5. 5
Elias lived in a gated community about an hour from Richmond, though he made the drive in forty-five minutes because he drove like a maniac. If the goal was to keep me alive, then we had different ideas on how to do so.
Giant fortress-like houses sat on a hill, overlooking the more modest homes, though I knew even the smallest lot in the community was out of my budget.
Elias’s home sat somewhere in the middle of modest and opulent.
It was a single story home with an attached garage, but I knew before entering that it was going to be bigger on the inside than it appeared.
We pulled into his garage and I saw another vehicle resting in the second parking spot.
“If you have that, why do you drive this?” I asked, my mouth agape.
“Janitors don’t drive Land Rovers,” he answered, matter of fact.
Cutting the engine, he exited quickly and met me on the passenger side, opening my door for me while I was still undoing my seatbelt.
He extended a hand to me, to help me down, and I took it.
Grabbing the bag and shutting the door, he walked around the Tahoe and clicked a button on the wall.
The garage door shut, blocking out the rest of the world.
He kept up his routine and opened the door leading to his home for me, as well. I muttered a quiet, “Thank you,” and stepped inside.
A mudroom was attached to the garage, and I took the hint, immediately kicking off my bloody shoes.
My clothes weren’t much better, though the majority of the blood and grime was attached to my lab coat.
Elias’s shoes were perfectly lined up, and it didn’t feel right to put my own next to his. I looked at him, quizzically.
“Your shoes will be fine. The virus dies without a host, so in the morning you can put them back on without worry. I'd give you a pair of shoes, but I don't think we are the same size,” he said, guessing at my unspoken questions.
“They’re just filthy, I don’t know where to put them.”
“The floor would be a good place to start.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Please put your coat directly into the washing machine, though. It’s disgusting.”
“Okay,” I agreed, and tossed my lab coat into the washer.
He sighed. “I need a drink.”
The mudroom led to a large open concept, the kitchen, living, and dining rooms all joined in a big space.
Granite counters and hardwood floors were to be expected in a place like this, so I wasn’t surprised at the decor.
It being so orderly surprised me, though.
The men I typically followed home didn’t even own a mop half the time.
Elias’s kitchen counters were nearly bare except for a small stack of mail on the island and a coffee machine.
Pots and pans hung from the ceiling above the stove top, and his appliances shined silver.
Peaking past the kitchen area, I could see a massive leather sectional sofa, and a television that would rival any small town movie theater.
Albeit nice, luxurious even, his home seemed so ordinary for a man that investigated killer viruses. The only thing I could find out of place was a blanket that had been haphazardly thrown on the couch.
He pulled a bottle of whiskey from the freezer and gave a generous pour to the two glasses he’d set on the counter. Topping them off with a can of Diet Coke, he handed one to me.
“Diet Coke, huh?” I asked.
“Can’t go overboard with the sugar, can we? I’ve got to maintain my figure,” he smirked. “Cheers.”
“To staying alive,” I concurred, raising my glass to my lips.
“You want a shower?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Me too. You can go first. It’s this way.” Glass in hand, he led me around the corner to his bedroom, the door ajar.
“Here,” he said, pulling sweats and a t-shirt from his dresser, tossing them to the bed. “There’s clean towels in the bathroom closet.” He pointed to the adjoining bathroom.
I grabbed his clothes from his oversized bed and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door and clicking the lock. Flicking on the lights, I stepped in front of the mirror to assess the damage.
Horrifying.
My hair was clumped together, crusty and hard. Dried blood was caked across my neck where the face shield didn’t cover, and even with the lab coat covering most of my body, my clothes were tattered and dirty. I ripped them off, desperate to separate myself from the day’s trauma.
I damn near scalded myself with how hot I ran the shower.
I scrubbed and scrubbed at my skin until I was entirely pink, thankful for the opportunity to be clean.
Elias had really nice shampoo and conditioner, and while I wasn’t too surprised considering his home, I was impressed that he used something nicer than a generic 5-in-1.
It got to a point where the temperature and steam were making it difficult to breathe, so I had no choice but to exit and dress myself.
Slipping into his clothes was uncomfortable in a way I couldn’t define. His scent surrounded me, infiltrating my senses like an embrace. Too intimate. Unfamiliar. Even my hair probably smelled like his. I felt how soft it was, remembering how silky his hair felt under my fingertips months ago.
I finished off my drink before finding Elias in the kitchen. He’d microwaved leftovers and was eating out of the tupperware. I sat in the stool next to him. Whiskey and Coke within arms reach, he refilled my glass, still chewing on his supper.
“You’re not allergic to anything are you?” He asked, mouth full.
“Not that I know of.”
He walked to the fridge, pulling out a similar black plastic container, and tossed it in the microwave. “I meal prep, so this is what we’ve got.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you do.”
He looked offended. “You’ve said that a few times today.”
“Look at your house,” I said. “It’s immaculate. You’re really rich somehow, with a six figure car sitting in your garage. Your bathroom floor was heated, Elias. Oh, and you’re fucking ripped. Obviously you meal prep chicken and broccoli for the week.”
“There’s sweet potatoes, too,” he argued. “Thanks for the compliment, I think.”
“You’re welcome.” I took a sip of my drink. Then another.
The microwave beeped and my meal was set in front of me, courtesy of Elias.
“Stay here,” he ordered, and set a pistol down next to my meal. “I’m going to shower.”
I looked up, surprised. “Do you think I need this?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Just in case.”
I ate my meal in silence as I listened to the shower running, trying not to look at the gun next to me. I pushed it away, allowing it to stay within arms reach, but not directly in my line of sight. I’d enjoyed my time pretending and wasn’t ready to come back to reality just yet.
I’d have to let Elias know how well he cooked. I expected bland and was treated to much more. If there was anything he couldn’t do, I had yet to find out.
It was frightening, sitting alone in his home.
Lights dimmed with only the sound of the running water from across the house, I was on edge.
After I was done eating, I was just there, alone with the panic that had only started to escape in the car.
There was more, and I felt it pooling in my stomach.
We were safe, or at least had been for the past few hours, but I had no idea what was happening beyond these walls, let alone beyond the main gate.
Whoever started the incident at Baker and Pryor could know I was alive, and surely they’d look for me.
They could be parked outside with a rifle, waiting for me to appear in the window, and decide to take me out.
I threw myself off the stool, and fell to my knees, crawling toward Elias’s bedroom, desperate to be out of sight.
The curtains in his room were drawn, offering a modicum of protection, and the lights were dimmed low.
I stood up, knocking on the bathroom door and opening it a crack, thankful he hadn’t locked it.
“Elias?” I asked, calling out over the running water.
“Is everything okay?” His voice raised in concern.
“Can I come in?”
“Cassie,” he groaned. “My dick is out right now.”
“I won’t look, I promise,” I pleaded. “Please don’t make me stay out here by myself.”
He could hear in my voice that the situation was really that dire, and he conceded. “Alright,” he sighed. “You can take a peek if you want.”
Keeping my word, I stepped in and sat on the floor against the door to the bathroom, doing my best to stare at the wall. His shower had glass doors, and if my eyes veered any at all to the left, he’d be on full display. I decided it was best just to close my eyes.
“Earlier, you mentioned that you were in the military?” I asked.
“Yep,” he said. “I spent a few years there before I was recruited into my current line of work.”
“Why’d you join the military?”
“My parents were addicts, and I barely made it out of high school. I definitely wasn’t going to college, and I didn’t have any trade skills, so I enlisted. Nothing special,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was a personal question. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Eh,” he said. “It’s no big deal. A lot of people I’ve met have similar stories. What about you? What brings you here, to Virginia, to work at Baker and Pryor?”
“I don’t know, really,” I said. “I just pursued biology until I had to choose a specialty in grad school. I really enjoyed virology, and just ran with it. Baker and Pryor offered me a job not too long after I got my PhD. My research was featured in a couple of journals, so I guess I just made an impression.”
“You’re funny,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“In what way?”
“You just ran with it? Spending six figures on a college education but you just ran with it.”
I laughed, too. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty funny. I had some scholarships and grants to help out with the cost.”
“Even without the college debt, I pay in a much different way.” He hesitated. “My work is really dark. It takes a toll.” He stopped the shower. “Can you hand me my towel?”
“Probably not, I’m sitting over here with my eyes closed trying not to look anywhere near you.”