Determined To Live (12 page)

"Where is she?
Is she with you now? Is she hurt? Please let me talk to her. Let me
hear her voice," he begs me.

I
look over at Mel just as she gives a light snore.

"Mr. Hunter,
she's asleep. She's had a rough couple days - well, rougher than
normal. She was hiding in the bathroom because the people who
kidnapped her had turned to zombies. But she's ok," I rush to
assure him. "I'm not sure if waking her up and thrusting the
phone at her is a good idea."

I hear her daddy
sob even harder, and my heart breaks for him.

"Alan, look,
here's what we'll do. I'll go ahead and wake her, we'll be leaving
shortly, anyway. I'll explain all this to her so that it doesn't give
her a shock when she talks to you, and maybe you ought to explain
things to your wife. Then I'll call you back wh―"

"No!
Please don't hang up.
Please
?
Can't you just leave the phone on while you talk to her? Please, I
just need to know she's ok. I need to hear her voice."

I think about it
for a minute, then agree it might be best. Maybe by the time she
talks to him, he'll have calmed down - at least a little.

"Ok, Alan. I
can do that. I'm setting the phone down now."

"Ok." And
then I hear him scream excitedly for his wife.

I lean over and
lightly shake Mel. She groans and tries to move away from my hand,
but she can't go too far before the couch stops her.

"Mel. Hey
honey, wake up. I need to talk to you."

A few more
attempts, and she finally sits up slowly and rubs her eyes. After she
lets out a big yawn, she focuses on me.

"Mel, I have
some things to talk to you about. First, my family is coming to get
us out of here."

Her eyes light up
at that news and she quietly claps, softly saying "Yay!"

"There's
something even better, Mel." She grins at just the thought of
something better than leaving this house. "Mel, I found your
mommy and daddy. They've been looking all over for you."

"
Really
?
You found them? They still love me?"

I pull Mel onto my
lap and hold her tight. "Of course they do, Mel! In fact,
they're waiting to talk to you on my phone right now." I hold
the phone up and she snatches it lightning fast.

"Mommy!
Daddy!" she yells into the phone.

I
hear the muffled responses - although loud, I still can't make out
actual words.
But
I don't really need to, now do I? It's pretty obvious.

I ask Mel to move
to the couch so I can get up, but I have to help her because she's
shaking so hard from excitement and has a death grip on the phone. I
fumble with my crutches and finally stand, my body aching and
rebelling at the promise of rest that seems to never actually happen.

As I leave the
room, I grin when I hear Mel tell her parents that, "Aunt Ana -
that's what I named her cause her name was weird. I wanted to name
her Buffy, but she said Buffy doesn't kill zombies she kills vampires
- but she has a broken foot and has owies all over her!" Then I
groan and swing out of the room faster when she adds, "even on
her butt!"

Shaking my head -
my face burning with embarrassment - I enter the kitchen, then Mel's
room. I find a change of warm clothes and stuff them into my shirt to
free my hands. Then I gather everything we will need, placing it all
close to the back door.

Going back to the
living room, I sit in a chair - bought more for looks than comfort -
that is placed next to a front window. As I watch for my family, I
smile listening to Mel's side of the conversation. After a few more
minutes, I tell Mel to bring me the phone, and she does -
reluctantly. She says "Goodbye" and "See you soon!"
to her parents, and then hands me my phone.

"Mr. and Mrs.
Hunter, can you text me your address and directions to get to your
house to this number?"

They tell me they
will, then I ask, "How many zombies do you think are there?"

Mr. Hunter answers,
"I would say at least fifty or sixty."

I groan and rub my
face with my free hand. "Alright. We'll be there as soon as we
can."

"Ok. Thank
you. Thank you so much for everything, but especially for Mel.
Please, Ana, please keep her safe," he begs me.

"You bet your
ass I will." I pause and then, "Mr. Hunter?"

"Yes?"

"The
name is
Aunt
Ana."

He chuckles. "So
I hear. See you soon?"

"Yep. Bye."
And we disconnect.

Mel
is so excited that it takes me a few times to get her to change
clothes. Once I firmly tell her to get changed
now
,
she does in a hurry.
But
she never stops her happy chatter and I don't blame her a bit.

I take a hurried
glance out the window and my heart races when I see headlights of a
vehicle turn into the drive. I search for the other vehicles, knowing
they wouldn't have sent only one since I told them about the zombies,
but there's no more following it. Plus, it hasn't been long enough
for my family to get here.

Thankful I'd shut
all the lights off, but still not sure if whoever it is can see me
through the window, I duck down and whisper for Mel to get down and
get over beside me. As we wait for the car to pass by us and head
towards the back, Mel doesn't say a word. A horrible sharp sense of
danger, and an intense feeling of needing to run and hide, has me
panting in fear.

Something's
so
not right!

"Mel, stay
down, stay quiet, and follow me." She nods, her eyes wide as she
senses my fear. I quickly silence my phone and shove it into one of
my pockets, snag the loops of the duffel bag, and still on my knees,
push everything in front of me as I make my way to the bedroom with
the broken window. Mel brings my crutches.

I can hear the bang
of a gun going off outside as we both are crawling inside the room.
When I turn back to shut and lock the door, my eyes flash to the big
ass armoire blocking the window.

Damn it!

I forgot about
that.

Even if there
are zombies outside, an escape route would still be nice.

But before I can
try to move it, I hear the back door crash open. I grab Melody and
push her towards the armoire. After removing the vases and mirror, I
help her inside the cabinet and assure her it'll be alright but to be
very, very quiet. I see a pad and pen lying on the nightstand nearby
and grab them. Then I pull out my phone and frantically write down
her address, her name, and "help her" on it. I also write,
"Tell my boys I love them." Ripping the paper off the pad,
I fold it and shove it into Mel's pocket.

"Baby, listen
to me. If anything happens to me, stay in here. No matter what! My
family will be the next people to come here, and when they do, give
them this." -
I can
only pray my family IS the next to come. There's nothing more I can
do.
- "I love you. Now
stay inside and keep quiet."

She nods as I shut
the doors of the armoire. I shove the duffel bag and crutches under
the bed and pull the sheet and comforter down to hide them. Then I
crawl as fast as I can to the closet. I have just enough time to get
inside the closet and pull the door until it's closed all but a
crack, when the bedroom door bursts open with a hard kick and slams
against the back wall.

Jake stands in the
doorway. The man with the huge body loaded with muscles. The man
whose body I very much admired and had touched, kissed, felt against
me. The same man who had claimed to love me, who was so gentle and
sweet to me.

I
feel bile rise up once again knowing that this man - who had been all
those things - was
never
those things.

Will was right
about Jake.

Will was right
this whole time.

Fear in my mind,
body, and soul, I watch as he scans the room with his eyes. He takes
a few steps inside the room, then stops.

My
heart is pounding so hard that I'm
positive
he can hear it.

"Hey, Canada!
Where are you? I know you're here. I have a program on my phone that
tracks all those Hummers. Mine is right outside in the garage."

I close my eyes
briefly, as fear rushes around inside me even faster. As quietly as
I can, I pull my gun from the fatigue holster, and aim it towards the
small crack in the door.

"Canada!"
he screams.

I jump and my heart
stutters in my chest. I watch him as he starts to walk around the
room. He flings the bathroom door open, and disappears inside. I
glance over at the armoire and horror fills me when I see a piece of
Mel's shirt caught between the two cabinet doors. If she were to
move, it would probably open the doors.

Please don't
move, Mel. Please don't move.

But of course,
what freakin' happens?

Damn it!

Jake walks back
into the room just as the cabinet slowly starts to creak open. I let
out a small sigh of relief when it stops, just barely open a crack.
But apparently, that's enough for Jake.

He'd been watching
as the cabinet opened and is now grinning like a fool. Then with a
strut in his step, he walks toward the armoire.

Shit!

No!

I fling the closet
door open and yell, "Jake!"

Jake
immediately stops and turns in my direction, his eyes wide from the
surprise of seeing me not where he expected to -
as
if my fat ass could even fit in that damn cabinet
!

He starts walking
in my direction and I raise my gun.

"Jake, stop!
Don't come any closer."

He stops and raises
his hands. "What's the matter with you? I love you, Canada.
Remember?" he says with a calm voice and a confident smile.

"Jake, where's
Will?"

"Oh,
come on!" He shouts at me with disgust. "Who the hell
cares
where Will is? This is about you and me and nobody else, damn it!"

"Jake,
where
the hell is my husband
!"
I scream at him.

He rushes me and I
pull the trigger.

Click.

What the hell!

Again?

You gotta be
frikken' kidding me!

I stare at the gun
in disbelief until Jake's laugh has me swinging my head up at him.
His eyes turn from humor to an intensity that takes my breath
away...from fear this time, not lust.

I'm so screwed.

He stalks toward me
and when he's directly over my head, he leans down, grabs my arm
tight and pulls me to my feet. And of course, my phone falls out of
my pocket. I say nothing and hope he doesn't notice, knowing he will
just take it from me anyway.

"You're
comin' with me now. You're
mine
,"
he growls at me, grinning.

He starts to pull
me toward the door, but when I cry out because my body starts to
collapse from only having one working foot, he stops, looks down at
my cast, and swears.

"My crutches,
Jake," I beg him. Then I want to smack myself upside the head.
My crutches are with his bag, and I don't want him finding that bag!

"
Hell
no! I'm not giving you any damn thing to use as a weapon."

Then
he scoops me up in his arms.
The
thought of going down all those steps like this scares the hell out
of me. Yeah, I know I did it before, but Jake's different now.
Dangerous. I don't feel safe with him at all. But obviously, I'm not
in charge and have no say.
I briefly consider
causing
us to fall down the stairs with some hope of getting away, but
knowing my luck, he'd be ok and I wouldn't, and then he'd be
incredibly pissed.