Page 19 of The Guy Sure Looks Like Plant Food To Me
“I’m gonna love you too.” It sounds so damn stupid, but it’s the only reply I can think of.
A goofy grin breaks through her expression, her eyes moving to where my chest lifts with every breath.
“If we can get him cooking now, then by the time we come back from ditching the car he should be ready to feed to Chewie.”
“Perfect.”
It takes more effort to get Williams undressed then it does to carry him over to the cauldron in the woods.
It’s deep, which is perfect because even at almost six feet tall, we’re able to cram him into the space in the fetal position. There’s enough pre-cut logs from the last time Runa was here, but still, I pick some dry sticks for kindling. His bloody clothes make for shit firestarter, but we toss it in anyway.
It takes about three trips to the well for water to get enough to fill the cauldron before we can close the lid. The iron is heavy and it takes the both of us to lock it in right.
“Is it going to smell?” I ask her.
Runa shrugs, “This is also my first time boiling man-stew.”
Grabbing her hand for comfort, I drop my head to her shoulder and we stand, watching the little flame under the cauldron turn into a full on blaze. It will simmer soon, and then Williams will be gone.
And we will be free.
Runa isn’t wrong, and I somehow have a feeling that it’s a good indicator for the majority of how our life will be. I’m positively infatuated with her, with the way she makes me feel and the way I’m no longer in a rush to get through each day just because she’s around.
We agree to drive three hours past the cabin, in the opposite direction we came from, just in case. If my dad can somehow still access the tracker in the car then he’ll search for me in that area.
If he bothers to look at all.
We decide not to deal with Williams’ car until tomorrow, coming up with a plan to sink it in the same exact lake as mine. This way, a cohesive story can be painted by anyone who goes looking.
It’s dark by the time we return home, the six-hour expedition being closer to seven with extra stops for snacks and gas. The ride back is infinitely better. Once my car is at the bottom of the pond, I feel renewed, watching in slow motion as the water takesa version of me that I’ll never be forced to be again. It’s as if I’m attending my own funeral.
A beautifully welcome death.
Getting to sit next to her in the truck for the second half of the trip is nothing short of agony. Runa’s fingers trail the top of my thigh, every so often shifting from a light grazing movement to holding steadily right above my knee. The distraction is borderline criminal on her part, she knows what she’s doing, drowning every other thought out of my mind and making every worry insignificant until the only thing coursing through it is her.
For tonight at least.
Tomorrow the worries will build again, not so strongly as today, and maybe even less the day after, until eventually there might not be anything left except peace.
Runa parks the truck in a way that blocks the clearing from being accessed by other vehicles. It feels like overkill, considering how remote this cottage is, but I don’t question her extra care.
She really thinks someone else might come for me.
It’s sweet, but unnecessary. It’s done now, it’s just me and her.
And Chewbacca.
The plant greets us with a long gargle, snapping her trap upwards toward the sky.
“Is she turning black?” Runa frowns, shining the flashlight to look closer.
“Yes, I told you, that’s normal. She’ll grow a new trap, maybe even two once this one falls off,” I assure her worry.
Runa’s eyes grow wide. “Two?”
She practically jumps up and down, patting the plant joyously. “Did you hear that Chewie, girl? Two traps!”
“I saidmaybe,” I try to calm her down before she gets her hopes up. “She’s still pretty young.”
