Page 32 of All Your Days (Mayhem Manuscripts Season One: 1nf3ction #4)

“I’ll deal with the… bodies. You pack up what you can in the tents. We need to reorganise the trailer—we’ll have to stay in there ‘til the Rains pass. I’ll deal with the animals when we get back.”

Jacob hesitates over calling them ‘the bodies’, trying to find the right word I guess. My stomach churns because I don’t want to leave him to deal with them, but my newfound bravery only goes so far.

“Okay. We can do this.” I nod, and Jacob does the same with the barest bob of his head. Now it’s my arms wrapped around him, squeezing him just as tightly as he did me.

“She’ll be right. We got this, ‘kay. You and me. We’ll get through it together.” I chase his eyes, and force him to look at me, putting everything I have into it. He gets the message, his spine straightening under my gently stroking fingers.

“Yeah. Yes. We do. We got this.”

It’s the tiniest flicker of hope, but I believe him.

Every second is hell.

Jacob leaves me to deal with the camp as much as I can while he deals with the remains of our teammates.

I don’t waste a second and in an awful way, I’m grateful.

There’s no thinking, just movement, shifting everything nonessential out of the trailer into one of the tents and rearranging what’s left to keep it safe.

It’s not a good kind of mindlessness, though.

I can feel the creep of the madness settling in, getting worse with every second.

Ropes burn my hands when I tie the water tank to the trees and it feels good.

I almost crush my thumb with a mallet hammering in the pegs to the guide ropes and for one crazy moment I consider doing it again and not missing this time.

Just to see what it feels like. I stop recognising my body, the buzzing inside me alien and strange. And it’s loud. So fucking loud.

Not just the wind whipping the clouds across the sky, or the panicked sounds of Adeeko and Binty where they are panicking and pulling against their ropes. No, the screeching sounds inside my head.

By the time Jacob stumbles back to camp, I’m barely holding myself together.

Jacob looks ferocious, his face twisted in a way I’ve never seen before. In the madness of my mind, his anger is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It sings to me, makes me want to drown in it, makes me want to provoke it and see what damage he can wreak.

Hands on his hips and near vibrating with tension, he surveys how much I’ve managed to get done.

“Good job.” He grinds out angrily.

I don’t hear his praise. Not really. I’m too busy staring at the smear of blood on the olive green of his shirt.

The longer I stare at the dark stain, the more it looks like a dingo’s head.

Laughter bubbles out of me. Yes, there is definitely a long snout and two pointy ears.

A bloody dingo . My laughter is sharp, high pitched.

Too bright. I know, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

I want to trace the pattern. Press myself against him and see if I can stamp it on my dark blue shirt.

We can match then. Matching bloody dingoes.

I wonder whose blood it is? Is it the same as the blood still caking his forearms, where he’s folded his sleeves up? How did he get so covered in it? What did he actually do with the bodies anyway?

“ Eli !” Jacob’s sharp bark cuts through my hysterical thoughts, bringing me sharply back to reality.

It’s a terrible thing he does to me, because for a brief shining moment I can see myself, see how far I’ve gone already and it scares me. What if I go too far? What if I can never come back?

Black clouds my vision, and the fire burning inside me singes my skin. It hurts—everything hurts, like hot coals being shoved under my skin. But God, how does it feel good, too? The pain makes me want more of it. The craving boils in my guts. It’s overwhelming.

The world shakes. No, not the world. Me . Strong hands grip my arms, squeezing me hard enough to help me claw back some sanity. I open my eyes to find Jacob close enough to see the flecks of hazel in the deep brown of his eyes. It’s hypnotic.

“Get in the trailer. Now.” He has to say it twice. The second time I watch his pillowy lips make the sounds. It helps and I drag myself to the trailer, giggling wildly.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Jacob’s right behind me. I don’t realise until I hear his grumbling voice.

I struggle to get into the trailer, my body not able to coordinate itself up the stairs while also trying to figure out the answer to his question.

His strong hands are on me again—my arse this time—all but heaving me through the door.

I fall onto the mats I carefully arranged earlier—the old blankets were used as padding in the trailer—and scramble onto my back.

Rising up on my elbows, I watch him climb into the trailer and methodically hunt down the medical kit he’s after.

“I was just thinkin’….” A lie, I hadn’t been thinking shit.

Who can think with the squawking voice in my head chanting for me to slam my body into his and see what happens.

“How lucky I am that I take the stairs every day back home. If I took the lifts like everyone else, there’s no way I could’ve outrun Cale, and I’d be dead. ”

In the dimmest, farthest reaches of my brain where the real me is clinging to life I’m horrified by the thought I didn’t even know I had. The horror is too deep, though, and the madness has me cackling loudly instead. The sharp sound bounces off the wall of the trailer making it all so much worse.

Jacob doesn’t find it funny. Already coiled tight, the threads of his iron-like control fraying, he turns to face me, a brutal scowl on his face.

“Do not !” His roar replaces my maniacal laughter.

It dies again, my breath caught in my lungs.

Fucking beautiful in his fury, I don’t know if Jacob wants to throttle me or fuck me.

I’m happy either way. Hanging rigidly by his side, one hand flexes into a white-knuckled fist, and I brace for the impact, but it doesn’t come.

“I’m goin’ to tranq the camels and clean up. Stay the fuck inside.” The gravelly command sends a shiver down my spine. He doesn’t wait for a reply, just rushes from the trailer like his arse is on fire.

By some stupid miracle, I find a sliver of sanity and cling to it violently, trying to pull myself from the pit, even if it only brings me misery.

Fuck, I wish he could tranq me, too. It’s a risk for the animals, to have them passed out and defenceless in the storm, but it’s also a risk to leave them to ride it out on their own.

They could hurt themselves, or us. They don’t understand what happens.

So they get to ride out the madness in blissful sleep.

Unlike us, who just have to tolerate it.

Anticipation burns like liquid fire in my guts.

The memories of our night together make everything so much worse.

I know what’s coming. Not just the red rains, but Jacob.

I haven’t even managed to get over my feelings from the last time, and now here we are.

Again. There isn't going to be any coming back from this. Not for me anyway.

At The Facility, there are procedures in place for the red rains.

Of course there are. There are procedures on everything there—even for how to shower the right way.

The children are cared for by the immune.

The immune guards take care of everyone .

Carriers of age are given the choice of how to ride out the storm.

Alone, or with others. There’s no judgement, just a prayer for survival.

I spent the last storm alone. I thought I was going to die—at some points I wish I had—but I was always grateful I was alone.

The stories from those who rode the storm together were more than enough.

That storm lasted three days. What if we’re stuck in here that long again?

How will we survive? We’ll be washed away in the flood.

Flood . The word triggers something in my mind and I’m floating away again. Flood, flood, flood… . It’s like I can feel it already happening, washing me out into the oceans I’ve only heard stories of.

In the far off distance, the trailer door wrenches open roughly, squeaking when it goes too far against the hinges.

“Eli! Snap out of it. Come on!” Jacob sounds so far away, like an echo.

Pain blooms over my cheek and I blink rapidly.

What the fuck? I’m not bobbing in the flood, it’s just the rocking of the trailer against the winds.

The trailer door flaps wildly, slamming and screeching but all I can see is Jacob’s face again.

I am pretty sure he slapped me. I want to ask him to do it again, but I can’t seem to make my brain and mouth connect right.

Desperate brown eyes flick between mine.

He’s kneeling beside me, and in the eerie red light flashing every time the door swings wide, I can see he’s shirtless, his pants hanging open enough to see the curling black hair.

I see my hand reach out to stroke the patch, but he’s faster, not as lost as me.

With his fingers firmly around my wrist, I can finally swim to the surface.

“ I’m sorry .” The words are paper thin and I clear my throat. “I’m sorry.” I try again, managing to get them out properly.

Jacobs fingers squeeze me so tightly my fingers throb, but his thumb soothes a soft pattern over the veins in my wrist.

“It’s fine. But we need to keep hold of ourselves as long as we can. Can you do that for me?” His tongue darts out to lick his lips and I feel my cock throb in my pants.

“I don’t know.” I squirm against the new feeling. I’ve been half hard all day, but seeing his tongue has instantly redirected my chaotic senses in a new, terrible direction.

Jacob sighs heavily, prying his fingers from me one by one and shuffling away from me. I didn’t even realise his knee had been digging into my side, but now it’s gone and it feels like a gaping wound.