Empty Bodies 3: Deliverance (Empty Bodies Series Book 3) (12 page)

“Brought you some coffee,” Will said, offering Gabriel a mug.

“Thought I smelled that.” He took the cup. “Thanks.”

“So,” Marcus began, “we need to come up with a game plan for how all this is gonna go down today.”

“Pretty simple if you ask me,” Will said. “We drive there and we find Dylan and David. And whatever or whoever gets in our way, we take ‘em down.”

Gabriel chuckled. “That’s your plan, Rambo?”

Will nodded conclusively. “Yeah, it is.”

“We have no idea what we’re going into here,” Marcus said. “We don’t know anything about this farm; not how many people are there, what kind of firearms they are packing, or how they have it secured. Hell, we could be walking right into a trap.”

“Assuming David went back and lied to them, and told them that we killed those two rednecks, they’re gonna either be waiting on us or they’re gonna show up here at some point. Now, I agree, we need to go to them before they get to us, but we can’t just go in there with guns blazing.”

“Well, you got a better plan?” Will asked.

Gabriel smiled. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Dylan

The light shone in through the room and Dylan awoke to find he was still alone. It was a miracle he’d been able to sleep at all; absolute exhaustion had to be the only reason he’d been able to. He looked to the door and saw that something wrapped in white paper had been slipped under it. He jumped up and hurried over.

Written on top of the piece of paper that covered the object was the word “Breakfast”. Dylan frowned once he read the note, and opened it up to reveal an off-brand granola bar. His stomach howled at the sight of it and tears filled his eyes. The boy let go of the bar, wrestled himself to his feet, and started to bang on the door.

“Let me out of here! Please, let me out!”

The floors creaked and heavy footsteps marched down the hall. Dylan stopped beating on the door and backed away.

It violently swung open, the knob slamming against the wall, and the large dirty man’s shadow eclipsed Dylan. The man walked toward him, the wrapper of the granola bar crinkling as it was crushed under his huge boot. Dylan shuddered, backing up until he hit the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” Dylan said. “I’m sorry I yelled and banged on the door. I promise I’ll be quiet. Just, please, don’t hurt me.”

But the man was already leaning down and reaching for Dylan. The boy yelled, but the large man ignored him and picked him up, throwing the child over his shoulder like a sand bag.

Dylan bounced up and down, his head hanging halfway down the man’s broad backside. This was only the second time he’d been outside of the room since they’d brought him into the house, and he was finally able to get a good look at the place. He was being carried down a long hallway and, so far, they’d passed three other rooms. The floors were old and unfinished, appearing to be simple 2x4s like he had used when he’d helped his dad build a fence around their backyard. Pictures hung on the walls, but the man was moving too fast for Dylan to get a good look at them.

The stairs crackled as the man stepped down them, and Dylan’s yelling had turned into heavy breathing. Where was the man taking him?

When they reached the lower level of the house, Dylan saw a sofa that looked twice as old as he was sitting in front of a beat-up television. Two teenage girls wearing identical dresses sat on the couch, their eyes glued to one of those boring morning talk shows, barely visible through the static.

If Dylan’s stomach hadn’t been empty, he would’ve probably thrown up when he was tossed off of the man’s shoulder and set down into a chair. He was placed in front of a large wooden table, and two familiar faces sat at the other end of it. Clint sat at the very end of the table, a large plate of meat and eggs in front of him, and Cindy sat to his immediate left. Two children sat in chairs on either side of Dylan, each looking like they hadn’t ever traveled more than a few miles from the farm. Both of them were boys, neither wearing a shirt, and their faces stained with dirt. One of the boys, who may have just been a year or two shy of Dylan’s age, smiled at him, revealing the absence of most of his teeth.

A few moments after he settled, his veins redistributing the blood from his head to the rest of his body, the smell hit him. The stench of sour milk mixed with steak and eggs. He could also smell the two boys. It all congealed in the air to form a rotten odor that almost made Dylan puke even though his belly was empty.

The shadow of the large man appeared over Dylan, and he slapped a plate down in front of the boy. Runny eggs mixed together with some other food Dylan was pretty sure he’d never seen before. It looked gross enough to almost make him want to ask for another expired shake or granola bar.

“Go ahead, son,” Clint said. “Eat.”

Dylan stared at the slop for another minute, then looked up at Clint with weak eyes, on the verge of bursting.

“Can I take this back up to my room?” Dylan asked.

Clint’s eyes narrowed, and Dylan immediately regretted the question. The shadow reached down to steal the plate from him, and then he walked it back toward the kitchen.

“No!” Dylan cried out. “Please, I’m sorry. I’ll eat here; just please bring my plate back. I didn’t mean to offend anybody.”

The large man turned to Clint, and Clint nodded at him to return the platter to the table. He set the plate back down in front of Dylan, then picked up the fork and put it in the boy’s hand. The large man retreated again, and Clint and Cindy continued to eat their food at the other end of the table. The two boys just stared at Dylan, ignoring their food and apparently waiting to see what his next move would be.

Dylan stirred the white-ish substance on the plate, then looked up to Clint and asked, “What is this?”

Peeking over the salt and pepper shakers at the center of the table, Clint looked at the plate and chuckled. “In America, we call that eggs and grits.”

“What are grits?” Dylan asked, scrunching up his face.

“Where you from, boy?” Clint asked.

“Alexandria,” Dylan mumbled, slightly embarrassed that he didn’t know what grits were.

“Where’s that?”

“In Virginia. Right outside of Washington D.C.”

“Fuckin’ hippies,” Clint said. “Just eat it, kid.”

Dylan looked up, and the smelly boys still stared at him. He tried to put them out of his mind, and pretend like the plate in front of him was full of his mother’s delicious, fluffy eggs. Just as he realized how dry his throat was, the large man came back over and set down a glass of water in front of him. It had a slightly brown tint to it, but he wasn’t going to complain. He’d likely rather have that over the sour milk, and he knew he would need something to wash the slop down with.

Without thinking about it, Dylan forced the first bite into his mouth, trailing the mush with a large swig of the dirty water. He could taste the minerals in the water mixing with the nasty taste of the egg and grits mixture, and covered his mouth so he could swallow without throwing up. If he didn’t eat what they’d offered, there was no telling when or if the people would feed him again. He had no choice but to force it down.

One of the children giggled, and Cindy hit him across the back of his head with an open palm. The child’s head snapped down, almost slamming his nose into the table.

“You shut the fuck up and eat your food,” she shouted.

The boy rubbed the back of his head and glared at Dylan as if it was his fault he’d been slapped.

Clint looked over to Dylan, who was trying to swallow his second bite of breakfast. “We gonna let you spend some time with us today. Show you the real fun stuff.”

Dylan nearly threw up, barely hearing Clint speak as he was trying to make himself swallow another disgusting bite. Clint took another bloody bite out of his steak.

“Yeah, you gonna have fun with us today, boy. That, I promise.”

The stairs creaked as heavy footsteps moved downward. Dylan looked up and his eyes widened as he saw a smiling familiar face. An uneasy feeling crept up inside him. Clint smiled.

“Perfect timing,” Clint said. “We were just finishing up breakfast before we go and get started for the day.” Clint looked to Dylan and pointed at the man. “Dylan, I’m not sure you’ve been properly introduced. This is Mr. David Ellis.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jessica

Writing had always been Jessica’s number one way of relaxation and escape, and now she was thankful she’d mentioned her love of the craft to Sarah in passing during a conversation that morning. When she’d gone back to her room after breakfast, there lay a blank notepad and a pen waiting for her on her bed, along with a simple note that just had a smiley face drawn on it.

She’d spent the past hour lying on the bed on her stomach, writing in her new journal. It brought her a certain calm to finally get the words out onto the page. She wasn’t the kind who was typically comforted by speaking her emotions out loud with other people and trying to sort through them. She found writing them down to be a much better therapy.

Jessica had just reached the part in her story where Walt pulled her into the hotel room, thus saving her, when a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” she said.

The door opened and Holly poked her head through. “Will, Gabriel, and Marcus want to talk to everyone. They’re asking everyone to meet out at the nurses’ station in about twenty minutes.”

Jessica nodded. “Cool, thanks.”

She’d looked back down to continue writing when she saw Holly enter the room out of the corner of her eye. Jessica shut the notebook and looked up to Holly again. Her arms crossed, Holly glared at Jessica.

“Yes?” Jessica asked.

“I love him.”

Jessica was at a loss for words. How was she supposed to respond to that?

“I know that you guys are getting close,” Holly continued. “You’ve got a special connection to him because of his mother, I get that. But just don’t get too close.”

With that last sentence, Jessica went from feeling slightly awkward to a little bit angry.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Not yet,” Holly said, shaking her head. She turned and opened the door, glaring back at Jessica one more time before she left the room.

Staring down at her notebook, Jessica shook her head. She hopped off the bed and headed to the restroom for a quick shower, being sure to take her notebook with her so she could keep it close.

***

When Jessica left her room and headed to the nurses’ station, the rest of the group was already standing there. She made a point of looking for Sarah first, whose eyes went to the journal under Jessica’s arm, and she smiled. Jessica smiled back and mouthed the words “Thank you.”

“Nice of you to join us,” Holly said in a snarky tone.

Jessica took one look at Holly and then looked away. The girl was obviously trying to intimidate her, but the schoolyard antics weren’t going to do anything to impress her.

Will either didn’t notice her snobbish tone or didn’t care. He looked focused on more important things as he began to speak.

“Thanks everyone for meeting here. Before I get started, I just want to take a moment to thank everyone for their support over the last day. It’s been the hardest couple of days of my life, and I thank you. I know it wasn’t made any easier last night when we lost three more people, but everyone has remained strong.” He stopped for a moment to clear his throat and gather his thoughts.