Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Satisfied that he’s going to be alright, I adjust myself in the driver’s seat, put the key in the ignition, and hit the gas.
29
ARIA
After driving for four hours, I pull off the highway and pass a sign that reads Welcome to Cedar Falls. Population: 246. Only the 246 has been crossed out with Sharpie and replaced by 245.
I have no idea where this town could possibly be located on a map or even which direction I’ve been heading for the past few hours. All I know is that I can’t keep going. I need to rest. I need to eat and shower and feel like a human again. I need to put on fresh fucking underwear. But most importantly, I need to make sure Stone is going to be alright.
He needs a good hit of morphine, but without those painkillers, it’s been a rough journey. He’s struggling. He’s still clammy and coming down with a fever, but his pulse is slowly getting stronger. He’s fighting just as much as I knew he would. We just need to get through these next few hours, then we’ll be in the clear.
Slowly making my way through Cedar Falls, I search for somewhere for us to crash for the next few days until Stone is strong enough to travel again, but I don’t have that natural instinct the way he does. He could look at a row of houses and just know which one is our best bet. He knows how to survive, and I so desperately wish he’d pass those instincts on to me.
I drive for almost forty-five minutes before the search gets the best of me, and I end up passing straight through the town and into the rural properties, each large block filled with different arrays of livestock, and I can’t help but smile at the thought of the families who bundle up their animals and take them into town every few months to show them off at the county fair. The wives probably fight it out for the title of the best homemade jam while the teenagers run off to make out behind the main stage, where their little brothers and sisters were performing the ridiculous dance their school teachers had put together.
Passing a few properties, I find myself slowing to a stop outside the only property for miles that bears no livestock, and something in my gut has me pulling into the dirt driveway. I pass through a rickety gate that looks as though it hasn’t been tended to in years, and the further I get, the more confident I become.
There’s a main house way in the distance, but to my right, there’s a caretaker’s cottage that’s barely holding on to life. It’s got good bones and will be just enough for what we need to lay low for the next few days.
Driving up to the cottage, I pull the Charger in behind it, concealing it from both the main house and the road. I pause for a moment, double-checking that the sound of the Charger’s engine hasn’t caused any kind of stir. Once I’m certain that I don’t need to fly back out of here, I cut the engine and search through the array of shit in the back seat, curling my hand around the discarded gun.
This shit is always so much easier when Stone isn’t out cold. His presence alone is enough to scare anyone away, but doing this myself has my stomach twisting into knots. I have no choice, though. If I want to survive this wild world, I need to find that backbone I lost all those years ago.
Pushing out of the car, I slowly creep toward the back door of the cottage, grateful for the sun that’s just peeking up over the mountains in the distance. This would really creep me out in the dead of night.
Testing the handle, I find the door unlocked, and I use the tip of the gun to push it open before slowly making my way inside. The place is vile, and there’s definitely something rotting in here, but so far, there are no axe-wielding murderers jumping out at me. Only the one I left in the car.
Making my way from room to room, and getting caught in every cobweb possible, I finally take a proper breath. There’s nothing here. It’s just about as safe as I am when I’m in Stone’s arms, assuming those arms aren’t inside a torture chamber and about to be shot up, of course.
Giving myself a moment to really take it in, I look at what we’re working with.
It’s dirty. Like really fucking dirty. It’s going to take some good elbow grease to make this place shine again. Every surface is covered in a thick layer of dust, but the hot water runs, and from what I can tell, it’s clean as well.