He was calm, seemingly unconcerned that he’d walked away from his boss and the compound.
“Are you going back?” asked Mercy.
An odd expression touched his features. He stood, towering over her. “I’ve gone through that room,” he said, pointing at the small room with the storage bins and buckets. “Nelson may have been an asshole, but he was prepared to outlast World War Three—which reminds me.” He grabbed a small bottle from the table. “Advil?”
“Yes, please.” Joy quickened her pulse as he shook the bottle. It sounded full.
He dumped a few tablets into his hand and placed them in her mouth, helping her drink from the glass of water again. Apparently he wasn’t antimedication like the rest of Pete’s crew.
“I don’t see any reason to hurry back,” he said, kneeling next to her. “This place is warmer than the barracks.” His gaze lingered on her wet lips, and an unsettling chill settled over her. He touched the hair by her face. The sexual threat he’d made in the middle of the night days ago popped into her head.
Consider it a favor you can repay in the future.
The hair on Mercy’s arms lifted. She met his easily readable gaze and saw he remembered too.
“There was a spark between us that night,” he said, not dropping his gaze.
“Gross,” interrupted Eden, who had been listening and watching closely. “She’s not into you either, Sean.”
Fury crossed his face as his head swiveled in Eden’s direction.
“What happened between Pete and Nelson?” asked Mercy, grasping at straws to distract him and break up the tension that had blossomed in the room. “Vera told me Nelson had started America’s Preserve and then left, but she didn’t say why.”
Sean moved away and sat in a chair, leaning back and crossing his legs at his ankles, raking her with a stare that made her skin crawl.
Just try me.
She was injured, but her teeth and feet still worked. Well, the foot on one leg.
“Difference in leadership styles and philosophy,” he answered.
Mercy let her gaze wander over the shelves of food stores. “Let me guess. Nelson was focused on preparation and survival for the group, but Pete was more interested in protecting his interpretation of the Second Amendment and forced him out.”
He grinned. “Something like that.”
“And you?”
He shrugged, an arrogant expression on his face.
“You have a law enforcement background,” she said, throwing caution to the wind. “From where?”
His face went blank. He stood, shoved on his hat, and went outside.
“What a perv,” said Eden, slumping against the bed frame, her face hidden behind her hair. “He said all sorts of creepy things to me when you fell asleep.”
Mercy looked sharply at the teen. “Define creepy.”
“Sexual.”
Anger burned in her throat. “Is that why you said ‘either’ when you told him I wasn’t into him?”
“Yeah. Later he said he was just teasing.” She shuddered. “I don’t know what to believe.”
“I don’t think he expected to end up with us stuck in this cabin,” said Mercy. “I’m not sure what he thought would happen when he decided to follow us. But I think he’ll get tired of tying and untying you pretty soon. I wouldn’t be surprised if he lets you be untied as long as he’s in the cabin.”
“Why not you?”
“Because he knows the sort of training I’ve had. He’s had it too.”
“You really think he was a cop?” Eden asked skeptically.
“He was something. I can tell by the way he moves and handles his weapons. He’s had training.”
“If he was a cop, how did he end up in America’s Preserve?”
“That’s what I’d like to know too.”
***
The evening crawled by. Mercy dozed off and on. Sean fed both her and Eden by hand and took them to the outhouse again.
He left his rifle near the door and had placed his pistol on a shelf. Both in full sight of Mercy, taunting her.
At some point he’ll let his guard down.
He was in and out of the cabin a lot over the next few days. Chopping wood. Stacking wood. Shoveling snow. They could hear the crack of an ax as he chopped. He paced the main room and rooted through the bins, but often he’d abruptly stride out the door, and the ax would sound again. Sometimes he just sat and stared at her or Eden.
Mercy didn’t want to know what was going through his head.
He found some books and magazines, but neither Mercy nor Eden could hold them and turn the pages with her hands secured. Mercy begged to have one hand free, although her hurting head probably wouldn’t let her focus on a page. He refused, told her to shut up again, and continued to pace.
He was antsy.
Their days alternated between utter boredom and cold fear.
On the third day he split Mercy’s lip again when he slapped her for asking too many questions about his plans. He’d raged at the two of them to be silent, and Mercy had pushed, seeking to know where he’d draw the line. She found it. She and Eden stayed silent for the rest of the day.
He was Jekyll and Hyde. One minute giving her more Advil and the next kicking her in her sore knee for requesting a trip to the outhouse.
She missed her family. Eden did too. The teen cried often, convinced she’d never see them again, and grieved that her mother had been gone for months. At least a hundred times she’d asked Mercy if she believed they’d get away from Sean.
Mercy always said yes.
But inside she had her doubts.
Sean was fraying. The calm and control that she’d witnessed at the compound was gone, and she worried for their safety. Several times she’d caught him staring at Eden with a hungry look, setting off shrill alarms in Mercy’s brain. He caught her watching him and looked away as if nothing had happened.
The focus on Eden disturbed her. Sean was no longer policed by society. It was just the three of them, and he held all the power. He could do as he pleased. His rules. No witnesses.
She and Eden both watched for opportunities. Mercy dreamed of grabbing his gun or a knife from the tiny kitchen area. When he boiled water, she saw her hands grab the pan and hurl the contents into his face. The crack of the ax outside made her itch to hold its handle.
But he was too careful.
I need him to make one mistake. That’s all.
They recited the directions back to the compound, pounding them into their memories. Mercy hated the thought of returning, but the compound was the only place that offered shelter—that they knew of. She was surprised how much of their trek she’d forgotten. Eden remembered landmarks that Mercy couldn’t recall.
There was no guarantee that they’d escape together.
And they might have to physically fight for their lives. They whispered about what they could use for weapons—the knives, his guns, a piece of firewood. Mercy lectured Eden on fear and how to set it aside, on being prepared to injure and attack. To kill.
If the opportunity arose, she feared the teenager would freeze.
Mercy gently flexed her knee and elevated it as much as possible. It had improved even with Sean’s continued abuse, her jeans no longer straining around it. The headache had nearly subsided, and now her vision stayed true. But the scabs on her face had dried, and they itched, and according to Eden, the tissues around her eyes were colorful palettes that changed every day.