“You would fall apart without me too.”
I open my mouth to tell her how wrong she is, but Odessa’s fingers sliding over my knuckles distract me.
“This place doesn’t have to be hell,” she whispers with her gaze on the TV. “It can be whatever we choose.”
“Tell that to the people we find in my traps tomorrow.”
“If we died right off, yes, we wouldn’t have a choice. But we didn’t die, and we have each other and this cabin. We have Skittles and music and a TV that sometimes works. We have your killing skills and my ability to say encouraging things while you use your killing skills. I’d say we’re pretty lucky.”
Odessa’s tenderness tempts and terrifies me. Her gaze finds mine, and I see intense clarity in her green eyes.
“Tomorrow, you can prove how much you like it here. This cabin remains mine because I kill to keep it. Now you’ll need to do the same.”
Smiling at me, she rests her head against my chest. I think to push her away. Outside the cabin, wolves and night-dwelling Death Dealers lurk. They want to destroy us.
Everything in the Lost Highway wants to end our lives, and Odessa’s touch feels like a lie in such a world.
I don’t push her away, though, because I’m afraid. My biggest fear has always been bowing to fear, and now I’m constantly anxious. I fear Odessa will die. I’m afraid what will happen to me if I allow her to live. I fear what lingers in the darkness outside the cabin, and I’m afraid of what awaits us when the darkness fades.
I hated when Odessa called me a robot. I wanted to prove myself human in the way she claimed I wasn’t.
Now I drown in my humanity with only an unreliable Odessa as my life preserver.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Quill
Odessa holds the machete in front of her as we walk through the woods. She’s more comfortable with the feel of the weapon in her hand. Whenever I glance back at her, Odessa is scanning our surroundings rather than watching me. I approve of her new alert nature, even if I rue my decision to bring her to the cabin.
I miss the way I once lived. No fear or regret. No longing for what I shouldn’t need. Is it possible to return to such thinking after I’ve tasted what desire provides?
Behind me, Odessa looks tiny in her oversized coat. I’m instantly struck with the urge to protect her. Her dependency on me provides a new sense of pride. I roll my eyes, thinking of how absurd I’ve become.
A short walk from the cabin, we find a Death Dealer in a trap. Too far gone to speak coherently, he moans and gurgles upon noticing us. Struggling against the stake through his chest, he reaches for Odessa. I instinctively smack away his hand.
“The more feral they become,” she says, stepping back, “the more likely they are to be undressed.”
Her words mean nothing to me. I don’t care about these Death Dealers. They’re no more than diseased animals in my traps.
“The woman that prowls around our cabin has no shoes,” Odessa says, only pausing when the man again reaches for her.
“Kill him.”
Odessa hesitates for a moment before lowering the machete on his head. The blade doesn’t slide in easily, and she looks startled to know human flesh isn’t the texture of soft cheese. Attempting again, she puts more strength into the strike. This time, the blade rips through his flesh and cracks his skull. The man still flops around.
When an uncertain Odessa looks to me, I gesture toward the man. “Finish him.”
After her fourth try, the man falls silent. I take my blade and lop off his head before shoving it in my duffle bag. Odessa watches me, looking ready to puke.
“It’s our currency,” I remind her.
Odessa says nothing, but I wait for her to reassure me. Am I the bad guy for doing what needs to be done?
“What?” she asks when I stand over her.
“We need their heads to buy things at the outpost.”
“I know. It’s still gross.”
Frowning, I can’t tell if she’s judging me. I wish I didn’t care either way.
“Don’t sulk, Quill. Let’s check more traps.”
Her expression soothes my irritation. I want her to admire me. Human nature is a ridiculous game for affection and approval.
Walking through the woods, I notice the sound switching on and off. One moment, I can hear Odessa’s footsteps behind me. The next, everything goes silent.
The next trap killed the Death Dealer with a head wound. I add the skull to my bag and continue walking. Odessa is humming when the sound returns. She stops immediately and glances around to see if anyone might have heard.
I’m ready to return to the cabin and put her mouth to better use when I notice movement up ahead. Another man is stuck in a trap. Dressed all in black, he stops struggling when he catches sight of us. Our gazes meet, and I realize he’s more coherent than the average trapped Death Dealer.