Page 22 of Outbreak (Revolution X #1)

CHAPTER 21

Rue

T he sun is starting to set, and I’m getting restless. I want out of this truck; I need to pee, take a goddamn shower, and get into some fresh clothes. It won’t be long, and my ass cheeks are going to grow roots to this fucking seat, and the smell will tote us off.

“It’s been hours,” I complain, because what else am I going to fucking do? “We’ve barely moved a mile. What is taking so fucking long?”

Ghost is just as irritated, but he’s taken to giving me the silent treatment when my incessant whining gets to be too much. Oh, fucking well. He shouldn’t have kidnapped me. I could be bitchin’ to Mal and Noah right now. They’d be doing the same, and it would be one big bitch party of three.

Or we’d all be dead.

Sometimes my subconscious is a real cunt. Can’t she just be on my side for once?

We sit in silence again as I think about my friends and where they are now. I hope they got out. I need them to be okay; even if I never get to see them again, I just want to imagine they made it out and found somewhere safe to be. Noah has family in high places—resources that he could use to survive. So I’m choosing to believe they made it out together and are off sipping fruity umbrella drinks on a beach somewhere the dead can’t reach. A smile crosses my lips at the thought, and when I look back out the windshield, relief floods me. “Look. Somethings happening,” I say, when I look up to see a line of armed men in uniforms walking between the cars up ahead, stopping at each car before moving on to the next one. “People are getting out.”

I can’t contain the excitement in my voice. As much as I appreciate the safety this truck offers, I also need to fucking pee. Families of all sizes pile out of packed up vehicles, even an RV. Four children step out of the vehicle in front of us, looking terrified and overwhelmed, their parents the same.

Ghost mentioned there were children inside when he went to speak to them, and I could tell by the haunted look in his eyes he was thinking the same thing as me. I don’t know how they’ll survive. It feels cruel to think, but that’s the devastating reality of whatever this is.

Zombies? That sounds outlandish, even in my mind. Like a bad sci-fi movie come to life. How is this even possible? My spiraling thoughts are cut abruptly when Ghost lowers his window for the approaching soldier.

“You may exit your vehicles now. Stretch your legs, but stay close to your vehicle at all times. We have men patrolling along the roadway to ensure your safety. It’s going to be a long night. Stay alert.” The man walks on to the next vehicle to give his regurgitated speech before we have a chance to ask him anything.

“Well, it looks like we’re gonna be here all night. I’m going to piss my pants soon, so let’s go.” I get my door halfway open and my leg out before Ghost jerks me by the arm back inside the truck, the momentum almost slamming my wayward leg in the door. “Hey! What was that for?”

“You don’t get out without me. You wait for me, or have you forgotten the rules already?” he practically growls at me.

“Fuck the rules. In case you haven’t noticed, the world went to hell in a handbasket, and unless you want your truck to stink of piss for however long we’re trapped inside, I suggest you come the fuck on.” Fuck him and his rules. “I’ve got a new rule. Don’t kidnap a mildly mentally unstable bitch if you can’t handle it.”

I talk a big game, but I sure do sit my ass in that seat until he releases my arm, gets out, and comes to my door. He doesn’t reattach the leash he must have taken off while I was sleeping before we got here, but he does set me down on the ground and interlaces our fingers. He opens the back door and grabs a pack of baby wipes from our grocery store haul before guiding me down into the ditch and into the edge of the woods.

He doesn't walk us too far, and we aren’t the only ones using mother nature for—well, mother nature. I can’t find it in me to care though, as Ghost blocks my body from view with his massive one, letting me squat and relieve myself in, at least, an illusion of privacy.

He doesn’t miss the opportunity to wipe me clean afterwards though, giving me just enough humiliation to stain my cheeks red, but not enough to stop the wave of desire that crashes into me when he touches me. It’s not sexual in the least, but it's the most intimate thing someone has ever done for me, and I don’t know how to feel about that.

The emotional whiplash this man gives me makes me dizzy. One second I’m screaming at him for being an asshole, and the next I’m wishing the asshole would make me scream for him. I can’t keep up with myself.

Ghost turns away from me to handle his own business, and I find myself trying to peer around him. Like a peeping tom, I wanna see what we’re working with here. I’ve already felt it pressed against me, but there’s no way it can be as big as it feels.

I want the ground to swallow me whole when I trip over my own damn feet and stumble into him trying to take a peek. “If you wanted to see my cock so bad, all you have to do is ask, Rue.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I scoff, because the arrogance of this asshole is as outrageous as it is hot. He doesn’t need his ego stroked anymore. “I tripped.”

“On what? The air?” He laughs as he zips back up and turns to face me. I want to rip that stupid mask off his face and see what he looks like when he smiles. I want to see him in general. It’s bugging the piss out of me. I feel like I know him, but I can’t put my finger on who the fuck he could be.

When we get back to the truck, the others are standing around their vehicles, some pulling out ice chests and passing out water. Others have put a blanket on the grass for their kids to play. There’s a younger couple behind us, sitting inside their car with the doors open, scanning the emergency channels for updates.

“There’s nothing new,” the red head says from the passenger seat, her bright yellow converse propped in the opening of the door frame. “And these assholes won’t tell us anything!”

She’s yelling loud enough to catch their attention, but they continue to ignore her. I’m trying to be nosey and listen to their conversation, but Ghost startles the fuck out of me when he comes up behind me and picks me up. “What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, but he just sits me in the back of his truck and climbs in after me.

“I figured you didn’t want to be back in the truck so soon, but we’re sitting ducks out here. At least from up here we can see what’s going on.” He pops the lid to an ice chest as I take a seat, looking around at everything he has back here. There’s a large metal box that runs the length of the cab with a lock on it, several duffle bags, and… Wait a minute. That’s my duffle bag.

“That’s my bag,” I state, because it’s not a fucking question. I recognize the pink straps that are frayed and worn from living out of it before I got into Magnolia State.

“I, uh, packed it for you before I picked you up,” he says, darting his eyes over the cooler lid at the bag he clearly never told me about.

I have so many questions, but I guess in the grand scheme of things happening right now, I’m just grateful I have something from my old life that’s mine, even if he hasn’t given it to me yet. Unexpected tears well in my eyes as I stare at that bag and wonder what he decided was important enough to bring with us. “Can I– open it?”

“Go for it.” He closes the lid and sits the sandwich stuff on top as I pull my duffle out of the pile and into my lap.

I don’t know why I’m feeling so emotional as I drag the zipper down. The sides fall open, and I’m surprised he put so much thought into this. In neat little clear bags, he placed my toiletries and hair products, along with my makeup bag and even my signature black nail polish. Under all of that are different practical outfits—leggings and soft yoga pants, tank tops, and even a hoodie and socks. Picking up the hoodie to put on, I pause when something falls out into my lap. A book? It’s my book. I want to cry even more now because the world might be ending, but I didn’t get to finish my smutty stalker romance. Come to think of it, he could definitely use some pointers from the stalker in here. Well, maybe not all of them. The irony of this shit isn’t lost on me. This all might not mean a lot to some people, but it feels like everything I need at this moment.

“Wow,” I say, clearing my throat of the emotion clogging it. “Thank you. This means a lot.”

And I mean it. I know what it feels like to fit your whole life into a garbage bag, and even then, it doesn’t feel like your things.

He stares back at me for a few seconds, stunned by my gratitude, I guess, but finally nods his acceptance and hands me a sandwich. He’s made it exactly like the last one, and I really want to figure out how he knows all my little quirks, like putting chips on my sandwich. I don’t question him again, though. I say thank you and accept it for what it is. He’ll tell me eventually… I think.

The stars twinkle against the black sky. They’re the clearest I’ve seen in a long time as I lay in the back of the truck, curled up on the duffle bags with my dirty book. Ghost has been organizing the supplies we have, making room for us to sleep tonight. Other travelers still mill around outside their vehicles, and the soldiers are still pacing the highway, keeping everyone close to the road and out of the woods. Kids are playing in the grass ditch, burning out the pent-up energy of being stuck in their cars for so long.

I’m pulled from my book when I hear whispers and giggling approaching. The kids from the truck ahead of us stand close together, huddled in intense conversation before the oldest walks ahead, right up to Ghost, and tugs on the bottom of his shirt.

“Excuse me, Mister…” she says, full of bravado and sass. “Why are you wearing a mask?”

Ghost freezes, his eyes darting to mine in panic before he turns slowly and cocks his head to the side, staring blankly at the brave little one. Asshole!

“Oh, just ignore him, honey,” I say, closing my book and climbing out of the truck bed. “He’s just shy.” I step between them, squatting down and getting at her level. She can’t be more than seven or eight years old. “What’s your name?”

“Violet.” She smiles and turns to the other girls. “And these are my sisters—Lily, Rose, and Daisy.” They scoot closer to their older sister, hiding behind her as she calls their names.

“My name is Rue. It’s nice to meet y’all,” I say, smiling back at them. “Don’t mind him. He might look big and scary in that mask, but he’s actually a big softy. You see, when he was a young boy, he was really mean to other kids. He called them names and made fun of them. He was so mean that one day he woke up and he had turned really, really ugly. He’s so ashamed of how he looks; he wears that mask so people can’t see him. He learned his lesson though—always be kind to others.”

“Like Beauty and The Beast?” Violet asks, looking up over my shoulder at him. He growls and the little girls erupt in giggles.

“Yes. Exactly like that,” I laugh. The funniest part of all is I have no idea what he looks like either. He could be dog-shit ugly under the mask for all I know.

“Well, why don’t you just kiss him and turn him back?” One of the little girls asks, Lily, I think. “You can be his Belle. She didn’t have pink in her hair like you, but you can fix him, can’t you?”

Okay. So I didn’t think this conversation all the way through.

I’m saved from scrambling to find a response when their mother calls for them to come back. Thank fuck. I have no idea what I would’ve said.

Violet hugs me, wrapping her little arms around my neck as her sisters run ahead to their car. “You should totally kiss him,” she whispers in my ear before she pulls back and gives me an ear-splitting grin and chases after the others.

I feel him behind me as I stand back up, looming over me like a dark shadow. “You should totally kiss me,” he mocks, snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me back into him.

“You should totally fuck off,” I sass back at him, but I can’t stop the smirk pulling at my lips.

A deep, rumbling laugh vibrates through my back before I slip out of his loose hold and turn around, craning my neck to look up at him. “We should talk to some of these people. Find out what they’ve seen and heard.”

He seems to think it over for a moment, probably weighing the pros and cons of putting me in a position to ask for help or tell someone what he’s done. I won’t lie, the thought did cross my mind a time or two. But really, what would any of these people be able to do? We’re stuck on the side of the road together somewhere in bum-fuck Mississippi. There’s a viral outbreak that’s literally turning dead people into zombies. I think I’ll take my chances with the annoyingly sexy, six-foot-plus kidnapper who buys my favorite snacks and worries about if I’ll have tampons at the end of the world.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. I’m almost shocked he did at all. “But you stay by my side. And don’t–”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Don’t try no shit; won’t be no shit. Can we go?” I’ve heard his little spiel about this enough already. I don’t need a refresher.

The first few people we talk to don’t know anything more than what we do. None of them have dealt with the dead or seen how someone dies and comes back—they've just seen the aftermath. We stick to the cars around our truck, not wanting to stray too far. We’re just walking up to the minivan as the couple gets out, talking in hushed tones at the trunk in front of our truck.

“We need to get out of here, Tom. We’re going to miss…” the woman says, trailing off as we approach. “Hey. I’m sorry if the girls were bothering y'all. They’ve been going stir crazy since… this started.”

“They were no trouble,” I say, leaning my back against the truck and kicking around some loose gravel with my boots. “This is… unbelievable. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling, trying to navigate all of this with your beautiful girls.”

“It feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from,” she replies, her haunted eyes going to the girls in the truck sleeping before she steps up to me. “I’m Casey, by the way. And this is my husband, Tom.”

“I’m Rue,” I say and snap my eyes briefly to my kidnapper. I have no idea how to introduce him. “This is–”

“I’m Ghost,” he interrupts, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Her husband.”

I choke on my own spit as I almost swallow my fucking tongue. I’m sorry. WHAT?

“It’s nice to meet y’all. Where y’all heading?”

“We’re trying to get to my parents in Florida. They have a boat?—”

“Casey!” Tom interrupts her, pulling her to him and whispering in her ear.

She brushes him off and steps back to me. “Excuse him. He thinks he’s an amateur doomsday prepper, so this is like his dream come true.”

That’s not exactly how I would describe what’s going on, but… okay then. “It’s okay. You were saying?”

“My parents. They have a boat in Florida that we’re hoping to ride this out on. Where are y’all heading?” She asks as her husband throws his hands in the air and mumbles to himself.

“Um, not sure yet.” I have no idea how to answer her on this either. Maybe I should let Ghost do the talking again. “Just trying to keep moving right now.”

“Have y’all seen any…” she trails off, and I understand. I don’t know how to describe what they are either. Dead–but not? What did they call them in The Walking Dead show? Walkers? That doesn’t really fit either.

“We have,” Ghost answers when I don’t respond, too lost in my own internal debate on what to call the fuckers. My bad . “Have y’all?”

“We, uh… yes. My brother. He got sick and isolated himself at home. We went to check on him when we couldn’t reach him and… found him. It was the most awful thing I’ve ever seen. I’ll never forget the milky white of his eyes. He tried to a-attack me. If it wasn’t for Tom, I’d be dead.” She’s shaking as her voice breaks and a tear slips down her cheek. Tom doesn’t miss it as he pulls her in and wraps his arms around her.

“You’re okay. You’re safe, and the girls are safe, and that’s all that matters,” he softly tells her as she cries into his shirt.

Ghost stands there awkwardly as I try to discreetly wipe my own tears from my face. Her emotions are so strong, it feels suffocating, and I can’t control my reactions. Tom kisses her forehead and wipes her tears away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get emotional.”

“Hey. This is a very traumatic situation. You have every right to be emotional,” I tell her, reaching out and grabbing her forearm in support. “It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And in this situation, staying human is the goal.”

“Thank you.” Gratitude shines in her glistening eyes.

“I hope you and your beautiful family make it to Florida, Casey. I’m glad we met.” I tell her, stepping back over to Ghost before calling over my shoulder. “It looks like we’re going to be neighbors tonight, so if you need anything, just ask.”

“You too.”

Once we’re back at the tailgate of the truck, Ghosts puts it down and sits me on it, climbing up beside me. We sit in silence for a few minutes before I whisper, “Do you think they’ll make it?”

I don’t know if I mean Florida or just in general, but the response is the same either way. “I hope so.”

“Me too,” I whisper, laying my head on his shoulder. “Me too.”