whisker burn reddened her chin. Something purple was smeared over the corner of her mouth, and when she licked it off to investigate it she discovered it wasn’t the grape jelly from a doughnut she’d eaten earlier. No, this tasted salty, but good in a savory way, and she was puzzled by what it could be.
The cool water of the sink gradually warmed, and soon she had the washcloth, along with a couple towels, a pillow, and a blanket all crammed in her arms.
Barely able to see over the top of her pile, she walked back to the living room. “Cormac, can you give me a hand?”
Silence was the only answer, and when she dropped the load of stuff on the ground, the room was totally empty.
***
In desperate need of an ice cream fix, but totally out of ice cream, Paige mentally added to the list of comfort foods she’d get at the gourmet grocery store two blocks down. The evening was still warm even though it was past eight o’clock at night, so she’d thrown on a pair of jean shorts and a pretty lemon yellow tank top that was tight around her breasts, but flowed out around her not so flat belly. Her black and yellow flip flops smacked the cement of the sidewalk as she strolled past the mostly closed stores of downtown Chelsea, Michigan. Inside them, all kinds of cute crafts, artwork, clothes, and decorations all tempted her into buying things she couldn’t afford.
But she loved to window shop. It soothed her in an odd way to imagine some amazing life where she didn’t have to decide between having a bed that didn’t squeak when she turned over or food in her fridge. Then again, at least she had a fridge.
And she had ice cream.
After chatting with the clerk a little bit, a nice lady who was one of her high school friends’ moms, Paige said goodbye as the bell over the door rang. Her shadow painted the sidewalk now and again, her body illuminated by the lights of a car passing down the main road and the quaint streetlights. While this area was nowhere near as busy as Ann Arbor would be on a lovely night like this, there was still enough foot traffic that she never felt alone. That is, until she hit the alley leading to her door.
It wasn’t a dirty or icky alley, rather a well-kept drive flanked by neatly trimmed evergreen bushes and looked out into the backyards of some of the old Victorian homes in the area. They were beautifully landscaped with mounds of flowers and luxurious sitting areas that made her daydream of tea parties with her friends, all dressed like princesses. She daydreamed a lot, her fantasy world much more exciting than reality, so she couldn’t blame herself for missing the guys following her at first. It wasn’t until a rock got in her flip flop and she had to stop and bend over to get it out that she saw two men.
The first wore an odd gold gown and had long gray hair and an oddly long forehead. He glared at her like she’d killed his dog, and she wet her lips, trying to get her body to move. They were at the end of alley, far enough away that she could dash to her apartment, but the menace coming from them had nausea filling her stomach. Every one of her senses screamed danger, but she couldn’t seem to make herself stop staring at them.
The other man was big, not as big as Tren, but huge nonetheless compared to her five foot nothing height. He had long black hair and a craggy face, his brow very defined and his nose long and sharp. The clothing he wore reminded her of a sleeker version of police tactical gear. She’d seen plenty of that during the riots following the Event, but there were no markers that would indicate he was with any law enforcement agency.
And he was watching her intently, staring at her actually, hatred burning in his gaze. She gasped in a breath, holding the grocery bag in front of her like a shield. Lifting her chin, she tried to appear confident. Unfortunately, the bag she was holding rattled loudly due to her nervous tremors.
“Stay back.”
The man with him
The cool water of the sink gradually warmed, and soon she had the washcloth, along with a couple towels, a pillow, and a blanket all crammed in her arms.
Barely able to see over the top of her pile, she walked back to the living room. “Cormac, can you give me a hand?”
Silence was the only answer, and when she dropped the load of stuff on the ground, the room was totally empty.
***
In desperate need of an ice cream fix, but totally out of ice cream, Paige mentally added to the list of comfort foods she’d get at the gourmet grocery store two blocks down. The evening was still warm even though it was past eight o’clock at night, so she’d thrown on a pair of jean shorts and a pretty lemon yellow tank top that was tight around her breasts, but flowed out around her not so flat belly. Her black and yellow flip flops smacked the cement of the sidewalk as she strolled past the mostly closed stores of downtown Chelsea, Michigan. Inside them, all kinds of cute crafts, artwork, clothes, and decorations all tempted her into buying things she couldn’t afford.
But she loved to window shop. It soothed her in an odd way to imagine some amazing life where she didn’t have to decide between having a bed that didn’t squeak when she turned over or food in her fridge. Then again, at least she had a fridge.
And she had ice cream.
After chatting with the clerk a little bit, a nice lady who was one of her high school friends’ moms, Paige said goodbye as the bell over the door rang. Her shadow painted the sidewalk now and again, her body illuminated by the lights of a car passing down the main road and the quaint streetlights. While this area was nowhere near as busy as Ann Arbor would be on a lovely night like this, there was still enough foot traffic that she never felt alone. That is, until she hit the alley leading to her door.
It wasn’t a dirty or icky alley, rather a well-kept drive flanked by neatly trimmed evergreen bushes and looked out into the backyards of some of the old Victorian homes in the area. They were beautifully landscaped with mounds of flowers and luxurious sitting areas that made her daydream of tea parties with her friends, all dressed like princesses. She daydreamed a lot, her fantasy world much more exciting than reality, so she couldn’t blame herself for missing the guys following her at first. It wasn’t until a rock got in her flip flop and she had to stop and bend over to get it out that she saw two men.
The first wore an odd gold gown and had long gray hair and an oddly long forehead. He glared at her like she’d killed his dog, and she wet her lips, trying to get her body to move. They were at the end of alley, far enough away that she could dash to her apartment, but the menace coming from them had nausea filling her stomach. Every one of her senses screamed danger, but she couldn’t seem to make herself stop staring at them.
The other man was big, not as big as Tren, but huge nonetheless compared to her five foot nothing height. He had long black hair and a craggy face, his brow very defined and his nose long and sharp. The clothing he wore reminded her of a sleeker version of police tactical gear. She’d seen plenty of that during the riots following the Event, but there were no markers that would indicate he was with any law enforcement agency.
And he was watching her intently, staring at her actually, hatred burning in his gaze. She gasped in a breath, holding the grocery bag in front of her like a shield. Lifting her chin, she tried to appear confident. Unfortunately, the bag she was holding rattled loudly due to her nervous tremors.
“Stay back.”
The man with him
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