Pitch by Jillian Eaton Page B

should go. Give me the beer. I’ll carry it.” He held out his hands and I passed the case over, grateful that I wouldn’t have to lug it all the way back to the hotel.
    “So I guess this means you’re coming with me?” I asked. It was a rhetorical question as we had already started walking. Maximus ignored it.
    As with most things, the way back seemed faster. We reached the cornfield without coming across any more of the Drinkers, although I could hear them, slithering in the shadows like snakes. Every so often a shrill scream tore through the air, sending a shiver down my spine. I glanced sideways at Maximus when I heard the screams, searching for some sort of reaction, but his grim, tight lipped expression never faltered. Only when the high pitched squeal of a child reached us did he curse under his breath and falter.
    “Are you okay?” I said hesitantly when he stopped and looked back towards the town. His chest rose and fell with every sharp intake of breath. Without thinking about what I was doing I wrapped my fingers around his arm. It was like holding granite.
    Maximus jolted at my touch and looked down to where my fingers were splayed across the sleeve of his leather jacket. Neither of us moved. The cornstalks rustled quietly as they closed in around us, cutting away the outside world. Our eyes met, dark gray against deep, stormy blue. For one crazy, mind numbing moment I thought he was going to lean forward and kiss me and I imagined the way my eyes would close and how my arms would curl around his shoulders as if they had always belonged there and my fingers would bury themselves in his hair.
    He licked his lips.
    My eyes began to drift closed…
    “Stop lagging behind,” he growled. “We don’t want to be caught out in the open.”
    My eyes popped open. It felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of freezing water over my head. Maximus ripped his arm free and stalked off into the corn, leaving me standing by myself like an idiot. Muttering my own curse under my breath, I hurried after him. Maximus might have been an asshole, but he was an asshole with a gun.
    He didn’t look at me when I pulled up alongside him and we continued on towards the hotel in stony silence, neither one of us willing to give an inch. The sun was dipping below the mountain range to the west when we reached the parking lot. Or at least, what remained of the parking lot. Time had not treated the Renner Hotel and her grounds very kindly.
    The hotel sat before us, an old, neglected building that sagged slightly to the right. Four large columns, the marble chipped and cracked, guarded the entrance. The front door was one of those old fashioned spinning doors where only one person could go in at a time. I was surprised – and relieved – to see all of the glass was still intact. I gave the door an experimental push. Without electricity to help swing it around, the door didn’t so much as slide an inch.
    “Get out of the way,” Maximus said.
    Tight lipped and glaring, I stepped to the side.
    Leading with his shoulder, he threw his weight into the door and moved it easily. I darted in behind him and narrowly avoided tripping over my own feet as the door spun around with a high pitched whine.
    The inside of the hotel was no better than the outside, with the exception of it being darker, so the neglect and decay weren’t as visible. The scent of mold and dust hung heavy in the air, although I would take grandma’s closet over blood and burnt flesh any day of the week.
    Our footsteps echoed over the hardwood floor as we walked across the lobby. It was empty; the various tables and chairs that had once filled the space stripped away long ago. Narrow slivers of moonlight passed through the windows and illuminated everything in a soft, silvery glow. It didn’t escape my notice that Maximus stayed mostly in the shadows.
    “Where are your father and friend?” he asked.
    I bit down on my lip as I struggled to recall what room Dad had