Love & Decay, Episode 11 by Rachel Higginson Page B

with the Feeders and live out his life peacefully and undisturbed?
                  “Reagan,” Kane raised his voice a little to get my attention.
                  “Huh?” I looked up from my dazed reflection and shook my head out. I needed some sleep- obviously. I didn’t have time to worry about Johnny Depp and his ability to make guy liner look sexy. I had bigger issues to deal with right now- like possibly my disappearing sanity. “I think I have cabin fever. Seriously. This place is getting to me.”
                  Kane snorted a laugh. “We’ve only been here for a few hours. You’ve been in a lot worse situations than this.”
                  “How do you know?” I demanded a little frantically.
                  “Uh, the first time I met you I held you at gun point, then forced you to move into my house while I had your boyfriend imprisoned. That seems like a pretty scary scenario.”
                  “He wasn’t my boyfriend.”
                  Kane paused for a beat before saying, “Hendrix. I had Hendrix imprisoned.”
                  “I know who you meant,” I rolled my eyes. “I mean, he wasn’t my boyfriend at the time. He’s still not my…. I mean, that sounds a little juvenile right? He’s just…. we are….”
                  Kane digested this with a palpable intensity that made me regret every word I’d uttered for the last two minutes. Damn it, how did he do this to me? Unsettle me so very much?
                  “Well whatever you two are…” He trailed off, seeming to get a little flustered. I bit back a smile thinking it was kind of adorable that perfectly controlled Kane became harassed whenever I talked about Hendrix. He cleared his throat, “That wasn’t my point. I watched you jump out of a moving van and throw yourself into a horde of Feeders. Earlier today you saved my life by flying through the air like Last of the Mohicans. Even I’m afraid of you.”
                  I couldn’t hold back the smile any longer. “Yeah?”
                  “Completely terrified.” He sat down next to me with a relaxed expression and a crooked grin. “You’re a force of nature, Reagan. The undead quake in fear of you.”
                  “Is that what they’re doing now? Quaking? In fear?” I asked dryly.
                  He nodded his response and his grin grew into a huge, genuine smile. “Definitely.” He reached out and gripped my triceps with his middle finger and thumb and jiggled my arm playfully. “What are your fears? Say them out loud. Make them go away.”
                  I thought it over for a little while and swallowed back the greater fear of opening up to Kane. I could do this. And I could do it without getting emotionally involved. This was about survival- about surviving the night and surviving Kane. Finally, I took a big breath and confessed, “The small space, I feel like the walls are closing in on me. And I’m not claustrophobic, but the ceiling is low, the darkness is oppressive and everything smells like mold and wet dirt. I’m trying not to be a whiner, because obviously without this place we’d be Feeder food and I’ve definitely stayed in worse places than this, but I don’t know, it feels like too much all at once, you know?”
                  “I do know.” He squeezed my stupidly defined muscle and encouraged me to continue. “What else?”
                  “The sound. I hate that I can hear them. It’s…. disconcerting. My imagination is running wild with the possibilities of what’s out there. There could be hundreds by now. And I just picture them crawling over each other in an effort to get to us, eating at each other…. eating the dead we left behind. In my head, it’s perpetually night time out there and Feeders fill every