Surge (44 page)

And then there is Olivia. She hasn’t so much as glanced in my direction. There’s no singing, games of Whack the Wheezer, training sessions, or worst of all: her lack of cooking. It’s like she’s isolated herself from the group in every way that she previously instilled herself in the first place. Instead of letting me apologize for being an assumptive prick, she’s locked herself in a room of any place that we’ve spent the night at, and only occasionally let Cory inside. So it’s no surprise when he waylaid me the first morning, demanding to know what I did. I expected no less. If someone upset my sister, I’d be on the bastard like white on rice.

But that ends today. Enough of this shit. Olivia is going to talk to me, whether she wants to or not. I’ll take the broken nose, it’s well deserved, but I will get her to talk to me by the end of the day. And I’ve decided this well before John elbows me to get my attention, for the third time in the last two minutes.

“What?” I snap.

“Fix it, you fucker,” John hisses from the passenger seat. “I want Livia back.”

“Who the fuck is
‘Livia’
?” I ask, but I know exactly who he’s referring to.
‘Olivia’
is the badass who doesn’t take shit from anyone.
‘Livia’
is the girl that peeks out from behind her helmet, and yes she’s been wearing the fucking helmet again. She’s fun, spontaneous, and dare I say carefree? I’m guessing that
‘Livia’
is similar to the
‘Livi’
she was before Travis and all of the other shit that happened to her. They’re all just pieces of the complicated puzzle that is Olivia.

“Don’t play stupid with me,” he spits out. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, so fix it.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” I say and glance at the fuming giant next to me. “I was already planning on talking to her when we reach wherever it is we’re staying tonight.”

“You better,” John warns. When I nod, he relaxes. “Good, because I didn’t want to have to beat some sense into you.”

I flip him off, since we both know I would have kicked his ass sideways if he tried, and he wouldn’t have. Never once in almost twenty years of friendship, have we ever come to blows. Exchanged heated words and threats, yes, thrown fists, no.

“We both know who would win that fight, so fuck off,” I say and John laughs. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Be sure you do,” he warns. “‘Cause I’m sure Cory was planning on snuffing you with a pillow tonight, if you didn’t.”

“Thanks for the warning, but it isn’t necessary. I’ve got this.” I hope.

<~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~><~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~>

An hour later and we’re pulling up into another one of Olivia’s safe houses.
So far we’ve stayed at her aunt’s brick one, the cabin, a townhouse in the burbs, some hunting lodge without utilities, and now it looks like a cottage near a lake. Make that
on
a lake, since I can now see the sun’s rays shining off of the water out back. I park the van as close as possible, before hopping out. I hear the slider open and the rest of the group talking as they unload in a seemingly endless parade.

Olivia, with her goddamn helmet on, walks up the front steps and opens the door. I already know that she’s heading to the nearest room which has a lock to hole up in, so I run after her. I can’t hear anything since she’s a fucking silent ninja, but I catch a hint of black disappear around the corner, and give chase like a predator scenting prey.

Sprinting around the corner, I feel something trip me up, and wind up face planting like a wheezer does when Olivia blasts its ears. I look up in time to see her boots, which were responsible for the trip up, slip into a room down the hall. Picking myself up, I walk down to the door and knock. I receive no answer, not that I expected one, so I try for talking.

“Olivia, please open the door.” Not so much as a curse. Time for the sullen bastard. “Open the damn door.”

“Fuck off,” I hear her order. Grinning at the response, I try for more.

“Open the freaking door, right now,” I demand. “Or I’ll kick it in.”

“You dare,” Olivia warns. “And you’ll be one sorry mother fucker.”

“Then talk to me.”

“We are talking,” comes her reply.

“I like to see the eyes of who I’m talking to.”

“Then you’re shit outta luck,” she says. “Because I don’t want to see you.”

“Come on, Olivia, just open the door so we can talk.”

“Jared, please just go away,” Olivia pleads. It’s because she said
‘please’
that I give her space. For now. Because I’ll definitely be talking to her before another day passes.

“How’d it go?” John asks.

I’m walking into the living room, so I just shake my head. I don’t need any more push to do something that should have been done the day it happened, but I was too chicken shit to do it. There was that, and the fact that I was still a little queasy any time I thought of what Olivia said happened. Not only did she watch the love of her life be beaten and tortured to death, she herself was brutalized in front of him.

My fingers clench as my imagination supplies mental visuals of what it thinks it might have looked like to an observer. Olivia being held down by several men, as they take turns having their way with her, while the father of her baby lies dying just a few feet away. It’s no wonder that she can’t sleep with that image running on repeat. I can barely sleep, and all I did was hear about a small tidbit of what she experienced. I may be pissy because of the hand I’ve been dealt, losing my parents, raising a teenage girl, and leading a group of ragtag strangers I didn’t ask for; but that’s all kitten shit compared to the mountain that Olivia is buried under.

I haven’t told anyone what Olivia recanted. Not Cory, who demanded to know what I said to upset her. Not Leonard, who keeps asking why his
‘new bestest friend in the whole wide world;’
that was Sarah’s words by the way, is hiding from him. Not John, who glanced between the silent Olivia and me with questioning eyes. And certainly not fucking Tommy.

That asshole can just go straight to hell since he’s spent more time with her lately, than anyone else has been allowed to do in days. Fine, it’s because Olivia asked him to that he hops into the car with her, but still, the fucker listens. I’ve seen him talk to Olivia more in that car than I’ve seen him talk to anyone, other than his grandpa, in the eight months that we’ve known him. It’s a good thing that he’s opening up a little more. I admit it, and I would even be happy for him if it were anyone other than Olivia that he was connecting with.

Call me a selfish prick all you want, but I want to be the one who Olivia clicks with. But I want more than friendship with her, and there lies the problem. Who knows if Olivia will ever want, or be able, to have another healthy relationship again? If she wants to expose her true self to someone else intimately? I’m not talking specifically about the physicality aspect of an intimate relationship, though that could be a major hindrance, I’m talking about her being mentally open. She’s about as willing to come out of her shell, as a bull going into a pen. You basically have to prod her into spilling anything. That, or compromise with a bit of tit for tat.

I just have to get her alone and make her talk. And I will. Once everyone goes to bed, I’ll sneak off and find wherever it is she wanders for tonight’s midnight rendezvous. Since I’ve been having trouble sleeping, I know that she’s been sneaking out of whatever room she holed up in, after the others have gone off to sleep, because I’ve heard her. So tonight, instead of wondering where she goes, I’ll just find out first hand.

I’m pulled out of my scheme by John’s body plopping down on the other end of sofa. I raise my eyebrows to see what the hell he wants, since he obviously wants something.

“What has you sitting over here, looking like a villain?” John asks. “All you need is to connect your fingers in front of your face, an evil cackle, and you’re good to go.”

“Where do you come up with this shit?” I inquire and he laughs. “I was coming up with a game plan, if you must know.” John looks at me expectantly. “Don’t you worry about it, I know what I’m doing.”

“If you knew what you were doing, you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place,” he comments. I flip him off. “It’s the truth.”

“I made a stupid assumption, that’s all,” I say vaguely. “It won’t happen again.”

“
‘Assumptions are for assholes,’
” John repeats. “Didn’t your Gran teach you anything?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know already. Now shut the fuck up, and go cook.” John looks horrified at the possibility of having to cook, so I revise my order. “I’ll help, maybe we can even persuade Lenny that he’s needed?”

“Get my girl back, and I’ll do whatever you want,” Leonard says from behind us. I look over and see him leaning against the door frame, with his arms crossed.

“I’ll get her back,” I promise and he nods. “Will you help?”

“Just this once,” he answers. “I want my head chef back.”

“You and me both,” John replies, and I silently add my own concurrence.

<~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~>

It’s nearing midnight when everyone decides to call it a day. We’ve had early starts every morning since this road trip started, except for the last few days, since we’ve been getting held up by one particular nuisance. And while it usually would have been me that they had to use a crowbar to pry out of bed, my recent poor sleeping patterns haven’t been a problem; though a certain blonde certainly has been.

At every new safe house, Kelly’s been staking claims to her own bedroom; even if there is only one, by pushing her way to the front. Had Olivia stuck around after unlocking the door and holing up, I’m sure that Kelly would have gone along with whatever the plan was for the sleeping arrangements. But since Olivia has checked out for the last several days, Kelly has been celebrating the reprieve. And I mean literally celebrating.

Just before Carlos carried her unconscious body out, Kelly was tipping back Olivia’s Jack Daniels, like it was water. From there, she started singing in a slurred shriek that was ten times worse than her speaking voice,
‘ding dong, the bitch is dead.’
There was even some drunken swaying thrown in for an attempt at dancing. That was her downfall. Before I could drag her intoxicated ass out of the room, she toppled over her stilettos, and went ass over applesauce to knock herself out on the coffee table. That was priceless, and it’ll hurt in the morning, so that makes it even better.

After Kelly’s stylish departure, the rest of the group trickled off to their respective sleeping spots, leaving only me and John in the room. John has the first watch, so I leave him to it, and wait for Olivia’s escape. It only takes about twenty minutes for the door she’s locked herself in, to creak open and I see her slip out. I give her a head start of ten minutes, before trailing after her.

It’s pretty easy to follow where she went, all I had to do was spot her aluminum can holding the back screen door open. Removing the can, I slip outside before replacing it. I sweep the backyard with my eyes, and see her sitting by the lake. She’s taking off her boots, and her leather jacket is already beside her on the ground. Wanting to make myself known before she undresses further, because as much as I would love to see more; it would only end with her in a panic attack, or kicking my ass.