Page 36 of Fatally Yours

After another six hours on the road, we finally reached Randy Clark’s hideout.

It was a good thing I couldn’t stop thinking, I supposed.

At least in that moment. That was the only time in life or death when my thoughts caused something good to happen, as opposed to just tormenting me into a state of panic.

Who knew how long August would’ve waited to ask me to be his forever? But that would imply I wasn’t his already. It would’ve happened eventually. This was just something we needed to keep our spirits high. Our reunion was already settled in death.

He was fired up, and his infectious energy rubbed off on me like the thick stench of death, clogging my pores and filling my veins with venom.

We put Mandy’s car in park, and the engine died down, smothered out like Randy would be.

The houses were spaced apart, perfect for committing a crime that no one would hear.

There was no going back now, not after everything we had been through. Taking a breath, I turned to August, feeling a fire growing in my belly. It would be hard not to be impulsive when the face in those pictures showed itself to me in real life.

“You go in first,” he instructed. My lips pinched together.

“Again? Really?” I asked, a bite to my tone. “I don’t want to be first after what happened last time.” He glared at me, but it wasn’t malicious. It was more that he felt guilty about what happened previously and couldn’t properly express it.

“That won’t happen again,” he affirmed. “He’ll be less intimidated if you knock on his door instead of me.” I let out a long breath as I crossed my arms, daring to defy him after he took my life. It was a bold move, but I wasn’t afraid of him.

“Why? Because I’m small?”

August shook his head. “No, because you’re a woman.

” My insides twisted with that simple assertion.

My femininity was going to be used against me once more, and it wasn’t like I was facing a regular person.

This was a full-blown criminal. Not only a fiend against children, but a murderer as well.

Endless possibilities were running through my head of all the ways I could screw this up or have it go wrong.

“He could have a weapon,” I rebutted.

“Yeah, he could,” he said. “You’re not scared of dying, are you?” His face was as expressionless as I had ever seen it. It only solidified what was about to happen. Our destiny would be complete, and we could be happy.

“Not anymore,” I said, climbing out of the car.

The night was as peaceful as ever, and I strolled down the sidewalk, avoiding pitfalls in the shattered pavement.

My shoes grazed little sprigs of grass that were forcing their way through the cracks, and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I found myself facing a door .

Taking in a breath, I glanced back at the car down the road, noticing August’s silhouette was missing. Before I could talk myself out of it, I gently rapped against the door, hoping not to sound forceful. I needed to appear delicate, not like we were here to rip the soul from his body.

There was a muffled scattering of noise and footsteps from the other side of the door, and it sounded like a presence was getting closer.

If my heart were still beating, I knew it would feel like it was going to crack through my ribcage and put a hole in my chest. I had waited the whole afterlife for this moment.

A scrape from inside indicated he was looking through the peephole, surely judging if he could prey upon me or not.

After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, revealing the face of a predator.

A storm of emotion consumed me. The man in the pictures, the one who caused all this pain and hardship, was there before me, looking at me with a cocked eyebrow.

The urge to reach out and throttle him was not lost, but I resisted, only because I didn’t want to make a mistake and ruin this life-changing moment, even if his neck in my hands would feel so much better than I wanted to admit.

“Yeah?” he asked. My anger sparked into an inferno, and I balled my fists, shoving them into my pockets to hide my emotion.

“My car gave out down the road. Can I use your phone?” I lied.

His leer of suspicion and confusion faded with my confession and blended into something that made my cold skin crawl.

The lines on his face turned with his slimy smile, and I could see strands of saliva stretching between his lips as he spoke.

“Of course you can, young lady,” he beamed, gesturing for me to enter.

I muttered something gratuitous under my breath as I stepped into the foyer.

My nerves were fraying, ready to burst into flames under the stress of the situation.

I knew August wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

The world would have to submit to him before anything like that occurred.

My eyes wandered to Randy, filled with unnoticed hate, until I spotted a gun poking out from the waistband of his scraggly sweatpants.

My instincts from being alive were kicking in, telling me I should be scared of such a large, predatory man with a weapon, until I silently thanked god that I was dead.

“You look like you’ve been through hell, darlin’,” he said, leading me through the living room.

His home was exactly as I expected—peeling paint, holes in the walls with exposed supports, and stained carpet.

Propped in the corner was a guitar, much like the one August once had.

I noted that we would have to take that once we were done.

The television was blaring some indistinct sitcom.

It was the only thing illuminating the room besides a flickering lamp that blinked as often as I did.

I nodded as he glanced back while my eyes scanned the home, trying to remember all the rooms we passed.

Yes, hell—because of him. August’s death.

Getting murdered. Being buried. Killing people.

Enjoying it. It was all hell, set in motion by what he surely thought was an indiscriminate act.

“Yeah, I have,” I replied. We wandered into the kitchen.

The condition was not much better in there.

Old food wrappers, empty alcohol bottles, and the occasional stray needle were littered along every surface.

My fire raged on as I thought about how much he could indulge while August rested six feet under, and I sobbed myself to sleep every night until my body ached.

My eyes fell upon a curtained back door, and a small thrill temporarily replaced my negative emotions. That was our key. Finally, he pointed to a yellowed phone affixed to the wall. Bowing my head, I strolled up to it, giving him one final glance before I pulled it from the hook.

“Can I get some privacy?” I placed it to my ear. “My dad is totally gonna yell at me for bugging him.” I tried to fake a smile, but it felt like torture to do so. It was agony seeing the person who took August away from me and caused all this misery.

“Course, sweetheart.” Randy left the kitchen and wandered into the living room, surely to watch the TV and plot what he was going to do with me while I was vulnerable. Little did he know someone was lurking outside his home. A predator just as powerful and remorseless as he was—the man I loved.

I tapped my fingers along the buttons, hoping it sounded like I was pressing them, before I set the phone atop the cradle and made my way to the back door, pulling open the curtain.

Taking another unnecessary breath, I pressed my finger to the lock and pushed down, hoping the click wouldn’t catch his attention.

Thankfully, I could hear Randy chuckling at the show, and I habitually wiped my brow with the back of my hand. Then, ever so carefully, I pried open the door as I held my breath. It slid on the track without a sound, as if the universe were paving the way for our revenge.

Poking my head out into the warm air, I spotted August standing against the back of the home and ushered him inside. There was a hint of a smirk on his face, almost like he was proud of me.

“Good job, baby,” he smirked, stepping inside.

“Who could’ve known you were so good at being bad?

” I shook my head silently. I couldn’t accept his praise until the deed was finalized and Randy was in the same state as we were, except without the reanimation.

Noticing my stoic mood, he spoke again. “Is it him?”

“Yeah, it’s him, but he has a gun.”

“So what?” he said. “That won’t stop us.” I gave him a steely look but remained silent. After I sealed the door again and clicked the lock and curtain back into place, I turned to him.

“What do I say to him?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Anything. Make something up. Tell him someone’s going to come get you.”

“How are you so good at this?”

“I’ve had a lot of experience bullshitting people,” he said, breaking his stern expression. The hint of a smile crossed my lips—the only joy I felt in the moment.

“Not me.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Everyone except you.” He gave me another devilish, dimpled smirk as I returned to the phone. Picking it up, I hung it up more aggressively than normal, hoping it would sound like I was upset after an argument. After that, I made my way to the living room.

Randy was standing in front of the TV with his arms at his sides, his rugged expression and dark hair accentuated by the glow of the screen.

I set my hand on the back of my neck to feign bashfulness, just like I had seen August do so many times before.

That simple action had helped him worm his way out of so many speeding tickets.

“So, um, my dad is going to come get me. Do you mind if I—”

“You can cut the shit, my love,” August said darkly, stepping in from the kitchen.

Randy’s hand shot for the gun poking out of his waistband, and I flinched, taking a step back.

August stood defiantly, even walking forward, unfazed by the man drawing his weapon and pointing it at him.

And why wouldn’t he be? He had already faced death once before.

I only wished I had the same strength. Maybe after tonight, I would.

“The hell is going on here?” he questioned, standing firm.

“Do you remember me?”

Randy shook his head. “I think I’d remember some pale freak with mismatched eyes,” he growled. “I didn’t touch your girl if that’s what you’re pissed about.” A smirk crawled across August’s face—almost like relief.

He better be damn relieved.

“You should really try to remember who I am. Without the pale skin or the crazy eyes,” he said.

“It could save your life.” Randy held the gun steady.

He was trained. Confident. Experienced. It was too bad for him that the two of us couldn’t die, even if the idea of someone pointing a gun at me still made my insides liquefy.

“Are you threatening me, fucker?” he challenged.

“If I have to.” Between blinks, a knife appeared in August’s hand.

My heart soared as a wicked part of me desired to watch him pounce and plunge the blade into his soft flesh, just as he did with me.

But before he could do that, Randy looped his finger into the trigger and pulled it, sending a shot ricocheting through the air.

Despite our undead status, a cry ripped from my throat as August stumbled back.

His hair fell in front of his pinched face as he held his shoulder and groaned.

For a moment, I forgot he couldn’t die, and I ran towards him, taking his hand in mine.

All I could think about was that day I held him in my arms as he died, and the taste of his metallic blood on my lips.

“Your turn, bitch,” Randy snarled, aiming the weapon at me. “Let’s see how far you can get. ”

“August!” I cried, digging my nails into his dead flesh. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Randy’s ugly face twist with confusion.

“August?” he asked. The gun dropped just for a moment as he recalled the name that should’ve been burned into his memory for the remainder of his days. A groan slipped from August’s mouth, and I turned my attention to him. From between strands of hair, I caught him smirking.

He’s faking. Of course.

He shook his locks from his face and raised his arm, putting his hand to where the projectile embedded itself into his body.

With bated breath, I watched wide-eyed as his fingers entered the dry wound, pulling open his skin and prying the bullet from the hole he created in his body and flicking it away.

Like before, there was no splash of color. Nothing but the shade of death.

Through the glow of the flickering lamp and the shifting of the screen, I could see Randy’s puckered face pale as he lowered the gun. I kept my hands on him, not wanting to relive that fateful day, even if death was nothing more than a status instead of a result.

“Y-you’re that kid,” Randy stuttered. His voice trembled slightly, breaking his rugged facade. “I killed you, man. It was an accident, but you’re dead.”

“Yeah, I am.” August lifted his head and stuck out his hand, wrenching the gun from his quivering grasp without moving.

Randy let out a small gasp as the weapon clattered to the ground, sliding across the floor and to our feet.

Just as August bent over to pick it up, there was the distinct sound of someone sticking their keys in the front door echoing through the air.

My heart could’ve stopped in my chest right then and there.

He picked up the gun and held it in his hands, giving me a look that I couldn’t quite read. The only emotion I got out of his expression was confidence. It was a good look on him, and I was jealous I couldn’t feel the same when such a conflict was tossed into our plans.

“Now, who could that be?” August said, turning to Randy and holding the weapon in his grasp. Whatever happened now, there was no going back. Innocent or not, this was an event set in motion that not even death could stop.