Red Eye | Season 2 | Episode 3 Read online

  At this question, Barrett’s smile widened. “Yeah, it was just a pack of cigarettes. Probably would have gotten off with just a warning if I hadn’t tackled the rookie cop and kicked his partner in the nuts.”

  “Oh,” I breathed out, startled. “Yes…I guess that might land you in juvie then.”

  “Also”—he smirked—“I wasn’t a first-time offender. It was just the first time I’d gotten caught.”

  “So—” I started talking, but Barrett interrupted me.

  “No, you’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn.”

  I clamped my mouth shut, worried about what he’d ask me, but I nodded. Shyness flooded my body. It wasn’t like I hadn’t talked about myself before. I’d done quite a few interviews, especially when I was up for prima. But being questioned by Barrett felt different. I felt more exposed, because here I couldn’t say “off the record.” I had the impression nothing was off limits with him…and whatever I said could and would be used against me.

  Barrett was the sort of man that remembered everything. He kept every nugget of information stored away somewhere, ready to use to his advantage whenever he felt like it.

  “When did you start dancing?” His question was tame compared to my expectations.

  I turned in my seat and pulled one leg up to cross beneath my opposite knee so I could stare directly at Barrett while we talked. “My dad used to say I was born dancing. Anytime there was a ballroom competition on TV or within driving distance, we found a way to watch or travel to it. He took me out of school to go three hours away once, and he would let me stay up until midnight watching couples slide across the floor like angels. We skipped a family wedding to go to the swing dance championships in 1998. God, I can’t believe how well I remember that. It feels like a lifetime ago.” I laughed, a short, disconcerted burst. “It was a lifetime ago, I guess.”

  “Your dad sounds great.” Maybe it was in my head, but I could swear Barrett almost sounded wistful.

  “He was.” I closed my eyes and reopened them slowly. “He was the absolute best. There were a few moments that I didn’t think dance was what I wanted. If you saw the way his face used to light up anytime he watched me, though…”

  “He’s dead?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Pre-zombie outbreak?”

  “Yeah,” I repeated, glad for the first time in my life that he was dead. That he didn’t have to see this world. Didn’t have to worry about me, or my future—or my lack of a future.

  Quiet again.

  Stretching like the horizon when you’re in a boat on the wide-open ocean and you’re trying to sail toward that elusive meeting of saltwater and air. You never can reach it, no matter how hard you try. And there’s no land of wonder waiting if you somehow manage to defy the odds and navigate to the end of the world. Endless forever. Always.

  “I’m sorry,” Barrett finally said.

  A bitter lump formed in my throat. Not at the loss of my dad—I’d accepted that a long time ago—but because of the brutal honesty that was in Barrett’s apology. He was sorry my dad was dead. He was truly sorry for me.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s okay. It’s been a while now. I still dance, but it’s not the same.” I paused, thinking. “No, it is and it isn’t. Now, when I dance, I know there’s no chance my dad will be in the audience watching me. That tether to the beauty of it is gone. I’ll never again hear the sound of his violin playing as I sway. I don’t care about becoming a prima now. But I still see movement and music in everything around me. It’s still running through my DNA like the most important parts of who I am. It’s my eye color, the texture of my hair, the curve of my nose—”

  “Goddamn, you’re beautiful when you talk like that,” he rumbled, his voice deep and filled with lust.

  I blushed. “Shut up.”

  Barrett laughed and gave a shrug. “Just calling it as I see it, Sam. And believe it or not, I understand all of that because that’s how I feel about my own life. It’s who I am, not just what I do,” Barrett said, his voice pitched low and thoughtful.

  Again I laughed, but then I stopped myself quickly, because he sounded so earnest. “I’m sorry. If that’s really the way you feel, I shouldn’t make light. It’s just hard to equate dancing with drug dealing.”

  Barrett tilted his head back and chuckled. It started controlled and then devolved into something manic until he had tears in his eyes and was swiping away the dampness with quick movements. “Dancing and drug dealing,” he chuckled out, the words warped by the way his body still shook. “Now ain’t that a damn combination.”

  He calmed himself down, still wiping away tears. He looked so different in that moment; I’d never seen Barrett in a state of…unabashed merriment. He looked like a completely different person. I reached out, lost in the moment and the way he looked, and I touched the long dark braid slung over his shoulder. It was soft against my fingers, goose down and silk. “God, you’ve got the softest hair,” I breathed out, unable to dam the embarrassing words.

  As mortification flooded me, I started to pull my hand away. Barrett took a hand from the steering wheel and caught it before I could get very far. He pulled my fingers to his mouth and kissed them. His lips, despite appearances, were as soft as his hair. I felt tingles all over from the touch. I still had no idea how I could be so attracted to such a frustrating, overbearing, jerk of a man. I hated that this little piece of affection from him made my brain completely space on how many times he’d grated my nerves and pissed me off in the last twenty-four hours. He was the opposite of everything I normally went for. But I was beginning to think that maybe that was a good thing.

  “You completely confuse me, Barrett,” I mumbled softly, letting him continue to hold my hand while he drove. “I don’t understand you at all.” I bit my lower lip. “No, that’s a lie. I do understand your job and your life a little better now. But I still don’t understand why you’re taking care of me. I don’t understand if you really like me or are just tolerating me. You go from bastard to beau in two hot seconds, and I can’t keep up.”

  “I think you’ve picked my soul enough for one day, Sam. Let’s save some secrets for later or I’ll lose all my mystery. I wonder if you’d be attracted to me if you knew all the shadows in my past.” He lowered our hands to his lap, but he didn’t let go. I shifted my body closer to him, because reaching across the bench seat was awkward…and I wasn’t ready to let go of him either. I still wanted Rose badly, but I was glad that I at least had Barrett. I had a feeling I wouldn’t make it far if I was completely on my own. I’d zomm out, attack someone, and they’d kill me, just as Barrett said—because even though I claimed he was a constant asshole, in actuality he was a realist. And the thing about reality was—most people didn’t want to face it, even during Armageddon.

  The miles passed. Victorville, 5 miles. “We’ll stop soon to refuel.”

  “Okay,” I replied nervously. “I need to pee like crazy too,” I added.

  “Yeah, it’s been a while. And we’ve got one of the ration crates, but I’d like to find something other than that to eat.”

  ***

  The gas station we pulled into about ten minutes later was inside the city limits of Victorville. We hadn’t seen a single living soul while driving down the streets. There’d been a smattering of the dead roaming about, and plenty of corpses, but no survivors.

  Barrett pulled into one of the wider spaces between pumps—the ones for eighteen-wheelers.

  “Stay put. I’ll see if the pumps are working.” He opened his door and got out.

  I didn’t fight him. The minute he’d shut off the truck engine, dread had grasped me by the heart. It felt right to be moving; it felt really, really wrong to sit still.

  “We’re good to go.” Barrett stuck his head back in the truck. “I’m going to fill up and then we’ll go inside together.”

  “You going inside to pay?” I said with forced humor.

  His mouth quirked up in a grin. “Do I seem l
ike an honest-to-God good guy all of a sudden?”

  I forced a smile in response, but it fell quickly. I leaned forward and stared out the windshield. “Don’t leave me here, okay?” I don’t know why I added that last bit—my terror doing the talking for me, maybe.

  Barrett, who’d already moved away to pump the diesel, came back into view. “I’m not leaving you, Sam. Loyalty, remember.”

  I wasn’t his crew—his self-claimed family—and I sure as hell wasn’t a crate of weapons or a bag of drugs, but in that moment I believed that he really wouldn’t leave me behind.

  About five minutes later, Barrett pulled my door open and I slid out of the truck. He was standing so close that when I stood on solid ground, we were a breath away from each other. He lifted a hand and gently pushed a strand of hair out of my face. He leaned toward me and I tilted up my chin. I thought he was going to kiss me—all the signs were there. But then he spoke. “Let’s find you a restroom. You could use a cleanup.”

  “Oh…right…” I stammered, almost stamping my foot when I saw the telltale quirk of his stupid Barrett smile.

  He reached into the truck and got the two rifles from the floorboards before he closed and locked up the truck. He handed me one and I held it awkwardly until deciding to thread the strap over my head and wear it on my back for the time being. I had Barrett for protection.

  I saw Barrett hesitate, looking at the back of the truck, but the bed could only be secured so much. He’d already rolled down the canvas flap so that what was inside was at least hidden from view. If someone was determined to get in, though, all they’d need do was ruin the thick canvas covering the support bars.

  Barrett and I walked slowly together toward the gas station store. I was scared and it showed in my hesitancy, but as usual Barrett’s steps were surefooted, like nothing in the world scared him. As it had been with the town so far, we saw no one on the short walk. I wondered if inside would be the same—or if someone, something, would be lying in wait, ready to attack.

  “Stay behind me,” he commanded as we paused outside the doors that should have automatically slid open for us, but hadn’t. Gently, he moved me behind his back until the scene in front of us was nearly obscured by Barrett’s large frame, at least from my point of view.

  Barrett slung the strap of the rifle over his arm so he could use both hands to pry open the door. He grunted as he forced the sliding glass frames apart; they protested and fought until they finally gave way and slid smoothly.

  He moved over the threshold and I shadowed close behind. Overturned displays had scattered bags of chips and cookies across the ivory linoleum that was scratched all to hell from years of abuse. I startled when I looked toward the checkout register and found a body lying across the counter. The body’s head was smashed in and his hand loosely gripped a chocolate bar. That greatly disturbed me, and I had no idea why.

  “Don’t stop moving,” Barrett reminded me quietly, turning around briefly to check on my progress. I hadn’t even realized I’d stopped walking. I’d just seen the chips and the cookies and the corpse and my legs had taken matters into their own hands—or feet, as it were.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, tiptoeing forward quickly and placing myself closely behind him once again.

  “Bathrooms.” Barrett pointed, turning down an aisle and heading toward an aged white sign hanging high on the wall that bore the normal boy/girl bathroom icons in faded black.

  If it wasn’t a zombie-eat-human world, I’d worry like I used to that the bathroom was probably filthy as hell. But my biggest worry nowadays wasn’t catching a venereal disease from a toilet seat. No, it was being murdered by zombies or even humans who might find out I’m currently ‘different’ than they are.

  As we approached the back of the store, I only saw one door beneath the bathroom sign. Painted across its filthy surface were the same boy/girl icons.

  Of course there would only be one bathroom.

  “I’m not going in there with you,” I blurted out without thinking, biting my lip and imagining trying to pee while Barrett stood nearby and could hear everything. I thought back to the armory, how I’d had to suffer the torture of peeing while Barrett was across the space. I’d been desperate then. Hell, I was desperate now. I had to pee so freaking bad.

  Barrett didn’t respond to me directly, instead mumbling ‘for fucks sake’ as he turned the rusty knob and opened the door slowly. He had his gun at the ready, not quite sticking the barrel through the gap he was creating.

  In an ideal situation, there would have been two bathrooms. Both single occupancy. No surprises in the next stall. And neither of us would have to wait alone out in the gas station store… or swallow the indignity of ‘doing our business’ next to another person. I mean, I couldn’t even pee while my fiancé brushed his teeth. I just couldn’t.

  You know, the apocalypse wouldn’t be so hard if a person could just ‘imagine’ the perfect scenarios all the time and survive that way.

  “It’s safe. You first.” Barrett spoke quietly and turned around, putting his back against the wall. His eyes moved, constantly sweeping the room. “Get yourself cleaned up as quick as you can.”

  I nodded, my bladder giving me no ability to argue. I didn’t lock the doorknob, just in case I needed him or he needed to escape into the room quickly. And I passed the small mirror, intent on peeing before I looked at my reflection and attempted to deal with the mess I would likely see looking back at me.

  Peeing while sitting on an actual toilet and not squatting over a hole in the ground was so humanizing. It was amazing what a touch of civilization could do to calm the nerves. Shifting the rifle to handle my business was annoying, but I didn’t want to take it off in case I needed it. Automatically when I was done, I flushed the toilet. I flinched at the sound; it was a tornado roar in the small space. “Idiot,” I hissed at myself.

  I opened the door quickly and checked for Barrett. He flicked me a glance. “You’re noisy.” He spoke quietly. “Hurry up.”

  Closing the door again, I rushed to the sink, gripping the edge of the small basin briefly before looking up at my reflection. Dried blood was splattered across my face and in my hair, but I wasn’t as covered in gore as I expected. My clothes, however, looked like they’d been tie-dyed with blood and smellier things, like I was some new age Armageddon hippie. I shook my head, hating what looked back at me, hating the haunted look in my eyes and the dark smudges of filth around my mouth. I refused to think about what the stains on my lips actually were…refused to think about what I’d eaten.

  I rinsed my face and hands quickly and then grabbed a paper towel, avoiding the automatic hand dryer like the damn plague. I flashed Barrett another apologetic smile when I exited the bathroom.

  “Do you wanna get cleaned up too?” I offered, my gaze moving up and down him.

  He actually still looked really, really good, despite the state of his skin and clothes, whereas I looked like a damn homeless person. If we both entered a Miss Undead Universe contest, I’d lose and he’d most definitely win. It wasn’t fair for him to look so sexy right then. Guess the end of the world wasn’t exactly full of fairness.

  “Yeah,” Barrett said, giving the gas station store another quick survey. He didn’t look happy. “Not sure how smart it is to leave you alone out here though.”

  That was the moment I realized that for Barrett to go to the bathroom meant I’d have to stay outside the door…by myself. The alternative—me going into the small space while he did his business—wasn’t going to happen. I mean, hearing someone else go was better than having someone hear me go, but… No. Not even over my sort-of-dead-but-not-so-dead body. He’d heard me pee once already. That was enough of that kind of bonding. Welcome to the apoc—we survive together and we shit together. Because everyone enjoys sharing every private second of their life with one another nowadays. Even being alive to urinate was precious.

  I steeled myself, straightening my shoulders. “I’ll be okay.”


  He studied me, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t move, keep the rifle ready. If something happens, you scurry like a starving rat to pull that damn trigger.”

  Pulling the rifle from off my back, I held it firmly in my grip. I could do this. “Hurry up.” I nodded. “Please.”

  “You should say pretty please,” he murmured, quirking an eyebrow, “with a whole lot of sugar on top.” Barrett reached with furtive fingers toward my face. He swiped his thumb quickly across my bottom lip. It sent shivers through me, even though it wasn’t the time nor the place for such a reaction.

  “Pretty please,” I said gently, biting my lower lip now that his hand was gone.

  “Don’t forget the sugar.” Barrett winked and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Chapter Six.

  The second the bathroom door closed, I regretted acting tough. I should have asked to go inside with him. I mean, I’d face the wall, close my eyes, cover my ears... Probably still have to listen to Barrett urinate because the acoustics in public bathrooms are insane. It would take sound dampening head phones to really block anything out.

  No. I would definitely not knock on the door and change my mind. My mind drifted back to my fiancé. Even with Travis I couldn’t be in the bathroom when he was using it. I mean, showering and being sexy, sure. That I could do. But those couples who are so close that one can brush their teeth while their partner is using the toilet? Also, did you know how many particles of… poo and pee get into the air when you’re going and… like, flushing? Floating around, landing on toothbrushes and washcloths and… No. I was so glad that I’d been knocked unconscious when Barrett had dug the hole and peed in the weapons cache.

  I’d probably have kept obsessing over bathroom grossness until Barrett came back out, had I not thought I heard a sound which made my poor heart leap to attention. I yanked the rifle up, my gaze darting around the store as I tried to find the source. I waited, but whatever it was didn’t happen a second time. “Hurry the hell up, Barrett,” I whispered to myself. He was taking longer than I had, and I was a freaking girl.