Page 5

THE MAN HOVERED over her, analyzing her as she crouched on her hands and knees, her back arched like a cornered cat. She spat out bile, the bitter taste pooling in the corners of her mouth before she could force it free.

“I had to be sure.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she choked out, willing him to leave her alone and focusing instead on calming the nausea roiling in her stomach.

When the worst of it passed, she rolled onto her back, breathing heavily through her nose.

Her throat burned, and her mouth tasted like acid.

She desperately craved a toothbrush, but for now, she’d settle for wiping the dried bile from her face with the back of her hand.

She reached toward her mouth, but the man slapped her arm back down to the ground.

“That’s unsanitary,” he remarked as she glared up at him, “stay put.”

Without waiting for a response, he jogged toward the back of the property.

Ruby didn’t bother watching him go. The stars were bright tonight, only slightly dimmed by the fire smoldering nearby.

It had been months since the last time they were visible to her.

Most of her targets lived in crowded residential areas where fires were easily blamed on faulty wiring or unattended candles. This was a nice change of pace.

“Cute property,” she rasped, ignoring the rawness of her throat.

“Thanks,” the farmer wheezed from somewhere on the ground to her left. He hadn’t gotten up from taking a pitchfork to the chest. “It was my father-in-law’s place. Asked me to tend to the land when he got sick. My wife and I moved back after he passed.”

He barked out a cough and Ruby turned toward him, her cheek pressing into the dirt.

Trembling fingers clutched at the wooden handle of the pitchfork, but he made no attempt to pull it out.

“I was a shit farmer. Killed everything. Hated the animals. Especially the chickens. Was gonna sell the place to some guy I found online. Didn’t know he’d turn me into this. ”

“Did you get his name?” the other man asked. Ruby hadn’t heard him return from his sprint, but he kneeled beside her, opening a pack of wet wipes and passing one over. She dabbed at her mouth while the failed farmer thought.

“Eddie, I think,” he eventually replied through tears, “My wife and I… we fought, toward the end. I messed around where I shouldn’t have.

The neighbor girl found me, and her momma came running out.

Eddie must’ve heard the commotion and came over.

I don’t—I don’t remember what happened after that, but when I woke up… she was on fire.”

Ruby sat up. “Your wife?”

“No, my neighbor, Cindy.” His voice cracked.

“We were childhood sweethearts. Broke up when I left for college. By the time I came back to visit, she was married and pregnant. Guy was a deadbeat, died in a bar fight a couple years later, but by then, I was married too. Then Eddie… he turned me into this, and he killed my Cindy.”

Tears traced along the man’s face in purple streaks, each convulsion shaking the handle of the pitchfork.

“But I…I killed my wife. I couldn’t stop myself.

I was so hungry, so tired. Before he left, Eddie told me I had to burn people to live.

That I was now a zombie, like him. Only he used a different word.

I don’t remember. I didn’t believe him until I couldn’t take it anymore. ”

“Did Eddie say anything else?” Ruby pressed.

“Not really…” the farmer trailed off. “Oh, he said to tell Ruby ‘hi.’”

Ruby jerked toward him, throwing herself onto her hands and knees as the older man struggled to sit up. The pitchfork jutted out from his chest, the wooden handle swaying in the air. Blood soaked through his white shirt around the prongs. She scrambled forward, grabbing him by the collar.

“Are you sure he said Ruby?”

He blinked back at her, his eyes widening. “Pretty sure. He said it right in my ear before he left.”

Ruby’s grip tightened, her knuckles turning white. Her stomach churned, and she turned her head enough to spit the bile rising in her throat. “What else?” she demanded in a low growl.

“Nothing.”

“WHAT ELSE?” she screamed, flecks of spit landing on the man’s face. Her hand struck out, grabbing the pitchfork, preparing to twist it through his ribcage.

He writhed at the sudden, violent interrogation. “Nothing. I swear, he didn’t say anything else.”

Headlights suddenly flooded the area, followed by the rumble of engines. One car, then another, and another. Car doors slammed shut, the sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the hay and dirt.

“Ruby?” Someone new called out, cutting through her haze. “You alright?”

Feet appeared in her peripheral vision, but she refused to break eye contact with the sobbing ex-farmer. The firelight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the ground.

“Jonah?” They tried after getting no response.

Ruby’s other assailant, Jonah, responded. “I got her. I’ll get her cleaned up and have her report back soon.”

A hand touched her shoulder, a gentle but firm pressure. She tried to shrug it off, her mind still wrapped around the raw edge of her fury.

“Ruby.” Jonah shook her by the shoulder. “He doesn’t know anything, and the TCA needs to get this cleaned up before sunrise. It’s time to go.”

His hands moved over hers, slowly loosening her grip. She resisted at first, but exhaustion weighed her down. She finally let him pull her away from the man, pushing Jonah off before attempting to stand.

“You’re still an agent,” she accused. She’d seen the flash of his badge earlier, and that was the only reason he was still walking—or even conscious—after what he’d done.

“Still?” he asked, head cocking to the side.

“Figured you were dead.” She snorted.

Jonah remained silent, his arm steadying her as she stumbled to her feet. She was drained, the high completely gone, leaving her feeling hollow and incomplete. Throwing up had sped up the crash, but now she was unraveling, heavy-limbed and hollow.

"Keys?" Jonah’s hands hovered around her like she’d crumble without his support. Her lip curled, but she nodded toward the steering wheel. He opened the driver’s side door, keeping a hand at her waist to guide her into the seat.

“You really shouldn’t leave the keys in the car. It could get stolen,” he remarked.

“By who? The cows?”

Glass littered her passenger seat from a gaping hole in the opposite window. “Did you break into my truck?”

His look screamed the answer should be obvious. “That’s where I found the wet wipes.”

“It was unlocked,” she stressed, gesturing toward the wheel, “The keys were in the ignition.”

“I didn’t know that until after I broke the window.”

Her already thin patience evaporated into the night sky. The veins around her neck tightened as she ground out, “And you didn’t think to check?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t want you wiping vomit on your clothes.”

She glared at him before starting the engine, the vehicle rumbling to life, and slamming the door. Jonah chuckled and took a step back.

Tap . He rapped his knuckles against the window. She adjusted her rearview mirror.

Tap. Tap. Over the sound of the engine, he yelled an unintelligible slew of words. When she didn’t respond, he yelled louder, cupping his hands over his mouth and catching the curious glances of passing TCA agents. Throwing up her hands in exasperation, she rolled down the window.

He scratched the back of his neck, “Can I get a ride? I was dropped off.”

“That doesn’t seem like my problem,” she shot back.

“Help a fellow agent out,” he pleaded, jogging to the passenger side. “Plus, we have a lot to discuss.”

She put the truck in reverse and locked the doors. He hopped onto the side step, twisting his hand through the hole where her window had once been and unlocking the vehicle.

He stepped down and reached for the handle.

She locked it once more and backed the vehicle up a few feet.

He hopped onto the side step and unlocked the door.

Their game of chicken lasted down the dirt driveway, stopping only when a frustrated stomp on the acceleration almost ended with a neighbor’s curious kid on a bike flattened under her tire. At that point, she unlocked the door, shooed Jonah in, and took off like a bat out of hell.

Roughly half an hour of driving later, they found themselves in the bathroom of a convenience store.

Jonah sat on the closed toilet lid, scrubbing his shoe clean of vomit, while Ruby stood at the sink, brushing her teeth with the travel kit he’d picked up for her and patting at her wind blasted hair.

“You drugged me,” she said through a mouthful of toothpaste, glaring at him in the mirror.

“In my defense…” he trailed off under her pointed stare. “It seemed like a better idea in my head. Kavya, my partner, is terrified of thermies. I wanted to show her that even in the worst-case scenario, you could be trusted.”

“Why couldn’t I be trusted?” she asked, spitting the gritty mix of toothpaste, dirt, and ash into the sink. She cupped her hands under the faucet, rinsing out her mouth. “Outside of how much I’m thinking about shoving your head through the mirror at the moment.”

“You’re a thermy.”

The disgusting mouth mixture swirled down the drain. “And you’re a drugger. Only one of us started the night with the intention to hurt someone.”

“You threw a pitchfork into a guy’s chest.”

Her temples throbbed with every word he spoke. “I saved your life.”

He leaned back on the toilet seat, elbows propping on the lid and legs crossing. “I don’t think drugger is actually a word.”

“A druggist. An enabler. A fucking pharmacist. Whatever you want to call it.” She pointed an accusatory finger in his face. “You’re missing the point. I could’ve relapsed. I could’ve killed you and your friend and anyone else who showed up to the farm.”

“But you didn’t.” He grinned, cheeky and confident. “Fine,” he pulled on his damp shoe and stood. “There was probably a better way to introduce myself to my new partner.”