Determined To Live (13 page)

"Where are we
going, Jake?" I ask him. The panic in my voice sickens me.

"To the armory
in Kansas City," he responds.

He takes a look
around the room. "Is there anything you need before we leave?"

I
think of his duffel bag but there's no way in hell I'm going to let
him know that
I
know about that. So I shake my head no. As we pass the armoire, I fix
my eyes on it and see Mel peeking out of the crack between the doors.
I mouth to her that I love her and to be quiet. Her eyes are filled
with terror, but she nods. I pray she isn't too scared to come out
when my family gets here and that she gets back to her parents
safely. Then we're through the door and making our way to the back of
the house.

Jake
has no concern for anything but getting out, so when my cast bumps
into and breaks whatever gets in the way, he just keeps going. When
we reach the top of the porch steps, I again consider causing us to
fall, until I look down at the ground so far away. Done it once
before on the front steps, but I just can't do it again. I squeeze my
eyes shut, praying
he
doesn't cause us to fall.

But we make it down
safely and he props me against the outside wall of the garage as he
opens the doors. Picking me up again, he carries me to the driver's
side and sets me on the seat, then tells me to scoot over. I do and
he gets in, starts the truck, and backs out. At the end of the
driveway, he turns left. Away from Hill City. Away from my family.

After
a few miles, he attempts to talk to me as if everything is the same
as it was
before
I knew he was a freakin' nut. But I know better now. His outer shell
is still so beautiful, but his inner-self is black with decay.

Before I start
throwing up, I interrupt his claims of love for me and all the things
he wants to do to me. "Jake? What are you going to do with me?"
I can't hide the fear. I'm
not strong enough to do that.

Damn it all!

I hate being
such a wimp, so helpless and weak.

"I
just told you!" he screams at me with intense anger, which
causes me to cower in fear against the passenger door. "I'm
going to
finally
have you and no one is going to stop us this time. You're going to
love me and be with me forever. You're not going to leave me just
because I have a bad day. You won't call me crazy and tell me you
can't 'deal with me anymore.' You're mine!
Mine
,
damn it! When the hell are you going to get that through your head?"
And then his hand moves so fast I barely see it, but I feel it quite
well when it slams into my face.

Blood
spurts out of my nose and my lower lip swells instantly. I raise my
hands to cover my face from any more abuse. And I cry. I scream at
myself, "
Stop
crying! Stop being a little bitch
!"
But
I
am
a little bitch, because I continue crying. Silently as I can, but
still crying.

I'm definitely
scared of him now, even more than I was. I guess I thought since he
"wanted me" so much, he wouldn't hurt me.

Boy was I wrong!

Suddenly, he stops
the truck, hard and fast. Rocks and dust fly everywhere from the
country road. When we finally come to a complete stop the truck is at
an angle. Jake slams the truck into park and I cower as low as I can
from him as he leans over me.

He
gently runs his hand over my head and starts...
crying
!
"I'm so sorry, Canada. I never meant to hurt you. I love you."

He lifts my head
and smashes his mouth down onto mine, which hurts so much with the
busted lip, but my protests and gasps from pain never registers in
his mind. He grinds his lips against mine, and my moans of pain are
apparently mistaken for moans of pleasure to him. His hands start
frantically ripping my shirt open and my skin burns from the
roughness of his hands, not a bit of gentleness in them.

Holy shit!

He's gonna rape
me!

The moment he moves
his mouth from my own, and starts to head down to my chest, I open my
mouth, "Jake, please! You told me our first time would be in a
bed. Remember?"

Oh, please let
that still be important to him!

He raises his head
and stares at me for a long moment. The anger I see in them scare me,
as it makes me think he's going to hit me again. But just as the fear
starts to become overwhelming, his eyes lose the anger and soften. He
smiles and cups my cheek with his hand.

"You're right.
I just can't resist you."

Oh good lord.

Resist
me?
Me
?

What a nut!

I
should have known he was crazier than shit the moment he started
being interested in me. He's too pretty for someone like me.
Way
too pretty. But then again, being a frikken nut obviously cut his
chances of having a woman even close to his degree of prettiness.

He holds his hand
out to me. "Give me your phone."

I make a show of
checking my pockets and then dramatically freak-out when I can't find
it. "I must have lost it, Jake!"

Knowing he would, I
submit to his search of my fatigues, although he spends far more time
in certain places than he needs to.

Satisfied
that I do
not
have my phone, he slides back in the driver's seat and puts the truck
in gear. As he straightens the truck and continues down the road, I
briefly wonder if I shouldn't have just let him do what he wanted and
given my family time to come after us. But I dismiss that thought,
unable to allow him to touch me - let alone do anything more -
knowing what I know about him now.

I sit up in the
seat and sneak a peek in the side mirror, praying for headlights, but
I see nothing but dark empty road lined with tall dark trees. Hope
disappears. I resign myself to the fact I'm on my own.
Being
as scared, as crippled, as beat up as I am, I'm screwed. I laugh at
myself inside my head. Even without all that, I'm still too damn weak
to take on someone like Jake.

You are a damn
fool to even think you can.

Just forget it.

You're Jake's
now, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.

I
let my body relax numbly against the seat, my head falling forward in
defeat.
So
this is it. I will never see my kids or family again. I'm Jake's
property now.

Jake reaches over
and rests his hand on my leg. I look out the side window and just
blank out my mind.

It's done.

It's all over.

I lose.

It seems like
we've been on the road for days, but really it's only been an hour or
so. Maybe two.

Whatever.

Does it even
matter?

Nope.

We pull up to a
gate similar to the two others we'd been to together. He starts to
get out of the truck, then pauses, and slides back in and looks at
me. Grinning he says, "I almost screwed up there, didn't I?"

Then he reaches
over the seat and grabs the ropes that had held Sara at one time. He
ties my hands behind my back, leaving me enough slack to be able to
keep my arms down, and ties the rest of the rope around the headrest
behind me.

"Can't very
well take the keys, now can I? And there's no point taking the
screwdriver. I know very well how clever you are," he tells me.

I
watch as he gets out of the truck and opens the gate, runs back to
the truck and drives inside, then gets back out and closes the gate.
A few cars drive past, fast and unconcerned with anything but getting
the hell away and safe. The dead are wandering all over KC, but there
are quite a few people who are still alive. Some running for their
lives, some driving like maniacs to get out, some being outnumbered
and on their way to becoming zombies themselves. We passed several
who begged for our help, a few even running alongside the truck,
screaming at Jake to stop, to help them. But Jake ignored them all,
even when I begged him to help. His concern didn't include anything -
or
anyone
- else.

I met the eyes of
so many of the people who only wanted one thing...to live. Little
kids, babies, elderly, and everyone in between, all doomed for a
horrible fate if they didn't get to safety soon.

Now as we're safely
locked inside the armory fence, I look in the side mirror at a sight
that is more horrifying than the zombies that were outside the armory
in Springfield. I see the barrier packed with the living instead of
the dead this time. Some are trying to climb the fence, uncaring of
the razor wire wrapped around the top. Others are trying to knock the
fence down. All are screaming, pleading, crying. I can see the undead
being drawn to the voices, their own version of a dinner bell.

"Please!
Please turn around. Look at them coming. Please! Run.
Hide
!"
I whisper to them, terror filling me. And then something happens that
terrifies me even more.

I
hear Jake laugh loudly as he stands on the safe side of the fence.
Laughing at these poor people who will soon be dead. The need to
throw up is strong, but as he climbs back inside, the sickness is
forgotten by his next words.

"Well!
I wonder how many zombie assholes are inside
this
armory?" And in horror, I realize he's
excited
about it. "Yep! It's you and me cleaning house again." -
And
just
what
is he expecting me to be able to do in my condition? Really? Good
lord!
- "I missed that when I went to the Nebraska armory. Just wasn't
the same. I was pissed off the whole time. And then the first thing I
see when I get back is you and that
asshole,
Will
,
all
cuddled up nice and cozy on the porch swing!" He says with such
incredible anger and disgust.

"I
can't believe you would marry a wimpy jackass like that. What were
you thinking, anyway?" I don't respond and he laughs. "Well,
it doesn't matter. We're together now.
That's
the only thing that matters. You will never refer to him as your
husband again. In fact, you will never speak his name. The only name
that will be on your lips, and in your mind, is mine.
I
am your husband now."

Oh dear God.

Jake pulls up to
the back building that I assume will have more Hummer's inside, just
as the others did. He gets out of the truck without hesitation and
rolls the large door on its track to the side. I see four zombies
turn and come toward Jake. As soon as each one gets close enough, he
shoots and they drop to the cement floor. Then I can hear his muffled
voice shouting at someone or something.

I assume he's
trying to draw out more of the undead, so I'm a little shocked when I
see a live military man come down the stairs. He walks toward Jake,
his mouth moving, and I assume he's telling Jake what had happened to
his fellow soldiers. When he's about ten feet from Jake, my eyes
widen and I scream when Jake lifts his gun and kills the man. Before
his body even falls, Jake is on his way back to the truck.

He slides into his
seat and I stare at him in shock. He looks over at me, turns back to
the windshield and rests his wrists on the top of the steering wheel.
Then he ducks his head and sighs.

"Why do you do
this? Why don't you trust me?" he asks me in a pitiful voice.

Seriously?

"Jake! Why did
you kill that man? He was alive!" My voice raises steadily from
beginning to end.