Red Eye | Season 2 | Episode 3 Read online

  Crackle. “Promises, promises.”

  Press. “I mean it Barrett.” Release.

  Crackle. “Look, I’ll do what’s necessary. If it’s a survivor and not a monster, I’ll get what I need and try to leave them alive. Now don’t talk again. I’m going in.”

  I was thrust into silence again and I found it unsteadying—like barreling down a rollercoaster and heading toward a pitch-black tunnel at the bottom. I worried at my bottom lip, chewing hard and splitting it open because I wasn’t being careful. A drop of blood welled and I licked at it quickly. I hated how good it tasted.

  Crackle. “Not human.” His voice was strained.

  Press. “Dammit. Were you sure, Barrett?” Release.

  Crackle. “Not human,” he repeated.

  I hated the world. I hated that the shadow in the mechanic’s office hadn’t been human. I wanted, so desperately, to do a fraction of good. A plus sign to write into my ledger that was so, so full of negatives right then.

  The time stretched and the radio stayed silent. Bored, I began opening every drawer in the room, starting with the end table between the two beds. A Bible. A notepad. A pen. A complimentary pack of tissues. I held little hope that the dresser would have better, but was surprised when I found one drawer contained neatly folded clothing. Women’s, not quite my size, but they were clean. In the drawer below that was a duffel bag, empty and compressed to fit the space.

  I wondered who they belonged to and how they’d come to leave them behind in the hotel room. There were no other signs of occupancy. Feeling a bit guilty, I took the pair of pinstripe trousers—a bit too big at the waist, but thankfully long enough, which I didn’t expect—and then a maroon shirt, which was much bigger than I’d thought it would be, given the size of the pants. Then I found the bra under the shirt and it made sense. Anyone with 34 DDD boobs was going to need a roomy top. I hesitated, looking at the dainty rolls of panties. Could I take a stranger’s underwear? I mean, it looked clean…

  Yes. Because the ones I wore were so, so gross and I was at the point where I didn’t care how I got clean undergarments.

  I tucked the clothes under my arm and picked the radio back up. Press. “Barrett, are you still okay?” Release.

  Crackle. “Fine. I’ve got the truck in the shop, trying to find what the fuck is wrong and hoping to hell they’ve got parts here.”

  Press. “I’m going to take a shower if you think it’s safe to.” Release.

  Crackle. A pause. Then finally— “Take the radio and the rifle with you.”

  Press. “Okay.” Release.

  The water didn’t get steaming hot, as I hoped it would—lukewarm at best. But it was wet and there were several bottles of generic shampoo, conditioner, and body wash to exploit. I stripped down gratefully. At first I tossed all the clothes into the trash, but on second thought I pulled the jeans back out. Who knew how easy it would be to find more clothes on the road? The silk top was ruined and the blazer was a wrinkled mess, but it was hard to completely destroy a pair of Levi’s.

  I tossed the jeans into the bottom of the shower, hoping they’d come clean from all the soap I planned to pour all over my body.

  Stepping into the warm stream was heaven.

  It felt better than anything ever had in my entire life. Literally no exceptions. I swayed under the wetness, reveling in the way it slipped down my body. I took the folded washcloth from the towel rack inside the small shower stall and soaked it down before squeezing almost an entire bottle of vanilla-scented soap onto the material. I took my time, cleaning every nook and cranny of myself—twice. And then I did my hair, shampooing over and over again until I worried I’d lose half my hair from scratching at my scalp and lathering the strands.

  I was sad to turn off the water, but it got to the point where staying in the shower any longer would verge on ridiculousness. And…the radio had been quiet the whole time I’d scrubbed and danced around in the water.

  I picked up the soaked jeans and wrung out as much water as I could before hanging them over the curtain rod. Drying myself next, I then slipped into the dark purple lace-trimmed underwear. Like the pants, they were a little big, but they stayed up on my hips well enough. The slacks came next, and they felt wonderful compared to the stiff jeans. The shirt looked like an oversized tent, but I knotted it at the waist. It smelled like fabric softener. I loved that smell. Better than any perfume.

  Leaving the bathroom behind, I walked out into the main hotel room holding the radio and rifle. I set the latter down on the closest bed and depressed the comm button once more. “Barrett?”

  Crackle. “Yeah?”

  Press. “Just making sure.” Release.

  Crackle. “I’m here. I found the problem.”

  Press. “Is it bad?” Release.

  Crackle. “I’ll tell you when I come back. Just sit tight.”

  I nodded, but he couldn’t see me, of course. Press. “Not much longer then?” Release.

  Crackle. “No. And be ready to go when I get back.”

  Press. “You should shower first and maybe rest. There’s shampoo and soap. I found some clothes. No guy stuff though.” Release.

  Crackle. “No.”

  That caught me off guard, because Barrett’s voice was clipped and controlled. I wanted to ask what was wrong. There was something wrong. I could tell.

  Press. “Barrett…” Release. I didn’t know what to say—a million thoughts were racing through my head. All the terrible possibilities. I mean, god. I wasn’t even sure what they could actually be. It was like my mind was taking dark, indescribable shadows and turning them into the boogeyman. Faceless damn fears. What could Barrett have possibly found while searching the engine? It was just a faulty wire or…or a fuse that needed replacing. Or whatever the else could easily go wrong with a freaking truck. There was nothing to fear, even though that single word uttered so resolutely made me know otherwise.

  No.

  Press. “Barrett, just hurry back. I’m jumping at shadows here.” Release.

  Crackle. “As soon as I can.”

  I didn’t put the radio down; I needed to hold it and have that stupid, totally unhelpful connection to the man in the next building over. I did look for new ways to quell the nerve-racking boredom. When the new ways ran out, I shifted back to shit I’d already tried.

  Even though I knew it was futile, I pressed the remote control On button again and then threw the black rectangle across the room when it failed to serve me the way I wanted it to. I mean, was it too much to ask to have the television magically come on that time, after it didn’t originally? I opened and closed all the drawers again, finding nothing new. I ate another box of cereal, and then wished I hadn’t when I realized I had no toothbrush to clean all the sticky residue off my teeth.

  The minutes stretched into another half hour. I fought the urge to check on Barrett again.

  I was just about to break when a soft knock vibrated the door and his voice followed. “Sam, open the door.”

  I bolted for the entrance, pressing my eye to the peephole that time before undoing the latch. “Thank God,” I breathed out, standing to the side so he could enter. I still clutched the radio in one hand, even though its purpose was served. When I went to close the door, he stopped me.

  “No, don’t bother. We’re going now. Quick-like.” His face was strained, more worried than I’d seen it yet—and that was saying something, considering what we’d faced together since meeting in the airport. God, that felt like a lifetime ago now.

  “I don’t understand. What’s the hurry?”

  I watched him move to the bed and pick up my rifle. “Anything else?” He eyed the room.

  I shook my head, and then changed my mind. “Yes. Wait.” I moved quickly to the dresser and grabbed the duffel bag, then emptied all the clothing from the next drawer up into it.

  Barrett watched quickly, his gaze flicking to the open door and the truck idling. “Done?”

  “Yes.” I nodded.
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  “Come on.” He rushed out of the room and I followed. It wasn’t until we were in the truck and driving away that I realized I’d never put my shoes back on.

  “Shit,” I muttered, angry at myself.

  “What?” He steered us slowly onto the road, his body language still on high alert.

  “I forgot my fucking shoes.” I pointed down at my bare feet, wishing at the very least the clothes I’d taken from the room had included socks. There hadn’t been any. I was all toes and soles now, my exposed, busted-up joints crooked and malformed from years of pointe. I instinctively covered my right foot with my left. The right always looked worse to me.

  “We’ll figure that out later.” There was no trace of humor in his voice. I’d expected him to make some crack about how bad a survivor I was, but he didn’t. And that clenched at my chest, emotions rising like a tide, the tinge of red teasing my vision. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my heartbeat.

  “Barrett, tell me what’s going on.”

  “The problem with the truck was an easy fix, Sam. But the problem didn’t exist when I picked that truck. Do you understand?” He took a soft right, merging onto a new stretch of highway.

  “Barrett…” I shook my head. “No, I don’t get it.”

  “Somehow the coolant hose connector was damaged and the seal was broken. The engine can’t run smoothly like that. If you drive it too long, you can cause irreparable damage to the vehicle.”

  “How could that have happened?” I frowned, thinking. I wasn’t a conspiracy theorist and my mind didn’t automatically jump to paranoia and fear of human awfulness.

  “Not on its own…” Barrett’s stern voice trailed off. “If I had to guess, I’d say someone wanted us stranded on the side of the road.”

  My mouth dropped into a little O of surprise. “But why wouldn’t they follow us? Why let me sit in a hotel room while you fixed the damage?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m telling you, the connector didn’t bust up on its own. I checked this truck, Sam. I checked this fucking truck top to goddamn bottom.” He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel angrily.

  I jumped, a jolt of unease rocketing through my body. I checked the side-view mirror furtively, half-expecting someone to be tailing us, waiting for the engine to bust so we’d be easy prey. “Are you a hundred percent sure?”

  “No, I’m not a hundred fucking percent sure,” he growled, “but I’m not taking any fucking chances. Are you?”

  I didn’t answer.

  We were several miles from the motel and auto shop then; every few seconds, I checked the mirrors. Barrett did the same. We passed a road sign. Las Vegas, NV 190 miles. Maybe Barrett was wrong. Maybe the connector had busted because it was faulty. That was just as probable. Wasn’t it? I folded my legs beneath me and hugged myself tightly.

  We should only have had to fear the dead, not the living.

  But carrion birds existed.

  Opportunists.

  Waiting to feed themselves.

  Episode Four coming February 20th

  Stay tuned…

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Claire C. Riley is a USA Today and international bestselling author.

  She’s a genre jumping book nerd who likes to write about psycho stalkers, alpha males and the strong women that love them, moody anti-heroes, and the end of the bloody world! A lover of all things dark and dirty, she likes to write books that f**k with your heart, and your head.

  She lives in the United Kingdom with her husband, three daughters and ridiculously naughty rescue beagle aka Dogface.

  She also really likes drinking cheap instant coffee, because she’s not a coffee snob like Elizabeth. (wink wink)

  Also by Claire C. Riley

  Post-Apocalypse:

  Odium The Dead Saga Series

  Odium Origins Series

  Out of the Dark #1

  Red Eye The Armageddon Series - co-authored with Eli Constant

  Thicker than Blood #1 – co-authored with Madeline Sheehan

  Beneath Blood and Bone #2 – co-authored with Madeline Sheehan

  Paranormal Romance:

  Limerence. (The Obsession Series)

  Limerence II (The Obsession Series)

  Twisted Magic Raven’s Cove

  Thriller:

  Beautiful Victim

  Horror:

  Blood Claim

  MC Romance:

  Ride or Die a Devil’s Highwaymen series

  Nomad the Devil’s Highwaymen Series:

  Crank #1,

  Sketch #2,

  Battle #3,

  Fighter #4,

  Cowboy #5 – coming soon

  New Adult Romance:

  Wrath #3 the Elite Seven Series

  Contemporary Romance:

  Shut Up & Kiss Me – co-authored with Madeline Sheehan

  Short Stories/Anthology contributions

  Lockdown

  Treasured Chests

  Let’s Scare Cancer to Death

  Painted Mayhem

  State of Horror Illinois

  CONTACT LINKS:

  Website: www.clairecriley.com

  Claire C. Riley FB page: https://www.facebook.com/ClaireCRileyAuthor/

  Amazon: http://amzn.to/1GDpF3I

  Reader Group: Riley’s Rebels: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ClaireCRileyFansGroup/

  Newsletter Sign-up: http://bit.ly/2xTY2bx

  IG: https://www.instagram.com/redheadapocalypse/

  @ClaireCRiley

  Eli Constant also writes as Eliza Grace.

  Eli adores all things quirky, eats ice cream with a fork, and likes warm Dr. Pepper (on a cool day). She once thought she'd marry Martin Short... until she discovered Alan Rickman. #Always (She might also have Martin Freeman and Simon Pegg on her 'I get a pass' list. And, please, don't get her started on Jeff Godblum... erhm, Goldblum. #lifefindsaway).

  The most important things to her are family, friends, books, and dresses with pockets. Typically in that order. Also really, really good coffee (winks at Claire).

  Available Books by Eli Constant:

  The Victoria Cage Necromancer Series,

  The Dead Trees Series,

  The Water is Sweeter,

  To Scream Within a Dream,

  and more…

  Available Books by Eliza Grace:

  The Shadow Forest Series (completed trilogy),

  The Birthright,

  A Shade of Hades (Book 1 coming 2020)

  Available Co-authored Books:

  Scatter My Ashes,

  Darwin’s Fall,

  and more…

  *

  Stalk Eli Constant on social media:

  Website: www.authoreliconstant.com

  Newsletter: https://www.authoreliconstant.com/newsletter-subscription

  Reader Group: Beastly Books & Badass Readers: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1996067960679574/

  Twitter: @Author_EliC

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorEliConstant/

  Books on Amazon: https://amzn.to/30Y0KJk

  Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2LWSiGj

  MORE FROM THE AUTHORS

  Have you read…

  Beneath Blood & Bone

  By Claire C. Riley & Madeline Sheehan

  About the book:

  It is the end of the world…

  They call him Eagle. Like the grand and beautiful animal that symbolizes freedom. And during these dark times, when humanity is full of nothing but suffering, a man with such a powerful name should be a beacon of hope.

  He is anything but.

  Her name is Autumn—though she hasn’t said this name, or much of anything else, in the four years since the fall of civilization. A shell of her former self, living wild in a cave at the bottom of a ravine, Autumn is accustomed to being alone. She prefers it, actually—especially when her only options for company are either trying to kill her, or worse, lock her up inside their walls.

  Captured by Eagle’
s people, Autumn is suddenly thrust back into the land of the living—though she would hardly call it living. The community of Purgatory is full of sinners, the most evil of which seem to have set their sights on her.

  In an act born of anger and defiance, Eagle becomes Autumn’s unexpected savior, forcing these two solitary people into one another’s broken worlds. Neither knows quite what to make of the other, but one thing is certain: to survive Purgatory, they will need to learn how to rely on each other—a feat that could quite possibly teach them how to live again.

  Prologue

  We’d thought ourselves strong. Capable. Fierce enough to rage against the death that threatened, powerful enough to conquer it, and to save those we loved. To save what so many before us had spilled their blood and bone to keep our country standing.

  We were Americans after all. Mutts. The junkyard dogs of the world. The unwanted and enslaved brought together by a common bond. Created from the heavy hand of tyranny, we evolved, grew stronger, fought for our survival and our freedom.

  And this…this was only a virus, the Vaal fever, born from the third world. It wouldn’t, couldn’t touch us. We wouldn’t allow it.

  Nothing could touch us. Not truly, not the heart of us. Many had tried, all had failed. As a country we always persevered. Wars, terrorism, disease, each and every time we came out fighting, turning us from strangers occupying one mass of land to a united front, standing tall against any threat, hand in hand, hearts of one mind, ready to fight to the end to save our proud country and everything the United States of America stood for.

  Only…we never imagined that the ultimate threat would be our neighbors, our friends, and worst of all, our families. We weren’t prepared, not for this, not for enemy who wore your wife’s face, who had your daughter’s eyes, your son’s dimples…