown. He wanted to run his tongue across every part of her and see how she responded.
Beyond her bewitching beauty, he realized that she also had a sweet side, her capacity for empathy and compassion for people belying the other part of her he felt honored to bear witness to—the girl was tough. She was even tougher than Gregory in some ways. Still, when Steven looked at her after seeing how the whole of her worked and reacted in various situations, what he saw was a fragile shell over a soul aching to feel safe enough to open up. When she was with his friend, he saw a strangled flower, a pinched bud longing to bloom.
Steven realized that he was in trouble only when there came a time that Gregory raised his voice at her, speaking to her in such a rough, derisive way that Steven had to stop himself from punching his best friend square in the face for daring to speak to her like that.
All he wanted to do was comfort her in those moments of verbal cruelty, but he had to sit quietly as Serena more often than not defended herself against his friend’s attacks, not letting Gregory get away with an attempted verbal beat-down.
Steven smiled to himself at those times, proud of her backbone as i
f he had anything to do with it.
It wasn’t long before all he could think was that Gregory didn’t deserve her; he didn’t treat her like the precious gem that she was.
And now, here she was—a sitting duck.
Steven reveled in the pleasure surging through him at the thought.
There was no one around to protect her from him now, not even her adorable, tough self.
He started up the APC.
*
Steven stared at the brown and beige-patterned creature for a few seconds before slowing down, and then stopping the vehicle. He fought the urge to rub his eyes, knowing the vision he had seen galloping across the road was not a hallucination or dream. His brain finally made sense of the image, reminding him that the stately giraffe, appearing almost joyful as it skipped across the road, had somehow escaped from the San Diego Zoo or Safari Park. Which meant, he figured, that other animals were probably out there on the terrain—more dangerous ones.
In his mind, some animal-loving soul had risked his or her life at some point to release the animals, unable to stop thinking about the vulnerable creatures, concerned about them all caged up with no one returning to feed them. That poor soul probably thought the animals were also vulnerable to Morph attacks, and he couldn’t blame them—the message from the government had to be clear and concise, so there was no time to let everyone know that only primates—simians, in particular—were vulnerable to the disease as of the latest intelligence.
Which brought him to a horrible thought: what if he encountered an infected chimpanzee out there? Then again, the same kill method would work, whether animal or human.
Still, morphs were one thing—encountering a large, dangerous feline, such as a lion, or perhaps even a hippopotamus or bear was quite a different challenge.
*
Steven kept his eyes open for the familiar signs of a one-stop-shop department store. He and Serena could make it to the compound with the supplies they had quite easily, but he felt a burning need to cleanse himself before getting there.
