Page 25 of Tear Me Down
Knowing when that is, though, is going to be difficult. Earlier this morning—before I came downstairs, I got sick again, and I didn’t tell him. I know I should have, but I don’t want him to worry any more than he already is. Derek had said that because of my past issues, my stomach could be very sensitive for a while. I called this morning to talk to him about it, and he said that he could prescribe me some anti-nausea medication if needed. Declining respectfully, I just said that I’d wait to see how long it lasts.
The sickness comes and goes in waves, even as we ride in the car, but I won’t tell Damien that either. Between his murder spree last night, the very early morning sex, and his nightmares, he’s exhausted. The last thing he needs is something else on his shoulders, and I know that he’s going to put anything involving me at the top of his list.
A few minutes later, we pull up to the Attic, which is only about fifteen minutes from the house, higher into the mountain, and it looks exactly what I imagined a military base would look like. Barbed wired fencing surrounds the entire property, and the gate to get in is much more intricate than the one at the house. It’s tall—very tall, and it’s more like a wall than a fence. There’s no space to slip through. Not even for something as small as a hand. You have to scan your palm on a small pad at the same time you turn a key just to open the gate.
The building itself is massive and very plain, but it’s not supposed to look flashy. It’s supposed to be indestructible, or as close to it as possible, and I would believe if it were. The exterior walls are a mix of concrete and metal, clearly fortified by the placement of steel posts and beams, and while there are some windows, they’re visibly thick glass. The sun barely bounces off of them, showing how dense and sturdy they are with how eagerly they absorb the light.
Damien pulls into a parking space behind the building—since the front is nothing but a solid wall and then grass, rock, and tree-filled hills—and we all get out of the car. This back area, however, is not similar at all. There’s what seems to be a hundred parking spaces, and I can see on the far end of the building what looks to be a loading dock with three pull down, heavy metaldoors. Looking up at the lot lights, I see the many security cameras posted up, and the walled fence seemingly stretches around the entire property.
“We’ll get you girls scanned and keyed before we leave,” Damien says as he walks around the car and takes my hand.
“I get a key?” Serena asks, her eyes wide. Damien rolls his eyes briefly, clearly annoyed with her already.
“Unless you don’t want one?” he retorts, and Ser shakes her head vigorously.
“If Ashia’s going to be here, I'll take one.”
We walk through the heavy door, which also requires a handprint and a different key. The scanner lights up green, and as Damien pushes open the reinforced door, it leads us to nothing but a hallway. On the left is a large window made of the same glass as the exterior ones, but this is more like a reception area than anything. Not that I expect that he plans on having a lot of visitors, but the man sitting behind the glass seems to be on a lookout.
“Hey, D. Hey, Carter.” He greets us.
“Hey, Ezra. This is Ashia, and Serena.” Damien points to us.
“Nice to meet you,” he says before we hear a buzzing sound, and Damien opens the next door. My jaw drops with how detailed the security is, and how thoroughly they thought this out. This is definitely more intricate than the Basement was, and it looks so professional. A spy would be jealous of this set up, but I suppose with his father’s military background, something this detailed is to be expected.
He shows us around, and this place looks like something from the movies. It has a stockpile of water and food, it runs on solar power, and has its own well and river access. Plus, it has a huge armory, garage, training area, bunks, and pretty much anything necessary to comfortably survive a zombie apocalypse. I know Damien said this was an upgrade, but holy shit. This is definitely more than anupgrade. How much of this did they do after what happened last week?
Carter looks like a kid on Christmas when we walk into his new lair. At least, that’s what he calls it. He smirks as he looks around the room, obviously proud to show it off. There’s an actual couch with a pull-out bed, as well as a humongous desk with countless drawers and cabinets. Twelve monitors line the walls above it, six in one row and six underneath it. A large scanner sits off to the side and looks like it’s connected to the main tower.
I can’t help but giggle at all of the left-over boxes and packaging from the organizational items they bought for him. Considering the state of his old room at the Basement, I’m not surprised he has more options for structure here. Knowing the little I do about Carter, I assume it won’t be long before it starts looking like it once did—which is probably why they bought as much storage as possible.
Serena and Carter choose to stay in his nice new set up, while Damien and I wait outside for his dad and the mercenaries. His dad called earlier to tell us that he was going to ride in with them, and I think that made him more nervous. I look over to Damien, and he has his arms crossed as he lightly sways back and forth, looking down at the ground in contemplation.
“Are you okay? You seem nervous,” I ask, already knowing the answer, but also knowing that he won’t say anything about it unless I ask him. He turns to me and shrugs his shoulders, simply shaking his head and swallowing hard.
“I don’t know. I know these are my dad’s guys, and he trusts them, but I don’t. I don’t know them like I know my guys. My men do this for loyalty, and for their own reasons. The money is just a plus for them. These guys? They’re only out for the cash, and I don’t like what happens when that becomes important.” He tenses, and I just nod understandingly.
“True, but you’re everything to your dad. If he didn’t trust these men with your life, he wouldn’t bring them here.”
He finally looks back over at me, and his face falls.
“I’m not worried about me. I'm worried about the guys, and I’m worried about you. All we’ve talked about the past few days is possible positions and duties for these guys, and I’m not comfortable with any of them. Carter mentioned using the mercenaries for the house instead of our own men, and I sure as shit don’t trust them with you.” He grits his teeth, and I notice his jaw clenches. He’s really upset by this, and while I know he has control issues, this might just be something he needs to let go of if he’s going to accept the help.
I step up to him and push my arms through his own, wrapping them around his waist and holding him in a tight squeeze. He accepts it by wrapping one arm around me and placing his other hand behind my head as he kisses my forehead. Soft and sweet. Savoring me to calm himself down.
“Just try to remember that they probably don’t trust you yet either. Trust goes both ways.” He nods his head in agreement, but I can tell his mind is still swirling with anxiety. The way he tightens his hold on me ever so slightly tells me everything. “What am I going to do to keep you from worrying so much?”
“You don't need to worry about me, baby,” he says against my forehead.
“Yeah? Well, I'm going to,” I say in a playful tone, and he finally lets out a chuckled huff before he pulls back a little.
“How are you feeling? You seem off, and I don't just mean here.” He gently pokes my stomach. “You seem off here too.” His index finger pushes against my temple.
“How do I seem off?”
“Tired, and not just physically.” His fingertips graze my hair easily.
“I’m fine. I'm not nearly as tired as you.” I purse my lips, and he chuckles again, more heartedly this time. That is, until his attention is grabbed by the sound of large trucks approaching the gate. He takes adeep breath and focuses on the vehicles. “Just breathe, baby.” I pat his chest, giving him one last assuring touch, and he grabs my hand to start walking to the loading docks.
