Page 98 of His to Burn
The body shop was almost pitch black.
That darkness didn’t really strike me before, but it was inescapable now.
No doubt because of the circumstances. After all, the darkness didn’t really matter until it gave monsters a way to hide.
Even a little ambient light would have made all the difference. The irony of that thought wasn’t lost on me.
I’d always told Evan one of the things I loved most about the ranch was real night. You could see the stars when they sparkled. When they didn’t, the darkness felt deeper, more real.
A feeling I never got in the city with all the artificial light.
Fuck if I didn’t miss that artificial light now.
I peered into the darkness, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise and wondering what gave us away.
We were completely silent, impeccably so. Nothing should have given us away.
Maybe it was just shitty luck.
I didn’t know, which I fucking hated.
No use crying over it now.
The shift in the shadows told me figures were approaching. At least three based on what little I saw.
I slanted a glance at Asia and caught her staring in the same direction I was.
She still didn’t panic. That wasn’t a surprise, but I felt a surge of warmth, something much too much like admiration, at the sight of her ethereal calm.
How, in these totally FUBAR’ed circumstances, did this woman still get to me?
A question for another day.
If we got another day.
I heard more noise and decided that was enough.
More zombies?
Desperate people?
People out looking for whatever they could take?
I didn’t know which was worse.
Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to find out.
“Jack, let’s get out of here,” came her faint, husky whisper, followed by her hand on my forearm. There was a comfort and familiarity in her touch that I welcomed.
It grounded me, and I was grateful for it.
She gestured toward the back door, and I followed her gaze.
Ed, the twice-deceased owner of the body shop, lay in one corner. I grabbed the duffle and stepped over Ed, fighting to control my reaction.
I never told Vaughn or anyone else, but stepping over a corpse always freaked me out.
Maybe it was just a leftover fear from childhood, but for a split second I tensed, ready for the corpse to grab me.
