Chapter 36

Jovan lay in bed staring at the ceiling. After the meeting, they had eaten dinner and sat out on the patio for a little bit. The talk was quiet and restrained, and everyone had turned in early. He had been staring at the ceiling for two hours and couldn’t shake the strong feeling that things were going to go tits-up tomorrow; it was gnawing at him.

He had gone into some dangerous situations before while hunting Colonists. There was the time when he and Hudson had tracked a guy in Mexico to his house after hearing about a series of murders in the small, Mexican town. They watched the house for two days and didn’t see anyone else coming or going. They had decided the house had two, maybe three bedrooms, and based on the man’s movements in the house, they thought they had a pretty good idea of the layout.

When they went in that night, the house thick with the stench of death, and what was supposed to be a quick in and out turned into a battle. The layout was nothing like they had thought. It seemed as though there were fake walls built, and that guess was confirmed when the Colonist’s twenty-something son, who was bad news just like his father, literally came out of a wall with a knife and caught Hudson in the shoulder with the weapon.

While the injured Hudson went toe-to-toe with the son, Jovan had gone at it with the father. After a trading a few fists, one that landed Jovan on the floor, the Colonist ran down the hall and disappeared. As Jovan counted the doors, he realized that what they had thought to be a two-or three-bedroom house had been made into six smaller rooms.

Jovan hadn’t seen which door the Colonist went into, so he was walking in blind. He carefully made his way down the dark hallway, his boots echoing off the old, wooden floor.

Retrieving his gun from its holster, he slowly opened door number one. The six-by-six-foot room held nothing but a bloody mattress. He moved to door number two and cringed when the thing squeaked loudly.

Door number two housed some sort of torture chamber, complete with a stainless steel table and a set of knives that were plunged into the wall. The wooden floor below the table was stained a dark red, and Jovan remembered wondering how many people had died on that table.

He heard the fight in the living room continuing, which was good. Hudson must not have been hurt too badly.

With four more doors to go, Jovan decided he was done pussyfooting around and slammed the next three doors open with his foot to find more bloodstained mattresses.

The last door was obviously where the bastard was hiding, and who knew what was in there. Jovan guessed some heavy artillery.

Stepping to the side, he took a deep breath and kicked the door. A second later, the door splintered apart and the tap-tap-tap of rapid gunfire met his ears. As wood flew through the air like tiny torpedoes, he turned his face away and covered his eyes. When the sound finally stopped, Jovan swung around the doorjamb and put a bullet in between the Colonist’s eyes.

He had turned and walked back down the hall when he heard a loud snap. Raising his gun as he rounded the corner, he saw Hudson standing over the son whose neck was twisted at an odd angle.

“That fucker came out of nowhere,” Hudson had said, breathing heavily. Hudson brought his hand up to his shoulder. “I hate being stabbed.”

Jovan had plenty of stories where things didn’t go as planned, but he hadn’t felt this uncertain before stepping into those situations.

The bathroom door opening interrupted Jovan’s thoughts. He glanced over and saw Liberty.

“I have not come for the sex, Jovan,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Okay.” He was too distracted by the bad feeling in his gut anyway. “What do you need?”

“I–I am seeking comfort.”

At first he recoiled at the thought, but then imagined holding her soft, warm body, and not hearing her thoughts or feeling her emotions. He liked the sound of that and supposed he could use a little comfort as well.

He moved over to the other side of the bed and patted the spot he had just been. “Come on.”

Liberty came to him wearing a black t-shirt with a skull and crossbones on it that came to her mid-thigh, her eyes glowing their soft pink, and got into bed. She scooted over, laid her head in the crook of his arm, and put her small hand on his chest.

He smiled at the contradiction of the t-shirt and the female wearing it.

“I feel worried for tomorrow, Jovan.”

So she had a little uncertainty rolling through her as well. He didn’t think it would be a good idea for him to voice his feelings though.

“I think it will be fine. We’ll get the others out and get the hell out of here and on with our lives.”

The silence stretched, and he could swear she was asleep, except he could still see the light pink glow from her eyes.

“I want your words to be truthful, Jovan, but I’m afraid I have my doubts.”

He hugged her close. “Don’t jinx it, Liberty. Think positive thoughts, okay?”

She nodded, and her hand made absent circles on his stomach. “I just hope you won’t be injured tomorrow.”

“Me too,” he said, chuckling.

A few minutes later, she turned her gaze up to him. “Jovan, I feel sleepy now, but if it is okay with you, I would like to stay.”

He kissed her forehead, deciding he liked the sound of that. “Sounds good.”

Minutes later they were sound asleep.