The Things We Bury - Part 2: No Big Apocalypse [Completed]

Chapter 5: From the Ashes (Parts 6 & 7 of 7)

R.J. was still in the truck waiting. Amy wasn't sure if he was watching to see if she'd be okay or to see if she would stick to their agreement.

The plan had sounded so simple, but stumbling over the rough terrain as the sky darkened, she thought about all that could go wrong.

A queasiness rocked her stomach that had as much to do with her worry as the meatloaf that sat in it like lead. Her dinner had eliminated the emptiness of her belly but had done nothing to satisfy her; much like how R.J.'s plan solved the immediate problem but created so many more new ones.

"How will I find you again?" she had asked at the restaurant.

"You will need to keep some control. Do you think you can do that?" R.J.'s jaw was so tense she could hear the muscles squeak over the bone.

Amy shoveled another forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. The greasy gravy dripped on her chin and she used it as an excuse to cover her mouth with the napkin. "Of course I can."

She wasn't nearly so confident. Down in the cage, deep beneath the rock, she was able to. She could stand still and resist the urge to kill her captors as they poked and prodded her, examining every detail of the wolf. Even when they pointed a painfully bright light in her eyes, she held back from growling and let them do their work. All the instinct was still there. Her human thoughts were dim, almost non-existent, but her will was in control. So long as she was determined enough, she could keep from giving in blindly.

But up here everything was different. How could she be sure that even a glimmer of her consciousness would remain after the change? There was so much she didn't understand. What she did to that creep this morning was only the latest in the string of mysteries about her existence.

If only her life was like one of her books. In her books, she would meet others of her kind—maybe even a handsome alpha wolf—and they would take her in and teach her about who and what she was. The people in The Music Box, despite all their tests and experiments, knew even less than she did. And a life on the run, hiding who she was, wouldn't bring her any answers either.

R.J. didn't seem to notice the doubt in her voice. He was too busy glancing around the restaurant, making sure no one was watching them. It was still afternoon and the homey, little spot was almost empty. It was mostly just a few old people taking advantage of the early-bird special. And no one was paying their dark booth by the corner any attention.

Amy could only see the room through a narrow strip of mirror on the wall. But that didn't mean she was unaware of her surroundings. Everyone's body heat and the beating of their blood pinned them in place. She could smell their soaps and perfumes under the food. And under that, the unique fingerprint scent of each one's skin. By comparison, sight seemed practically useless. It was more of a distraction than anything else.

She had become fixated on a man in the mirror. A glob of mustard was slowly running down his black sweatshirt. He didn't seem to notice as he attacked his burger. The bright yellow inched down, making a crooked child's one on the front of his chest, until his girlfriend finally pointed it out. A thin, feminine finger entered the frame and although she didn't speak loudly, Amy caught the words: you're a fucking slob.

The man dunked a napkin in his Coke and began scrubbing at his shirt, leaving trails of white lint and spreading the stain into a blob. His head was ducked down and strangely, he had long hair pinned up on the top of his head like Katie used to do for working out. Amy had never seen a man do that before and her casual glances became a stare.