Page 24 of Claimed By Ruin

“I am, which is why I’m going to eliminate the threat. You know, those dead things, the reason we’re here?”

“Asia…” His eyes flared, and had I been anyone else, I might have been afraid.

But fuck that, and fuck him.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are and what the fuck you think this is, but you don’t get to come here and tell me what to do.”

He stared at me, and his cheek ticked. “The baby…”

Fucking asshole.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought the same thing, hadn’t wondered. But Jack hadn’t been here and shit needed to get done and I was fine.

“What about him?” I finally spat.

He considered it, an uncommon moment of uncertainty in his eyes. In a blink, it was gone. “You’re not going.”

“And how do you think you’re going to stop⁠—”

My words were cut off in an instant. Jack grabbed me and moved before I could blink, heading straight to my bedroom.

“If you don’t put me the fuck down right now, Jack!”

He dropped me on my bed, and I scurried up. The door slammed shut before I could reach it.

I pounded on it. “Jack, open this door!”

“Might want to keep it down, Counselor. Levi’s sleeping.”

I pounded on the door one last time, but heard his retreating footsteps. They didn’t even pause, not even for a moment.

I stood, listening. The distant sounds of the farm filtered in through the walls. I heard it. The movement. An errant scream. Probably Diane or one of the girls.

This wasn’t cleanup. Zombies had made it past the defenses and gotten close to the house. But we knew what to do. I heard Lourdes’s soft commands, and even though I couldn’t make out the words, I knew what would happen next. The weapons would be grabbed, threat eliminated.

I saw it all like I was there, but I wasn’t, because of him.

I breathed out through my nose, remembering how that therapist Aunt Kathleen and Uncle Levi insisted I see taught me those techniques. More than a decade and a half later, and I was resorting to preteen anger management techniques.

It would be ironic if I gave myself enough time to think about it, but I didn’t. I glared at the door, some part of me wishing the gaze could pierce through it and directly into Jack’s back. But I only spared a moment. Looked around the room, figuring out next steps.

The lone window in this bedroom was high.

I stared at the square, wondering if I should even attempt it. Shook my head, dismissing it out of hand. My preteen self actually tried once, and this body definitely wasn’t hers. So no Alcatraz-like prison break was on the table.

Instead, I rushed over to the tackle box haphazardly tossed in one corner. Uncle Levi had all manner of tools, and one of the things Jack insisted on was keeping different supplies in different places.

Uncle Levi’s tool shed had been a thing of beauty, but Jack—ever smart Jack— said keeping it all in one place was dumb. So we had caches all over the house and farm with essentials. I opened up the toolbox, the orange plastic rough, one of the sides cracked. Studied what was there and then smiled.

I grabbed the thinnest flathead screwdriver in the container and went over to the door. I crouched down, my hips groaning before I settled on my knees. I tried to ignore what that meant.

It was early yet.

The baby wasn’t even a bump. But I still felt it. A subtle, almost imperceptible shift in my center of gravity.

At first, I told myself it was just the altitude difference. I didn’t need to continue to hold onto the lie.

I stared at the door, smiling at the change.