A single thread of cotton sticks out from a tiny hole in the knee of Izzie’s pants. Blue dye runs all of the way to the end on the outside, but clean, white fluff emerges from the center as her short nail picks at it. The ends fray, creating a small fiber dandelion bobbing over an indigo stem.
She doesn’t know how she got the hole. It might have been there in the morning while she was getting dressed. The sun hadn't risen yet and her little desk lamp didn’t do much to illuminate her big corner room. With windows on two walls, normally she didn’t feel that she needed more artificial lighting beyond her desk lamp and a tall floor lamp in the corner. But, anyway, it is possible she missed it then.
Or, it could have been during one of the times that she was bracing herself against the rough stone of the table that was keeping the nightmares trapped outside.
The hole isn’t big, barely large enough to fit her fingertip through, and most of the threads are still intact. Except the one little fluffy thread that is reaching toward the sky. She drags her nail along the thread again, separating it further. A tiny little flower exploding with fluff from within.
Plastic scrapes over the counter above her head, and the smell of bleach fills her nose. It is strong, burning her nostrils. She wants to say ‘not so much’, but she can’t get herself to do it. He is cleaning out the towels like she should have been, in case they need them again. But she doesn’t want to touch those bloody towels again. Her nail scrapes over the little hole and another thread pops up.
To the side, Sasha groans and shifts her leg a little. Izzie checks the towel wrapped around her injury, but there is no red soaking up through it yet. Her stomach rolls again. It isn’t the sight of blood. It isn’t the helplessness or panic. She digs her nail harder against the threads, feeling it bite into the skin below. While she was sitting safely behind the stone barrier, there were people stuck outside, with those things. People that she knew. ‘What right do I have to feel sorry for myself when people were dying outside?’
Sasha groans again, her body shaking lightly. “Cold,” she mumbles through chattering teeth.
Izzie places her wrist on the other girl's forehead, but the skin is cool to the touch. “No fever, at least not that I can tell. The floor is cold to lay on, but there is nowhere else we can move you right now.”
“I know. I had a silver blanket sheet thing with me while I was running, did it make it inside?”
A quick search finds a crumpled emergency blanket tucked partially below her body on the other side. Izzie pulls it loose and spreads it over the girl as best as she can. “You know,” she says lightly, trying to show the calm that Joseph showed her. “I’ve always wondered: Do you get cold easily, or do you layer for aesthetics?”
“For what? No, I’m cold. All the time since we moved here. I don’t know how you all can take it.” Sasha chuckles, the humor in her tone cutting out when she groans again.
“You moved from Texas, right? That does seem like a big change.”
“Maybe not as big as my parents wanted. I still ended up hiding in a little room while people outside are dying. ” She grimaces as she shifts beneath her argent cover. “They hate it here too. I was supposed to keep Marcus entertained so they could work with his dad to sell Pawpaw’s farm. Maybe we’ll never leave now. I failed and Marcus is dead.”
Izzie sorts through the questions she wants to ask. She started talking to distract the girl, but she is ashamed to realize how little she knows about her. For the last couple of years, Sasha has just been the weird girl who wears too much clothing. Izzie latches on to the last statement, filing away her other questions in the hopes she will have time to ask later, maybe some other day over coffee when they are safe and their only worries are about studying for tests again. “That’s right, I did see Marcus when I walked in. I didn’t…I didn’t think about him at all.”
“Ha, you don’t have to be polite, I know you don’t like him. Didn’t like him? He was a creepy little prick who hated all women and thought we owed him something. I wouldn’t have been in the same room as him if I didn’t have to be. I guess that makes me an awful person, considering…”
“Considering what?” Izzie knows she doesn’t want to hear the answer, but she asks anyway.
“Because he died,” Leslie pipes up from her plastic throne. “He made a run for the manager’s office and left Sasha behind, I am guessing. But his bony little legs couldn’t move him faster than the creatures and they sent him straight through the glass of the office. Crash bang, goodbye Marcus.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“What the-,” The water cuts off in the sink and Joseph’s voice booms, echoes bouncing off the walls in the enclosed space. “What is wrong with you? You’re making jokes about someone getting killed?”
“There is nothing wrong with me. That’s why I survived and he didn’t. Nobody is going to miss the loser, why pretend to be sad?”
“You don’t have to pretend to be sad, but you don’t have to sound so gleeful!”
Izzie puts her hand out, wrapping her fingers around Joseph’s ankle. He looks down at her, and he looks so lost that her heart clenches. “Just ignore her. Her default setting is Snarky Bitch.”
“Oh no, the pom pom waver thinks I am a bitch! Whatever shall I do? If only I had some pretty crayons to give her so she could color us some flowers and make it all better.”
“Hey!” Joseph tries to step away and Izzie tightens her fingers. He frowns and clenches his hands at his sides. “No! Why are you letting her talk to you like that? You’re way smarter than her!”
“Yeah, sure.” Leslie rolls her eyes and laughs, steadying her crossed leg and holding on to her knee. “There is nobody smarter than me in this podunk little town. Don’t try to make your girlfriend feel better, she knows the truth.”
“If she wasn’t throwing a question every few tests, she would be the first in the grade, not you.” Joseph crosses his arms over his chest, chin held high in triumph.
Izzie sighs and lets go of his ankle. “Thanks, Joseph, but sto-” She snaps her mouth closed and narrows her eyes. “Wait, how did you know I was throwing questions?”
“I, uhm,” He stutters and ducks his head, not meeting her eyes. “I saw you sometimes. You would get tests back now and then with a question marked wrong that I know you knew the answer to wrong. It had to be on purpose.”
“That’s ridiculous. I would know if there were anybody even close to my GPA…” Leslie’s voice trails off and her foot begins to bounce. “There is no way you could hide something like that.”
“Seriously Leslie? Is that the important thing right now, who has a higher GPA? And you,” Izzie switches her attention to Joseph. “What do you mean you saw me? Do you just stare at people when they get their tests back? No, never mind, don’t answer that.”
“This is like a weird dream inside of a nightmare,” She mumbles as she releases his ankle. Then, raising her voice again, “I am not sitting here talking about grades right now. People are dying and Sasha is injured, and grades don’t matter.”
Leslie scoffs something about grades being all that matters, but Izzie ignores her. She glances at the clock on the wall. It is still ticking away, oblivious to the plight of those in front of it. The little hand rests three-quarters of the way between seven and eight, and the long hand isn't far from it. Almost two hours have passed since the moment the grates went down. Why has nobody come?
The clock hands keep moving, each tick as loud as a shotgun blast to her ears. As the minute hand finishes off another journey around the face, bringing the hour hand closer to 9, she stands up and crosses to the fridge. Ducking underneath the piece of twine Joseph has tied to the emergency door bar and stretched across to the table, she manages to avoid the occasional drop of water that drips from the drying cloths laid out on it. The door to the fridge can open, but barely without touching the line. No cold air hits her face as she opens the door. It is now barely cooler than the room itself. She pulls out a bottle of water, alerting the others in the room that there are enough unopened bottles for them all to have one, and they would need to refill them from the faucet if they needed more. She grabs one extra and hands it to Joseph before sitting back down against the cabinets.
“It’s been too long. Why haven’t we heard anyone trying to get in? Why no sirens?” She whispers to Joseph so she won’t wake up Sasha, who is dozing fitfully. “We need an ambulance.”
He grunts, then takes a long drink of water. Izzie patiently waits for him to finish, but no answer is forthcoming even after he screws the lid back on. She leans back again, watching the hand on the clock continue its journey. Five more minutes pass before he speaks up. “I don’t know. Maybe they have their hands full. If there are more of these things outside then we might not be their biggest concern.”
“But,” she pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, tapping the plastic bottle against her shins. “Marcus’s dad is the mayor. He would make the police come here first to check on his son, wouldn’t he? Leslie can’t be right, that nobody would care. His dad would miss him.”
A gravelly voice speaks up from the other side of her. “Probably not. His dad is an asshole.”
Sasha coughs gently, as though trying to clear her throat. Izzie watches carefully as the other girl props herself up and takes a drink of her water before settling her head back on her arm. Her face is tight and pale. Once she is settled again, Izzie asks, “What do you mean? I’ve met him a few times and he seems really nice. Very charismatic.”
“It’s all an act. He’s like that when he is over at my house talking to my parents. Really good at making people like him. But he’s so crooked I reckon he has to unscrew his britches at night. I see it on his face sometimes when he doesn’t think anyone is looking.”
“But…he still loves his son! He’s his SON!” Izzie shakes her head, unwilling to believe that Marcus wouldn’t be his dad’s top priority.
“Those things don’t have to go together,” Sasha drawls, closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against the fabric of her sweater. “You think what makes you feel better. But I ain’t countin’ on that man to be lookin’ out for anyone but himself.”
A knot forms in Izzie’s throat. If her dad knew she was going to be at Rusty’s, the deputy would come and get her even if the mayor or the sheriff told him otherwise. She does not doubt that she would be his top priority no matter what. But she hadn’t sent him or her mom a message saying exactly where she was going, just that she was hanging out with Sandy and Logan after school and they would grab dinner out. Even if he is willing to bring his squad car right to her, he has no idea where she is. Her eyes begin to burn and she takes a sip of her water to distract herself.
Joseph nudges her side with his elbow. “Hey, we’ll figure something out, okay? But we are safe for now. Maybe we should plan on needing to sleep here tonight.”
Izzie nods and takes another drink before getting up to go to the bathroom. Sliding her phone from her pocket, she closes the door. The darkness swallows her for a second before the light of her screen blinds her. Knowing the message won’t go through, she sends a message to her parents letting them know where she is. The message error tells her it can’t be delivered, but she knows that sometimes phones will send as soon as they have a signal, and it doesn’t hurt to try. Then she takes care of her business and washes her hands, wondering if there is any chance she, or anyone else, will be able to sleep this night.