Chapter Thirty – Stephanie
Jeff arrived early by fifteen minutes.
I’d settled into one of the chairs in the lobby as I waited, my soles tired from the nerves-induced pacing. The big diesel engine rumbled, shaking the rickety double-hung windows of the old hotel, sending a tremble through the floorboards beneath my feet.
Ryder came out of the bar, shotgun in one hand, duffel bag hanging from the other. He’d finally changed into a fresh shirt, a black one that actually fit him and wasn’t torn, or drenched in blood. He’d draped a bulging canvas bag on a long strap over his chest, and it slapped against the spot just above his hip with each step.
And those eyes of his, perfectly normal and human eyes, stared out at me as he came. Pain seemed to emanate from them like heat from a fire.
I looked away as he came up the hall, unable to meet his gaze. I still couldn’t believe I’d kissed him. That he’d passed himself off as human, that he’d kissed me.
Despite knowing what he now was, my mind still hadn’t let go of the image of the handsome man who’d kissed me. My dreams, as short-lived as they’d been, had been filled with him. I’d even imagined him stopping in front of my door, listening to me sleep. Instead of a feeling of creepiness, though, they’d given me one of comfort. Like he was watching over and protecting me.
They’d been good dreams, I had to admit.
Even if they were just lies I’d been telling myself.
I took a deep breath, continuing to look at the stairs in the opposite direction. Bit my lip as I tried not to remember the way his arms had felt around me. Tried to remember that I needed to be horrified by him. Reminded myself that he didn’t even want me in the truck with Jeff. That he wanted me sitting here, out of the way, not helping.
He came to a stop behind me, placed the duffel against the wall.
“Hey,” he said to the back of my head. “Jeff’s here.”
I sniffed. “Sounds like it.”
He didn’t respond at first. “I cleaned the shotgun for you. Figured you should take it with you if you’re going to be on the truck with Jeff.”
I didn’t turn back to him. Just kept my arms crossed as I stared up at the old, deteriorating stairs. “Thanks.”
The floor shifted behind me, and metal sounded as it gently met the wall next to the front door. “I’ll just leave it here.” He removed the strap from his chest, the canvas hissing as it slid over the cotton of his shirt. “Shells are in the bag next to it. I made some more.”
“Yeah. Thank you.”
“Not sure if it’ll be enough, though. We always joked about there never being enough ammo when you went into a fight.” He cleared his throat. “Back in the service, I mean.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Guess you had to be there for that to be funny, huh?”
“Yeah. Guess so.”
Silence between us followed, with only the sound of Jeff’s rumbling diesel filling the air.
He shifted his feet, the soles of his boots sliding along the worn carpet.
After a moment more of uncomfortable quiet, I went to stand. “That it?” I asked as I turned back to him. I glanced up at him for a moment, but quickly shifted my eyes away when they met his.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice raspy. Hurt.
I pushed my shoulders back and reached down to grab the shotgun from where it leaned against the wall.
“Shotgun’s loaded,” he said.
“Assumed so.”
“Just be careful, okay?”
“Yeah. I will be.”
“Oh,” he said as my hand hit the door. “I almost forgot.” He crouched down and unzipped his black duffel bag. He pulled out a black radio that was a little larger than a cell phone. A black antenna stuck up from the left corner.
“What’s that?”
“Walkie talkie. Figured we’ll need to talk to each other. Mine’s already set to the same frequency, so all you need to do is hold down this part to send out a signal. Press, talk. Release, listen.”
I nodded. “I’m not an idiot, Ryder.”
He made a face like I’d just stung him hard with my words.
Good.
“I know that, Stephanie. I’m just trying to be careful, here.”
I took the radio from him, stuffed it in the back pocket of my jeans.
“This isn’t going to work if we’re not on the same page. That’s all. I need you to call when you’re starting the circle, and give us updates so we know when to go in.”
“We are on the same page,” I replied, nodding. “Thought we were for the whole thing.”
“Look…” Ryder said, trailing off. Out front, Jeff’s truck continued to rumble. Thank God he hadn’t opted to honk his horn or something like a teen boy waiting on his prom date.
“I need to go.” I reached down, grabbed the canvas satchel, and slung it over my chest, the strap nestling down between my breasts with an almost uncomfortable weight. I couldn’t wait for this to be over, for me to be able to go home and get out of these clothes. To put all of this awful mess behind me. “Jeff’s waiting.”
“I know,” Ryder said as I leaned down and grabbed the shotgun, gripping it in both hands. “Stephanie, look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. You’re one of the first people I’ve ever told.”
“Oh? That’s nice. You make a habit of getting into relationships with people and lying about your species. Great.”
“That’s not it,” he said, his voice plaintive. “Listen, that’s not it. That’s not it at all. I don’t get close. That’s how I avoid doing this. Before I met you there was just the Corps, and then after that there was just the PRB, and then there was just Full Moon and the work we’re doing.”
“Great,” I said, just wanting to get away. “Sounds like your life’s full, then. That’s good.”
He groaned. “That’s not what I fucking mean, and you know it.”
“Might as well be,” I said, turning away from him and going for the door’s handle.
“Stephanie,” he said, sighing as he paused, seeming to try and parse his words. “Please. Can we just talk about this?”
I stopped, but didn’t turn around. My eyes stayed on the heavy wooden door in front of me, with its two-faced man on the front. How fitting that I’d be here, holding the handle of a door like that while I spoke to him. “Talk about this?” I asked. “When? Now? With Jeff outside, as a sitting duck?”
“Shit,” he breathed. “No, you’re right. Afterwards, then? I know you told me to leave town—”
“I did.”
“But—”
“No buts,” I spat. “Did I stutter before? This is over. Over before it ever gets a chance to start. Before you have a chance to lie to me anymore.” I pulled the door open and headed out to Jeff’s salt truck, its big metal form dominating the parking lot in front of the hotel, dwarfing all the vehicles behind it.
“Stephanie!” Ryder called from behind as I went to close the door, his hand catching it before I could shut it all the way. Shutting it all the way was like trying to move a hill, so I just let it go and kept moving. “Good luck!”
I was jogging down the walkway and across the parking lot, climbing into the cab of the truck, before Ryder could get anything else out. “You ready?” Jeff drawled as I settled into the passenger seat, the smell of salt and sweat and body odor filling my nose. The little piece of petrified lizard lay against his chest, a reminder of the man I’d just left behind.
“Yeah.” I turned my head away from the passenger side window and looked right into the weathered face of my best bartender, the man who’d practically become my father. “Just get me the fuck out of here, okay?”
Jeff leaned forward, peered past me at the front of the hotel. He sniffed loudly before he settled back into his seat. “You wanna talk about it?” Jeff asked as he shifted gears into first.
“Do I look like I want to talk about it?”
“Good point.” He eased the truck out of the parking lot and swung north out of town, heading for the back road that nearly perfectly enclosed the old Anderson’s Farm.
The town was almost preternaturally silent as we bounced down the road.
I gripped my shotgun more tightly, running my thumb over the shining, slightly slick metal of the barrel. Even though Ryder had pissed me off, I couldn’t help but think about his strong, sure, seemingly human hands, and how they’d been the last ones to hold this gun. How they’d been the last ones to touch this metal my own were now touching.
I closed my eyes, sighing deeply.
No, I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to get through the rest of today.