The Deepest Red (38 page)

In a flash of reflective light, her knife strikes out- slicing into my skin. Blood pours out of me like crimson ribbons across the floor of the forest. I fall but no ground comes up to meet me. I’m swallowed by a feeling so intense it drives me to rip at the darkness. I feel the pressure of fingertips biting into my hot skin. I’m burning as they shake me violently. Air rushes to escape my lungs leaving fear so great that all I can do is choke on the void between life and death.

I come awake feeling the pressure of hands gripping my shoulders.

“Millie, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

Connor’s fingertips bite deeper into my skin. Without thinking I grab for him and bury my face into his neck. I breathe in deep, relieved at the fullness of my lungs. I breathe in again allowing his nearness to comfort me. I will the images of my dreams to fade.

“Connor, oh thank God you’re back.”

I cling to him, smelling his unique scent. He gasp at my unexpected behavior and enfolds my shaking body into his arms.

“Well,” his voice cracks on the word, “maybe I should be gone more often.”

The muscles of his arms tighten around me. I’ll never admit how much I’ve worried for him these last few weeks but behind the closed fabric of my door, I revel in the fact that he is safe within the prison’s fences.

“What did you dream?” he whispers, his breath hot on my neck.

I shut my eyes and see my mother’s vacant stare.

“Nothing worth repeating.”

Night fills the room when I lean back to examine him.

“When did you get back?”

He shifts his face away from the moon light, driving deeper into the darkness. My eyes adjust quickly so he is unable to hide his injured left eye. I reach out.

“I haven't been back long,” he says pushing his cheek into my touch.

“You’re wounded,” I say.

“Nah, it’s just a scratch.”

His hand comes up to cover mine.

“Looks like a black eye.”

He ignores me.

“Clover told me you’ve been having a hard time for the past few days.

” I nod and then wonder if he can see the movement in the dark.

“I found out about my mother. Let’s just say I’ve been handling it badly,” I admit.

I withdraw my hand and immediately wish I hadn’t.

“I bet you’re handling it the best you can and that’s all you can do. The past is the past. Let yourself mourn and then move on.”

His velvet voice washes over me giving me strength when I thought I had none. A have a sorrowful feeling that he himself has followed that same advice many times over.

“Mrs. Emerson said the same thing,” I say, realizing for the first time that Connor is sitting on my bed.

A fury of heat swells in the pit of my stomach.
Don’t think about that right now.
I straighten.

“For once I agree with her,” he replies, leaning closer to me. He reaches for my hand, locking our fingers together. “But I don’t want to talk about her right now.” His thumb, unknowingly, strokes the side of my wrist, sending goosebumps up my arm. “I’ve missed my friend,” he whispers- his voice sounding raw and honest.

“I’ve missed you to-.”

My words are cut off when his lips meet mine. The pressure is gentle, sweet and uncharacteristic for this hard, sarcastic man. The touch of his lips against mine unlocks all the emotions I’ve tried to lock away. He deepens the kiss then withdraws like he’s testing, staying in control on purpose to see if I lash out. I don’t want him in control. I want him drowning in passion. I want the ability to pour out all my anger and yearning into him so that he is a part of my very breath. He breaks the kiss completely.

“I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry-”

I stop his words with a kiss of my own, only I lack his control and tenderness. My hastened forcefulness draws out an animalistic growl from Connor. I lean into him, burying my fingers into his hair. He responds by pushing me down on to the pillow. I hit the mattress followed by his firm body against mine.

“More,” I gasp, intertwining our legs as my hands glide down Connor’s back, his sides and finally find the edge of his shirt.

I tug at the fabric. Knowing what I want, Connor breaks our kiss to remove the thin clothing. He begins to lightly stroke my neck, kissing and nibbling on my ear. I moan as my hands explore his newly exposed skin.

“Oh Millie,” he groans as I begin to move beneath him, my leg pinning his hips against me. “It was painful being a part from you,” he whispers in my ear and tightly grips my thigh.

I feel his excitement baring down on me as I ache to have him completely.

“Don’t walk out on me this time,” I beg, almost strangled with lust.

“Never.”

His hand skims the bottom of my shirt before diving underneath. His light caress touches the skin above my ribs causing my whole body to spasm. Connor devours my lips with his, moving with such passion that all I can do is grab a hold of his muscular shoulders. My whole consciousness rallies in anticipation as his callous hand strokes my bare skin. I arch into his touch and tug on his blue jeans.
Too many clothes.

“Oh, please take these off,” I mumble desperately.

My hand slips between his skin and boxers, grazing his hip bone. He jerks and hisses in my ear. 

“Connor.” Clover’s voice calls out quietly.

He stills above me. Her voice comes again only closer.

“Connor?”

He stares down into my eyes. An expression of desire, longing and regret lingering together. He shakingly grips my neck lowering his forehead to mine.

“Please don’t see this as me leaving.”

He pushes off my mattress and collects his shirt from the floor. I sit up, my clothes disheveled- staring at him.

“Connor?” Clover draws closer.

In the middle of my room he takes a step toward me and stops, his hand clenches and releases- a look of pain on his strong face. Pulling back my curtain door Connor leaves my living quarters. My head crashes back down against my pillow. In the distance, I hear Clover’s concerned voice.

“Oh, there you are. Mrs. Emerson is looking for you.”

I hear a grunt as the echo of his heavy footsteps on the metal sound loudly in the cell block. Then, the slamming of the doors.

I stare at my ceiling, imagining Connor still there with me. The smell of him lingers on my skin, the taste of him still on my tongue.
Why can’t life be easy? Why must things be so complicated?
I drift off into a dreamless sleep until the sun cast its beams across my room. I know I need to get up, I know that life has continued around me as I decayed on top of this lumpy mattress. I stand with new resolve and stretch my sore muscles. I’ve been motionless for far too long. Once I’ve combed my hair, dressed and armed myself with the now familiar weight of my centipede weapons, I step outside of my empty cell.

When I open the door to the gymnasium I’m greeted by the annoyed faces of scouts including Mrs. Emerson.

“Well it’s about time you graced us with your presence and what do you know, you’re actually just in time for the report,” she says and stands in front of the entire group of scouts, strong and capable.

I bow my head and take a seat in the back. I try not to search for Connor but my eyes find him without any effort.

“Okay, as you were saying Connor.”

She motions for him to stand. He does and I’m overcome with alarm when I see his face. What the darkness covered up, the light filtering through the above windows highlights. A dark bruise covers his right cheek. The dark shadow I saw in my room is actually a gash that has scabbed over, under his eye. When I glance around the gym, I notice the other members of his scouting group all harboring the same injuries.   

      “As I was saying,” he glances at me knowing full well I’m cataloging every injury. “We were able to bring back a majority of what was on the list. However, we were met with much difficulty.”

He pulls out an aerial map that all scouts receive with their supply bags. On it I can discern large areas circled in red ink.

“These areas circled are where we detected the most infected. They seem to be moving in small herds. We don’t know why but it’s like they are coming in waves.” He allows us to process the information before speaking again. “As you can see, there is a large mountain here.” He points to a location on the map. “When you study the layout, this prison lies right at the base and is the last stop of a small mountain range.” He passes the map to a person nearby. “Take a look, there are two flattened areas of land on each side of the larger mountain. Basicly, what is happening is the infected are taking the path of least resistance, filtering around the mountain. It’s better that in future scouting trips to avoid these areas circled in red.” He pauses. “This community has been lucky not to have these things knocking on your door.”

Eddie, a middle aged man with light grey edging his sideburns hands me Connor’s circled map. I study the area shown.

“If what you’re saying is true, then Barnesville is crawling with them,” I say, passing the map along.

I fall under Connor’s scrutiny.

“Yeah, more than likely,” he replies, a questioning look appearing on his features.

“Well, sucks to be me then.”

I give a sardonic snicker causing Eddie to purse his lips.

“Millie,” Mrs. Emerson chastises.

“Wait, what Am I missing?” Connor asks.

He glances between Mrs. Emerson and I. She gives me a remorseful stare.

“Our Millie here is set to go out on the next scouting mission to Barnesville.”

Connor’s face turns hard.

“No she isn’t,” he says, unrelentingly.

“Yes, I am.” I retort, firm in my decision and ignoring the stares.

I had a job to do. I had to be useful; it was what I wanted.

“Then I’m going too,” he says.

“No, you aren’t,” Mrs. Emerson speaks up. “You just got back. You need rest.”

Connor stands stern but obviously conflicted.

“I was in the red zone with Clover for months, not resting. I did just fine,” he comments.

Sadness appears again on Mrs. Emerson usually unyielding face.

“Well, then think of Clover and Tessa. You need to be with your family for awhile,” she remarks.

Connor peers around the room as if suddenly realizing other people are observing the whole exchange.

“We can discuss this later,” he says, sitting down beside Justin, one of the scouts that returned with him. They utter a few words quietly.

“Mrs. Emerson, I think we should move up the Barnesville trip,” I say, all heads turning toward me including Connor’s. “What?” I question. “Since these groups of infected have been indicated on the map, we stand a better chance of avoiding them if we leave now. Who knows where they’ll migrate if we wait a few weeks.” I take a deep breath feeling the anger radiating off of Connor. “Besides the weather is getting colder.”

I wait patiently for a response while the air thickens with suspense.

“Agreed,” Mrs. Emerson says, breaking the awkward silence. “Millie, Lonnie, Jay, Carter and Daniel, you leave at first light.”

Connor stands rapidly, his face set as if carved in stone. His mouth opens to speak but Mrs. Emerson is gone. My eyes search the gym, landing on Lonnie. Our gazes meet and an understanding drifts between us. This wouldn’t be just another scouting trip.

I rush out of the gym to escape Connor’s wrath but as I’m about to reach freedom his fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling me backward.

“What are you thinking?”

His voice is calm but holds a dangerous edge. I pull my wrist away.

“I’m thinking I don’t want to be hiking to Barnesville in the cold,” I say and hold his gaze, keeping my facial features blank.

“I just came back from the red zone it’s too dangerous right now.”

His expression is a mix of aggression and worry.

“Connor, it’s my job.”

“I know but,” he leans closer to me, “I can’t go with you.”

I stare into his molten gray eyes, wishing we had longer than a few hours together.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” I say.

“Maybe this isn’t about what you need but what I need.”

He reaches out for my hand only to graze my wrist with gentle fingers.

“Three weeks is a long time to be without my friend,” he says quietly.

I shiver at the hidden meaning within his words. Connor’s eyes flicker to my mouth and back.

“We’re still friends, aren’t we?” he asks.

Heavy footsteps draw nearer as I’m unable to move. If I was to answer his question yes, would he confess his feelings? Do I want him too? Yes.

“Millie, meet back here to discuss game plans,” Lonnie says as he comes to a stop beside me.

“Sure.” I breath, nodding to him.

“Three hours.”

He holds up three fingers as he moves around my stiff body. Carter follows him giving me a weak smile. I realize Connor and I are standing just inside the doorway, blocking those trying to leave. I step to the side, tucking a strand of wavy red hair behind my ear.  I cast my head down, keeping my voice low so no one can hear.