The old man croaked triumphantly. He held a dusty metal can in his hand, and when he grinned his gums shone bald and pink. He held the can up to his ear and shook it; a small puff of dust floated over the table as he opened the lid and Sage sneezed. “Got a few grounds left! Who wants a cup?” he asked expectantly.
Sage shook her head. “No thank you, sir. But if you have any water, I would like some.”
The old man turned to Nowen, and she shook her head slowly and looked at Suzannah. The red-haired woman was watching a large spider climb out of the coffee can. She shot Nowen a horrified glance. “Uh, I think I’d just like some water, too. Please.” she said weakly.
He looked disappointed and set the can down on a stack of plastic shopping bags. “Fine, fine. No one nowadays wants good, simple coffee. Gotta have them fancy drinks.” The old man opened the oven door and pulled out a milk jug, then began to root around the mess on the counter. “Don’t know if’n I gots any clean cups. The missus allus did the cleaning, but she ain’t been feeling well lately.” He spoke absently over his shoulder.
Suzannah groaned. “We can just drink from the jug.”
The old man slammed the jug down on the table. It was half-full of a clear liquid that Nowen prayed was just plain water. The sound of the sloshing jug had brought on a sudden and burning thirst that, in turn, had brought on a deep weariness. There was nothing else she wanted in that moment than to put her head down on the table and never move again. Her eyes drifted closed and the wolf is howling, howling in agony, and the thin male is drawing his arm back again, and the snake that just bit her is dangling from his hand and then whipping through the air as he swung his arm forward-
Someone nudged her and she started, her eyes blinking rapidly as she pulled herself free of the memory. Sage was next to her, one hand resting gently on her arm, the milk jug held out in the other hand. “Are you ok?” the girl whispered. Nowen nodded roughly and raised the jug to her lips with trembling arms. The water had a musty taste but she drank it down like fresh snowmelt.
She set the nearly-empty jug back on the table and wiped her mouth. The old man had taken the last seat and was staring at her with amazed eyes. “Whoo! You was thirsty, huh? Well, now,” and his bright blue eyes looked around the table, “we ought to get to know each other a little bit, huh? I’ll go first. My name is Elijah Washburn, but e’erbody calls me Eli.”
There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments and then Suzannah spoke. “Sure, why not. Let’s all be friends. I’m Suzannah George, the girl is Sage Villanova, and the quiet one is Nowen.”
Eli frowned. “No need to be so snippety, ‘specially after I been so hospitable.”
There came a muffled thumping sound from overhead. Nowen looked up, trying to make out the source of the sound, but there was no amplified wolf’s sense to help.
“Uh...what the hell was that?” Suzannah asked in a voice torn between fear and anger. Nowen looked at Eli; the old man was gazing upward, his small smile cutting another ravine across his face.
“Oh, that would be the missus.”
“The who?” This from Suzannah.
“The missus. My wife. She’s ailing, and don’t come down from our room. She’s getting restless, sounds like, and prob’ly wants her breakfast.” Eli beamed at them.
“Uh-huh.” Nowen caught the suspicious glance Suzannah gave her.
Eli stood up abruptly. “Now I bet you gals are tired after last night. I gots a bedroom y’all can share, if ya don’t mind bunkin’ together.”
He led the way from the kitchen through an equally junk-stuffed living room. Nowen, trailing at the end of the procession, paused at the carpeted staircase that led up into darkness. The muffled thumping came again and she thought she smelled something foul, but without the wolf it was impossible for her to tell one odor from another in this filthy house. Sage called her name, and she rejoined the rest of them.
Eli swung open the door to the bedroom. Sage gasped in barely-disguised relief. The room, while cluttered, was in better shape than the rest of the house Nowen had seen. Piles of junk were everywhere, but they seemed to be more clothes and shoes than trash. A massive, old-fashioned four-poster bed was just visible beneath a layer of moth-eaten stuffed animals. Nowen made her way to the bed. Behind her she heard Suzannah say something to Eli and then came the sound of the door shutting.
Sage joined Nowen on the bed, and Suzannah sat on a mound of what looked like dozens of sweatpants next to the door. They looked at each other in silence, listening to Eli’s footsteps as they went up the stairs. The thumping sound grew louder, almost rhythmic, and then cut off suddenly.
Suzannah slapped her hands on her thighs. “Well!” she said with an artificial brightness, “Who here thinks we’re going to be murdered in our sleep?”
Sage groaned and fell back on the bed, knocking a one-eyed turtle onto the floor. Nowen fought the urge to fall backwards herself and focused on the young woman. “I don’t think that’s likely to happen.”
“But?” Suzannah said.
“But, I’m not sure how safe we are. This is too close to New Heaven. And as we learned last night, someone there wants us back.”
A pink rabbit flew through the air and landed behind Suzannah. Nowen felt the mattress dip as Sage sat up. The girl pulled herself to the edge of the bed. “So, what do we do?” she asked. “Eli seems nice. But crazy. And this house stinks.”
Suzannah snorted. “And when was the last time you had a bath, princess?”
Sage threw another stuffed animal across the room as she continued. “I think we could stay here for a day or so. I’m kinda tired.” As if for emphasis the girl yawned widely.
The red-haired woman looked at Nowen. “What do you think?” she asked.
What do I think? I don’t know. I don’t want to go back to that place. I can’t go back. She turned away from Suzannah’s searching gaze and looked out one of the windows. Uncertainty gripped her. The fear of the unknown fought with the fear of the known and she was trapped like a deer in deep snow - unable to go forward, unable to go back. She watched the bare limbs of a tree sway in the wind and listened to the silence of her indecision.
Finally Suzannah spoke. “Hmm. Ok, let’s do this: stay for today, at least. We could all use some rest. Maybe see if we can get some food off the old man. Then, tonight or tomorrow morning...well, we’ll see.”
“Should we stand guard?” Sage asked, her words almost swallowed by another yawn.
“Good idea. I’ll go first.” The red-haired woman crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall.
Nowen felt a whisper-soft touch on her arm and looked down to see Sage twine her small hand through Nowen’s larger one, the dark eyes shimmering in the olive-skinned face.”Nowen? Are you ok?” The worry in the girl’s voice hit her like an icicle to the heart. Even worse was the pity in Suzannah’s words as the woman spoke. “Oh, honey, I’m sure she’s fine. She’s just tired, like the rest of us. Isn’t that right, Nowen?” The calm, gentle tone, intended as a balm, felt more like sandpaper across exposed nerves to Nowen. Stop feeling sorry for me. I don’t like that. I don’t like being seen as weak.
She managed a nod, biting her cheek to keep the words inside. With every passing moment she thought she might fly apart. Her thoughts and her emotions were spiraling out of control, and this time there was no wolf on which to blame this feeling of crazed wildness. Everything seemed to be happening too fast, the jump from captivity to freedom too startling. Nowen took a deep breath and slammed the lid shut, as best she could, on her mind.
Sage was still staring up at her, and Nowen stretched a thin smile across her face. “Suzannah’s right. I’m just tired.” Her words sounded like the lie they were, but the girl seemed satisfied. The rough, tangled curls dipped in a nod.
“All right then, we’re all agreed. Everyone’s tired. So, you two lie down and sleep for a bit, and I’ll guard the door.” Suzannah said.
Sage shoved the rest of the st
uffed animals off the bed, revealing a slightly-dusty-but-in-surprisingly-good-shape quilt done in soft shades of pink and green. The girl lay down on her side, facing the window, and before Nowen had finished stretching out next to her the soft sounds of snoring were heard. Nowen lay on her side facing the door.
The bed was very soft, and the quiet of the room combined with the gentle susurrus of the wind outside quickly drew her down into sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
She walks down an empty hallway that stretches on forever. The walls are an unassuming beige, and the bland color is broken by soft pastel paintings, black-lettered signs, and smears of bright-red blood. A large swath of red runs for twenty feet along one wall. On the opposite wall, splotches of blood march across a fair reproduction of Cassatt’s ‘Summertime’. On the floor beneath her bare feet a series of very small handprints bleed up through the off-white tiles.
Someone is crying somewhere, soft and low and achingly lonesome. She walks faster, looking for the source of the anguish, remembering when a young woman with blonde hair and pale blue eyes cried in the same way. Where was that woman?
She isn’t alone. Something big and black with eyes that glow like distant fires pads silently beside her. She looks down at the creature and it grins at her with fiercely sharp white teeth. She looks away.
There is a door, suddenly, at the end of the hallway. It’s outlined in a pure white light. It’s far away, and then it’s right there, in front of her. She places her hand on the door knob. There comes a faint whimper from behind her, and she turns to see the black creature far back down the hall. It whimpers again, soft and distant, its shape blurring into the darkness of the corridor. She looks at the door knob and turns it-
Nowen opened her eyes. Her head felt logy and she thought she could have easily slept for the rest of her life, but the urgent pressure in her bladder wasn’t going to allow that. She was still lying on her side, facing the door. There was a bundle of warmth in the hollow of her lower back where Sage had curled up next to her. In front of her, Suzannah still sat next to the door, but her head drooped forward on her chest, which rose and fell in slow, even breaths.
Nowen eased out of the bed, glancing back once she was on her feet to make sure that Sage was still asleep. The girl murmured something quietly and then was still. Nowen crossed to the door, pausing next to Suzannah. The woman was deep asleep. Gently Nowen pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door carefully behind her.
She stood in the hall for a moment. Chill air swirled around her bare feet. She moved into the living room and looked around. The old man was nowhere in sight. There was one window out of the five in this room that was not completely blocked by junk, and Nowen slid the heavy, filthy curtain back and peered out.
The window faced the street. Dark grey clouds scudded across the sky and the wind blew leaves, paper and other debris down the empty street. What she could see of the neighborhood showed that it had once been nice-on-the-edge-of-rundown. The events of the past year had pushed it squarely into collapse. There were only a couple of cars, all weather-beaten and sitting on flat tires. A dust devil swirled down the street, carrying leaves as yellow as a Rev’s eyes.
Nowen stared at the bare trees, felt the chill air seeping in around the window frame. Is it fall? Or...winter? It was summer when we reached New Heaven. Right? Movement from the street caught her eye. She watched as the old man came from somewhere to the right of her view and crossed the street. He clutched a black garbage bag in one hand. His only concession to the weather was pair of plaid house slippers over the pink socks. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared into the house directly opposite his.
Nowen turned away from the window and thought. Where did he come from? Could be a back door in this place. But where? She examined the layout of the house that she could see. The kitchen didn’t seem likely, and the living room and bedroom were out. The hallway, dark and cluttered, extended past the bedroom. She headed that way.
A muffled thump stopped her in her tracks as she passed the stairs. Nowen looked up the gloomy passage. She listened; the house was dead quiet. She laid a hand on the scuffed banister and took a breath. What are you doing? Trying to prove that you’re not afraid? “No,” she whispered. “I am afraid.” Then what? What is the point of this? “To prove that I don’t need the wolf to be brave.”
The first step onto the worn green stairs was the hardest. Her hand held the banister in a death grip, and she had to concentrate on making each finger relax before she could move up to the next step. She kept her gaze on her bare feet as each tread slipped underneath until she reached the landing. She raised her head and looked at the door.
It opened easily at her touch, swinging inward on silent hinges. This room, another bedroom, was immaculate. The paint and the curtains were faded but clean. There was no clutter, no junk. Just a vanity with a mirror, an old wooden dresser, a nightstand with a simple lamp on it, and the Rev standing next to the bed.
Nowen’s heart slammed in her chest. She groped behind her with one hand, terrified that the door might have closed and she would be trapped in this room. She heard a slight metallic sound, and then she saw the chain that led from the bed to the Rev’s waist. Her heartbeat slowed and she looked more closely at the Rev.
The Rev was an old woman. She swayed where she stood, turned three-quarters away from the open door. Her hair was long and silver-white, neatly brushed. A bright pink bow perched atop her head. She wore a clean floral-patterned housedress, and her bare feet and arms were a mottled, moldy, green-grey color.
The Rev twitched violently. A muted moan, hardly more than the breath of a whisper, came from the undead woman. Her head jerked to the side, and Nowen took a step back. The Rev didn’t see her, but Nowen could see more of the Rev’s face. The wrinkled visage was the same unnatural color as her limbs, but unlike all the other Revs Nowen had seen, the old woman’s face was clean of blood, bile, - all the nastiness that normally accumulated on a Rev. She’s cared for.
The creak of a footstep on the stairs behind her brushed across her ears.
She could feel the presence, hear the soft breathing. There was a sound of metal on metal, like a trigger being eased back. She didn’t know what to say.
And then, simply, she did.
“What’s her name?” she whispered.
“Lillian.” Eli said.
Nowen nodded. “How long have you been married?”
The old man moved up next to her. “Fifty-seven years last month. Oh, she was the most beautiful gal in three states. And when I asked her to marry me, and she said yes...” His creaky voice trailed off.
Nowen watched as Lillian snapped absently at nothing, her sunken lips flapping over bare gums. She looked down at Eli. The shogun drooped in his hands as he watched his wife. “I’m sorry.” Nowen said.
Eli sniffled. He stepped back from the door and Nowen followed. He eased the door shut and then stood for a moment with one hand flat against the wood surface.
When he faced Nowen defiance was in every line of his face. “I ain’t crazy,” he said, “and I know that Lillian ain’t alive. But she’s my wife, and I love her. And I aim to take care of her as long I’m able. Any questions?” His sky-blue eyes defied her to say something.
Nowen looked at him. She nodded. “Where’s the bathroom?”
Nowen’s attempt to get more rest was fitful and full of dreams that were memories of the wolf. After Nowen jerked awake for the fourth time in two hours, violently kicked out of sleep by a hazy remembrance of something horrible Vuk had done to the wolf, she gave up and climbed out of bed. The wind had picked up, rattling under the eaves and driving chill wind into the room. The smell of cooking food led her down the hall. Eli was hunched over a propane camping stove, stirring a pot of something. He looked up at her footsteps and grinned, flashing his bare gums. “Hungry?” he said, and ladled what turned out to be a surprisingly-good chicken soup into a bowl that was only a little dust
y. By the time the scent of food drew Suzannah and Sage out of sleep and into the kitchen. Nowen was on her second bowl.
Lunch passed in a companionable silence, broken only by murmurs of enjoyment and thanks. The muffled thumping came from above a couple of times. On the second occurrence Suzannah opened her mouth to say something and Nowen kicked her under the table, shaking her head slightly when the red-haired woman looked at her angrily. Suzannah returned to her meal, and Nowen glanced at Sage. The girl returned her gaze calmly, seemingly unperturbed.
The meal over, Nowen asked Eli if he minded if she searched through the clothes in the bedroom for something else to wear. He nodded yes, and Nowen, with a quick look at Suzannah and Sage, went back to the bedroom. The girl and the woman soon followed.
Nowen sat on the bed with Sage beside her and Suzannah back by the door. The red-haired woman crossed her arms and glared. “What the hell was that at the table?” she asked.
How much do I tell them? The truth? Nowen chewed on her bottom lip. Well, why not? “I saw Eli’s wife earlier.” she said. “She’s a Rev.” Next to her Sage drew in a quick breath but said nothing. Suzannah’s eyes grew bigger and bigger and her jaw dropped. Nowen continued, quickly. “She’s not a threat. Eli has her chained to the bed.”
Sage tugged on Nowen’s hand. “What’s her name?”
“Lillian. Eli takes care of her; he keeps her clean, brushes her hair, changes her clothes...”
“How does he do all that without Lillian biting him?” The girl’s dark eyes shimmered with interest, like a child at the zoo.
Nowen found herself smiling. “She has no teeth. You’ve noticed that Eli doesn’t have teeth, right? Well, neither does Lillian. I think she tries to attack him, but he manages to avoid any serious injury. See, they were married a long time, and he still loves her-”
“Loves her!” Suzannah’s words exploded into the room. “What the fuck is this shit?! That crazy old man has a CZ, or Rev, or fuckin’ zombie - whatever the hell you want to call it - upstairs, and you two sit there smiling and acting like you’re watching a Hallmark movie!”
Wolf Hiding (A Wolf in the Land of the Dead Book 2) Page 12
