Page 28 of Outbreak

I have so many questions, but I guess in the grand scheme of things happening right now, I’m just grateful I have something from my old life that’s mine, even if he hasn’t given it to me yet. Unexpected tears well in my eyes as I stare at that bag and wonder what he decided was important enough to bring with us. “Can I– open it?”

“Go for it.” He closes the lid and sits the sandwich stuff on top as I pull my duffle out of the pile and into my lap.

I don’t know why I’m feeling so emotional as I drag the zipper down. The sides fall open, and I’m surprised he put so much thought into this. In neat little clear bags, he placed my toiletries and hair products, along with my makeup bag and even my signature black nail polish. Under all of that are different practical outfits—leggings and soft yoga pants, tank tops, and even a hoodie and socks. Picking up the hoodie to put on, I pause when something falls out into my lap. A book? It’s my book. I want to cry even more now because the world might be ending, but I didn’t get to finish my smutty stalker romance. Come to think of it, he could definitely use some pointers from the stalker in here.Well, maybe not all of them.The irony of this shit isn’t lost on me. This all might not mean a lot to some people, but it feels like everything I need at this moment.

“Wow,” I say, clearing my throat of the emotion clogging it. “Thank you. This means a lot.”

And I mean it. I know what it feels like to fit your whole life into a garbage bag, and even then, it doesn’t feel like your things.

He stares back at me for a few seconds, stunned by my gratitude, I guess, but finally nods his acceptance and hands me a sandwich. He’s made it exactly like the last one, and I really want to figure out how he knows all my little quirks, like putting chips on my sandwich. I don’t question him again, though. I say thank you and accept it for what it is. He’ll tell me eventually… I think.

The starstwinkle against the black sky. They’re the clearest I’ve seen in a long time as I lay in the back of the truck, curled up on the duffle bags with my dirty book. Ghost has been organizing the supplies we have, making room for us to sleep tonight. Other travelers still mill around outside their vehicles, and the soldiers are still pacing the highway, keeping everyone close to the road and out of the woods. Kids are playing in the grass ditch, burning out the pent-up energy of being stuck in their cars for so long.

I’m pulled from my book when I hear whispers and giggling approaching. The kids from the truck ahead of us stand close together, huddled in intense conversation before the oldest walks ahead, right up to Ghost, and tugs on the bottom of his shirt.

“Excuse me, Mister…” she says, full of bravado and sass. “Why are you wearing a mask?”

Ghost freezes, his eyes darting to mine in panic before he turns slowly and cocks his head to the side, staring blankly at the brave little one.Asshole!

“Oh, just ignore him, honey,” I say, closing my book and climbing out of the truck bed. “He’s just shy.” I step betweenthem, squatting down and getting at her level. She can’t be more than seven or eight years old. “What’s your name?”

“Violet.” She smiles and turns to the other girls. “And these are my sisters—Lily, Rose, and Daisy.” They scoot closer to their older sister, hiding behind her as she calls their names.

“My name is Rue. It’s nice to meet y’all,” I say, smiling back at them. “Don’t mind him. He might look big and scary in that mask, but he’s actually a big softy. You see, when he was a young boy, he was really mean to other kids. He called them names and made fun of them. He was so mean that one day he woke up and he had turned really,reallyugly. He’s so ashamed of how he looks; he wears that mask so people can’t see him. He learned his lesson though—always be kind to others.”

“Like Beauty and The Beast?” Violet asks, looking up over my shoulder at him. He growls and the little girls erupt in giggles.

“Yes. Exactly like that,” I laugh. The funniest part of all is I have no idea what he looks like either. He could be dog-shit ugly under the mask for all I know.

“Well, why don’t you just kiss him and turn him back?” One of the little girls asks, Lily, I think. “You can be his Belle. She didn’t have pink in her hair like you, but you can fix him, can’t you?”

Okay. So I didn’t think this conversation all the way through.

I’m saved from scrambling to find a response when their mother calls for them to come back. Thank fuck. I have no idea what I would’ve said.

Violet hugs me, wrapping her little arms around my neck as her sisters run ahead to their car. “You should totally kiss him,” she whispers in my ear before she pulls back and gives me an ear-splitting grin and chases after the others.

I feel him behind me as I stand back up, looming over me like a dark shadow. “You shouldtotallykiss me,” he mocks, snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me back into him.

“You shouldtotallyfuck off,” I sass back at him, but I can’t stop the smirk pulling at my lips.

A deep, rumbling laugh vibrates through my back before I slip out of his loose hold and turn around, craning my neck to look up at him. “We should talk to some of these people. Find out what they’ve seen and heard.”

He seems to think it over for a moment, probably weighing the pros and cons of putting me in a position to ask for help or tell someone what he’s done. I won’t lie, the thought did cross my mind a time or two. But really, what would any of these people be able to do? We’re stuck on the side of the road together somewhere in bum-fuck Mississippi. There’s a viral outbreak that’s literally turning dead people into zombies. I think I’ll take my chances with the annoyingly sexy, six-foot-plus kidnapper who buys my favorite snacks and worries about if I’ll have tampons at the end of the world.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. I’m almost shocked he did at all. “But you stay by my side. And don’t–”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Don’t try no shit; won’t be no shit. Can we go?” I’ve heard his little spiel about this enough already. I don’t need a refresher.

The first few people we talk to don’t know anything more than what we do. None of them have dealt with the dead or seen how someone dies and comes back—they've just seen the aftermath. We stick to the cars around our truck, not wanting to stray too far. We’re just walking up to the minivan as the couple gets out, talking in hushed tones at the trunk in front of our truck.

“We need to get out of here, Tom. We’re going to miss…” the woman says, trailing off as we approach. “Hey. I’m sorry if thegirls were bothering y'all. They’ve been going stir crazy since… this started.”

“They were no trouble,” I say, leaning my back against the truck and kicking around some loose gravel with my boots. “This is… unbelievable. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling, trying to navigate all of this with your beautiful girls.”

“It feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from,” she replies, her haunted eyes going to the girls in the truck sleeping before she steps up to me. “I’m Casey, by the way. And this is my husband, Tom.”

“I’m Rue,” I say and snap my eyes briefly to my kidnapper. I have no idea how to introduce him. “This is–”

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