Page 19 of All Your Days (Mayhem Manuscripts Season One: 1nf3ction #4)

“Yeah, sure.” Jacob’s close enough that I can see him wave over his shoulder, and for me to catch the “not bloody likely” he mutters under his breath.

“Right, lodgings are short tonight. Half the hotel’s been fucked somehow, dunno.

Rosalie was on the desk and she can be a bit shit to deal with.

” Jacob rubs at his forehead, trying to smooth out the frustration there.

“Everybody come with me round back to get the camels down and our shit locked up and then I’ll show you where we’re staying. ”

We start walking while he continues. “There’s only two rooms left. Ryan said you three were fine taking one room, so we’ll have to get a couple of the camp beds from the trailer before we lock her away. And Lou, you can be in with me and Eli.”

I’m thankful it’s too dark around this side of the hotel for them to see the way I baulk at Jacob’s suggestion.

On the one hand, I’m so tired I feel dead on my feet—I could pass out on the street amongst the mob of roos lounging under the gums just up the road.

But on the other hand—Jacob and me in the same room?

Tents were hard enough. For fuck’s sake.

Even with Lou there to kill the mood it’s going to be a nightmare.

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather stay with the camels. It’s a new place for’em and I don’t want anything happenin’ to my babies overnight. And I’ll be fucked if I don’t want a little ‘lone time for m’self if you know what I’m sayin’.”

Cale and Malcolm guffaw at Lou’s wink, while I try to force back the mental image Lou paints.

Jacob grumbles something under his breath, and Sheba copies the sound, making the lot of us chuckle again.

It takes the edge off the anxiety we’re all feeling, I reckon.

We’re all a lot more at ease when we head round to the back of the hotel where someone is waiting at the wooden fence, ready to let us through to the enclosed rear yard.

The man says something I don’t understand.

His lips are curled in—I don’t think he has any teeth and he seems to be missing a large chunk of his tongue.

Jacob understands just fine, and through the haze of my exhaustion I marvel at the calm and confident way he gets Lou and the camels settled in the barns for the night and our trailer locked away tight.

With our bags and the camping cot for the guards we follow Jacob up the stairs to the back entry to the second level of the hotel.

I hold my breath the entire way up. The metal stairs creak loudly with each step and I swear they are swaying.

Each room opens out to the balcony, with rooms on both the front and back.

We’re separated from the guards with three rooms between us.

Jacob doesn’t seem to like that either—he makes a lot of grumbling sounds about us being so separated, but there is nothing we can do, and besides, we’re all going to meet down at the pub for dinner.

That’s something else that has him grumbling, but it’s the only place that serves food this late.

A stale musty smell assaults me as I step over the threshold. The wooden floor creaks just as precariously as the stairs did under Jacob’s boots. I’m not brave enough to enter. Not like him.

Fuck. I really, really am a pampered princess in my tower. I think to myself when I shudder in disgust. When we get back home, I’m going to have to talk to Moby about temporarily working elsewhere, just for a little while.

“Is this… is this safe?”

The room is just that—a room, not that I expected much else, really.

But there is a definite smell, something moist and old.

The walls look like they are decorated with some sort of patterned paper, but it’s faded too much to make out with the oil lamp Jacob’s holding, and it’s peeling wherever it hasn’t been peeled away all together.

A leather skin covers the window just next to the door, the shutters closed tight on the other side.

There’s a door to what I’m assuming is a second bedroom, because there is only one bed in here. It’s bigger than my one at home at least, and the faded bedding looks clean enough. I kind of wish I thought to bring the special camp blanket up. The cocoon is at least familiar.

Apart from the bed, there’s a timber chest of drawers and a small table, where Jacob sets the oil lamp.

“It’s safe enough, safest we have here at least.” As he talks, he removes his rifle, resting it against the table, and sets his emergency and gear bags on the table.

“Oh—okay then.” I’m jittery from nerves. “I guess I’ll go put my things away then and then we can—”

“Where’re ya going?” My hand is on the door and he’s halfway through stripping off his duster when he stops me.

“Going to my room to put my stuff down so we can eat?” My voice squeaks high like I’m asking a question, partially out of confusion, but mostly because Jacob has finished removing his jacket and, in one swift action, has removed his hair from the knot he keeps it tied in.

It tumbles free in one fluid motion, cascading down his back as he shakes it loose. I’ve seen him with his hair down before, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him take it down. I would remember if I had. It’s a strangely intimate sort of thing.

My saliva sticks in my throat and I almost choke on nothing at all. I don’t even register the confused frown he’s firing at me, because I’m too busy looking at the almost black waves swinging behind him. His hair is so long, it almost reaches his arse when it’s loose.

“That’s the bathroom.” He doesn’t make it any easier to focus when he undoes the buttons on his cuffs to roll his sleeves up over his forearms. I watch every second like a stunned idiot.

“There’s a dunny, but it’s not like back in the main building at The Facility.

More of a long drop situation, like out in the mud huts.

And an area to rinse off if you want to hire one of their shower bladders. ”

“I’m sorry, what ?” The sensible part of my brain slams together some pots and pans to get my attention. “Long drop? Shower bladder? Wait!”

I yell the last bit, looking around the room in a panic. “If there’s no other bed then—”

I don’t finish the thought. It’s too absurd to say out loud. Jacob nods slowly, crossing his arms defensively.

“You know what a long drop is, so we can skip that. A shower bladder is a skin of some kind that we can rig up like a shower to get clean. The water’ll be cold, though. And yes, we’re sharin’ the bed. If it’s a problem, I can go get Smitty to unlock our shed and get my cot outta the trailer.”

I don’t think I can breathe. I’m hyper-hyper… Fuck, I can’t remember what the docs call it. My panic is full-blown and it’s about to blow up my chance to share a bed with Jacob. But fuck . How the fuck am I meant to sleep in the bed with him?

He’s so casual about it, too. Is this just business as usual for him? Does he sleep with Rob or Lucas or Emmy? Do they sleep together or do they sleep together?

“Sorry, it’s obviously a problem. I’ll go get Smitty—”

“NO!” Jacob freezes at my shout. I bet even Cale and them heard me three doors down. “No, it’s—it’s fine. I’m just tired. And hungry.”

Jacob eyes me warily. “Are you sure?”

I nod, too fast and too hard to be reassuring. “Yes. Yeah. No worries. I’m sure. It’s fine.”

“Right. Well, get your scarf sorted and we’ll head over for food.” Jacob grabs his emergency bag, strapping it tight to his chest. I feel stupid doing it, but I follow suit, buckling it tightly against me.

He extinguishes the lamp, plunging us into complete darkness. I can feel him brush against me as he walks by me to the front door. His hand skates down my arm until his fingers tangle with mine, pulling me along in his wake.

The pub is louder than I expected. And filled with more people, too.

I can’t even imagine where they’ve all come from, or why they’re all here.

And I can’t quiet the anxious gurgle in my guts reminding me that none of them have tested their infection levels.

Every single one represents an unknown danger on too many fronts.

I was hoping to maybe have a drink tonight and relax, but there’s not a chance that’s happening. No chance of me separating from Lou or Jacob. Not at all in the latter case, because apparently we’re sleeping together tonight.

The man can’t seem to figure himself out.

He avoids me for years—hanging about in the shadows of my life, forever keeping himself out of arm's reach—and now it’s like he can’t decide what he wants to do with me.

It’s driving me crazy—making me question myself and what I know.

Because I know the way he looks at me, even if his actions say otherwise.

Then before I know it, his actions change again and confirm what I thought at first. It’s maddening.

I really do want that fucking drink. Then I can unleash my confusion on him and demand answers. And if it all goes tits up, I can just blame it on the grog and move on.

A terrible plan. Almost like Jessica made it up. It’s exactly what she’d do.

I squirm uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench of the booth I’m squished into between Lou and the man running rings through my head.

The pub is a mishmash of relics from before the red rains and whatever’s been cobbled together or scavenged since.

The wooden top of the bar looks like it may have been a part of the original building, but the lanterns hanging from the roof definitely aren’t.

And I’d guess that the rusted metal sheeting both beneath the bar and behind it are newer additions.

The furniture—the tables and chairs and the booths built into the walls—all look like they are from more recent times.

They have a distinct scavenged look to them, and none of them match.