Edge of Instinct: Rabids Book 1 (24 page)

“I’m proud of ya, boy.” Heaving a sigh, Harley turned and gave him a quick hug. As much as Harley avoided the emotional entanglements of most relationships, he was deeply loyal to his family, especially his father. Tandy was a bit too gruff with his sons in the emotional department, but he had never missed an opportunity to find one way or another to show his pride and love for them. Given the circumstances in their lives it was becoming more and more rare that they were able to see one another. And one never knew when that moment in time would be their last.

“You too, Pops. Give the Rabes hell on your way back. And be safe.”

“Got it. Oh, one more thing.” He handed Harley one of his business cards. “Forgot to give the girl my shop number, just in case she needs to get ahold of me. Help an old man out and slip it by her mail box or somethin’. Or text it to her if ya want, she’s got a cell phone. Her number’s on the back.” He added the last with a good natured wink, knowing his attempts to offer one more way of Harley contacting the girl wouldn’t be appreciated. But he couldn’t help himself. Tandy wasn’t real technologically savvy, but he’d managed to swipe Amiel’s phone number out of her phone last night when she was in the shower. He’d felt slightly underhanded about it, snooping around in a teenage girl’s phone, but the current look on Harley’s face was worth it.

“Why don’t ya just do it yourself?” he grumbled, staring down at the number as though it were poisonous.

“Y’all know I don’t do all that text mumbo jumbo.” With that, he shut the door in Harley’s face.

Harley

Harley stood staring blankly at the door for a long moment. Tandy could have easily just called her and given her the number. But instead, he left Harley with the duty. Sneaky, conniving old man. With a helpless growl Harley strode out of the hotel lobby, eager to begin patrol. He needed a fight, needed to burn off some of the anxious energy that had begun shivering through his body the moment he entered his pop’s hotel room. The conflicting emotions stirred up by that infuriating scent the girl seemed to carry had clung to every part of the hotel room. He had been able to smell it from clear across the road earlier that day at the bar too. With so many others around he hadn’t been sure the scent belonged to her then, but the scent in his pop’s room made it clear. And now that he had been closed up in the room so long, and sat in the chair she obviously favored by the amount of scent on it, the scent now clung to Harley, too. He needed to drown it out with the tangy smell of Rabid blood and his own sweat. The hotel clerk nervously locked the doors behind him as he exited the hotel, as though afraid Harley would eat him alive. If his mood got any darker, he just might have.

“So, what’s going on with this one’s scent?” Cajun’s voice filtered to him from the shadows on the front wall. He and Charleen approached, both curious.

“What did it smell like to you?” He looked at his soon-to-be sister-in-law.

“It was too faint to get a good read on it. I could only tell it smelled different than anything I’ve smelled before. It did make me a bit edgy, but nothing I couldn’t handle,” Charleen said, looking to Cajun for his take.

“Same here.” He shrugged noncommittally. “Not like any infected I’ve ever smelled before though, that’s for sure.”

“No, it was definitely not infection. Even in the early stages they don’t smell like that.” Harley shook his head in frustration. All Rabids reeked; their smell was a dead giveaway. The amount of stink was only an indicator as to how new they were. This kid, she smelled off…but it certainly wasn’t the stink of the infected. He left it at that, realizing he was becoming too fixated on the scent clinging to his jacket, again.

“I agree. Not infected.” Charleen threw in her agreement with Harley. “But something’s not right. I think we need to find out why.” She and Cajun both stared at Harley, silently waiting. Harley rubbed at the back of his neck, uncomfortable under their scrutiny.

“Pops made it sound like the Rabids were drawn to her, like some sorta magnetic pull. I think he wanted to see if she had the same effect on us.”

“And? You’re the only one who’s seen her. Did you feel a pull?” Cajun pressed.

“I felt…somethin’,” Harley grudgingly admitted, clenching his jaw and fighting the urge to bite his nails again. It was a nasty, annoying habit, one he thought he’d kicked years ago. He’d have to start wearing gloves all the time again if he kept this up. Instead he popped in a second piece of gum, grinding into it in an effort of distraction.

“Some people smell better to me than others. It’s faint, but it’s there. Was it something like that?” Charleen asked, her tone becoming quiet, helpful. Harley nodded in acknowledgment, knowing it was hard for her to do the whole consoling thing. She was as screwed up as he was in the social department. Only difference was, she found someone she could be herself with, someone that made her want to try. That was something Harley would never allow for himself.

“Yeah, she’s probably just got one of those smells that make a person want to digest her,” Cajun threw in. “What did dad say her name was?”

“Amiel,” Harley conceded quietly.

“Amiel.” Cajun said the name slowly, sampling it. “I mean come on, she’s just setting herself up to be a midnight snack. A meal. A meal.” He tried out her name a few more times, pushing home his reasoning. Harley’s instincts itched at the mention of his new charge being Rabid chow.

“She ain’t bein’ no one’s meal, butt face.” Cajun smirked that annoyingly white grin of his.

“Except maybe
yours
.” Harley’s muscles tensed, making his jacket creak. Charleen intervened, elbowing Cajun in the ribs hard.

“Stop it, Cajun. You’re going to make him back out on his promise.”

“Ah chickie babe,” Cajun crooned, “Harl knows I’m just joking. Right?” Harley grunted. He
did
know his brother was just teasing. Teasing was about the only way Caj knew how to show love. Based off how often Cajun had teased Harley in his lifetime, his brother loved him more than the secret Barbie Doll collection he had in his basement. Harley smirked at that thought, but kept it silent. To be fair, the collection had been their mother’s, and most of them were worth thousands each. Tandy said he kept them out of hopes that one day the world would be right, the economy fixed, and the plastic dolls worth a load of money that would set him up for life. Harley liked to tease that there was a lot more to it than hopes for money. But there was no need to sabotage his brother’s relationship. Eventually the girl was bound to find one too many skeletons in Cajun’s closet and she’d ditch. Harley wouldn’t be the one to nail off the coffin.

“Besides, he’ll make the best babysitter in the world.” Cajun laughed. Harley glowered. Maybe he’d tell Charleen about that Barbie collection after all.

“I ain’t goin’ back on my promise. Fact is, no matter the reasons Pop gave me, we need to know the truth about the situation. She’s got a dangerous secret; maybe just dangerous to her, maybe dangerous to all of us.”

“I want to know more about these dog tags.” Cajun nodded, finally being more serious about the topic.

“And the story about the Raider huntin’ her?” Harley asked.

“We’ll need to keep an eye on that, too. Raiders are smart and ruthless, but they aren’t typically
that
obsessive. If it’s true, that would mean things are changing again.” Charleen wrinkled her nose in disgust, a small growl making its way up her throat. Cajun wrapped a protective arm around her. Charleen didn’t have the best track record with Rabids in general, but Raiders were her most hated of the bunch.

“We’ll ask around, see what we can find out. In the meantime, you better keep an eye on dad’s little girl. If the Rabids like the smell of her and the Raiders want her too, she’ll be in a hot mess in Dallas.” Cajun was right, of course. Harley clenched his fists, ignoring the urge to hunt down the girl and ensure her safety right away. This new protective instinct thing was going to get annoying, real fast.

“What was he thinkin’, bringin’ her here? One of the worst cesspools in the country, Rabids and Raiders aside, and he brings her here.” Cajun smiled at Harley’s tangent, slapping him on the arm with the closest thing to a hug as they ever came.

“I’m guessing he was thinking of you, lil bro.” Harley’s brow furrowed.

“Because I make such a perfect babysitter?” He groaned in annoyance. Cajun just laughed, gave his shoulder another slap, then walked away with his girl into the darkening night. Harley ran a hand over his face before scrubbing it through his hair. Turning on his heel, he strode in the other direction, throwing a leg over his bike. He needed to feel its speed beneath him. With each mile he put between him and the hotel, the girl’s scent should have faded. Instead, it stayed ingrained in his nose, and Harley began to wonder just what in the world he’d gotten himself into.

Amiel

Amiel tiredly juggled the bags of groceries on her way up the stairs. She’d bought too much probably, packing the side bags on her bike to the max. She carried two bags looped over each arm, and four more smooshed against her chest as she began the three floor ascent to her apartment. Elevators were apparently considered taboo in the regular world. With the power supply not being entirely reliable out here, too many people were trapped in the metal boxes on a daily basis.

She swallowed and leaned against the stairwell for a moment, catching her breath. Definitely too many groceries. She silently argued that she’d need enough to hold her over until her first paycheck came through. Once that happened, she was determined to live entirely on what she made at her job alone. Jaron’s money would sit safely in her bank account. The thought both terrified and thrilled her. She’d never been on her own, and while she’d never really had free access to the family money, she’d known she’d never have to face the possibility of hunger. Of course, if it came down to it, she’d be able to cheat and easily dip into Jaron’s funds. The idea of being able to provide for herself, however, was powerful incentive to leave it alone. She was starting her new job tonight, and it would be two weeks before her first paycheck. Despite the bad mood brought on by sweat rolling down her neck, the thought of a new job and an earned paycheck brought a smile to Amiel’s lips as she reached the top step.

Stopping at her door she found herself glaring at it, filing away a mental note for next time.
Get the keys out of your pocket before packing your arms full of groceries
. A door opened down the hall, signifying Darvey was in his usual attack mode. She’d lived here for three weeks now, and it was becoming a daily ritual for him to rush out the door every time she stayed in the hallway too long. He was like a rat drawn to a chunk of cheese. Unfortunately Amiel was the cheese, and she was beginning to think he had changed his schedule to better fit hers.
Another reason to always have your stinking keys in hand, Amiel!
She growled mentally as she watched him bound up to her, over the tops of her bags.

“Amiel! You have your arms full don’t you! You look like a little chipmunk! Let me help you.” She grudgingly prepared to hand a few of her bags over to him, not at all expecting the feel of his hands as they tried to slip into her front jeans pocket. She let out a screech, jumping away from him, dropping most of her bags in the process. Her eyes glued to him, angry, accusing.

“Darvey, what are you doing!” His face whitened slightly, a sweat breaking out across his upper lip.

“Sorry, Amiel, I was just trying to get the keys out of your pocket for you.” He stepped forward, but she threw out a hand to stop him. He froze, watching her carefully.

“You couldn’t just hold a couple of bags for me? You had to go pocket diving instead? What makes you even think my key is in that pocket?” He just stared at her, mouth working silently over several possible replies to her tirade, but none made it to the surface. With a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumped and she rubbed her eyes. She supposed it wasn’t his fault. The guy obviously was not savvy in the way of proper behavior and social etiquette, and she was beginning to wonder if he was quite simply not right in the head. But he had a serious problem with personal space, and it was getting creepy.

“Look, don’t worry about it okay? Just
please
don’t do that again. I
really
don’t like being touched.” She tacked the last on, hoping it would scare him off enough that he’d give up the clumsy pursuit of flirting with her. Guys didn’t waste time on women who didn’t put out. She’d learned that over the years back home.

“Yes, of course. Forgive me.” He reached to grasp her hand, but she quickly crouched down to start sorting through the damage done to her groceries, simultaneously avoiding his touch. Apparently he wasn’t good at taking not-so-subtle hints either.

“Here, let me help you. You get your keys out, and I will carry them in for you.” He gathered them all up before she could reply, leaving her no choice but to do as he suggested. Not wanting him to know he was right about where her key was, she turned her back to him and quickly removed the key. As the door swung open, he swept past her, smooshing her chest between his arm and the door as he passed. She sighed, desperately trying to keep her patience in line. He dumped the groceries on the counter, and then proceeded to put them all away. In all the wrong places. She forced her smile to stay in place, though her cheeks were beginning to hurt with the effort. Finally he turned to her with a proud smile, and she again felt that stirring of pity for the guy. He really was just trying to help. But he really sucked at it.

“Okay, well, thank you for the help, Darvey.” She held the door open wide with a cheerful smile, but instead he leaned against the counter and helped himself to one of her slightly mashed bananas.

“So how are things going, Amiel? Do you like your new home? It looks very nice in here by the way. You’re really good at decorating such a small space.” She repressed a sigh, glancing at the clock. There was only one hour before she had to show up for her first night of work, and she definitely needed a shower before then. That gave her about half an hour to get ready. Which meant she needed to get him out of here, quick.

“Yeah, it’s been great, thanks. I am just about to get ready for my first day of work though, so…” He tossed the peel in the trash, moving into her personal space again.

“Oh really? Wonderful! Are you excited? Where are you working? Maybe I can stop in and say hi sometime.” She pressed back against the open door, maintaining some distance.

“Uh, yeah. It’s pretty exciting. But it’s on the other side of town, and I still have to get ready, so I should get started. Don’t want to be late on my first day and all.”

“That’s great though! I have to go into work in an hour, but I could just go early. We could carpool!” This was SO not going the way Amiel had hoped. She prayed it wasn’t a sign of how the rest of the night was going to be.

“No, I couldn’t ask you to go so early just for me. “

“I wouldn’t mind at all! In fact, I’d love the company.”

“You don’t even know where I work. It’s probably really far out of your way. It’s too much trouble, really.

“It’s no problem at all, Chipmunk.” He snorted. “Chipmunk. Get it? From the hallway?” She forced a laugh, internally wondering how he would react if she started calling him Rat.

“Ah, yeah, that’s good.” She cleared her throat “Darvey, I appreciate the offer, it’s sweet of you. But I have a ride.” He paused before his face screwed up slightly.

“The motorcycle? That’s a bit dangerous, especially in these times, don’t you think? You’re so exposed.” She felt a lot more exposed by the fact that he knew she rode a motorcycle, and that he wouldn’t get out of her home or personal space. The tiny hairs on her skin suddenly rose with her temper.

“I love it actually. And in the case of safety, you can maneuver faster, smoother, and safer on a motorcycle than you can in a car.” Her chin rose slightly, defiantly.

“I love that spark in your eyes. It’s absolutely captivating.” His face grew stern. “But really, Amiel. What would your mother think?” Amiel’s heart plummeted to her toes, leaving her feeling faint.

“What did you say?” Her voice was barely a whisper, Darvey’s words having stolen its strength.

“Your mother. Malinda Hilden.”

“How do you know that?” she whispered in dread, looking around wildly as though her mother would pop out from behind the couch at any moment.

“I saw you on TV a few months ago. At a funeral. I recognized you the minute we met. Imagine, Amiel Hilden moving next door to me of all people!” His grin was bordering maniacal and she swallowed hard. So that was why he had taken such an interest in her. He had stars in his eyes, and he saw her as the brightest one. She put as much steel in her backbone as she could, though it felt like hot Jell-O now.

“Look, Darvey, I’m flattered you recognized me. But I need your promise that you won’t tell anyone about me. Especially my mom. I’m trying to live my own life, but I can’t do that if she finds me. Do you understand?”

“Oh, of course, Amiel. I’d never betray you. Consider it
our
little secret.” The way his voice caressed the word ‘our’, along with the gleam in his eye, made Amiel queasy. He clapped his hands together startling a jump from her. “Well! I guess I better get out of your beautiful hair so you can finish getting ready for your big night, huh?” He paused, lightly gripping her arm, sending chills across her skin.

“Do think about my offer, though. I’m
never
far away, Chipmunk.” He winked and walked out of the room. Amiel slammed the door behind him, locking the deadbolt. She stared at the cold metal under her fingers, and made a mental note to look into adding more locks to her door. Letting her head fall forward with a thump, she waited for her heart to stop its painful skittering. It was official. This day sucked moldy socks.

She pulled into Jollyway Diner’s parking lot with five minutes to spare before her first shift was scheduled to begin. Pulling the helmet free, her still very wet hair fell about her shoulders as she jogged to the door. There had barely been enough time to shower and pull on clean clothes before she had had to rush out the apartment door. Grabbing a clip that she had stuck on the edge of her jacket on the mad dash out of her apartment, she pulled her hair into a messy twist and approached the counter. A thirty-something red headed beauty with a curvy body most women would die for, stood at the counter counting cash back for a customer in a cheerful Texy twang. Her hair was abundant with spiral curls that were wild and spunky.

“Y’all have a good night now, Suga.” She waved the man away, before her sky blue eyes settled on Amiel. “Them outsiders love the Texan drawl. Pour it on thick and they give ya endless tips.” She winked. “Y’all must be the new girl.” Amiel’s eyes widened, wondering how she knew she wasn’t just another customer.

“How…?”

“Oh honey, no one comes into this diner lookin’ as spiffy as you.” Amiel looked down at her combat boots, skinny jeans, and the soft pink t-shirt beneath her leather jacket. This was spiffy? The woman pushed a divider in the counter up and came out to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, after workin’ here a few nights, y’all won’t be dressin’ so nice to come to work neither.” She winked again, pulling Amiel behind the counter with her. Once the divider was back in place, her new workmate turned, hands on hips and bright smile in place. Amiel stuck out a hand.

“I’m Amiel. It’s nice to meet you.” The woman looked down at her proffered hand before letting loose a peel of contagious laughter.

“Oh doll, if you don’t got manners! I’m gonna love you!” Her hand was warm, with light calluses on her fingertips. “Joyce Swartz, with a current opening for the slot of best friend, at your service.” Amiel smiled broadly, feeling some of the stress slipping away under Joyce’s sunny disposition.

“Then I’m in luck, because I also happen to be in the market for a best friend.”

“Oh, you have no idea how glad I am to have ya workin’ here, girl! The rest of ‘em here are half a bubble off a plumb, if ya know what I mean.” Amiel laughed along with the vivacious woman, though she had no clue what that meant. They walked through the swinging doors that led to a huge industrial kitchen.

“STINT!” Joyce shouted, making Amiel jump. Joyce just laughed and hugged Amiel closer. “Alright, here we got Travis, he’s bus boy.” She pointed out a pimpled orange-haired guy that chose that moment to wipe his nose on his apron. He waved awkwardly before heading back out the doors to bus the tables. Joyce wrinkled her nose. “He’s sixteen, and what y’all just saw is only the tip of the iceberg in
his
extent of manners. All’s I gotta say, is we’re lucky he ain’t the cook.” Amiel nodded in agreement. “Back here, we got the real cook.” A tall muscular guy stood behind the stove, flipping burgers and tending to a million other food items. The lights glinted off the light sheen of sweat on his dark skin, his eyes fixed on the food, not glancing up at them for even a moment.

“He’s real quiet. Don’t think I’ve heard him say a word since he started workin’ here two years ago. We don’t even know his real name, so everyone just calls him Cookie. He’s amazin’ with food.” She patted her round backside. “I’ve gained a second butt eatin’ that man’s cookin’. But that’s alright, because any man worth his salt loves a big ol’ rump.” Amiel giggled, looking forward to trying some of Cookie’s food. Malinda would have died of a heart attack just looking at the grease covered hamburgers. Their live-in chef made low cal food that tasted like cardboard. Amiel couldn’t wait to learn the true delights fast food had to offer. From the scent in the air, Cookie’s food would blow any of Amiel’s food experience out of the water. Joyce maneuvered her around the counter to point out a girl that was slumped on the floor, painting her nails black. Her hair was long, and in two hot pink pigtails. Her clothes were black with small accents of bright color here and there.

“This here is Sunshine.” The girl looked up at Joyce’s voice and promptly scowled, giving them the one finger salute. Joyce steered Amiel away, leaning close. “Teenagers. Such a joy!” She smirked sarcastically as Sunshine added her second hand into what was apparently her favorite reply. “She’s the dishwasher. Sometimes she mans the cash register if we are
really
busy…and
desperate
.” She leaned close. “If y’all ask me, her hippy parents shoulda laid off the weed and picked a name that better suited her. Like maybe, Pumpernickel, or Maleficent would have fit nicely.” Amiel burst out laughing, just as a short rotund man turned the corner in front of them. He wore a striped suit that was very out of place in a diner, thinning hair slicked to the side, and beady little black eyes that immediately made you feel like a bug under his shoe. He had the look of a very portly mob stooge.