Tooth and Nail (Draft In Progress - Book One)

Chapter 16 - Underfoot

Jezebel had only been in Avery's house once before she moved. It was only one story, and had a fairly simple layout. When you walk in the front door, you're in a short, wide main hall that leads into the living room, the back of the house, beige square tiles on the floor.
Immediately to the left inside the door is a dining room that Foster's family had left empty since moving in the previous summer, light brown wood panels underfoot.
To the left was a narrower hallway with six doors on the right side of the hall in this order: A full bathroom, the garage entrance door, an office, Avery's old room that was now the small boy, Newt's room, Foster's room that had been Avery's older sister's, and a large hall closet. The hallway bent at a 90-degree angle to the left, towards the back of the house after the garage door, making the bedrooms and office exterior-wall rooms, and the closet filled in the space along the left side of the hall, the side without doors.
Avery didn't want to move Newt. So she set up the office to her liking, a guest in the young master's home. Drew took the top bunk in Newt's room, and Jezebel and Allen shared Foster's queen.
Tamerlyn insisted on building a blanket fort in the hall closet. She took every throw pillow off of the living room couch, and stuffed pillow cases with winter coats that had been hanging over her head when she crawled in to the small space.
There was a single light bulb with a pull cord chain, it was going out. The filaments inside whirred and hummed when she turned it on, and always flashed brightly before it would go out when she turned it off.
The house was sturdy and still. It didn't creak at night or settle the way Haven did. The kitchen connected the front hall to the breakfast room which had been serving all meal purposes, and was openly joined to the living room. It felt modern and airy and light, despite the dark wood furniture and black stained cabinets in the kitchen. The couch was navy, and contrasted well with the yellow curtains. It reminded Allen of his room at home, like a small boy's sailor-themed playroom.
Avery wandered the house in a daze. She knew every inch of the space, every nook and cranny. She knew where to turn her foot to avoid a wall or door or stopper sticking out. She knew where every light switch was and what it was connected to. She knew where the unlock for the magnetic dog door was hidden cleverly behind a curtain panel. What she didn't like was the furniture. The couch was a joined sectional like Jezebel's, but fabric. Soft and plush. It took up most of the living room, the back left corner of the square space, against the outside wall, lined with windows. The shorter leg of the L-shape made a semi-division between the living room and breakfast room. Avery didn't like that it cut off the breakfast room from the family space.

They had their living room, back when they lived here, set up differently. The television was against the windows which had been covered by dark brown curtains that nicely contrasted the light tan walls. Their couch was the brown of the curtains, and a bookshelf matched their wood floors. This room felt isolated, despite the open ceilings, despite the kitchen having a low bar with seating, and invitingly bright gold grape vines painted on burgundy-red walls. Besides the olive green ceiling and comforting family portraits, the room felt claustrophobic, and she was the only one being suffocated by the airiness.

Allen wrapped his arms around Jezebel. She had gotten thinner, and the round ends of her rib cage could be felt sticking out. He held her so that his embrace would press her bones back into her. She knew he was worried about her, so when he pulled her closer against him, her back to his chest, she didn't fight the closeness, just let his warmth surround her between the cotton sheets and fleece comforter. He buried his face into the back of her neck, her hair spilling over him. Jezebel let her eyes close, and relaxed completely, sinking into the mattress. She knew Allen stayed awake long after she had fallen asleep, she could feel his heart still going strong, and continued to know that pounding into her dreamscape.

Drew tried not to toss and turn. The bunk bed creaked, and he didn't want to wake Newt, who would have terrifying visions without being disturbed. If he could let the boy sleep as best he could, then at least he wouldn't have to suffer keeping his eyes open in the pitch black room, imagining monsters wandering the dark, ducking behind chairs and into desk drawers as the flashlight he kept hanging from his headboard swept across the room, as afraid as the holder. He dreamed of Avery, sleeping alone in the next room, keeping herself warm. The skin on her arms was dry, and getting dryer. Frail skin like hers needed to be washed, lotioned, tended to, or it would peel, which it had begun to do. Her palms were sweaty, and she dragged her hands up and down her cold and flaking arms, hoping that sweat would be enough to keep her from turning to dust in her sleep. Dust was what Tamerlyn feared, too. Small pieces of dust drifted down from the coats and jackets that stayed hanging on the racks above her, and she was wide awake until morning. Every time she felt another fleck fall onto her bare legs, her thin and weak arms, into her curly and now thickening with oil, raven hair. Her senses were on guard as her imagination ran wild, each dust dot was a Walker, just poking the wounded animal with the end of a stick, waiting for her to be alive enough to be tempting to eat. If she couldn't sleep, then she would pretend to. Tamerlyn played dead.