Page 8 of Drift

He cried out and threw the shovel into the shed, sending things clattering to the floor. Then he grabbed the closest can and bolted back for the dining room.

Amanda barely moved. But as he skidded in, she started to cry. Yeah, she knew the danger she was in: the fear called out the infestation, and like giving the car a green light, her cry burst the bugs back into life, shifting them up over her boobs, her neck… jaw.

Off. She needed them off.

Tucker rushed over and smothered her mouth, doing what her eyes asked him to do and stop the bugs filling her throat, then pulled the knife free and ignored her smothered scream as he unscrewed the winter wash cap—and tipped it into the open wound.

More bugs were forced out on Amanda’s arch of body, and he cried a whole new level of “Fuck yes, you bastards.”

The bugs raced for shelter, wanting back in the warmth of blood and bone, or it seemed as they raced for her mouth and nose as she screamed.

So he poured wash in them too.

Amanda started to splutter and choke, and not happy she choked out the cure, he grabbed hold of the duct tape and made sure she kept it in her throat for her own good. He even cried it out. “I know, baby, I know. They’ll be gone soon. I promise.”

Bugs clambered onto his hand, up over his arms—but that was okay. They weren’t on her. He’d take care of himself later. For now she wasn’t crying, she wasn’t moving, maybe knowing moving would only make them want more of her.

And he’d concrete over that damn garden as soon as she was back on her feet. Like hell would he giveaway everything in his goddamn world to get her back on her feet, but potatoes.

He still had potatoes to peel.

Amanda was hungry.

The shuffle of feet came from by the living room door, the clink of bracelets… two girlish snorts of laughter at the snap of another selfie.

A before… after… and a Japanese red cherry blossom hair clip caught the sunlight through the windows.

Tucker didn’t care as he took hold of the knife, humming along to “Every Breath You Take” as it started again.

Peeling potatoes it was until Amanda woke up.

Skin fell in slices off his fingertips, falling to the floor to land on Amanda’s hair, coating the rush of little green bugs running riot on the kitchen floor.

But that was okay.

Amanda was hungry. Dinner would be ready soon and they’d have a glass of wine to wash it down. No, not wine. Amanda had said she didn’t want any. She’d given up drinking a few weeks ago.

That was okay too.

Digging the knife point under his nail, flicking one free, he was more a beer guy anyway.

Drift scrambled down the drainpipe a few doors down, more nearly fell, and a hand keeping him steady on the wall as he found his footing, he doubled and threw up.

Fuck. Oh fuck, fuck,fuck.

He wiped a hand over his mouth, choking out a few more times, then dropped the stones he held and gripped thedrainpipe to stop how it felt like he was walking a tightrope with no safety net, just a black void ready to swallow him up. He’d tried to warn the bloke, get him back in the house, but he hadn’t fucking taken the warning and… phone. Drift had given Brighty his phone back. Who would he call anyway? Jackson was in London, and the cops….

He screwed his eyes shut.

Fuck. No.

He started to shake. Ava was far from finished, he knew that, but he couldn’t stomach to stay around and watch anymore. Run fast, far, it would always be.

Leon sat waiting at the petrol station, engine running despite the darkness calling closer to three hours, not one, and it was the only immovable object to stop Drift’s run. He slammed hard into it, breathing heavy, head still lost back on a man sat at a table, peeling his fingernails off as potatoes boiled on the hob. Drift tugged open the door and slumped inside. Silence met his deep intake of breathing, his grab for the box of Anadin from his pocket before he dry-swallowed one, needing so much more, and his long look out of the window needed life to stay out there, right along with any talk.

Leon kept to the quiet, his look on the box of Anadin as he slipped into first.

Ava’s message was clear.

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