Bite Me (Woodland Creek) (9 page)

The cop wasn’t looking at her. His head was down, his fists clenched, and with the way his shoulders shook, it looked a whole lot like he might be fighting off tears, if he wasn’t crying already.

She couldn’t feel sorry for him, or even think about putting herself in his shoes. His shame was something she couldn’t care about right now, not when she could still see Jake just lying over there.

Bobby spread his hands, and he took another step closer to her, and another, and another, until he was on the grass, backing her up now. “Come on, sweetheart. You can’t shoot me like that. I’m not attacking you.”

“You attacked Jake,” Alice said.

“But I’m not doing anything now. Kill me in front of a cop, and your life is over.”

Alice gasped. He was right, and Bobby smiled.

The manipulative bastard was right, and he knew it. Even if he’d threatened or cajoled or paid off that guy, he was still able to use having a cop around to his advantage. If Alice shot him and killed him, she would go away for the rest of her life.

“It looked like you attacked her to me,” said the cop.

Alice sputtered. “What?”

Bobby frowned, as though annoyed. “What was that?”

The officer glared at Bobby, and the red in his face was visible. “You attacked her boyfriend after you threatened my family. I let them walk ahead of me like you told me to, and when I came back, she was running for her life and you were chasing after her. She took my gun in a panic and killed you just before you could wrap your fingers around her neck. That’s what I saw.”

“Hey, shut the fuck up. No one asked for your opinion on anything, you traitor pig.”

But then the cop was looking at her, and Alice felt suddenly bad for not knowing his name. “I swear on my life that’s what I saw,” he said.

Bobby pulled back the side of his long, black coat. “I said shut the fuck up,” he said, yanking a gun out of a holster that he’d hidden there. He pointed it at the cop, and Alice pulled back on the trigger of the Glock without thinking about anything else, not even where she was aiming.

She didn’t get him in the head. That would’ve been too perfect, but Bobby was punched back again by the force of her bullet hitting him. His gun went off. He probably squeezed the trigger as a reflex from the pain of being shot. He didn’t hit the cop, but there was suddenly a hole in the passenger side of his cruiser.

Bobby’s eyes were wide, shocked, and it took Alice a couple of seconds before she realized where she’d gotten him.

Left side of the chest. If she didn’t hit his heart, then it was a damned close one. Either way, he dropped his gun, his hand coming up to touch the spot where she’d shot him. He looked down, then at her, and then he fell over.

Whether he was passed out or dead, Alice decided right then and there that it didn’t matter and she didn’t care. Well, she did care. She hoped he was dead, but she couldn’t bring herself to check when she ran over and grabbed his gun off the ground and then made a run for where Jake was lying.

She’d seen too many movies where the hero dropped their only weapon, or left the killer with a weapon of their own when they thought he was down and out of commission. She wasn’t about to leave a gun near his body in case he was alive and happened to wake up, and she wasn’t about to leave it lying around for the cop to take either.

He might’ve vouched for her, but she didn’t trust him, not after this.

“Jake? Jake?”

It was blood that he’d been lying in for sure. As she ran closer, the black, inky-looking stuff turned red as she stood over him. Dark red. There was so much of it. Bobby had been a little roughed up, and he spat out some blood, but there was no telling what was his and what was Jake’s. It all mostly seemed to belong to Jake. There was no way any of this could belong to Bobby, not even with that scratch he’d had on his forehead.

And Alice had no idea if she was supposed to move him or not. What if his neck was hurt?

There was a knife in the dark puddle. Alice almost didn’t see it. Had he been stabbed? Maybe that was it. Jake had clearly gotten Bobby with the knife at least once on the forehead, but what if Bobby had decided to hell with trying to kill him in his dog form, shifted, taken the knife, and stuck Jake with it?

Oh, God. There was so much of it that she could smell it.

Alice knelt down, touching his shoulder. “Jake?”

His eyes fluttered, and Alice’s heart, stomach, and guts all lurched in her throat and mouth. “Oh, my God, Jake!” she said, and when he opened his eyes, it was the best thing she’d ever seen in her life.

Until he lifted his head just enough for her to see the massive bite at his throat. Teeth marks, missing skin, gruesome stuff that made her happiness almost turn to sickness. He looked right up at her, not seeming to notice that his throat was half missing.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that extreme. She didn’t want to let her imagination completely get the better of her. He’d be dead if that was the case.

But Alice was still horrified.

“Don’t move,” she said, trying to be as gentle as she could when she touched him, as though just by touching him could take off bits of his skin, or maybe even a limb or two. “Don’t say anything. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Jake’s lips moved. He didn’t say much, but she could read Bobby’s name in them.

Alice looked back at where Bobby was still lying on the ground. The dark, shiny black puddle surrounding him was bigger than the one that was around Jake.

“I think he’s dead,” she said, and then noted how the lights on the cruiser were flashing, and their cop ally was on his radio. Hopefully calling for help. He’d better be calling for help, or the next person Alice shot would be him.

“You did good,” Alice said, looking back down at Jake. She smoothed some of his hair out of his face. It spread some of the bright red around, but that couldn’t be helped. “I don’t think he’s going to be bothering us for a while.”

Jake closed his eyes, giving her a weak nod in reply.

“Hey, stay awake for me, okay?” she said. This was looking a little too much like the last time. The scary difference was that Jake was so much weaker now than he’d been then. At least then he could squeeze her hand, talk to her, and she could talk to him. It had been what kept her from going insane as she waited for the police and the ambulance to arrive.

She heard the sirens coming in the next instant. It seemed that in such a small town things were able to move around a lot quicker. They wouldn’t have to wait so long before medical help got here.

That was good. That might just save Jake’s life.

“Hear that? They’re coming for you. They’re almost here.”

Alice took Jake’s bloody hand, the one that wasn’t ruined from dog bites, and she rubbed it between her fingers, hoping that would at least keep him awake and aware of what was going on around him. “Stay with me. Okay? You can’t just kiss me like that and tell me all those things about yourself and then leave.”

She was crying. Shit. Not a good thing. She was supposed to look strong for him so he’d pull through.

But she couldn’t help herself. It was happening, and the tears were coming whether she wanted them to or not.

“Don’t you dare die on me. I swear I won’t forgive you.” Ten years was too long to live without him, even when he’d been alive. At least if he were alive, she could be happy knowing that much. She could live in a world where Jake was alive, because he was proof that good things did live in this world, and not just bad things like Bobby.

“Please don’t die,” she said, still crying. Sobbing now.

The sirens from the cop cars and ambulances were getting closer. Jake remained pale on the concrete.

*****

He couldn’t be dead, because if he were dead, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be in this much pain. Death was supposed to be nicer. Also, Jake didn’t really believe in the afterlife. Not the traditional one of Heaven or Hell or anything like that. When he died, he figured it would feel the same as it had before he was born. Meaning, he shouldn’t be feeling jack shit.

But no, the fact that everything was dark didn’t mean death, or the fact that he couldn’t move didn’t mean death. The fact that everything had a dull ache had to mean life. There was no way it couldn’t mean anything but that, not with the pain that throbbed through him like a motherfucker.

When that happened, he thought of the bites on his arms, his legs, his stomach, and then his throat. The bite that put him down for good. The bite that should have killed him, but for some reason hadn’t.

He was still in that fight, still struggling to get the dog off him. To throw Bobby off and give Alice the time she needed to get away, but his limbs were sluggish and slow. Always too slow. Then he’d remember that the fight was over. Who won? Probably not him.

He slept sometimes. At least, he was pretty sure he was sleeping. He didn’t know for how long, but there wasn’t much else he could be doing. Then there were the times when the pain felt almost manageable. That was probably the drugs kicking in.

He wasn’t aware of much happening around him, other than footsteps and the puttering of the people who had to be staff. This had to be a hospital. The air felt stale and clean, so something was up his nose helping him to breathe, at least.

Then there were times when he felt warmth on his hand, or when it wasn’t touching him directly, he felt it sitting beside him, or across the room. He was especially aware of when that warm feeling would vanish, when it wasn’t in the room.

He didn’t like it when that feeling came upon him. In fact, he hated not knowing where it was.

Alice. It had to be Alice. She was alive, and she was coming to see him.

Who else could make him feel like that?

He focused on opening his eyes whenever he was sure she was there, but it felt like something was pressing down on his eyelids, preventing him from seeing her, and then he’d sleep again for what felt like the longest time, whether he wanted to or not.

Don’t go. Don’t vanish again. You don’t have to leave this time.

When he woke up again, he was finally able to open his eyes, and when he did, he wished that he hadn’t.

Fuck, who would’ve thought sunlight could cause such a terrible, burning pain in the back of his retinas?

He shut his eyes and groaned, but that groan caused a vibration in the back of his throat that hurt like a bitch. Or like Bobby’s long teeth chomping down on his skin. That was a pretty good comparison.

There was a scramble next to him. The sound of paper falling and other little tools clattering on the tiled floor.

The warmth was right there beside him, the one he’d been craving whenever he felt it so close to him.

Alice’s voice. He didn’t even know what she was saying, but he was glad to hear it. He smiled and turned his head so that he was at least facing her.

He forced his eyes open again, but there must’ve been a light source somewhere behind her head. Either a lamp, or the sun coming in from the widow, because he could hardly make out any of her features. It seemed to make her face look like she was under a shadow.

He shut his eyes again and smiled, content to just be facing her.

She hadn’t run away this time. Good. He was worried she would leave again when he hadn’t told her to. Now he could really get some proper rest.

When Jake woke up again, the light didn’t hurt him so much, and he felt more mobility in his body. Alice wasn’t beside him when he turned his eyes to look, but there was a chair pulled up there, and it had her sketchbook and the book on anatomy, the ones he’d purchased for her at the bookstore.

Seeing them there calmed him somewhat. He could relax easier, knowing she was around, or even if she wasn’t, that she’d left her things here.

It meant she was planning on coming back at some point, and he could live with that.

Jake reached his hand up to touch his throat. His arm felt slow and sluggish, but not nearly as bad as it felt in his dreams, when he’d still been going up against Bobby.

That stupid asshole had better be dead. Jake rarely wished for people to die, but Bobby was definitely one of them, and if he wasn’t dead, then he better be staying behind bars for the rest of his life. Knowing Bobby, that would be a fate even worse than death. That man couldn’t stand being caged up.

Jake looked around. His room was a private one. There wasn’t another bed in here. Royal treatment for him.
Yay.
Must be Rickman’s way of apologizing for leaving them with an incompetent escort.

The door to his room opened, and a woman in a white doctor’s coat entered holding a clipboard.

She noted the way Jake was looking at her, and she smiled. “Oh, good. We thought you’d wake up today.”

“Where—” Jake had to clear his throat. Holy shit, was that scratchy-sounding voice his?

He touched his neck.

“Don’t worry, you’re still healing. It’s only been a month, but you are making good progress.”

A month? That was it?

The surprise must have shown in his eyes, because the good doctor took the time to explain everything to him. His progress, what had been damaged, and what they were still working on.

“Your friend, Alice, had been here every day for as long as visiting hours would allow,” the doctor said. “The staff is starting to get attached to her, especially when she brings in coffee to bribe the nurses into an overnight stay.”

Jake looked over at her sketchbook.

“Don’t worry. We just convinced her to get a quick shower and a change of clothes. She’ll be back.”

Jake believed her. Alice would be coming back. He sighed and let the good doctor go over the finer points of his recovery before she called Rickman for him.

He got bored of everything pretty damned quick. After Rickman came in, a big smile on his face as a sort of congratulations-on-surviving-that-shit kind of expression, he apologized for the actions of his officer.

The man had been questioned and removed from his position. Jake wasn’t too interested in pressing charges after he’d heard what Rickman had said to him.

Apparently, the man had a change of heart and helped Alice get away alive. Bobby had been threatening his family, and Jake was pretty sure Rickman wasn’t the sort of man who would make that shit up just to make himself and his department look good.

It didn’t matter what Jake thought anyway. Whatever happened to the officer in question was out of his hands, as he expected.

A judge and jury would decide what happened to him for what he’d done. Jake felt bad enough that he might consider putting in a good word for him, though it depended on if Rickman’s story checked out with Alice. If it didn’t, well, fuck them all. Either way, he was done with this town.

Everything felt stiff and sore, and the nurses assured him that such a thing was normal after spending the better part of a month unconscious.