Pitch

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Travis led us to the room next to Dad’s. It was sparsely decorated with a bed that had been stripped of its linens and a bureau shoved up against the back wall. The window blinds were still intact and Maximus double checked to make sure they were closed tight. I hopped up on the bureau and slouched against the wall. I was, I realized as I stifled a yawn, absolutely exhausted. When was the last time I had slept? Last night? Barely. An hour or so at most and before that? I couldn’t remember.

“Does the water work?” I asked when Travis reappeared from the bathroom.

He nodded. “It’s cold, though.”

From across the room Maximus released a bitter laugh. “They’ll cut the water lines soon. Take a shower while you can.”

“We’ll get cleaned up in the morning,” I said. I didn’t relish the idea of going to sleep covered in dried up sweat, but I couldn’t think of a more vulnerable position than being naked in the shower. What would I do if a Drinker attacked? Hit him with a loofah?

I set the flashlight down and clicked it off. I needed – we all needed – to get in the habit of conserving what we had. The room went dark and I heard Travis’s muffled intake of breath, then the squeak of rusty bedsprings as he sat on the mattress. Bringing my legs up to my chest I rested my head on my knees and looked to where I thought Maximus was standing. “So tell us everything,” I said.

There was a very faint popping sound, like a joint being distended followed by a quiet, drawn out sigh. “Are you certain you want to know?” Maximus asked.

“We want to know,” Travis answered for me.

“Fine. What is happening out there, what has happened out there, is not a random act of violence. It was planned and executed down to the tiniest detail.”

“But why?” I wanted to know.

“If you are going to interrupt me every three seconds this is going to be a very long night.”

“Yeah, Lola, be quiet,” said Travis.

“It was just a simple question,” I defended.

I couldn’t see Maximus’s face, but I was almost certain he was rolling his eyes at me. “I am not a psychologist,” he said. “I can’t see inside their heads. I don’t know why they do what they do, only that they’re doing it. You want to know, go ask one of them.”

That shut me up.

“They’re fast,” Maximus continued. “Faster than any other living thing on earth.”

“Faster than a peregrine falcon?” Travis interrupted skeptically. “Because, you know, in a hunting dive they can reach speeds upwards of two hundred miles per hour.”

I couldn’t help it. I snickered. I felt a slight whoosh of air as Maximus stalked past and then the door slammed shut.

“What?” Travis asked. “What did I say?”

“He’s a little… moody,” I decided.

Travis’s voice dropped to a whisper as he said, “He’s a little more than that, Lola. Are you sure you can trust him? I mean, the guy came out of nowhere. He hasn’t told you anything about himself. He could even be one of them for all we know.”

The idea was so preposterous I laughed. “He’s not one of them, Travis.”

“How do you know?”

“He killed one of them. I saw it with my own eyes. If he was a Drinker he would be killing us instead.”

“How did he do it?”

“You mean how did he kill the Drinker?”

“Yeah.”

My fingers began to tap along the edge of the bureau. “He shot it three times and it just went poof. Vanished, like nothing was ever there. It was a boy, or at least it looked like a boy. Not much older than you and me. Do you think…” I hesitated. “Do you think they used to be people? Like us?”

“Maybe,” Travis said after a long pause, but he didn’t sound very convinced. “I mean, a long time ago or something. People don’t do this to other people, Lola.”

“People kill each other all the time.”

“Not like this.”

“No,” I said, remembering the bodies. “Not like this.”

The mattress squeaked again as Travis stood up. He crossed the room and sat next to me on the bureau. I leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder. He held my hand. We were quiet for a while, just two kids trying to make sense of the impossible.

“Lola?” Travis said finally.

“What?” I murmured.

“I’m sorry about your dad. I never knew… I mean, I never…”

I squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Travis. You don’t have to say anything.” And he didn’t. It was just enough that he knew. That finally, someone else knew. It was funny, ironic even, but sitting in the dark in an old abandoned hotel holding hands with my best friend who I thought had been eaten by a vampire, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. “Travis?” I said.

“Hmmm?”

“We should probably get some sleep.”

He instantly sat bolt upright and there was a nervous hitch in his voice when he said, “Sleep? You mean… uh… here? Sleep together in here? Because, you know, you could go in with your dad. That would probably be best. And I’ll, uh, stay in here.”

“Travis,” I sighed, “you are such a drama queen sometimes. The bed is big enough for both of us. Just don’t try to spoon me or anything in my sleep, okay?”

His skin felt hot where it still touched mine. “O-okay,” he stuttered.

“Just think,” I said, springing down from the bureau and landing with a quiet thump on the carpet. “If the world wasn’t falling apart you never would have gotten me into bed with you.”

“Lola.”

I grinned and tugged on his hand, guiding him to the edge of the bed. He went on one side and I went to the other. We climbed on top of the mattress gingerly, and for all my cockiness I felt the same flutter of nerves dance in my belly that I was sure were doing the Macarena in Travis’s.

There weren’t any… feelings between me and Travis. Not of that sort, anyway. Still, I had never exactly slept next to a boy before unless you counted a sleepover in the third grade, which I didn’t because the boy in question smelled and picked his nose in front of all the girls.

Settling onto my back I folded my arms neatly across my chest and closed my eyes. Surprisingly, I was asleep within minutes.