Broken Dreams (65 page)

“Jesus. I hurt you.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not! I went too far. Shit!” His face shifted from concerned to panic in the snap of a finger. His hands trembled as he jammed them into his hair. He was looking around for something for me to clean up with. He dressed quickly, then ran out into the living room where the supplies were.

When he came back in, his eyes were grayer than before. He handed me tissue and a selection of girly products.

“I’m not sure if this is what you need.” He stood in front of me, and I could see that he was terrified.

“It’s fine. Relax. Just sit and relax.” He sat down on the bed, but he was facing the wall and not me, for which I was thankful. Even though we had shared so much together, I didn’t want him watching me clean up.

“No. I can’t relax,” he grumbled. He was starting to tweak out. “I’m feeling it.”

“Go get your pack then.” He ran out again. I finished cleaning up, and was dressing as he came back in. I sat up against the headboard, and he began a draw for a bag. He was pacing back and forth, pulling at his hair, cussing himself out.

“I’m sorry, Elaina. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I will never forgive myself if I hurt you.”

“Henry, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. Sometimes stuff like that happens.” His pacing was growing quicker by the second. It was beginning to drive me batshit crazy.

“No, I hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to hurt like me.”

“Henry, you have to calm down. Yes, it hurt, but I wanted it to. It’s my fault for telling you to do it that way.”

“I don’t want you to hurt because of me. I’ve caused you enough pain as it is.” He was still running his hands through his hair.

“Henry.” He continued his pacing. “Henry Daniels!” I yelled. He stopped in his tracks. “You sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up!” I snapped at him.

He cleared his throat, and slowly sat down at the end of the bed with his back to me. His head was in his hands.

“Come up here.” I spoke gentler than before. He looked at me over his shoulder. His eyes were gray and watery. “Henry…please come here.” He got up and walked to the side of the bed and sat down. He slid up against the headboard next to me. He was so upset.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked while looking down, fiddling with the blankets.

“Yes. I’m fine.” I kissed his cheek. He shyly smiled. “If you want to be upset, be upset with me.” He licked his lips and looked at me. I smiled at him.

He leaned back and relaxed a little, while he waited for his fix. He drummed his fingers on his knees. I wanted to yell at him to stop, but he was emotionally weak, and any more yelling could set him off. So I decided to suck it up and deal with his quirkiness for the moment.

Once Nick and Henry had their fix and had come down from their high, we packed up and hit the road. Henry drove until his body couldn’t go without a drink anymore. Nick and Claire took the front, and Henry sat with me and Thomas in the back. I snuggled up against him, while he drank himself into oblivion once more. The closer we got to our destination, the more anxious I became.

Chapter 43

had nodded off with my head tucked into Henry’s chest. I have no idea how long I slept until I was rudely awakened by the sound of the truck tires screeching, and being thrown forward into the dash. Claire screamed, and Henry grabbed me by my waist before I flew out the windshield ass over tits.

“Christ, Nick! What the fuck are you trying to do?” Henry yelled. Nick was sitting in the driver’s seat, breathing heavily. His eyes were bugged out. I crawled back next to Henry. I was shaken up and my forehead was burning like a motherfucker.

“Holy shit,” was all Nick could manage.

“Oh, love. You’re bleeding badly.” I put my hand up to my forehead, and the warm sticky wetness ran all over it.

For a moment, he licked his lips and gazed at the steady stream of blood coming out of my fresh wound. I saw his lips quiver. He wanted my blood.

Then, without warning, Henry sat up and dug through the supplies, finding a couple gauze pads. “Here, press this on it for a moment. I’m going to get out and check out what the deal is.” My head was throbbing, and I cringed as I touched the gauze to it. Henry jumped out of the truck, walked to the front, and stood there for a minute. I saw him shake his head, yell something, and march back with fury. He yanked open the door.

“What’s going on?” I asked wearily.

“There is a fucking crater in the road. You could fit a double decker in the bloody thing.”

“Sorry, it snuck up on me.” Nick was still in shock, and he looked at Claire, who was hugging her belly. “Are you alright?”

“I think so. I’m having a few pains, though.”

“Oh no.” Nick got out and grabbed a bottle of water from the back, then ran to Claire’s side of the truck. “Here, drink some water, and let’s lean the seat back. Just try to relax.” Her eyes were full of fear. “It’s going to be okay, babe.” He helped her lay the seat back. Thomas was sitting in silence, as usual, watching what was happening.

Henry got back in the truck and pulled the gauze pad away. “Jesus, love. You need stitches. It’s a pretty nasty gash.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. He reached back and grabbed a bottle of vodka. “What are you doing?” I couldn’t believe he was going to drink while my head was split wide open. Hello! I needed some medical attention here.

“I’m going to clean it.”

“Oh, right.” I sagged back into the seat for a moment. Then it occurred to me. “Wait!” I jacked myself straight up. “No way. That will burn!”

“It’s better than an infection!” He pulled a little kit out of his pack that had a tube of super glue in it.

“Super glue?”

“Yes. It’ll seal it. We just need it to stop bleeding first, and make sure it’s dry. Lay back.” He held a fresh gauze pad on my head for a few minutes.

I was listening to Claire, hoping that the baby was fine. She was panicking, but Nick was doing a great job calming her down. Once she was calm, her pains subsided. I breathed a sigh of relief from the back seat. Henry pulled the gauze pad away from my head.

“Looks like it’s good.” He grabbed another gauze pad and put some vodka on it. I took a few deep breaths. “Here, hold my hand and squeeze, if need be. Just don’t break it.” He smiled. Asshole. I took his hand and closed my eyes. I winced before he even touched my head. “I haven’t touched you yet.”

“I know. It’s the anticipation.” Once he dabbed my forehead, I hissed. I squeezed the shit out of his hand, growling in pain. That wasn’t the worst part. After he dried off the gash, he held the skin together and ran a bead of superglue over it. It stung so much, I nearly pissed my pants. He held the gash together while the glue dried.

“Ow! Damn it, Henry!” I wanted to kick him in the tomatoes.

“Sorry, love.” He held it for a little while longer and let go with a smile. He seemed quite pleased with himself. “All better.” He kissed my cheek. “Just be careful, and don’t furrow that forehead of yours. Or make any faces at me behind my back.” I couldn’t help it, I had to laugh. Then I stuck out my tongue at him for good measure. He cupped my face with his hand and kissed me. I turned my attention to Claire.

“How are you feeling, Claire?” I was full of concern.

“I think I’m okay. The pains have gone away for now. Maybe it was a mix of stress and dehydration.”

“Just try to relax the best you can.”

She laughed at me. “Yes, Mother. I’ll do my best.” I smirked. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts like a bitch.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Henry drinking out of a bottle of vodka. Perfect. I rolled my eyes. He took a few pulls before he capped it and set it down on the floorboard.

“I’m going to head out and wander a bit, see where we’ll be able to cross over. Looks like this area was heavily bombed.” He rubbed my hand and jumped out. He pulled out his Sig before turning back around to us. “Thomas, keep an eye on the women. Nick, come on.” He hesitantly left Claire’s side, but not before he kissed her cheek and touched the baby bump.

Thomas stepped out of the truck and walked around with a rifle in his hand. I watched Henry and Nick walk away toward the crater and walk along the edge until I couldn’t see them anymore. The sides of the roads looked like grassy fields with tall brush close to the road.

I fiddled with my fingers, bounced my knee, played with the fray on my hoodie sleeve, and twisted my hair in my fingers until I saw them walk back to the truck.

Henry opened the back door and grabbed the bottle. He had a hearty drink, then proceeded to tell us where the crater ended, and that we should be able to navigate around it using four-wheel drive.

Obviously, Nick was driving. Henry didn’t like relinquishing control, but he wanted to help navigate from the passenger seat. He felt two pairs of eyes were better than one, even if his were peering through vodka goggles.

We settled Claire into the middle of the backseat, with her leaning against me. Thomas allowed her to rest her legs on him, as well. She was so worried about the baby that I could feel it radiating off of her. I played with her hair and tried to be reassuring.

Nick put the truck in four high and we headed to the left of the crater. He slowly and carefully drove us around it. There were times where Henry made him drop it into four low because some of the terrain was treacherous. It looked like a grassy area, but it was quite unleveled.

We finally made it back on the highway and Nick decided he would drive slower. I figured it was a good decision on his part because if he went any faster, I probably would have throat punched him.

Knowing we were much closer to our destination, my anxiety was kicking in again. I was afraid that Gunther was going to jump out and get us. My head was throbbing so I decided to indulge.

“Henry?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Pass that back to me.”

“Pass what back?” He looked back at me with confusion.

“The bottle, you moron. My head is killing me. Maybe it will numb me up.”

“Speaking from experience, I can assure you that it won’t. Maybe you should try to get some rest.” I glared at him with the good, old-fashioned raised eyebrow. He sighed and passed the vodka back to me.

I noticed half the bottle was gone already. I was anticipating another puke-fest. I surely wasn’t in the mood to help him through that. I tipped the bottle back and let the liquid pour down my throat. As I pulled the bottle away, the burn hit. I looked at the label. “Ugh. This is the cheap shit.”

“Would you like me to put an order in for the good stuff, straight out of Russia, to arrive at our next stop?” he said with great sarcasm. Asshole. How dare he? He knew that was my thing.

“Of course. Maybe you can have them stop in France and grab some Dom Pèrignon, as well.” He smirked at me, and I handed him back the bottle. Feeling the desire and need to change the subject, I asked, “So where exactly are we traveling to?”

“The port.”

“Why there?”

“It was planned out previously in the program. It’s where I’m supposed to meet him.”

“So you know exactly where we’re going?”

“Of course.” I sighed at him. He was hiding something again. He knew how I felt about that. I decided to let it go for the moment and sit quietly, hoping that the vodka would kick in soon. So far, no luck. Henry kept glancing back and checking on me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to.

At some point, I must have nodded off because when I woke up, it was dark. We were stopped in front of this creepy, dilapidated house.

Surprisingly, Henry was passed out, as well as Claire. Thomas and Nick got out to investigate. I sat waiting, keeping my fingers crossed that we were alone. Several minutes later, Nick came back to the truck.

“Looks good. It’s empty. No beds or furniture, though.” I sulked a little. He rolled his eyes at me. “Cut the shit, Lainy! What did you expect? A fucking five-star hotel?” He slammed the truck door and went to the back to start unloading. Grumpy much? He was really worried about Claire and the baby so I cut him some slack. He was pulling a Henry, and not sleeping very well, either. There were times when I would wake up in the middle of the night, and Nick would be chatting with him.

Henry stirred, and Claire sat up. I began the daunting task of waking Henry from his drunken slumber. Once I got him inside, I helped unload the truck. I was so fucking sick of loading and unloading the damn truck. It was getting beyond ridiculous. I couldn’t wait until we found a place where we could stay for a while. Hopefully, a more permanent place. I just wanted to be able to call some place home again.

***

When I woke up the next morning, Henry and Nick had the maps open on the floor. I wondered how long they had been at it, until I saw that the couple candles they had used were melted on the floor. They were quietly discussing different routes we could take to get to where Henry needed us to go.

Nick wanted to get somewhere that would have some sort of bed for Claire. She was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Plus, her legs and feet were swelling. Every minute of each day, Claire was becoming more and more worried about the baby. She was having contractions throughout the day, which worried me. She tried to convince me it wasn’t a big deal and it happened, but I could see the fear in her eyes. It was far too early for her to go into labor.

Nick made an executive decision after he spent a good portion of that morning trying to console Claire after another crying jag and said we were staying a few more nights in that run-down house. She needed to get rehydrated, and we needed to convince her to eat more than she had been.

All of us gave up close to all of our bedding and linens to try to make her as comfortable as possible. We had a long-winded argument over it because she worried we would get too cold. We told her we would pile on the clothes, and not to worry about us. I wasn’t worried about Henry because, more than likely, he would keep warm with whatever bottle he was nursing.

Approximately a week later, we left that house and headed the direction Henry and Nick planned out. Once again, Nick was driving and Henry was helping navigate from the passenger seat with a bottle of booze clutched in his hand. We were getting extremely low on essential supplies, which meant food and water. However, for some reason, we had plenty of booze.

***

It was roughly another week before we finally made it to the approximate area where Henry was to meet Gunther. We were trolling down a country road when we saw signs of the bombings. The few houses that we saw were either burnt to the ground or dangerously close to collapsing. There were only a couple that looked like they could have still been lived in. It was so sad to see all of the destruction. As we drove past each house, we were all silent as one question lingered in the air around us.

Were there any survivors?

I hoped that we would run into some, at the very least to swap war stories with. The conversation between us pretty much consisted of Henry’s drunkenness, Thomas’ silence, Claire crying, Nick grumbling angrily, and me throwing out some sarcastic, witty comments here and there, which may or may not have been directed at the drunk in the truck. Needless to say, conversation had become quite dull.

As we continued down the seemingly abandoned road, we came up to a clearing.

“Well, would you look at that…?” Nick muttered in amazement. I sat straight up and looked out the front of the truck. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.