Born to Fight (Born #2)

Born to Fight (Born #2) Page 18

"WHERE WOLFIE GO?" he shrieks again. I crouch down with Leo and rock back and forth on my heels. They cross the woods to where I am panting and processing how to get rid of the little brat. Leo licks his lips and I shake my head, "No, let's not go extreme just yet." Leo yawns and gives me a sideways glance.

"WOLFIE!" he screams and claps his hands. I stand up suddenly. Her hand clamps around his lips when she sees my face. My lip twitches, fighting the sneer and venom that so badly wants out.

He starts to cry when he sees my face. I reach up and grab his chubby cheeks, "STOP!" I shout. I pull my hand away, "You want wolfie to bite you? You want the infected to kill us all? Stop talking."

Mary looks horrified, "What is your problem?"

I point around me, "I have killed tons of infected in these very hills, not to mention the military guys. My problem is that if that draws the attention of either, I will run as fast as I can. I will save my own ass. It's who I am."

Her face goes white. She looks around, "Shhhh. Andy, Mommy needs you to be a quiet boy. The bad people are in the woods."

He makes a face but he sees mine and stops. Will doesn’t talk. His arms are crossed across his wide chest. The shitty look on his face tells me we may be having a conversation later, one where his fingers leave bruise marks. I narrow my eyes when I look at him, "Whatever you're thinking, don’t. I'll kill you."

His lip lifts into a crooked grin, "I wasn’t thinking anything."

I feel the hatred burning off me in his direction, "Whenever you get that look, I get bruises. I'll kill you first."

He clenches his jaw, "You ran off and left me." He takes a breath, calming himself.

Mary puts a hand on his arm, "Let's just go on. If these woods are dangerous, we need to get going."

Will takes the blond demon and stalks past me. I look at Mary and feel it all over again. I am at the door of my cabin, about to turn the lock and help Anna but my stomach is telling me I will regret it.

I glance up the hill again but nothing moves, "I thought you didn’t trust him?"

"I don’t," she answers flatly.

"They didn’t follow you?"

She shakes her head, "They just wanted you all gone. Will let them in on the fact, Marshall isn’t running the show anymore. Why didn’t you tell me he was in a coma—thanks to Will? That improves how I feel about him."

I back up holding my bow ready, "Not me."

I turn and walk across the valley behind Will. The blond demon doesn’t make a sound the whole way up the hill.

Chapter Eight

The sight of the cabin makes me feel sick. Not ill, but scared and horrified. "Wait here," I whisper and sneak out of the bush. I creep across the yard to the front door. I glance in the window but the curtains cover them perfectly. I turn the knob but it doesn’t budge. I knock lightly.

Jake opens the door after a second and smiles at me. I could smack him, but I don’t. I turn and wave Will and Mary over. Leo is already through the front door. He seems anxious and excited.

Anna has the wood in and supplies on the counter. She's cleaned out the storage hiding space we had.

Jake points at the fire, "I lit it."

I laugh and close the door.

Will looks confused, "What is this place?"

I sigh, "Home."

Jake eyes his brother up, "Em grew up here. She lived here with Leo."

Will takes it all in, "I can see you here, you suit this level of control."

My jaw drops but Mary is too excited for me to fight back. She plops down on the sofa and moans, "Oh sweet Jesus." Her son climbs up on her and curls into a ball. Anna and Sarah hand them bowls of soup.

"Tomato," Sarah says like she is very proud. They must have run the entire way and set up the cabin for us all. We were slowed from Mary and constantly checking for followers. I made us take a small detour too, just to be sure we weren’t being followed. Leo scouted back, just like he used to. He stretches out by the fire and relaxes. I sit against him and take my bowl of tomato soup from Megs.

Will sits on the smaller couch, watching me. He wants to talk. I want to shoot him with an arrow. Maybe we'll do both.

The soup is good. It's salty and tasty. I canned it in the summer, when I managed to get the canner from the farmhouse up the hill. It was heavy and made the trip three days instead of one, but I managed to get tons of veggies and soups canned. I even made spaghetti sauce from Granny's recipe book. I nearly died when I found a huge container of salt at a house. It made my life better in too many ways to count, soaking blisters is at the top of that list.

I sigh when I take a bite. The smell and feel is the same. The heat of the fire, the smell of the dusty cabin, and the taste of Granny's famous tomato soup with salt, real sea salt.

"Damn, this is good." I look at Mary and smile.

She sips the bowl and moans into it.

I laugh and look at the rest of us. I realize then and there, I've done it. I let it feel good for a minute.

Anna knows what I mean. She smiles back at me, "We made it."

I nod, "Yup."

Sarah comes and sits beside me. She sips from the bowl and grins, "Almost as good as Cook’s food at the farm."

I grin, but the comment silences the room. She's eleven; she doesn’t get the pain that word has for the rest of us. I know that feeling. I never seem to know what pain other people have and always say the wrong thing. I don’t know it's wrong until I see the pain in their eyes. I glance up at Mary, "Sorry for snapping at you."

She shrugs, "I assume he's a regular boy. I forget he's one of them."

I wince. She puts a hand out, "I mean…"

I shake it off, "It's fine."

Sarah snuggles into me. I wrap an arm around her and kiss the top of her head, "We need to clean up for bed."

I drink back the rest of the soup and put my bowl down. "There are three beds and the couches turn into beds. Meg, you will bunk with Anna and me and Sarah in the first bedroom. The beds are bigger in there. The little room—we'll let Mary have. Boys, you can sleep on the couches. The toilet works in the bathroom, but not with a lot of toilet paper. I haul it up the mountain so please don’t use a ton. There is an outhouse in the yard—it works great. I put lye in it whenever I can find some. The well is drinkable water. I would boil it just because."

Mary scoops her son up and walks to the smaller room, "Thanks, Em."

I nod and stand, pulling Sarah with me. She yawns and wipes her eyes. I point to the room, "I'll get some wash buckets outside. Go in there and wait for me to bring them. Do not get into the beds without checking them for bugs. I haven’t been here in months."

I walk to the buckets and head out the front door.

Will scoops them from my hand and passes me the bow, "You guard my back and I'll fill them."

I nod and pull an arrow. I listen to the darkness surrounding us. Leo pads along behind me.

I lead him to the well. In the dim light of the moon, I see him waste the first few pours and smile. He knows.

"Why did you leave me behind?" he asks.

I hate myself for it and sigh, "We thought you felt like you had to choose between the retreat and me, and you chose them. We thought you might let them take me."

I hear his tone change to the defensive, "Emma, what do I have to do, besides carry you for miles, to show you I care about you? How about when I came for you when Marshall sold you out? Or when I defended you to Marshall?"

I step back from him and hold my arrow tight, "I have seen you go from fine to psycho in a short span of time. You've been fairly mean to me, Will."

"You still really don’t trust me?"

I shake my head into the dark night, "No. You have to earn trust and you scare me."

The water stops and I see him shifting in front of me. He takes a step forward and I lift the arrow. He walks right into it. I gulp when I see his face and he presses his chest into my arrow, "Do it. I'd rather die, than have you think I'd hurt you on purpose."

I release the tension and step back. He takes a huge breath of air and lifts his hand. I flinch, but he passes me the bucket of water he poured. In the dark, I make out the face he's wearing and it breaks my heart, "You really think I'd beat you, don’t you?"

I shake my head, "Not on purpose, but maybe because you can't control your anger or see your rage. I know I make you mad, and you make me mad, and we are crazy together."

He closes his eyes, "That makes me sick."

"Me too," I whisper. It does. I want him, I don’t know how I know or why I know, but I do. I want him to hold me and kiss me, take our clothes off, and make me feel things I don’t know if I can or not.

"I want to make you happy, make you smile, and be with you—protect you," he whispers back.

I shake my head, "I know but the hurt in you and the hurt in me makes us a bad combination. Two hurt and broken things can't ever make a whole thing." I read that in a romance novel and I never knew what it meant before.

He steps into my space, looming down over me, "But Jake makes you complete?"

I swallow, looking up at him, "He does. All those things you want for me, the smiling, the happy, and the peaceful—he makes me those things."

The look on his face is breaking my heart in the dark. I want to close my eyes and stop seeing it, but I don't trust him enough. I step backwards, "I can't be with either of you, Will. No matter what I want in the world, I have a separate goal. It's gotta get met. If I don’t stop him, no one will and shit will never change. I gotta be the hero of my story and my story doesn’t have anything to do with a boy and girl—just a man and the monster he made." I never read that in a story. I made it up, but I imagine it's exactly what Mary Shelly was thinking when she wrote Frankenstein. I grip the handle of the bucket and back away again.