Wolf Hiding (A Wolf in the Land of the Dead Book 2) (15 page)

“She was a prisoner of the New Heaven people.” Suzannah said.

The old man tottered forward a couple of steps. “Don’t look like they treated her so nice.”

“They didn’t.”

The old man looked at the car next. His eyes widened when he saw the missing windshield. His gaze was awed when he turned it on the red-haired woman. “Sure as shit you gals have been through the wringer! Escaped from them cultists last night, huh? Was that ya’ll that made all the ruckus?”

“Well, we had to make a distraction to escape, so we set a fire.” Suzannah grinned as she replied. Then a puzzled look crossed her face. “But how could you know that from here? That place is miles away.”

The old man dipped his head slightly. “Yep, sure is. But most nights, if’n it’s clear and the dead folks ain’t walkin’ around, I go ‘cross the street to the Suchong’s house. Them was nice folks, had a couple of cute kids with them funny names I couldn’t never pronounce. Shame about them kids...” His croaking voice trailed off and his eyes grew dim as he became lost in his memories. They stood in an awkward silence until Sage gently cleared her throat.

The old man startled. “Now, what was I talking about? Oh, right, the Suchongs. They built them kids a little house up on their roof, and put a real nice telescope up there. I like to go up and look at the stars at night. Sometimes I catch sight of a satellite. Anyway, I saw a goddamn big fire from that New Heaven place. Thought maybe them cultists had finally gone ‘round the bend and burned themselves all up.”

The old man coughed harshly and stepped back into the house. “Well, no need to stay out here all day. We can stand around and stare at each other just as well inside.” He disappeared into the darkness. Suzannah helped Nowen to her feet and she followed the tiny old man down a short hallway and into the kitchen.

The kitchen was just as crowded as the garage. Boxes and bags fought for space with piles of books, clothes, newspapers, and other assorted junk. In the enclosed area the stink of rotting food and mildew was overwhelming. The walls were yellowed with grease and nicotine, and even the linoleum floor felt tacky under Nowen’s feet.

Their host was searching through an open cupboard. “Take a seat there at the table. I got a little coffee here somewheres.” Sage looked at Nowen. “What table?” she whispered.

Suzannah stepped up to a carefully balanced pyramid of bundled fabric. “Here we go.” she said and swept the bundles to the floor with a wave of her arm. A yellow pine table with four matching chairs was revealed, and the three of them sat down.

The old man croaked triumphantly. He held a dusty metal can in his hand, and when he grinned his gums shone bald and pink. He held the can up to his ear and shook it; a small puff of dust floated over the table as he opened the lid and Sage sneezed. “Got a few grounds left! Who wants a cup?” he asked expectantly.

Sage shook her head. “No thank you, sir. But if you have any water, I would like some.”

The old man turned to Nowen, and she shook her head slowly and looked at Suzannah. The red-haired woman was watching a large spider climb out of the coffee can. She shot Nowen a horrified glance. “Uh, I think I’d just like some water, too. Please.” she said weakly.

He looked disappointed and set the can down on a stack of plastic shopping bags. “Fine, fine. No one nowadays wants good, simple coffee. Gotta have them fancy drinks.” The old man opened the oven door and pulled out a milk jug, then began to root around the mess on the counter. “Don’t know if’n I gots any clean cups. The missus allus did the cleaning, but she ain’t been feeling well lately.” He spoke absently over his shoulder.

Suzannah groaned. “We can just drink from the jug.”

The old man slammed the jug down on the table. It was half-full of a clear liquid that Nowen prayed was just plain water. The sound of the sloshing jug had brought on a sudden and burning thirst that, in turn, had brought on a deep weariness. There was nothing else she wanted in that moment than to put her head down on the table and never move again. Her eyes drifted closed and
the wolf is howling, howling in agony, and the thin male is drawing his arm back again, and the snake that just bit her is dangling from his hand and then whipping through the air as he swung his arm forward-

Someone nudged her and she started, her eyes blinking rapidly as she pulled herself free of the memory. Sage was next to her, one hand resting gently on her arm, the milk jug held out in the other hand. “Are you ok?” the girl whispered. Nowen nodded roughly and raised the jug to her lips with trembling arms. The water had a musty taste but she drank it down like fresh snowmelt.

She set the nearly-empty jug back on the table and wiped her mouth. The old man had taken the last seat and was staring at her with amazed eyes. “Whoo! You was thirsty, huh? Well, now,” and his bright blue eyes looked around the table, “we ought to get to know each other a little bit, huh? I’ll go first. My name is Elijah Washburn, but e’erbody calls me Eli.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments and then Suzannah spoke. “Sure, why not. Let’s all be friends. I’m Suzannah George, the girl is Sage Villanova, and the quiet one is Nowen.”

Eli frowned. “No need to be so snippety, ‘specially after I been so hospitable.”

There came a muffled thumping sound from overhead. Nowen looked up, trying to make out the source of the sound, but there was no amplified wolf’s sense to help.

“Uh...what the hell was that?” Suzannah asked in a voice torn between fear and anger. Nowen looked at Eli; the old man was gazing upward, his small smile cutting another ravine across his face.

“Oh, that would be the missus.”

“The who?” This from Suzannah.

“The missus. My wife. She’s ailing, and don’t come down from our room. She’s getting restless, sounds like, and prob’ly wants her breakfast.” Eli beamed at them.

“Uh-huh.” Nowen caught the suspicious glance Suzannah gave her.

Eli stood up abruptly. “Now I bet you gals are tired after last night. I gots a bedroom y’all can share, if ya don’t mind bunkin’ together.”

He led the way from the kitchen through an equally junk-stuffed living room. Nowen, trailing at the end of the procession, paused at the carpeted staircase that led up into darkness. The muffled thumping came again and she thought she smelled something foul, but without the wolf it was impossible for her to tell one odor from another in this filthy house. Sage called her name, and she rejoined the rest of them.

Eli swung open the door to the bedroom. Sage gasped in barely-disguised relief. The room, while cluttered, was in better shape than the rest of the house Nowen had seen. Piles of junk were everywhere, but they seemed to be more clothes and shoes than trash. A massive, old-fashioned four-poster bed was just visible beneath a layer of moth-eaten stuffed animals. Nowen made her way to the bed. Behind her she heard Suzannah say something to Eli and then came the sound of the door shutting.

Sage joined Nowen on the bed, and Suzannah sat on a mound of what looked like dozens of sweatpants next to the door. They looked at each other in silence, listening to Eli’s footsteps as they went up the stairs. The thumping sound grew louder, almost rhythmic, and then cut off suddenly.

Suzannah slapped her hands on her thighs. “Well!” she said with an artificial brightness, “Who here thinks we’re going to be murdered in our sleep?”

Sage groaned and fell back on the bed, knocking a one-eyed turtle onto the floor. Nowen fought the urge to fall backwards herself and focused on the young woman. “I don’t think that’s likely to happen.”

“But?” Suzannah said.

“But, I’m not sure how safe we are. This is too close to New Heaven. And as we learned last night,
someone
there wants us back.”

A pink rabbit flew through the air and landed behind Suzannah. Nowen felt the mattress dip as Sage sat up. The girl pulled herself to the edge of the bed. “So, what do we do?” she asked. “Eli seems nice. But crazy. And this house stinks.”

Suzannah snorted. “And when was the last time
you
had a bath, princess?”

Sage threw another stuffed animal across the room as she continued. “I think we could stay here for a day or so. I’m kinda tired.” As if for emphasis the girl yawned widely.

The red-haired woman looked at Nowen. “What do you think?” she asked.

What
do
I think? I don’t know. I don’t want to go back to that place. I
can’t
go back.
She turned away from Suzannah’s searching gaze and looked out one of the windows. Uncertainty gripped her. The fear of the unknown fought with the fear of the known and she was trapped like a deer in deep snow - unable to go forward, unable to go back. She watched the bare limbs of a tree sway in the wind and listened to the silence of her indecision.

Finally Suzannah spoke. “Hmm. Ok, let’s do this: stay for today, at least. We could all use some rest. Maybe see if we can get some food off the old man. Then, tonight or tomorrow morning...well, we’ll see.”

“Should we stand guard?” Sage asked, her words almost swallowed by another yawn.

“Good idea. I’ll go first.” The red-haired woman crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall.

Nowen felt a whisper-soft touch on her arm and looked down to see Sage twine her small hand through Nowen’s larger one, the dark eyes shimmering in the olive-skinned face.”Nowen? Are you ok?” The worry in the girl’s voice hit her like an icicle to the heart. Even worse was the pity in Suzannah’s words as the woman spoke. “Oh, honey, I’m sure she’s fine. She’s just tired, like the rest of us. Isn’t that right, Nowen?” The calm, gentle tone, intended as a balm, felt more like sandpaper across exposed nerves to Nowen.
Stop feeling sorry for me. I don’t like that. I don’t like being seen as weak.

She managed a nod, biting her cheek to keep the words inside. With every passing moment she thought she might fly apart. Her thoughts and her emotions were spiraling out of control, and this time there was no wolf on which to blame this feeling of crazed wildness. Everything seemed to be happening too fast, the jump from captivity to freedom too startling. Nowen took a deep breath and slammed the lid shut, as best she could, on her mind.

Sage was still staring up at her, and Nowen stretched a thin smile across her face. “Suzannah’s right. I’m just tired.” Her words sounded like the lie they were, but the girl seemed satisfied. The rough, tangled curls dipped in a nod.

“All right then, we’re all agreed. Everyone’s tired. So, you two lie down and sleep for a bit, and I’ll guard the door.” Suzannah said.

Sage shoved the rest of the stuffed animals off the bed, revealing a slightly-dusty-but-in-surprisingly-good-shape quilt done in soft shades of pink and green. The girl lay down on her side, facing the window, and before Nowen had finished stretching out next to her the soft sounds of snoring were heard. Nowen lay on her side facing the door.

The bed was very soft, and the quiet of the room combined with the gentle susurrus of the wind outside quickly drew her down into sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

She walks down an empty hallway that stretches on forever. The walls are an unassuming beige, and the bland color is broken by soft pastel paintings, black-lettered signs, and smears of bright-red blood. A large swath of red runs for twenty feet along one wall. On the opposite wall, splotches of blood march across a fair reproduction of Cassatt’s ‘Summertime’. On the floor beneath her bare feet a series of very small handprints bleed up through the off-white tiles.

Someone is crying somewhere, soft and low and achingly lonesome. She walks faster, looking for the source of the anguish, remembering when a young woman with blonde hair and pale blue eyes cried in the same way. Where was that woman?

She isn’t alone. Something big and black with eyes that glow like distant fires pads silently beside her. She looks down at the creature and it grins at her with fiercely sharp white teeth. She looks away.

There is a door, suddenly, at the end of the hallway. It’s outlined in a pure white light. It’s far away, and then it’s right there, in front of her. She places her hand on the door knob. There comes a faint whimper from behind her, and she turns to see the black creature far back down the hall. It whimpers again, soft and distant, its shape blurring into the darkness of the corridor. She looks at the door knob and turns it-

Nowen opened her eyes. Her head felt logy and she thought she could have easily slept for the rest of her life, but the urgent pressure in her bladder wasn’t going to allow that. She was still lying on her side, facing the door. There was a bundle of warmth in the hollow of her lower back where Sage had curled up next to her. In front of her, Suzannah still sat next to the door, but her head drooped forward on her chest, which rose and fell in slow, even breaths.

Nowen eased out of the bed, glancing back once she was on her feet to make sure that Sage was still asleep. The girl murmured something quietly and then was still. Nowen crossed to the door, pausing next to Suzannah. The woman was deep asleep. Gently Nowen pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door carefully behind her.

She stood in the hall for a moment. Chill air swirled around her bare feet. She moved into the living room and looked around. The old man was nowhere in sight. There was one window out of the five in this room that was not completely blocked by junk, and Nowen slid the heavy, filthy curtain back and peered out.

The window faced the street. Dark grey clouds scudded across the sky and the wind blew leaves, paper and other debris down the empty street. What she could see of the neighborhood showed that it had once been nice-on-the-edge-of-rundown. The events of the past year had pushed it squarely into collapse. There were only a couple of cars, all weather-beaten and sitting on flat tires. A dust devil swirled down the street, carrying leaves as yellow as a Rev’s eyes.

Nowen stared at the bare trees, felt the chill air seeping in around the window frame.
Is it fall? Or...winter? It was summer when we reached New Heaven. Right?
Movement from the street caught her eye. She watched as the old man came from somewhere to the right of her view and crossed the street. He clutched a black garbage bag in one hand. His only concession to the weather was pair of plaid house slippers over the pink socks. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared into the house directly opposite his.