Forty-Two
Skye
Iwas in the car for hours. I knew this because I watched the darkness begin to ebb away as the sky lightened. I didn’t move, and I was bone-tired, but sleep was out of the question.
Like Hunter had said, I was never unsupervised. They were always out and about, one of them by the car at all times. Hunter must have smoked over a dozen cigarettes, the cloud of it around his head cemented in my memory. I noticed they barely spoke, and every time Leo tried, Hunter barely responded or just stared at him.
Stared hard and emptily.
It was the first time I ever felt…scared of Hunt. Scared because…there was something under the surface. Something dark. Something…unnatural.
Not once did he look at me.
Not once did he speak to me.
While Leo gave me reassuring glances, even at times a forced smile, Hunt withdrew, his demeanour cold.
The sun was beginning to rise when Hunt came to the car and knocked on the window. I unfolded myself from the backseat and leaned over to the front seat and unlocked the driver’s side door. He opened it and slid in; following him was the scent of wood and smoke and…blood. I sat up straight, watching him carefully as he turned the key and started the engine. The truck roared to life, and then we backed up.
“What’s happening?” I quickly asked.
“Taking you back,” Hunt answered.
“What about Leo?”
“He needs to stay behind.”
“Why can’t we stay behind with him?”
That resolute voice returned when he replied, “Because I said so.”
Leo emerged from the cabin, wearing his expensive dress pants, but they were dirty and bloody and torn at the knees. I wondered what happened to make them that way. He walked down the porch steps, his head moving in our direction, watching us. I leaned in closer, my brows coming together as I noticed the fresh blood running from his mouth. He spat blood on the ground and stopped at the bottom, and as I inched even closer, eyeing him, I noticed he wasn’t even looking at me.
He was staring right at Hunter.
Hunter edged out, turned the car around and we took off.
A few days ago this cabin was the height of my happiness.
Now it was a hell we were fleeing.
*
Not far into the drive, I had climbed into the front seat and sat down next to Hunter. His eyes were set on the road, and he didn’t acknowledge me for a long time. Frankly, neither did I. I was too tired to talk, too tired to think, and the adrenaline had fled my body before the sun had come up, so I was just a lifeless thing sitting there, staring bleary eyed out the window.
But eventually I spoke.
I said the one thing he had never divulged, and maybe it was a bad time to bring it up in light of recent fucked up events, but I just had to know. I had to piece things together.
“You’re a biker.” I didn’t ask it. It was a statement. I was tasting the words, seeing how they felt coming out of my mouth. “That’s why you’ve been…busy.”
“Yeah,” was all he muttered.
“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” His silence didn’t answer my question, but I was pretty sure it was a yes. “How long has this been going on?”
His answer was immediate. “Five years.”
Now my head whipped in his direction. Perplexed, I stared at him, lips parted in shock. “What?”