“Mildred, sit down, don’t you see he has a gun, woman?” Donald spits, shaking his head in concern.
“Oh, don’t be silly, dear.” She dismisses her husband with a throw of her hand. “They’re still warm.” She smiles up at Zeek, who stands over her fragile frame by almost a foot and a half. Her eyes trail up his arms, and down his legs. “Though, I’m sure you don’t need the extra protein, with your build and all. You look like you’re doing just fine.” Her cheeks flush, and she starts to fan herself.
I almost feel for the poor woman. Looking at Zeek, you can’t help but be affected, even if he has a gun pointed at you. The physicality of this man is a distraction to his violent nature.
“Here you go, sweetheart, this one has a little more. Donald never was a big eater.” She sits a box next to me on the bed. Standing upright, she runs her hands along her dress.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I whisper, the words sticking in my throat. Zeek just took them at gunpoint and I did nothing to stop it, I could have done a lot more than I did in saving this couple from the wrath of Zeek, but I didn’t.
“She’s nice to everyone.” Donald answers for her.
Looking over her shoulder she sneers at him. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen a sour look cross her face.
“I was a teacher. I have a knack for finding troubled kids, and you, my dear,” She looks at Zeek, and then sorrowfully at me, her hairy eyebrows pulled together, “Look like you’re troubled.” She pats my hand. “Oh, I got just the thing.” Turning quickly she shuffles her feet toward the window, and Zeek aims his gun at her. Mildred pulls up a bag, one that people who don’t want to use plastic bags at the market use.
“What are you doing?” Zeek asks warily.
Smiling a big toothy smile she brings an apple to my bed.
“When I was a teacher my kids would bring me apples, oh so many bright red apples. I’d have so many they’d just line the counter behind my desk. So when a kid was feeling down, or blue, usually after getting into some trouble, I’d grab one and give it to them saying, ‘An apple a day chases the blue monsters away.’” She nods proudly.
“Umm,” I begin to tell her I don’t think that’s the way the saying goes, but I catch Donald shaking his head over Mildred’s shoulder. Obviously the fight is pointless.
“Ooh, how clever.” I smile, trying to sound convincing.
“So, where are you kids from?” Mildred prods.
“Nowhere,” Zeek answers unfriendly, sitting at the foot of the bed, his gun settled right next to him. Placing the box of food on his lap he grabs the remote from the dresser and flips the TV on. He’s acting as if he’s visiting old friends, not taking two random people at gunpoint. Meanwhile I’m over here with cold sweats and counting every law we’ve broken in the last ten minutes. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack.
Looking over his shoulder at me, he scowls. “Eat. You need to eat.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” I frown, trying to kick him. I’m so sick of him being fucking bossy.
I’m angry and don’t want to eat. But I’m hungry, and the smell of whatever is coming from this box is not helping my rebellion against Zeek’s controlling demand.
“Who knows when we will eat again. Eat.” Taking my eyes from the box I find him looking right back at me. His dark eyes softer than before, showing me that glimpse of the man I came to know when we were locked away in my house.
Using the one hand that is not cuffed, I flip the lid open, finding half a steak sandwich and fries.
My stomach growls, clinching to the point I feel sick.
“This just in, authorities are asking for your help in finding two suspects on the run this evening that may be in our area.” My head snaps to the TV. “Deputy Jillian McAdams is responsible for shooting a Lieutenant who was in the line of duty at the time of his demise, we’ve been informed that Zevin Deluca, the notorious president of the Sin City Outlaws was last seen with Deputy McAdams. They are armed and reported to be very dangerous. If sought, please call Crime We Stop. We will update you as we get more information.”
My body slumps against the headboard, my free hand covering my mouth. They even have a reward for any information about us in black bold lettering underneath our pictures.
“That’ll be enough television.” Zeek sighs, turning it off.
Closing my eyes, I shake my head. I can’t believe this. Before I thought maybe they got some intel wrong, it’s happened before. Witnesses get confused, but this…there is no doubt that my department is fucking filthy, and turning on me. It said I killed my father. My eyes drift to Zeek’s, expecting his face to convey an ‘I told you so’ look. It doesn’t though, his face is sincere, his brows narrowed with concern.
If he was right about my department, then he may be right about my dad. A pain slams in my chest, my head refusing to believe it, but my heart knowing it’s probably true.