Page 39 of Warlander Grizzly

“You don’t have any clothes on,” she said quietly. Her green eyes ghosted to his lap, then back to the plate.

Looking down at himself, it was the first time he’d realized he was bare-ass naked. “Oh fuck. Sorry. I Change a lot and I’m not modest.”

“I have sweats. Big ones. You can use some.”

“Where are they?” he asked.

“This way, follow me.” Her eyes were wide as she watched him stand up.

She took another bite of her sandwich and then strode down the hallway, leaving him to amble after her.

The house smelled of her, and he took his time drifting down the hall past the bathroom. His focus had been on the open door at the end of the hall that Lucia had disappeared into, but the strong scent of paint in the front bedroom captured his attention. He paused at the cracked doorway, and pushed the door open with a slow creeeeak.

There was plastic covering the wood floors of this room, and there were trays of paints, charcoals, and pencils. There were tubes of paint everywhere, and colorful smears all over the plastic drop cloth that covered the floor. There were a dozen canvases resting against the wall, but the easel in the middle of the room held a painting that drew him closer.

It looked like Smashland Mobile park. The detail was spot-on, though it was done in a messy, scratchy painting style. Everything was done in black, white, and gray, except for one thing.

The flames that engulfed the mobile homes were done in oranges, yellows, and reds.

Chills rippled up his spine as he took two slow steps closer. In one of the windows was reflected a face. He took three steps closer as the face became clearer.

It was Lucia’s face. She looked horrified.

“I forgot this door was open,” she uttered from behind him.

He turned to find her staring at the painting, the blanket wrapped tightly around her body and a pair of gray sweatpants dangling from her hand. Her eyes were hollow as she looked at the burning trailer park.

“What is this?” he asked, taking the pants from her and putting them on.

She shrugged up one shoulder. “Nothing important.” Lie.

With a frown, he straightened the elastic band of the sweatpants at his waist and stared at the disturbing painting again. Something was scratching at his instincts. He made his way toward the painted canvases sitting against the wall.

“You don’t need to look at those,” she said.

Ignoring her, he pulled the first blank canvas away from the one underneath, and it exposed a painting of two silverback gorillas beating their chests mid-charge. “Is this the fight barn?” he asked.

“It’s just a painting,” she said, settling the blank canvas to cover up the painting.

He was starting to realize something though. He bent down and pulled the first two canvases off to expose the third. It was a painting of a cage being dragged behind a truck. The blood drained from his face.

“Is that my truck?”

“I-I don’t want to do this,” Lucia said.

The old Ford had been painted quickly with angry strokes of black paint, and the background was streaked with every imaginable color. The cage was just bars painted in gray tones. “Why did you paint my truck?” he asked.

“I didn’t know it was your truck.”

He looked at her, and she seemed…scared.

“I didn’t know it was your truck until you just pointed it out,” she said low. Truth.

“Why am I dragging a cage, Lucia?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Why?” he asked.

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