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Griffin raises an eyebrow. “Wiping off the dead blood and guts from my hands, like you.” He squirts some into his hand before passing it to the guys in the back. My mouth hangs open, then he reaches out, places a single finger beneath my chin, and closes my mouth without a word.
“Whoever taught you manners did a horrible job. Ever heard of asking?”
“Oh, this is going to be good,” Max utters with excitement before grabbing the little bottle from William, who I’m assuming slaps him because of the sound of skin hitting skin that happens right after.
Griffin glares at me, and I stare him down. Neither of us moves until the little bottle appears in the air between us. Griffin takes it and hands it to me before turning to face forward and starting the engine.
A mistake was made last night. I shouldn’t have dislocated my thumb in order to escape. I should have dislocated his thumb instead, and then his dick.
Oh well. Next time.
“It’s empty.” I shake the little bottle. There wasn’t a lot in there to begin with, and it was my last bottle. I would have shared it with them if he’d asked, but it’s the way he took it without asking that annoys me. Although everything that Griffin does annoys me. The way he breathes annoys me.
The sound of sharpening metal reaches my ears, and when I look back, sure enough, Max is sharpening a dagger. I don’t know where he keeps them all. Every time I turn around, he’s playing with something new, sharp, and pointy.
“Do you have to do that in the car?” William asks.
“Gotta have these babies ready to go at a moment’s notice.”
“Just don’t cut me.”
“What better way would there be to test the sharpness?” Max winks at me. I shake my head and turn around while they continue to bicker. It gives me an idea, though. If I can get one or two of them on my side, it could help my chances of escape. Maybe even tear them apart long enough for me to slip out unnoticed. Not while we’re driving, of course. Jumping out of a moving car might get me noticed. And hurt.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to be nice. Make conversation. Be a team player. I’m so going to rock this.
“Why do you want to know so badly?”
“Really? You kidnap me, put me in the trunk of your car, won’t let me leave, and then get suspicious when I ask where we’re going?” My voice rises with each sentence and I have to remind myself that I’m trying to be nice. Get him to trust me. This is going to be harder than I thought.
Griffin clears his throat. “Fair enough.”
That’s all he says. Clearly, he has no intention of ever telling me where we are, so I turn my attention to the world outside the window and keep my eye out for any signs that could give me a clue.
Eventually, I pull out my compass that I keep tucked inside of my shirt where it hangs around my neck. We’re moving south. That means when I get away from them, I’ll need to head north. Then I can figure the rest out from there. As long as we also headed south yesterday. I feel better having some sort of plan.
Griffin breaks the silence after a while. “You’re wrong.”
Then nothing. Only that one statement.
I scoff. “Care to elaborate?”
“My mother taught me manners, and she did a fine good job.”
“Yeah? Where is she now? Because I have some feedback for her.”
He tightens his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles whiten. “Six feet beneath the earth in the backyard of the family’s Virginia home, along with my father, brother, and sister. Took me seventeen hours and two shovels.”
Oh. Shit. I should offer him comfort. Tell him how much I can relate because it happened to me. Instead, my brain is stuck on one detail. “What happened to the first shovel?”
“Didn’t kill my dad enough before I started digging. He came at me right as I finished the hole and pulled myself up, so I threw the shovel. Severed his spinal cord and he fell down into the hole along with the shovel. I wasn’t about to crawl back down to retrieve it, so I stole the neighbor’s shovel to fill in the hole. It’s not like they were using it anymore. They were on vacation when the virus spread.”
“Guess they went on a permanent vacation,” I mutter, and Max laughs from the backseat. At least someone thinks I’m funny. Back at my colony, people would have criticized me for making a joke at a time like this. But not here.
I reach over and rest my hand on his leg, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze. His death grip on the steering wheel loosens. “I’m sorry, Griffin. I lost my family in the outbreak too, only I didn’t have to be the one to put them down. Law enforcement took care of that, back in the early hours when they still existed, before the world gave up.”
“How did they do it?”
I watch him, but he continues watching the road ahead, lost in his own mind. “I came home from college a week early to surprise them, my dad and little brother. Walked through the door to find them standing in the livingroom. Fitting name for that room, considering they were dead.”
