Chapter 8. What are you looking at?

The next morning comes with no chorus of birds, even though the sun has started to rise. That’s something that she misses. More than she thought she would, actually. Heisenberg is still asleep at her side, an arm slung over her as if to say ‘you’re mine, and you’re staying’. She isn’t going to argue with that sentiment, or the feeling though. The weight of his muscles are a comfort. Not to mention the fact that he’s warm, too!

She snuggles down deeper into the bed and his chest, looking at him. His lips are partly open as his breathing comes slow and heavy. If only there were birdsong, it would be utterly perfect. Nothing lives here though. Nothing but lycans and all manner of things which want to kill her.

She turns to face him and even in his sleep he grips her closer. Her fingers tangle in the hair on his chest, turning it between them as she closes her eyes. She guesses that’s it. She really has fallen for him.

The next time that she wakes up, Heisenberg isn’t beside her. She stretches out to reach for him but he isn’t there and she lets out a mewl of distress.

“Get your ass up, it’s nearly midday,” Heisenberg’s voice comes roughly across the room. He’s up, dressed and sitting at the desk in front of his board of pictures.

“But it’s so comfortable,” she says, stretching under the covers. “And I have no clean clothes.”

He clicks his fingers and points to the end of the bed where one of his shirts sits. She tugs it on and it’s miles too big, but she doesn’t mind. With how hot the factory is, it’s nice to get a bit of a breeze. She pulls her panties on and heads over.

“What are you looking at?”

“Stuff. None of your business, sweetheart.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He leans back on the chair and gazes up at her. “You just did, but go ahead, ask another.” He leans up and catches her with a kiss before letting her answer.

“Mmm.” She smiles. “Why are there no bird songs?”

“They’re too smart to stay.” That sounds true enough. She had tried to leave one way and had encountered several strung up.

“I wish we had wings and could fly from here, too.”

“Well, so do I!” He raises his voice, getting up as fast as a firework. “But what if... What if I told you we could?” There’s a glimmer of something in his eye. It looks sort of like mischief, but with the cutting edge of a diamond saw blade.

She lowers herself gently, sitting on the edge of the desk as he paces like a cat caught in a cage that is too small for it.

“What do you mean, Karl?”

“I mean,” he spins around, energized, “We could escape this place. All we have to do is take out that bitch Miranda!”

She bites her lip. “But Mother Miranda—”

“Miranda-schmander. She’s a liar! Everything you’ve been told – it’s a lie. She doesn’t care about you. Fuck! Look at the village. Is she protecting you now?”

“No, but—”

“But nothing.” He rushes over. “She’s the one who trapped me here. She’s the one who let this happen! Imagine! If she were out of the way, we could get away. We could go to places where the birds actually fucking sing!”

“And what do you suggest we do?”

“We do nothing. We let this Ethan kid come to us!”

“Ethan?”

He wafts a hand as if the huge bomb he just dropped was of no consequence. “This guy, I saw him yesterday. He survived the games.”

“Games?”

“Not important... Just leave the details to Ethan. He’ll come to us. Until then, I’m sure we can find something to do.” He winks.