Bite Me Page 13

  “Is he okay?” Lani whispered.

  She shook her head. “He's not feeling well.”

  Lani put her hands on her hips and turned to Malone. “I told you she would be here.”

  “What's going on?” Seffy hissed.

  “Malone has heard new reports that you've been on the move again.”

  “Today?”

  Lani and Malone nodded in unison.

  Seffy's heart sped up. “I've been here all day.”

  Malone frowned while her mind raced at the ramifications. This time it wasn't Angelique unless she'd totally lost her mind and had no grasp on reality whatsoever.

  The other alternatives were that someone was either impersonating her or people had her mixed up with someone else. Impersonation made the most sense because it went with the theme of 'messing with Seffy's head'—a common enough tactic at the compound.

  “So who's wandering around in your tracksuit?” Malone asked in his gritty voice.

  “My suit is in the closet.” As Lani went to check, Seffy remembered the knockoff suit. Her pulse surged. “There is another suit,” she whispered. “I found it in an empty room, hanging in a closet. It's a fake, not a real Juicy.”

  “It's here,” Lani said, pulling the hanger out of the closet and examining the tag. Her blue eyes were questioning when she looked up. “How would someone get a fake?”

  “Maybe someone here at the compound owns one of their own,” Malone said.

  Lani shook her head. “These weren't on the market until the late 90s.”

  Seffy looked down at Trent and brushed his hair away from his features that were tense even in sleep. Suddenly her intimacy issues seemed preferable to the idea that someone was out there, trying to cause trouble. “Sounds like you're going to have to catch this person and find out what they're up to.”

  Lani nodded sadly and gave her a little wave as she pushed Malone out the door.

  When she was alone again, Seffy released a shaky breath. God, would the drama ever end? She'd prefer an argument with Trent about something mundane like bills, to the endless madness that was the ironically named Fugere.

  As if in response to her stress, Trent suddenly let out a mournful moan and jerked awake. He sat up breathing hard, his eyes unfocused and wild.

  She reached up and touched her palm against his cheek. “Are you feeling better?”

  Blinking, he stared at her for several minutes as his respiration slowly returned to normal. Suddenly, he gripped her wrist and closed his eyes.

  Seffy watched him, alarmed by the increased gauntness of his features. Just as she decided to call Olga, he scooted closer and leaned against her, resting his head on her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his fingers digging into her flesh.

  Seffy sat very still, aware of the pounding of his heart against her own. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  He didn't answer right away, instead he held her more tightly. “I had a nightmare.”

  “What was it about?”

  Trent pulled away and regarded her. “It was just bad, like nightmares are.” Then his eyes grew heavy.

  Seffy decided a nap would fit into her plan of the moment—denial. She lay down crosswise on the bed, tucking up her knees, and shoving a pillow under her head. Trent scooted down the length of the bed, pushed up her shirt and rested his cheek on her bare stomach.

  She tried to imagine how he could be comfortable sleeping on his side with one arm thrown across her waist, but before she knew it, he was breathing deeply.

  Seffy reached down and threaded her fingers in his hair. His warmth and closeness soon had her nodding off as well.

  ***

  The rumble came from below, vibrating the earth beneath her feet. As she struggled to maintain her balance, a crack tore open the ground. Before she could react, the crack raced between her feet and suddenly, her legs were pulled in different directions.

  Her arms pin-wheeled and the muscles in her thighs protested. She cried out in frustration, unable to throw her weight to one side and avoid the pit growing wider beneath her. With an almighty groan, the ground convulsed and disappeared, and she began to fall.

  Seffy's eyes snapped open, her respiration high, but she saw nothing in the inky blackness.

  What a crappy dream. When was she going to dream about rainbows and sprightly leprechauns? She became aware of a warm weight pressing down on her middle. She reached out and felt Trent still snuggled up next to her. He stirred slightly but stayed asleep.

  Why was it so dark? She was sure a lamp had been left on when she went to sleep. Seffy glanced at where her clock should be but no red numbers lit the darkness. She tried to remember when she'd gone to sleep. Some time after lunch?

  She reached for Trent's wrist, but the watch he usually wore wasn't there. Next, she felt for the lamp and flipped the switch. Nothing.

  Easing her body out from under Trent's head, Seffy got off the bed and walked slowly across the room in the direction of the wall. She slid her hands along the wall for the switch, found it, but the overhead light didn't come on. Was the power out? That had never happened before. Surely a place this remote, of this size, had generators.

  Seffy felt for the door and opened it. Complete blackness met her in the hall. She quickly closed the door and locked it—for what it was worth—and tried to calm a rising dread.

  “Sef?”

  She heard the creak of the mattress and rustle of sheets. Seffy returned to the bed with her hands outstretched. Their hands met.

  “What's going on?”

  She sat down on the mattress, gratified when he put his arm around her. “I don't know. I think the power's out.”

  “The generators should come on soon then.”

  “I wonder what could've caused it?”

  A low rumbling disturbed the quiet.

  “What the hell is that?” Trent's arm tightened around her.

  “Maybe the generators coming on-line?”

  The rumbling grew louder until Seffy realized the bed was bouncing. Her eyes widened, unseeing in the darkness. “Earthquake!”

  Trent grabbed her and pulled her down onto the floor.

  They slid across the floor tiles and got under the desk, huddling together as the shaking grew more violent. Something—the mirror?—fell and shattered in the bathroom.

  “It's a big one,” Trent muttered. “What do you think? A six?”

  “At least,” she said, hanging onto him. The desk began to jerk side to side. She instinctively ducked her head. The shaking went on for another several seconds as more objects fell from horizontal surfaces—the lamp and the clock most likely. “I should be used to this living in L.A., but this is the biggest one I've experienced.”

  “Did you miss the '94 quake?”

  She nodded, then realized he couldn't see her. “We were still in Montana then.”

  His arm loosened as the shaking stopped. “I think it's over.”

  They crawled out from under the desk and stood up. She wished she could see Trent. “Do you think it was an aftershock? Something woke me up suddenly before this one hit.”

  “My guess is that this was the big one...but maybe there were rumblings leading up to it.”

  Seffy reached out and got a hold of his hand. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” he said slowly. “Also really hungry.”

  “That's a good sign.” She looked around, forgetting how useless the action was. “I could open a can by feel, but you'd have to eat the stuff cold.”

  Trent remained silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice made her jump. “Let's grab a flashlight and head to the kitchen.”

  “Are you serious? Shouldn't we just wait a little while?”

  “I'm hungry now,” he snapped.

  Seffy rolled her eyes. Apparently her hunger wasn't quite as important as his. She tried to shake off the annoyance as she listened to him find a flashlight. How common were earthquakes in Montana?

>   How common was it for grooms to change shortly after the ceremony?

  After several minutes a weak beam sliced the black. She put up her hand when the light hit her eyes.

  “Are you ready?”

  “I guess,” she said. What if there were aftershocks? Crawling around in the dark seemed like a stupid idea, but she couldn't let Trent be stupid on his own. Maybe this was the 'or for worse' part of the vows.

  Trent took her hand and led her from the room. The flashlight was no match for the absorbing darkness; the anemic beam nearly useless.

  Seffy wondered what the others were doing. Would they have slept through the quake? She didn't hear any signs of stirring behind closed doors.

  ***

  The noises of scurrying vermin in the walls and whispered conversations behind closed doors distracted, but didn't deter, Trent from his goal.

  Food.

  Somewhere in the compound an alarm was going off. He could hear faint shouts of the guards as they fanned out to secure the compound.

  The floor tiles and walls gleamed with a greenish hue as they headed toward the cafeteria. Trent tugged on Seffy's hand as he strode down the hall. He felt faint, ravenous, desperate for food and she was dragging her feet, slowing him down.

  “Slow down, we're basically going blind here.”

  “I can see fine.” He angled the flashlight to make a point. Trent heard her sigh.

  He picked up the pace, wanting to get to the cafeteria before others had the same idea and began venturing out of their rooms.

  Another low rumble vibrated beneath their feet—an aftershock. Good. It gives me more time.

  “Shouldn't we go back?”

  “No.”

  As they neared the cafeteria, a noise caught Trent's attention. He whipped his head toward the source of the sound. At the same moment, he got a whiff of what it was.

  Dropping Seffy's hand and the flashlight, he took off around the corner.

  A mouse scurried along the base of the wall, Trent scrabbled for it but the rodent was faster. Dammit!

  “Trent?”

  Seffy's panicked screech perforated his eardrums. As he made his way back, it slowly dawned on him that she wouldn't like what he did. She wouldn't understand.

  So I just won't tell her.

  He found her backed up against a wall, breathing hard, her eyes wide and dark, gripping the flashlight.

  “Is that you?”

  The fear in her voice made his skin tingle. “I'm right here.”

  “Where the hell did you go?” She looked in his direction but obviously didn't see him yet.

  “I saw...something, but it was nothing.” He held out his hand. She didn't see it. Trent took hers, feeling her startled response.

  “Please don't do that again,” she whispered.

  He ignored her and resumed heading toward the cafeteria. When they arrived, he didn't detect anyone else. Trent turned to her. “Wait here for me.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I am not waiting out in a pitch black hallway by myself.”

  “You have the flashlight. You'll be fine.”

  “Um, news flash, it doesn't work since you dropped it.”

  “Try taking the batteries out for a minute.”

  “Trent, I'm going with you.”

  “No, you're not.”

  He heard her soft gasp. “You're hurting me.”

  Making a noise of disgust, Trent released her hand and pushed open the doors.

  “This is ridiculous.” Her voice wavered.

  “I'll be out in a few minutes.”

  She reached out for him, snagging the fabric of this sleeve. “What if there's something bad out here? God, Trent, I'm scared.”

  He shook her hand loose and moved through the doors. “It's all in your head.”

  “Do you really believe that?” she asked, her tone suddenly calm. “That all those things that go bump in the night are figments of my imagination?”

  “You're overreacting.”

  Suddenly something went whizzing past his head. He heard it clatter just past the cafeteria doors.

  “Piss off, Trent!”

  Must've been the flashlight. He went through the doors and made a beeline for the industrial refrigerator in the kitchen. He pulled it open, smelling what he'd been hoping for.

  With the power off, the slab of beef had begun to warm slightly, filling the air with a tantalizing aroma. Trent pulled out the package and ripped away the paper wrapping.

  The soft pliancy meant no bones to worry about, but it was too big to eat. Trent rummaged through several drawers before he found a butcher knife.

  Cutting off long strips, he swallowed them quickly. Juice ran down his chin and neck.

  He wished it were blood.

  After a few minutes, his stomach felt fuller, but the cool meat lacked the throbbing warmth and flavor he imagined. How could he get something bigger, how could he eat it when the body still held the heat of life?

  A step pricked his ears. Trent spun around and saw Seffy pointing a flashlight at him. He couldn't see her expression in the glare, but the light began to shake.

  “What are you doing?” she asked faintly, the light angling between him and the meat sitting in a puddle of red juice. “What's all over your face?”

  He swiped his mouth with his arm, rage boiling up within him. “I told you to wait outside!”

  “Your eyes...” The light wobbled as violently as her voice.

  “Put the flashlight down.”

  She continued to stare, frozen with fear. He heard her heart thundering, smelled the adrenaline, and knew she was about to bolt.

  “Seffy, don't run.”

  She spun around and dashed around the work table.

  Trent slid over the tabletop towards her.

  She let out a scream and zigzagged around the kitchen equipment.

  Seeing a food trolley, she pushed it in his direction. Its momentum carried it crashing against his hips.

  Pain shot down his legs, but fury made him ignore it. He shoved the trolley aside with all his strength. It toppled over and slid across the floor.

  When he looked up, Seffy was gone.

  Trent burst through the cafeteria doors, trying to hear over the hammering of his heart.

  Which way would she go?

  Her first instinct would be to run back to their rooms. She'd know he'd consider that and probably go some other direction. But she didn't know these halls the way he did. He knew of just about every secret passageway and hidey-hole.

  Plus, he'd be able to sense her body heat, hear her blood pounding through her veins.

  Trent went to the left, walking slowly and silently, his ears attuned to the slightest noise.

  At the end of the hallway, he paused.

  Her quick breaths were muffled, interspersed by gulps of terror.

  He crept across the tiles, following the faint sound, his own blood surging in his veins.

  Reaching out his hand, he ran his fingertips along the rough surface of the cement block for several feet. When the texture changed to smooth wood, he stopped.

  He could hear Seffy crying softly behind the door. A storage closet. Not the best hiding place.

  She was trapped.

  He was almost disappointed it was so easy.

  Trent took the door in his hand and twisted the knob by increments.

  He gauged her heart rate and knew she didn't detect his presence yet. He continued twisting until there was resistance. With infinite care, he began to edge the door open.

  Seffy's pulse jumped, her breath hitching in her throat.

  Damn. She knows I'm here.

  Trent held his breath and pushed the door open another inch.

  Suddenly blinding pain sent him reeling backwards. His head hit the opposite wall with a sickening smack.

  Through fog of white hot agony, he was aware of Seffy bursting through the door and racing away.

  Son of a bit
ch!

  His nose throbbed with pain and he tasted blood in his mouth. He touched his face and his hand came away slick.

  Trent wiped the blood away and started after her. It didn't take long to locate her.

  Seffy's strangled cries reverberated off the walls, guiding him to her as efficiently as sonar. At this point, it was just a matter of wearing her out.

  He chased her down hall after hall, soon seeing the distant flicker of the flashlight beam just ahead.

  They came to the straightaway near their rooms. The psychiatric corridor was locked—no way out.

  The time for playing games was over.

  Seffy's breathing came in haggard gasps.

  Trent saw her about a hundred feet ahead. He gritted his teeth and forced his legs to accelerate, determined to end this now.

  She heard his steps and attempted to run faster, but he gained. As he neared, Trent saw her hair flying out behind her, smelled the raw fear pouring off her body. So close.

  God, he could almost taste her.

  As soon as he was within reach, he sprang and tackled her to the ground.

  Seffy screamed and thrashed beneath him as they slid along the tiles.

  He tried to grab her arms, but his hands were slick with sweat and blood, and her incessant writhing kept him off balance.

  “Hold still, dammit!”

  Suddenly the lights came back on. The shock halted her movements for a split second.

  It was enough time for Trent to get a hold of her arms and pin them above her head.

  He looked down at her, breathing hard, straddling her body. Her eyes appeared black and shiny with terror.

  Tears ran off her cheeks, but as she realized the futility of her predicament, the fight finally went out of her.

  Trent gripped her arms more tightly, feeling the movement of tendons and muscles under his fingers. She turned her head away from him, laying her throat bare to his gaze.

  He watched the flutter of her pulse, heard the wash of blood through her carotid artery. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to her skin, tasting, closing his eyes as her heat and flavor engulfed him.

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  Her words broke the spell. Trent pulled back. Her brown eyes, huge in her pale face, regarded him with disillusioned resignation.