The WereGames II_Salvation Page 4

  Lydia looked at her quizzically. It was as if the girl didn’t know what coffee was and how it should be prepared. Still, she didn’t say anything. She enjoyed looking at the two eat, though. It was clear they were starving. She was paler than he was and smaller. The young man had a few shiny scars on his body, and she wondered if it was part of their escape. They looked like they hadn’t bathed in a while and hadn’t changed clothes, either.

  As soon as they finished their meals, John stood up and announced that he would try to find some clothes to fit the tall boy. Lydia asked them if they wanted more coffee. Alexia didn’t like the taste of it, but she thanked the kind woman all the same, saying one cup of it was fine for her.

  “Where are you from?” Lydia asked, trying to engage in chit-chat.

  “We’d prefer not to say. But it’s far away from here,” Ryker replied, eyeing for means of escape later on.

  “We’re not going to snitch on you,” Lydia said calmly. “And like we said, we’re not going to hurt you. I don’t know what you two have been through, but let us at least offer you a good night’s rest here with food and a change of clothes.”

  Alexia looked at Ryker’s face, and she could see he was torn between leaving and staying. Ryker sighed, and Lydia heard this.

  “You two are afraid of something,” Lydia said.

  So much for acting like a genuine couple, Ryker thought. “We are. We’re afraid of them. They’ll keep us apart.” At least that was true. They had to stick together. They had to get to Washington.

  “Ah, young love,” Lydia said wistfully, looking at the two of them. They were certainly a good-looking couple, even in their state of appearance. “What’s your name?” she asked Alexia.

  “Juliet,” she quickly replied, wondering why she blurted out that name, out of all the names she could have chosen.

  Juliet. Lydia looked at the young woman thoughtfully. Juliet had been one of her favorite characters to play back when she did a bit of theatre. It was a play that ended sadly, and she suddenly hoped that the young man’s name wasn’t Romeo. “And you, young man?”

  “Sam,” he replied, knowing full well she was thinking of Romeo and Juliet. He had read that in the public library a year ago and immensely disliked how the play progressed.

  Lydia smiled. “Such lovely names.”

  John came back, carrying a change of clothes. “Let’s see if you fit into these. I’m a bit round in the middle, so I’m hoping it won’t be too loose on you. Now, young man, you can take your shower down the hallway to your left.”

  “His name’s Sam,” Lydia interrupted.

  “Right, Sam. Down the hall, to your left. No bathtub there, though. Just a warm shower.”

  “Thank you,” Ryker said stiffly, standing up and taking the clothes. He looked at Alexia, who frowned a little, worried that someone might attack them anytime soon.

  “This way, Juliet,” Lydia said, leading her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Alexia followed her wordlessly, walking up the wooden stairs, holding onto the bannister lightly. There were two bedrooms that were wide open. Lydia turned on the water in the bathroom adjacent to the two bedrooms, and steam rose from it.

  “I hope my daughter’s clothes will fit on you,” Lydia told her as she rummaged through a closet. The clothes were old, but they seemed to be in good condition.

  “Where’s your daughter?” Alexia found herself asking.

  Lydia looked out the window. “She died a few years ago. Some bad accident on the highway. She was coming back from her first semester in college, thinking a road trip would be fun.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alexia quickly said, meaning it. Death was never any easy thing, even if she had seen it nearly every day.

  Lydia quickly smiled at her. “I’ve got a few here for you. Just call me if you need anything. Oh, and there’s a spare toothbrush in the cupboard.”

  Spare or not, Alexia wasn’t in the position to be picky. She would have gladly used an old toothbrush, just as long as she could clean the insides of her mouth properly. Lydia left the room, and Alexia took a deep breath, looking around.

  It was a small room with just enough space for a queen-sized bed, a study table and a cabinet. It seemed like the room had been untouched since Lydia’s daughter had died. She approached the study table and saw frames lined up.

  In one photo, there was a freckled young woman with a wide grin, looking much like a younger Lydia. There was another that showed she was wearing a school uniform, but the skirt looked too short… and she had fluffy things in her hands, things that looked like paper bunched together. She wondered what it was. Alexia sighed and headed for the bathroom, seeing warm water fill the tub halfway. The heat in the air felt wonderful against her skin. She slipped out of her filthy clothes and into the tub, the hairs on her skin prickling from the sudden change in temperature.

  She couldn’t help but sigh. This was a luxury she wanted to be in every day, in warm and clean water. She felt her muscles relax, and her eyes began to sink deeply into their sockets.

  She thought she deserved a long bath after being asleep for more than a day. Had the experiment been that brutal? She was reminded time and time again that she was special, because she had a bathtub all to herself. That bathtub had seen her bleed; that bathtub had seen her dumped with buckets of ice, just to test how far her body could g, and if her blood was still viable for transfusions after.

  Now, now there was just silence. She had only just begun to drift off to sleep when the door to her bathroom slid open. Her eyes widened, seeing people. She felt scandalized at first, then she realized that they didn’t care whether she was naked or not; they just wanted to take her.

  They forcibly held her under her arms, yanking her out of the tub, and she gasped, struggling and hating what they were doing to her.

  “Let me go; I’ve only just woken up!” she cried.

  They said nothing as she flailed helplessly against them, fully naked. They didn’t even bother to cover her. There was a stretcher waiting outside, and they flung her onto it, covering her with a blanket so that only her face, neck and collarbones showed. “Please,” she cried. “Please just let me stay there, only for a little while-"

  They strapped her down and injected something into her that made her want to vomit…

  Alexia’s eyes snapped open, suddenly fearful of anyone who could storm into this private moment. Would they come? She had wanted this pleasant feeling to last longer…she took a breath and realized she was safe, hearing Ryker’s muffled voice below, talking to the elderly couple.

  She forced herself out of the bathtub, knowing she had to join them again. They had rehearsed a bit of their love story as they hiked and hitchhiked across miles and miles of terrain. She thought she could add bits into it to make it more believable, and she hadn’t expected she would be the first to tell their hosts about why they were traveling in such poor conditions together. She had seen Ryker flustered about the story he wanted to tell to anyone who would be curious about them.

  When she had first heard of his plan, she shook her head in confusion and wanted to scrap the idea altogether, but the more she thought about it, the more she began to see that it was a safe plan. No one would expect them to be that close. They had been awkward together ever since. She was a bad liar, in Ryker’s words, and if anyone was observant enough, they would see that they weren’t on excellent terms with each other.

  She wrapped herself in a thick towel, quickly walking for the bedroom with its door ajar. She didn’t lock it, knowing they could come any time… There were colorful clothes laid out carefully on the bed, distracting her from her previous thoughts.

  She ran her fingers on the hems and edges of the clothes. These were beautiful, owned by the Jameson’s daughter who was long dead. Did she have the right to wear these? She stole clothes, but now that she was given something to wear, she balked. There was underwear, clean and obviously washed even if no one had worn it. It felt weird, but she needed those
, too. She gingerly put the underwear on, surprised that it fit her in all its light blue lace glory. It felt nice, although strange. She had always had those pristine, over-bleached panties, and she’d never worn a bra. The doctors saw she didn’t need to, as she was experimented on almost daily.

  Now, there was the difficult decision -- to choose something to wear. She picked the basic jeans and a large sweater, and then she carefully folded the rest of the clothes away inside a cabinet. She was barefoot, but the floor was warm. Alexia made her way down, hearing them talk in the living room area. They had their television on, an old curved LED set, but it served its purpose.

  She stopped at the doorway leading to the living room, looking at the weather forecast. Snowstorms were expected in the next two days. Ryker looked up, knowing she was standing there. Alexia saw the look in his eyes. They were stuck here, weren’t they?

  But Alexia felt a sense of relief that they could stay in a proper house with welcoming hosts, a warm bed and even warmer water running through the pipes; and best of all, there was proper food. John clicked on the remote, lowering the volume, just as Lydia came in.

  “Oh, look at you,” Lydia breathed out happily. “Dani’s clothes fit you well.”

  John looked up and gave a smile that seemed all too sad. “It looks nice on you, my dear.” He gave a deep sigh. “I best get a move on with the cows,” he told his wife.

  “I’ll help you,” Ryker quickly said, standing up. He cleared his throat. “It’s the least I can do for your kindness.”

  “Come on then,” John said with a smile, “and grab a jacket.”

  Ryker knew he would sweat a bit under the winter coat, but he said nothing and followed the old man out. They traversed towards a field devoid of crops. A few hundred feet away, he saw cows grazing. There weren’t many, and he had attacked cows before…

  “You ever tried your hand at farming?” John asked him, clanging a bell. The cows slowly lumbered for him, knowing their old man had food for them.

  Ryker shook his head. “I’m more of a city person,” he replied.

  “Well, these cows are smart. I only have ten, but it’s enough to keep the funds coming in when it isn’t wheat season.”

  “You own the whole place?”

  John nodded with a grin. “Yup. All forty acres of it. We have people to help around during harvesting season, but it’s mostly just me and my Lydia.”

  “You don’t have other kids?”

  “Wish I had, but we only had Danica.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly.

  “You’re an awkward kid, aren’t you?”

  “I haven’t had the opportunity to have kind adults around me,” he replied, immediately regretting it. It would open the floodgates of never-ending queries.

  “You look like you’re no kid, but your personality says you are,” John said, seeing the cows approach them. “Give me a hand here; let’s bring these cows to the barn.”

  Ryker held onto three of the cows, whose eyes looked at him warily. He hoped he didn’t give off that predatory scent, lest he want a mini stampede to crush his kind host in the process. Thankfully, the cows allowed themselves to be led into the shed. The smell of manure and the individual scents of the animals nearly overpowered him.

  “I can see you aren’t used to the stench,” John chuckled. “You really are city kids, aren’t you?”

  Ryker didn’t say anything. His bear senses were annoyed.

  “Say, kid, how strong are you?”

  “Normal, I guess?”

  “Can you help me transfer those hay bales to that corner?” John asked. “My forklift broke a few weeks ago. I haven’t been able to repair it because of my back. Hurts too much when I bend down, and I’m too cheap to have it repaired professionally.”

  Was the old man testing him? Did John know that he was a werebeing? He nodded all the same, pretending that he wasn’t all that strong, even if he stood at six feet and two inches. He gave a few convincing grunts as he pushed the bales of hay to the far corner of the barn while John stood with his hands on his hips.

  “That’s right, put that bed away,” John joked.

  Ryker found himself smiling. He pushed the last bale away, happy that the winter coat worked up a sweat to make him look convincing. “Anything else?”

  “I’d say chop up some firewood, unless you’re tired already,” John chimed in, his thumb jerking to a pile of wood behind him. “Nothing like a good old fire tonight with some beer. Do you drink?”

  Ryker shook his head. “I’m still far off from legal drinking age.”

  “But you’re old enough to know about love and running away because of it?” John asked, his brows raising up.

  “It, it hasn’t been easy,” Ryker replied, walking for the pile of wood. He saw an axe hanging on the wall, and he took it.

  “Was there no reasoning to it?”

  The old man was getting curious, and Ryker was afraid it was his turn to become a bad liar. “No. They just didn’t want us together.”

  “Well, if you got hitched--”

  Ryker shook his head. “Not yet. I’d want to give her the wedding of her dreams.” Ryker wanted to kick himself for saying that. Did he sound too hollow? Those were pathetic words that rolled out of his tongue.

  “No sympathizers to your cause?”

  Ryker shook his head again. I wish.

  “Then, why don’t you get married here? We can help,” John told him enthusiastically.

  Ryker forced a smile. “I-It’s not in our options yet. We just want to get as far away as possible. Her guardians are quite controlling. Besides, we’re far from legal marrying age.”

  “You college kids or something?”

  “Once,” Ryker said. “Maybe we can attend classes again once all of this is over…” There was some truth to what he said; he did want to have a degree if it still meant something to the world. What did he want to get? He wanted to study business or politics…or become a doctor-if only he had that healing touch.

  “Maybe you can get out of this country and get married somewhere else,” John chuckled.

  “Maybe.”

  Ryker began to chop up wood, swinging the axe in full force; his frustrations had gone beyond what he could currently handle.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dinner was filled with chitchat, mostly from the elderly couple asking them all sorts of questions. Not once did they ask for identification, much to their relief. They were a trusting couple, perhaps a little too trusting.

  Alexia ate a lot; she ate more than she could, savoring every bite of the home-cooked meals in front of her. The lady of the house made the most delicious mashed potatoes from scratch (Alexia had been taught to peel the potatoes earlier), along with some pot roast and lots of gravy. It was a simple meal, but it was something of a luxury, yet another one, for Alexia. The day had been filled with highlight after highlight, and she was suddenly afraid that it would all go away.

  Was it bad that she enjoyed those little moments? Those pockets of happiness that she never got to have in the facility? There was even dessert, some custard pudding that she had never had in her entire life. It tasted like heaven, if that was what heaven tasted like.

  “We’ve set up a mattress. Dani’s bed is too small for the two of you to fit,” Lydia told her later on as she helped wash dishes; she helped, because she felt lost around the kitchen. She needed to get used to the kitchen arrangements; she couldn’t even operate a toaster.

  Lydia noticed this and asked if she had had a privileged upbringing. There were no flowery words, no subtlety. She had to know about the girl.

  Alexia stuttered, not knowing what to say. She hadn’t rehearsed this possibility. She and Ryker just conversed about their possible love story. “I didn’t do much…” she ended up saying. “I was kept confined; well, they wanted me safe.”

  Lydia nodded. “Well, there’s no confinement here, except for the snow storm coming along. I might need a hand in household chores
, if you’re willing to help.”

  Alexia nodded fervently. “Of course, I am.”

  “Let’s see how fast you learn,” Lydia smiled.

  Across the hallway, John and Ryker were on the couches, watching a rerun of football. It was a sport that Ryker hadn’t much knowledge about, but he watched in rapt attention, a beer can in hand. Ryker disliked alcohol; he didn’t even smoke, but out of courtesy to John, he took one, drinking in tiny sips.

  “Will you be leaving after the snow storm is over?” John asked him.

  Ryker nodded. “I wouldn’t want to abuse your hospitality.”

  “Nonsense. People like you are welcome in this house. A house isn’t a home without people in it. The town is a good forty-minute walk away, fifteen by car. I can bring you there, of course.”

  Ryker gave a quick smile. “There’s no need, really. It’d be asking too much. You barely know us.”

  “Well, I can get to know you, if you guys talk,” John said good-naturedly. “You kids are too young to be runnin’ away, all for the sake of love. I admire you for that, though. I didn’t have the balls to ask Lydia out on our first date. Someone else had to bridge the gap for me,” he chuckled.

  “It-it wasn’t easy. But we had to get out of there. It wasn’t well-planned.”

  “Spontaneous? Got carried away?”

  Got carried away by a raging river’s more like it, Ryker thought. “You could say that.”

  “How do you plan to get from state to state? You two were in such a mess when we saw you earlier.”

  Ryker shrugged. “I worked a few odd jobs to support us. She did, too, but she isn’t quite domesticated. She had a different lifestyle she grew up in.”

  “I am guessing she came from an affluent family?” John theorized.