Andrea Sanders, legendary hunter, is the kind of legend that only the brave and stupid dare to whisper about at night. After ditching the foster system at sixteen, she follows her father's footsteps into the only life she's ever known: hunting down...
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•trigger warning• References to past abuse: physical and sexual
I sipped the coffee slowly, exhausted from the 22 hour drive I'd finished only an hour prior. Still, I kept the phone pressed to my ear. "Sam, what the hell do you mean Karen is back? Bobby's dead wife, Karen?" My head was pounding: either from the lack of sleep or the news, I wasn't sure.
"Exactly what I said." Sam sighed over the phone. "Maybe 15 or 20 dead people from Sioux Falls have risen from the cemetery and resumed their everyday lives. Andy, she makes pie. She hums while she cooks. Bobby's living with a zombie and he's begging us not to kill her."
My brain felt sluggish. "Have," clearing my throat loudly, I put my coffee back down on the table before my shaking hands could spill anything. "Have my family-?"
I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence, but Sam knew. Silence fell between us for a few desperate moments while I tried to figure out which answer I actually wanted to hear. "No."
Relief and disappointment swirled within me at that single word, making me swallow hard. "Oh. Uh, good." I shook my head and pressed on. "So what are you guys going to do? Dean's ready to throw them back in the grave, I'm sure."
"Yeah, something like that."
The waitress walked up with my waffles, dropping them off with a wink. I, however, paid very little attention. "Well, do I need to come back?"
Sam declined without hesitation. "No. No, we can handle this. And it's probably for the best. What if your family did show up? I don't want to put you in that position. I can tell how hard it is on Bobby." I let out my own heavy sigh, running my still shaking hand through my hair. "Besides," Sam continued, "you're needed there."
"Fine. You're right. I've got to take care of those kids."
"There you go, Short Stack. Keep your priorities straight."
I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Aim straight, Jolly."
"Happy hunting."
I ended the call with a close of the phone, prepared to dig into breakfast. As I chewed, sipping my coffee occasionally, I let my mind wander back to this morning.
My drive had gone even faster than I had hoped, getting me there in record time. Meanwhile, I drove, I sang, and I screamed at the steering wheel until I felt like I could tightly screw the bottle cap back onto my emotions without repercussions. To be perfectly honest, I felt as if any control I had previously was now ripped from my grasp.
The sun was rising as I parked in the driveway of a sweet suburban home built almost entirely of red bricks. Mist hung softly around the neighborhood, muffling any sounds and obscuring any potential threats. Making my way down the sidewalk proved to be more challenging than it should have been. Each step brought another memory to the surface and I could barely push it all down. With my bottom lip between my teeth so tightly I could taste blood, I was finally able to reach the front door and knock. The cold metal of my gun pressed into my abdomen in a reassuring way as I waited for Sabrina to let me in. After only a few moments of waiting, the curtains covering the window next to the door moved over to reveal a pair of timid brown eyes.
