Chapter 1 #2
“You’ll have a real hard time there since that piece of shit probably ain’t seen a bullet since the first world war,” he replies, dropping his own gun to his side as if to prove the point.
Of course, he knows the gun on the wall is completely useless.
“Please don’t kill us,” she begs, setting the shotgun on the bed beside her. “Please, I’m pregnant.”
“Congratulations,” he says with a deadpan stare.
“My husband will be back any minute.”
“Heard you the first time. I’ll deal with that when it happens, or you can just get the fuck outta my house and go find him.
Go on.” He steps aside, but she hesitates.
It could be a trick. If it’s not, that doesn’t make it any safer to leave.
They won’t last the night. “Yeah, it’s a nightmare out there.
I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t have come all this way to get here myself if it wasn’t. ”
With a slight limp, he hobbles down the hall, leaving her behind like they weren’t pointing guns at each other a minute ago.
“Stay here,” she tells Emma. “If something happens to me, you run. Understand? Don’t trust him. Get out of here and don’t look back.”
“No, don’t go.”
“I have to. I have to. Stay here.”
Reluctantly, she peers into the empty hall, creeping further out to find this new intruder rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.
“There’s a stockpile in the basement. You can have what’s left.” She tries, reaching for the only material thing she has to offer him.
“How much is left?”
“Not much.”
They can’t leave, but she can’t let this stranger stay either. For all she knows, the moment she falls asleep, he’ll grab her or Emma and…
It’s only now, in the brighter light of the kitchen, that she notices the extent of his injuries.
He favors his left side, cradling his arm with a wince, crimson dripping down his fingers onto the wood floor.
The slash across the middle of his shirt is another tell that this isn’t the first battle he’s had recently.
He came far closer to losing the previous one.
She knows Vincent. What sets him off, and what calms him down.
Most of the time, she can put the odds in her favor.
Not always, but she’s well-versed in his moods.
This guy is a wildcard. She has little confidence in her ability to keep them alive in this situation, and that’s what drives her reckless thoughts to drift to the kitchen knife on the counter.
She can’t let him hurt Emma. She can’t let him kill her when she’s got a baby to protect.
He’s twice her size, but the element of surprise could work in her favor, considering he hasn’t so much as looked at her since leaving the bedroom.
“You better be real talented with a blade if you decide to use one on me,” he drawls, grabbing the kitchen knife with a slow hand before facing her, his back against the counter as he cleans his nails with the sharp tip.
“I wasn’t…”
“Of course you were.”
She swallows hard, watching as he flips the knife in his grip to slam it into the butcher block countertop hard enough to stand erect.
“If you decide to take your chances, I won’t fault you for it, but only one of us will make it out of that alive, and it won’t be you. Then I’ll make sausage outta both of you. Can’t waste nothing out here.”
The horrified grimace on her face is quick, and he smirks, just enough that it rakes at her nerves.
“Now, you can stay, or you can go. But if you’re staying, then you’d best not try to kill me every time I turn my back. Understand?”
She nods quickly, not trusting herself to speak. It isn’t clear if this one likes begging or silence, so she locks her pleas in her throat.
“I wasn’t expecting company. You aren’t a prisoner here, but I’m making it very clear that this shit hole is my house and I intend to stay.”
“Okay.” She nods. “Okay. I understand.”
They stare at each other a beat before the scowl on his face softens a fraction below the gruffness in his words.
“Give me thirty days,” he says with an indifferent shrug. “If you still think you have to kill me to keep yourself safe after that, then I’ll give you your chance.”
“What?”
He pulls out two granola bars from a bag and tosses them on the table. “Just what I said. I’ll even give you a gun, and then you do whatever you gotta do. Until then, if you’re staying, we need to come to some kinda truce, or no one’s getting any rest in here. Deal?”
She considers her options, which are few.
She could kill him with the rat poison, but if she fails, he might retaliate. If she doesn’t fail, she could lose the only help they have if Vincent never comes back.
She could take Emma and leave, hoping they get lucky and don’t end up as a meal the minute one of those things sets eyes on them.
It’s hard to tell yet, but in a few months, she’ll be too big to move comfortably, let alone fend for both of them out there. Then, she’ll have a newborn, and she sure as hell won’t be able to handle that on the run.
“Deal,” she agrees. “Thirty days? You won’t hurt us until then?”
“Pfft, it’s not me you gotta be afraid of.
Between now and then, we focus on getting this place more secure.
Start turning some of this land for planting.
Can’t live off expired gas station potato chips forever.
Fair warning, this deal doesn’t include you liking me.
Don’t get it twisted. I’m not here to make friends.
I like it quiet. Mind your business, and I’ll mind my own. Fair?”
“You’re not exactly selling me on this,” she replies, surprising herself with her snarky tone.
He huffs. “Not trying to. I’m Wyatt.”
“Addison.”
He points to the granola bars. “For you and your kid. I’m gonna take a nap. I’ve been on the road a while.”
She stops him near the hallway, nodding toward the blood on his shirt. “Wait, are you hurt?”
“I’m not bitten.”
“That’s good to know, but I meant, do you need help? A first aid kit or—”
“Remember what I said about liking it quiet?”
She holds up her hands in mock surrender, keeping her mouth shut. She’s only trying to be decent, but if he wants to bleed to death alone, that’s his choice.
The moment he rounds the corner, the stress of the situation overflows, and she vomits up the peanut butter she ate into the trash can, slides down the wall and tries not to cry before rushing back to Emma.
They’re trapped in this house with a stranger for the foreseeable future while the dead roam the streets and her husband is missing. She can’t imagine trusting Wyatt, which means there’s no way this can end well.
They only have to make it thirty days if he intends to keep his word, which is a questionable assumption. What happens after that is anyone’s guess.