Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
“He’s our mechanic. I’m sure you’ll hear about him a lot, since Road won’t let anyone else touch his ride,” Prophet says and gives Isaac a slap on the back.
“Clyde, right?” Isaac squeezes my hand.
I smile and nod, but as he pulls back his fingers, I stare at them as if frozen in time.
“Road told me you’ll come pick a bike tomorrow. I hope I’m not spoiling a surprise. They still need some work,” he keeps talking, but it’s as though I hear him through glass.
My gaze keeps darting to the spiderwebs on the backs of his hands, the flies captured on them, and the large spider on the left one. I couldn’t possibly be mistaken, could I? I’ve seen these hands in my nightmares too many times to count.
I feel sick, but I don’t know what to do. Frozen as if I’m seventeen again.
I put down the fork even though a part of me wants to stab it into Isaac’s eye. I’m too confused, captured by some primal terror like one of the flies in that inked spiderweb.
“Sorry, Prophet… Could you look after the barbecue? I must have eaten something…” I don’t even finish and walk off in a daze, not daring to look back at Isaac.
Does he recognize me? It was winter. I wore a hat and scarf.
I don’t know what I’ll do, but I can’t be here. I just can’t.
Chapter 43
Road
I was never into chickens, or farm animals overall, but since I found out about Clyde’s attitude toward them, I’ve been more open. So when Rooster offered to show me a video he took close to the hen houses earlier that day, I agreed to watch it instead of rolling my eyes. Worth it.
“They’re dumber than they look,” I say, shaking with laughter as we watch two chickens attempt to peck on one of the cats living in the settlement. All three end up in the most comical battle I’ve seen. I laugh, slapping Rooster’s back so hard it moves him forward. “Clyde needs to see this. He really fucking likes those red-capped poop machines,” I tell him and spin around, seeking the familiar mane of dirty blond hair.
I was reluctant to leave him to his own devices, but I understand a man’s need to stand his ground. He was at the grill last time I looked, but now Yeti is back there, while Clyde is nowhere to be seen.
“Luna told me you might want to keep one of the chickens?” Rooster asks, and I’m yet again impressed by how quick gossip flies at Vulture Hollow.
“Err… we might get a little henhouse of our own, but I think we should start with adult birds, because, you know, cats,” I say and shake my head when I still fail to find Clyde. “I’ll get him and then find you. Keep that video ready,” I say and follow the scent of grilling meat, past the group of people dancing close to the bonfire.
“You know where Clyde is?” I ask Yeti.
“I think Prophet said he got sick or something and rushed away. Up the hill, so I’m guessing to your home? Hope he’s not setting explosives and trip wires,” he adds with a groan, but doesn’t seem worried.
I frown and turn on my heel without a word.
Sick? I was right there. He could have told me. Not to mention that Brigid has remedies for every ailment in the damn world, including imagined ones, like curses.
I speed up, rushing uphill, and as I get farther from the fire and the world around darkens, I switch on a pocket flashlight I always have on me, so that I don’t end up falling on my face.
Sure enough, the light inside my cabin is on, which relaxes me a little bit, despite the annoyance of having to follow Clyde all the way here to find out what’s up. I stroke Nutter’s head in passing and go straight inside.
“It’s me!”
I know something’s not right when I walk into the bedroom to find Clyde stuffing a sweatshirt into a travel bag. He looks up at me with distracted eyes. “I… I need to go,” he chokes out, and the hairs at the back of my neck bristle.
“What are you doing?” I ask, taking two steps closer to the bed where we spent most of the afternoon imagining a future in this place. My chest fills up with something dense and heavy, until it bothers me so much I need to hold my hand against my breastbone. “Did something happen?”
In the warm glow of the bedside lamp, Clyde’s hair is like liquid gold, and I find myself itching to touch his locks, and then hold him, so he can’t leave.
He takes a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. “This was a mistake. I can’t be here.” Clyde shakes his head and glances at the bag, as if assessing what else to pack, but he doesn’t have much right now.