Deserted

Deserted - Chapter Seven

 

It felt like hours before they stopped Molly thought, but when she glanced down at glowing red fuel tank sign, she cursed and pulled over. Rory parked neatly beside her, and Molly didn't say a word as he took off his bike helmet and ran a hand through his hair. His almost black hair hung on his forehead slightly, his eyes looked black in the fading light. Molly's mind automatically thought of her handgun in her back pocket, when Rory laughed and shook his head.

 

"Bad idea, Molly."

 

She froze. How had he...could he read minds? Backing away slightly, she held his gaze for as long as she could, the black pools making her feel smaller then what she was.

 

"How did you know-" She stopped short. Playing the innocence game wouldn't work with him. She wasn't sure whether he could read minds, or if he was just really good at reading people, but she knew he'd pick her lying all the time.

 

"It's not hard. You agreed to let a dark, dangerous stranger follow you out here all by yourself, still not sure if he want's to kill you or help? If I was in your position, I'd be reaching for the handgun as well."

 

He smirked when she let go of the handle. "Okay, so why did you come with me? I know you hate me." She crossed her arms, then dropped them, recognizing the defensive stance.

 

"If I hated you, you'd be dead." Rory's eyes were sharp, his words sharper. Molly knew he wasn't kidding, either. A tense few seconds passed, and she rose to the challenge in his eyes.

 

"But what about the threat? You were warning me to stay away from you, weren't you?" Molly frowned, and Rory stepped forward slowly. She could feel the menace in the air, around him, and yet it wasn't terrifying.

 

"Not entirely," he murmured, leaning on her bike and crossing his ankles, his lean body tilting back.

 

"Are you going to kill me now?"

 

"Where would the fun be in that?" Molly pursed her lips. She might have been like an open picture book, just take one look and you knew what was going on, but he was like the diary she kept in eight grade. Sealed shut with two locks, completely unreadable.

 

Deciding she could turn her back to him, she looked around and saw nothing but trees-and a small cottage looking house about fifty yards away.

 

"Let's go check it out." Rory said, his low voice rumbling behind her. It had a husky twange to it, and Molly nodded, mounting her own bike before driving slowly towards the cottage. Anything could be hidden in that place, like infected. They parked the bikes out the back, and cautiously made their way to the back door. Rory glanced back at her, his mocking smirk still in place, irritating Molly greatly.

 

"You okay, little girl, you seem pale." Rory whispered, and Molly felt her eyes glare and lips tighten.

 

"I'm not scared. And you're only three years older then me."

 

"You sure? There could be infected, or spies, or something."

 

Molly resorted to ignoring him. For some reason, she felt he was a bigger threat to her then anything in the house. He chuckled slightly, and cautiously entered the cottage. They checked the rooms carefully, watching for anything that moved. With her gun in both hands, Molly swung around into the kitchen, then fought her gag reflex. Spoiled food, almost a year old was sitting on the dining table, as if whoever owned the house had been eating dinner with family before shit hit the fan.