8. Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Shelby
Out of habit, when I wake later, I peek through my lids before easing back to the mattress. Still my wrists tingle and I flex my hands to test the rope previously binding my wrists before sighing into the semidarkness.
It’s been almost eighteen hours since the last showdown with my husband. His body is probably starting to rot below the stairs. To top it off, I’m facing a new threat which is far more deadly.
Fuck my life.
Biting back a groan, I turn to my side and freeze because I’m not alone. Beside me, lying over the covers is Cason. He’s staring at the ceiling, and I trace my gaze over his strong features, cast in shadow by the moonlight before closing my eyes.
I suppose there weren’t enough beds to go around but the tiny little flame of hope that apparently did not die, thinks that maybe, Cason is watching over me.
Since that’s a feeling I haven’t experienced in quite a while and a slippery slope at that, I push it aside. Either way, I slip back into sleep easily and it seems like I barely closed my eyes when Cason touches my shoulder, and I come awake with a gasp.
He backs up as soon as I do and says, “Watch.”
Nodding, I sit up and ease from the bed, avoiding Bo sprawled on the floor. I wish I could brush my teeth. Maybe I could sneak it in later?
It’s dark but for a single light shining downstairs and avoiding the primary suite of which the door is now closed, I descend carefully before finding Cason in the kitchen.
When he hands me a mug of coffee, I take it with a frown. I guess this is the new me, but I’d rather not put my lips on anything that Ben did.
Come to think of it, I eye Cason as he sips from his mug and decide I don’t much like it when he does either. Strangely, this forces me to focus on his mouth, and I discover that he has nice kissable lips.
Of course, he picks that time to look up and I avert my gaze, eyeing the closet beneath the stairs while heat paints my cheeks. Great. Now he thinks I was staring at his mouth and technically I was.
Kill. Me. Now.
I’m trying to get on his good side, so he won’t leave me behind especially when things get rough because I know I’m the weakest freaking link. If I can help it, I don’t want things to get weird but here I am making it awkward without even trying.
Idiot.
Thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice and by silent agreement we step onto the porch. Out of habit, I skip over the board that tends to squeal and wince when Cason, unaware, catches it just right.
He merely grunts and moves away while I stare at the dawn sky. It’s beautiful with bright hues of orange against a backdrop of dewy grass and brilliant, lush trees but all I see is the land I’ve come to loathe.
I can’t breathe here. I want to be beyond this place and far away from the reminders constantly in my damn face, including the dent in the railing that I’m eyeing when Cason walks around the wraparound porch.
Ben’s excuses blend together but the pain and terror I fought when he slammed my head there remains and shuddering at the grisly memory, I step onto the dirt.
Once again, I’m getting back off vibes from Cason and I don’t want to poke the bear. Perhaps he’s not a morning person? I know I’m not. I prefer the evening when everything is winding down.
Since I’m on my own and I don’t particularly enjoy the darkness when I know those things are roaming around, I step around the side of the house and confirm the door to the barn is still ajar although someone turned out the light.
Did Ben’s brother take his supplies?
The hoot of an owl brings me around and I spin in a circle, taking in the trees surrounding our property. Although it’s too dark to make out, toward the back end lies a now defunct horse stable and a marshy pond that Ben left as is.
Crickets chirp in the predawn hours but it’s the howl of a coyote that inspires me to slip through the barn door and turn on the light.
Front and center is the 1970 Chevy Impala gathering dust after Ben took away my driving privileges. A gift from my dad on my sixteenth birthday, I hated the damn thing because it wasn’t shiny and new but now, I trail my fingers through the dust on the hood with a smile.
It won’t be a comfortable ride but maybe it’s better than nothing. I know my dad would be happy knowing it’s here even if the circumstances are shitty at best.
Pushing away thoughts of my parents, I mentally groan because I don’t know where Ben left the keys. They could be anywhere and after confirming that Cason is walking through the field with Bo beside him, I turn back to the interior.
The single bulb beside the door creates shadows on the walls and it’s too dark to make out everything but I see that the shelves toward the back are bare. Ben’s brother did take whatever he could grab.
When they first started gathering supplies, I thought it was beyond stupid because what could ever happen that would justify collecting bins of astronaut food and water. I guess I was seriously wrong on that front.
A wave of something I can’t define rolls over me when I sit in the driver’s seat of the car. It’s relatively clean, which is a boon, but the keys aren’t exactly sitting out in plain sight.
Hell. I don’t even know if it has gas and it hasn’t been started in years.
Maybe this is a lost cause and after closing the door behind me with a gentle shove, I study the shelves beyond before moving shit around to waste time, but I don’t find the keys.
Wherever they are, Ben didn’t want me to find them. No surprise there but fuck me, does the man have to block me at every turn from the freaking afterlife too?
Setting aside the useless thoughts, I give up and step toward the door only to freeze because written on the chalkboard on the wall by the door in swirling letters is a message from Ben’s brother. Shelby and Ben, we went to the farm. If you see this, you can find us there.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
From the corner of my eyes, I catch movement behind the door and rush to the board. For my efforts, I slam my knee against a car part that I couldn’t identify if you asked me and biting back a whimper, which side note makes my swollen lip burn, I erase my name with the palm of my hand.
I’m just turning and pulling down my shirt when Cason enters and looks around. Meanwhile, my heart beats so damn fast it’s a wonder he can’t hear it as he runs his hand over the car, looks up and says, “Maybe the keys are around?”
Shrugging, I turn away and close my eyes. That was really fucking close. Are there any other damn messages I should be aware of? Fuck me.
“Shelby?”
“Yes,” I say, glancing at my fingers.
Of course, they’re covered in chalk, and I wipe them down my pants as surreptitiously as possible, feigning interest when he says, “Once we get out of here, we have to decide where we want to go.”
“Okay. Where do you think?” I ask because I have no fucking clue what to do and I’m still trying to allay the frantic beat of my heart.
Can he sense my hysteria? No, not if you calm the fuck down, Shelby.
His sigh does nothing to raise my spirits, and I eye him sideways as he rubs his mouth before saying, “My family lives in Sweet Home. I think our best bet is to see if they’re still there.”
Sweet Home, as far as I know because I’ve never been there, is south of here maybe a hundred miles. I know it’s a small town but that’s it.
It’s not the direction I was heading when I left this infernal place but are my parents even alive? They’re so far away, I’m not sure it’s even possible to reach them.
If I want to live, I have to align with someone stronger than me and that’s Cason. I’ll go anywhere if it means not being alone but that doesn’t mean I’m not hesitant. What if this guy is an asshole?
What if he doesn’t want me there? I guess I could play the “what-if” game forever but at the end of the day, I have to be grateful that Cason is asking me what I want to do and including me at that.
It’s the small wins, which is why I say, "Okay."
“Okay,” he repeats quietly. “Shelby?”
“Yeah?”
“If we’re smart, we can do this, yeah?”
“Yeah?” I say with a small smile because when he says stuff like that even I believe it but when his mouth quirks, I pause.
No way. No freaking way. Ignoring the swoop in my belly because I cannot react to a simple smile, I turn away.
My dead husband’s body lies in the house less than a hundred feet away. I’m just reacting to his kindness because it’s a shock to my system.
Besides, this man is as prickly as they come and most definitely not interested in the woman who before today couldn’t tie her shoes without said dead husband’s permission.
“Alright, let’s get everyone up and moving,” he says and avoiding his gaze for the burn in my cheeks, I nod again before stepping in behind him. At the last second though, I look back at the car.
With a tingle of curiosity, I slide behind the wheel once more and grab the visor, smiling when the keys drop into my lap.
Bingo.
Maybe things are looking up after all.
I should probably eat my words because two hours later, I’m sitting between Nate and Nora with Bean perched in my lap snoozing away while poor Bo sprawls over our feet.
I know I shouldn’t complain but there’s just something about Nate that hits me wrong, and I’ve learned to never ignore my instincts.
Perhaps it’s the weird glint in his blue eyes that I don’t appreciate or maybe the way they slide in my direction every time I look up. Or maybe it’s nothing and I’m an asshole. I don’t know.
I just wish his spicy cologne fading under the sweat staining his polo shirt didn’t assault my nose while his hand continues to brush the back of my neck.
My car wasn’t meant to function as a minivan but here I sit anyway. Of course, Cason is driving and Larry, being the largest amongst the group, claimed the front passenger seat.
It’s better than walking but not by much I concede when the asshat touches my neck again. Is he doing it on purpose?
Maybe he thinks I’m a fucking doormat. It wouldn’t be surprising, considering the Rorschach of bruises I couldn’t hide when we met. Whatever.
Turning my thoughts because I’m not in the mood to deal with his shit and what we’re possibly facing today, I look out the window as the scenery flies by.
So far, the backroads we chose to take south are blessedly free of both the things and traffic which I appreciate if nothing else but how long will that last?
Per Cason, we have a good seventy miles to travel and based upon our experience yesterday this does not inspire confidence in our chances today.
Granted, we were walking for most of that time but that’s because those freaking things forced us from our vehicle.
If nothing spoils the plan, we can continue our course through the backroads until we reach Molalla where hopefully we will bypass the main parts of town and potentially connect onto less windy roads, allowing for increased speeds.
Although blissfully empty of danger, these roads twist, turn, and go up and down to accommodate the plots of land between.
It’s a beautiful journey though and as we fly by the majestic green trees swaying over fields of meticulously mown green grass, interspersed with the occasional cow and even a few llamas, I’m reminded of home and how much I loved being there before everything went to shit.
That last year, when I was sixteen, my older sister and I spent all our time out with boys, partying and being stupid. My sister hated it when we coddled her and in a desperate attempt to make the moments count, I let her pull us deeper into trouble.
It wasn't all bad but I saw the toll it took and regretted it later. We even had a stupid competition to see who could collect the most beer bottle caps, which sadly, Ben made me throw out when we moved here from Arizona.
I hate that I did what he asked without a word of protest not because I was scared but that I still looked at him as the man who would save me from myself. All of which was a lie that I told myself to justify shit that never should have made sense.
Now, when I look back, all I have are the memories and maybe one day, those will be gone too. My sister died of cancer the following year and I moved away as quickly as possible after I graduated high school.
Somehow, I thought running away from our small town would change the way I felt but just like everything else in my life, the darkness followed until I let myself be swallowed whole.
Are my parents still alive? If I had known it might be the last time I spoke to them, I would have taken more care with our conversation, despite Ben hanging over my shoulder.
I would have told Mom that I loved her and made it have meaning beyond a hurried response spoken by rote to get off the phone. Now, the chances are I’ll never speak to them again and my heart burns at the thought, which fades when Nate shifts beside me again, breaking me from my macabre thoughts.
Unfortunately, this forces me to focus back on the scenery and my gut clenches when we pass something better suited for a horror novel . . . except, oh, right, I’m now living in one. Fuck me.
Swallowing past the saliva pooling on my tongue, I bow my head just as the man kneeling before a cow in the pasture looks up.
His wild eyes assess the vehicle but it’s the blood ringing his mouth like a damn circus clown that remains in my vision, while I consider what he was most likely holding in his hands—the cow’s innards.
Did that poor animal sense the threat before the man attacked? This is when I close my eyes and try to think about anything but my life, although much of what rolls through my head isn’t sunshine and roses.
Either way, I’m relieved when a little while later, Larry says from the front, “Molalla’s up ahead. Good place to check for gas.”
Cason merely nods, his signature move, and it makes me wonder if maybe it isn’t me but being around people in general which causes him to be standoffish.
Does that make it better or worse? I have no clue, but I do know I’ve been avoiding looking at him since this morning. Now, whenever I think about it and him, a surge of butterflies whoops it up in my stomach and to make my mortification complete, I blush. Blush!
What the actual hell? The man barely speaks. He’s less than friendly and I half suspect he resents me. Am I desperate?
Responding to the small acts of kindness like a pathetic loser? What?
Either way I need to nip that shit in the bud. I’ve got enough issues trying to survive an undead rising which I can’t believe I just thought. Is this really my reality?