Determined To Live (19 page)

"Jake, I
wasn't kissing that guy―" I hurry to finish when I see his
jaw and fist tighten. "He was kissing me! I was trying to get
him off of me, I swear! I didn't even take him with me, he forced his
way in the truck. And then when the zombie got him, I didn't even try
to help. I still love you, Jake. Really!"

I don't think he
totally buys it, but his driving has improved quite a bit, and the
anger on his face doesn't appear to be as strong.

He puts his arm up
and I shrink away from it, until I realize he's only putting it
around me.
Still disturbing,
but I will take that over him beating the hell out of me any day.

He pulls me tight
against him and says, "I forgive you. I love you, and I forgive
you. But no more leaving me. Do you understand? No more trying to
kill me either. Let's just be happy. You
love
me, I
know
you do. And damn it, you're mine for the rest of your life."

For the rest of
my
life? I don't much like the sound of that.

I jump a little
when I realize he's expecting a response from me. Not the one I want
to give, obviously, but the one he wants to hear.

"No
more leaving or trying to kill you. I promise Jake. We're going to be
so
happy."
Good
lord, I hope the sarcasm wasn't as clear as it sounded to me.
But he grins real big and leans over, placing a kiss on my forehead.
I swear I feel a
tingling where he kissed me, like a million tiny infected bugs racing
over my skin.
I have the strongest
urge to wipe it away, but how pissed off would that make him?
So I do it the sneaky way, I lean my head against his shoulder and
then turn my head towards him to scrape the kiss away. Then I smile
up at him and sigh...like a happy woman who's reunited with her
brave, strong, and sane man.

I should have
been an actress.

He keeps driving
and I watch out the windows at all the people going the opposite way,
leaving the city. At first, I wish I were with them - leaving all
this behind, leaving Jake behind. Then I stop torturing myself.
What
good's it going to do?

I try to ignore the
other people not fortunate enough to be in the half-ass safety of a
vehicle. Jake won't help them - and I can't. But when I see a
teenaged girl running toward us, terrified and being stalked by half
a dozen undead, I break my silence and beg Jake to help. He looks at
me for a moment, then rolls his window down. The girl is almost to
us, screaming and crying, when Jake sticks his gun out and shoots.

He shot the
girl
!

She slams to the
ground when the bullet hits her leg. I scream and pull on Jake's arm
with my tied hands. Then the zombies reach her. I drop my arms and
turn away from the horrifying scene, doing my best to tune out the
screams of the girl, the sounds of the zombies eating on her flesh,
and the worst of it all - Jake's laughter.

He continues
driving and has a great time reliving the entire scene over and over
until I want to scream and tell him to shut the hell up, and also
letting him know how frikken nuts, psychotic, and disgusting he
really is. Finally, just before I turn stupid and do those things, he
shuts up.

But the scene
replays itself in my own mind without Jake's commentary.
I
hate him!

We stay in silence
and I duck my head the rest of the trip, unable to look at all the
people who are begging for help.
I've
learned my lesson trying to get Jake to help. Never again.

When the truck
rolls to a stop, I look up and see that we are back outside the
armory. The gate is closed but the inside has plenty of undead. I'm
confused about that until I remember I had crashed through the gate
when Larry and I were desperately trying to escape.

Jake slams his fist
on the dash and I flinch away. He growls at me and then gets out of
the truck. I watch to see what he plans to do, but he slams the door
and just leans against it. When an undead nears him, he lifts his gun
and shoots it - almost as an after-thought. He's obviously deeply in
thought, and I'm curious to see what he plans to do now - curious and
scared.

Finally he gets
back in, throws the truck in reverse - taking out a few zombies, or
live ones for all I know since I couldn't see them - then gets us
going straight again. He heads straight for the side gate and drives
through. As he follows the drive, he slams into any undead in our
way. Then he pulls up tight to the steps leading to the front door.

He reaches over me
and into the back, grabbing the pack. Then he pushes me to the
passenger side, opens the door and pushes me out. I grab hold of the
door to help hold myself up and watch as he gets out. Then he throws
me over his shoulder again and carries me up the steps. Once we're at
the top, he sets me down, listens, and then throws the doors open. He
informs me that it should be zombie-free since he's cleared it
earlier, but we can't take any chances.
Like
I'm an idiot.

Again, he carries
me inside and to the second floor into a large room. When he sets me
down in a large leather chair with thick padding and rollers on the
bottom, I look around and realize this was probably once the office
of a high-ranking official. The room is so out of place with the rest
of the cinder block building - with it's wood-paneled walls,
pictures, couch, soft carpet and personal bathroom complete with
shower and tub - that I sit with my mouth hanging open in shock.

Jake lets out a
sharp bark of laughter so I turn my attention to him. "Surprised
ya, didn't I? Nice place I got here, huh? Nothing but the best for my
wife!"

His what?

Holy shit.

"Uh, yeah.
Yeah, Jake. It's really nice. I like it, thanks." And then I go
back to "appreciating" the awesome place he's found for us,
though really, it's appeal has dropped considerably now. Jake moves
around the desk and opens a large bottom drawer. He throws in the
pack and unloads all the guns in his own fatigues except one. When he
has that one reloaded and more ammo stuffed in his pockets, he shuts
the door and withdraws a key from the top drawer. After making sure
the bottom drawer is locked tight, he drops the key into his top
pocket and zips it closed.

He puts his gun
inside a pocket on his pants and zips it closed too. Obviously so I
can't get to it so easily. Apparently, he doesn't trust me not to
shoot him when I promised him I wouldn't.
Crazy
he definitely is, but stupid - unfortunately - he is not.

He unties my hands
and I sigh in relief.
Not
because I think I have a chance of getting away now - Remember the
foot? - but because being tied just plain sucks!
Then Jake tries to throw me over his shoulder again to take me to the
couch, but I put my hand up on his chest and ask him if I could just
hop over.

He doesn't look
happy about the request and says, "But I liked carrying you. It
made me feel like a caveman carrying my woman!"

I bet it did,
moron.

I smile up at him.
"I liked it too, Jake, but I'm still too bruised up so it hurts
a little. Once I heal a little more, I would love for you to carry me
again."

He
buys it and helps me as I hop to the sofa. I watch him as he goes
into another door on the opposite side of the room from the bathroom,
one I hadn't noticed. He walks back out with his arms loaded with
pillows with real pillowcases and thick blankets, definitely not
military issued.
So
that must be a storage closet.

He
sets the pile on the sofa beside me, then goes back inside the other
room. I hear him moving around and hear water run, metal-sounding
bangs, cabinets and drawers opening and shutting. Eventually he comes
back out with two plates filled with food.
Ok.
So it's a kitchen.

I wonder if he
will get pissed if I tell him I'm not hungry? After Larry's platter
of food, I'm not sure I can eat another bite.

Jake sits next to
me then hands me one of the plates. I open my mouth to insist I'm not
hungry but when I see the eggs and bacon lying on the plate, my mouth
only opens to insert the bacon.
I don't even care about the eggs, but to say no to bacon? Who the
hell does that?

When
the last of the bacon is gone, I hand my plate back to Jake who's
been watching me eat. Creepy, and it totally screwed up the whole
enjoyment of bacon I had going on...a little. He raises a brow at the
eggs and I explain that I'm full as I'd had a bit to eat earlier,
leaving Larry out of it. He nods and takes the plates to the other
room. When he comes back, he asks if I'd like to have a shower.

Thinking
about the last time, I tell him, "No, I'm good."

He
nods again, goes back into the kitchen and comes back with a change
of fatigues and a towel. And now the other room is a linen and
clothes closet.
Good
grief!

He tells me he's
going to shower and will be right back, as he locks the door out of
this room with another key that he also takes with him. Deadbolt. I'm
not going anywhere.

Finally he goes
into the bathroom, but leaves the door wide open.
I
do my best to avoid looking in that direction, but have I ever told
you how freakin' amazing his body is? And do you think you could have
resisted? Yes? Liar!

His tight butt,
the rippling muscles, the perfectly tanned and flawless skin that
feels incredible under your hands. And then his― Never mind!

So being the
complete idiot that I am, he catches me checking out his body. When I
realize he's watching me as I'm watching him, my face burns and I
throw my back against the couch, sliding my butt down until I'm
almost off the damn sofa. I find my cast to be extremely interesting
until he gets in the shower, and again when the shower turns off and
he emerges from behind the curtain.

When
he comes out in just a damn pair of boxers, I gasp and squeeze my
eyes shut.
Why can't
he have a body to match his nasty mind?
Why!

When the sofa sinks
in next to me and I feel the heat from his body so close, I sit
straight up and struggle to stand. He lets me do it on my own and I
thank God for that. The last thing I need is his hands on me right
now. Without looking at him, I inform him I need to use the bathroom
and hop as fast as I can away from him.

As
I slam the door shut, his loud laughter is only slightly muted.
Jackass! Jerk! Idiot!
Moron!
And those are just the names I call myself.

I
hop to the toilet and while sitting there, I mentally tell myself
off. While washing my hands and face, I continue lecturing myself,
informing myself what I will
not
be doing. Which is mostly that I will
not
be lusting after that freak show out there!

I stare into the
mirror and remind myself of everything he's done; Will, my family,
Sara, all the innocent people he helped the zombies attack outside,
the teen girl, whatever he had watched be done to his own parents! By
the time I finish, my hatred of him is back in place...and so is the
fear.

I hop slowly to the
door and even more slowly open it. When I open it enough to see into
the other room, I almost fall over from surprise and horror!

The sofa is
actually a sofa-
bed
,
and Jake has it all pulled out and made up with the blankets. The
pillows are at the top - one of them with Jake's head on it.

He pulls the
blankets on the empty side back and grins at me. My eyes widen and my
mouth drops.
Oh this can't
be good!
I shake my head
hard and fast, and my working leg forgets how to work, as it starts
shaking like crazy too. I grab hold of the door frame to keep from
falling over. Jake's grin fades a little and he sits up.

"Either get
over here and get in bed, or I'll come get you. Make your choice."
The threat of him coming to get me doesn't sound as scary as he
should have made it. Because when I refuse to move - actually I'm
frozen in fear, so I can't really make any real choice - he makes me
wish I had run to the bed, cast and all.

He's up, out of the
bed, and rushing toward me so fast, I barely have time to take a
breath. The momentum of his fist in my face throws me back inside the
bathroom and close to the toilet on the opposite side. He roars with
anger and comes in after me. I'm trying to raise my upper body off
the floor, but my hands are sliding in the blood that his fist and
the bottom base of the toilet meeting my face produced. And my arms
are just too weak. When I feel his hand sink into my hair, I throw my
hands on his wrists and grab hold as he lifts me entirely by my hair.
I scream as he throws me in the direction of the tub. My body flies
over the porcelain's side, but my cast slams into it just before my
body crumbles to the bottom.