No!
I blinked and forced myself to stay conscious. I could feel it as my brain clawed itself from the abyss, and when my eyes finally focused, I found my attacker leaning over me. He was nothing but bright eyes and lips in a sea of black, and I was so disoriented that it took longer than it should for me to realize why. He was wearing a mask.
“Don’t move,” he said, his mouth seeming to float above his body.
“Stop.” My voice trembled so much that I wasn’t even sure the word I tried to mutter was actually a word.
I batted at him, but the man above me only laughed as his hands ran up my thighs. The knife strapped to my leg was pulled off and tossed aside. When it clanked against the pavement, getting lost in the darkness, I wanted to scream.
I did scream when the man pushed my skirt up around my waist, but it did nothing to help my situation. He pushed my dress higher and I howled and kicked and batted at him, my arms and legs flailing uselessly as I tried to fight him off. I didn’t make any progress. His weight was heavy on my stomach when he leaned forward, his knees digging into my arms and making it impossible for me to get any movement at all. Warm air brushed my chest when my dress went even higher.
“Just hold still and it will all be over faster,” he said, his bright eyes and mouth hovering over me.
Every move he made seemed to be in slow motion, and the thoughts in my head weren’t much faster or clearer, but one thing did stick out: This man doesn’t stink.
I forced my eyes to stay open even though they wanted to close. The man moved back, and I focused on his hands. His palms were flat against my stomach, and as starkly white as my own skin was. Clean. No dirt caked under his nails.
Why is he so clean?
He sat back, the weight of his body pressing against my knees as he worked to undo his pants. “You brought this on yourself.”
The epiphany that slammed into me with those words was so sharp it felt like a knife cutting into my brain.
Someone sent him here to punish me. Maybe even kill me…
Someone from the government.
Jackson.
That thought had just crashed into me when another face came into view, hovering over my attacker’s shoulder. This one wasn’t as clean, but it was familiar. Gray eyes flashed like violent storm clouds just before my attacker was ripped off me.
I inhaled, filling my lungs until they felt like they would burst as I pulled my dress down. To my right, the scuffle was loud and violent, knocking over trashcans that rattled against the sidewalk and spilled their foul-smelling contents all over the ground. I rolled to my side, my head still pounding and the world around me spinning faster than the two men wrestling each other on the ground. Flashes of black and gray swirled together, highlighted by the moon, and I squeezed my eyes shut when a wave of nausea rolled through me.
When I opened my eyes again, the gray man was standing. His shoulders heaved as he stared down at the other man, now nothing more than a tangle of black on the pavement.
I pushed myself up, barely clinging to consciousness but knowing that I needed to talk to this man before he once again disappeared. “You saved me.”
The gray man turned away from the body in front of him and knelt at my side. His eyes, now calm and full of concern, moved over me before he nodded once. “You alright?”
“I—I think so.” I touched the back of my head, which throbbed, and felt a bump. No blood, though. That was good. “Who are you?”
“Just an old friend,” he said, once again looking me over. “You sure you ain’t hurt?”
A painful twinge squeezed my insides. Dad used to say ain’t. God, if only I could stop seeing him in everything that happened. Donaghy’s scar and the way Glitter puckered her lips, not to mention this man’s eyes. Now he was starting to sound like Dad, too. Maybe I was losing my mind.
“I’ll be okay,” I said, getting to my feet and pulling my skirt down the rest of the way. My hands trembled when I grabbed my shoes and put them on, but I refused to think about what had almost happened or the fact that Jackson was responsible for this. I was okay.
The gray man stood too, and a second later he let out a low chuckle. “You’re just like your mamma. She was tough as nails, too.”
“You knew my mom?” I wasn’t sure if he was referring to Hadley Lucas or Vivian James, though.
“Long time ago.”
The gray man glanced over his shoulder, then grabbed my elbow. He started walking, leading me forward. I didn’t ask where he was taking me. Probably because I knew. Home. He wasn’t going to hurt me. The opposite, really. He wanted me to be safe.
We reached shantytown, our footsteps joining the moans, coughs, and snores of the people who lived here. Neither one of us spoke, but I looked his way every few seconds, trying to memorize his face and store it away for later. Trying to figure out how this man fit into my life.
The only discernable change in his mood was when we came to the shrine of Angus. Two people, coughing so much they were barely able to stay upright, were kneeling in front of the little statue. Their lips moved in silent prayer, their hands folded in front of them as they asked for salvation or forgiveness or something else, only they knew for sure.
The gray man slowed for a split second, his eyes on them. Then he shook his head and kept walking.
When we finally reached my building, he stopped and looked up. “Can’t go in.”
He let go of my arm and took a step back, and I found my legs steadier than I’d thought they would be. My head was pounding, though, and I had a suspicion it would be a couple days before the ache went away.
“Can you tell me who you are?” I asked, when it hit me that he was about to walk away and I had no idea when I would see him again.
He turned his gaze on me, and the eyes that stared back were sharp and familiar, but my fuzzy brain refused to allow me to make the connection. It was there. The answer was so close that I could almost reach out and grab it, but no matter how hard I tried to bring it into focus, I couldn’t seem to catch it.
“Watch out for yourself,” he said instead of answering my question. “Tell the others to watch their backs, too. They got it out for the whole lot of you. Pretty soon, they’re gonna get tired of tryin’ to make it look like an accident and just get rid of you.”
“Who?”
He took a step back. “The CDC.”
The CDC?
Dad.
“Is my dad there?” I asked, stumbling after the gray man as he turned and headed down the street. “I just want to know if he’s alive!”
My voice echoed down the dark street, but the gray man kept walking, not even looking back at me. I stood in the middle of the road on wobbly legs, watching as he disappeared into the darkness. Totally unable to run after him with my head pounding the way it was.
When he was gone, I dragged myself inside, but it took a few minutes for my head to clear enough to hit the button for the elevator. The thing groaned and I held my breath, waiting to see if it was going to work. After what seemed like forever, the lobby went silent and the door slid open. One of these days, this thing was going to break for good. I was just glad it wasn’t today. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to drag myself up the stairs with the way my head was throbbing.
Mom was up and sitting on the couch when I got in, and she jumped to her feet the second she saw me. “Meg? What happened?”
“It’s no big deal,” I said as I headed past her into the kitchen.
My head wouldn’t stop pounding and my bottom lip wasn’t much better. It was going to be fat tomorrow for sure. Under the kitchen lights, I was able to see all the cuts and scratches on my arms and legs from my struggle. I got lucky once again.
Mom stopped at my side when I turned on the faucet. I needed a shower, but it was late and I was exhausted, so the water from the sink and a washcloth would have to do.
“What happened?” Mom asked, her voice calmer this time.
When I turned, she took
the wet cloth out of my hand and pressed it to my throbbing lip. I winced, but she didn’t blink. That’s when it hit me: She was back. The mom I’d grown up with. Her brown eyes were bright and alert, assessing my injuries with the same cool exterior she’d always shown when I was a kid.
“I was jumped.” I kept my eyes away from hers so she wouldn’t know that the man had wanted more than just credits from me.
“Did he get what he wanted?” The way she winced told me that she could see right through me.
“No.” I exhaled. “Someone saved me.”
“You got lucky.” The breath she let out was full of relief, and I stole a glance at her face. She was still looking me over like she was making sure I was in one piece.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to reassure her.
Mom nodded and allowed me to take the cloth from her hand. I used it to clean the dirt off my arms and legs while she leaned against the counter with her arms crossed. In this light, I was once again struck by how much weight she’d lost. She was bony now, her breasts almost looking clownish on her thin frame. I’d always known they were fake, but I hadn’t thought about why she had them done until now. She used to be a stripper before. That must have been why.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said when I turned to rinse the washcloth. “Something about you before the virus hit. Or maybe something about you and Dad that I’ve never heard before. Something happy.”
Mom’s gaze moved toward the floor and she grinned for a second before saying, “Your uncle was a bully when I first met him. He didn’t like me, and he didn’t want your dad and me to be together, but it happened anyway.” When I turned to face her, the cool cloth still pressed against my throbbing skull, Mom’s smile was wider. “There were times when I thought Angus hated me. He loved to get under my skin, and I know he had moments when he resented me for taking Axl’s attention. But the day he was bitten—the day we found out he was immune—he sacrificed himself to save me.”
Her smile grew bigger and I joined in. I’d thought she was going to tell me something about Dad, but it had turned out to be about Angus instead. It was strange, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it was nice too.
“I stopped drinking the water in the bedroom,” Mom said, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Why’s that?” I was only partially paying attention, still lost in my own musings about the past and how much things had changed in recent weeks.
“I had another dream about Angus, and he told me to start boiling the water. He said the filters weren’t safe. I’ve felt better since then. More with it.”
I stood up straighter. Could it have been that simple? There had been times, especially over the last week, when it had seemed like Mom’s paranoia was about more than just losing Dad. There were even moments when I’d wondered if someone was drugging her. She’d been so out of it. What if someone had slipped her drugs?
Pretty soon they’re gonna get tired of tryin’ to make it look like an accident and just get rid of you. The gray man’s warning rang in my ears.
What if they were trying to get rid of Mom slowly? Make her look nuts so that when she disappeared, people would just assume that she’d finally lost it. At this point, I wasn’t willing to discard any theory.
“I’m glad,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. Either way, the good news was that she seemed even more with it today than she had the other night. “I missed you.”
Mom smiled and opened her arms, and I found myself falling against her. She wrapped me in a bony hug that was comforting despite the slight unfamiliarity of it.
“I’m going to change out all the filters on the sinks tomorrow,” Mom said against my head. “But just in case, we should boil the water.”
“I think that’s a good idea.” I buried my face against her chest as tears came to my eyes. There was a part of me that wanted to tell her everything. To let it all spill out so she could help shoulder the burden, and so she’d know that she wasn’t alone in all this.
I didn’t, though. Not yet. First I needed to talk to Parv and Al, and tell everyone to be careful. Then I’d find out what they thought about bringing Mom into the loop.
It was another day too scorching to be picking up trash, and my aching body wasn’t making it any better. The scrapes and cuts covering my legs from last night’s attack weren’t bad, but the back of my head was still tender and my lip was throbbing and swollen. The eyes of every person I passed swam with questions, but they didn’t ask. They probably just assumed that I’d mouthed off to a boyfriend or something like that.
Luckily, we weren’t shoveling up trash today. We’d reached a nicer part of the city where people had kindly taken the time to bag their garbage, and unlike the shantytown from the past couple days, the buildings in this section were tall, former offices and apartments that had long ago been renovated to fit the needs of New Atlanta. They cast shadows across the road, helping shade us from the sun while we worked. Another blessing. There were no good days on garbage detail, but some were worse than others. Shantytown was as bad as it got.
The good news: Mom left the apartment at the same time that I did this morning. If she could get her old position back, it might be possible for me to quit this stinking job.
“Holy shit!” someone to my right called out.
I dropped the fifty-pound bag of trash I’d been dragging toward the truck and looked up to find a little guy who couldn’t be older than sixteen staring into an alley only ten feet away from me. My sweaty hair got plastered across my eyes, and I batted it away as best as I could, trying not to get garbage all over my face. Again. The guy’s expression was a little green.
“What’s wrong?” the crew leader called, his voice slightly muffled from his mask.
“Body.” The kid turned away, and the little bit of his face that was visible was scrunched up in disgust. “Looks pretty fresh.”
“Shit.” The crew leader dropped his bag of trash as he turned on his heel, heading over to where the boy stood. He peered down the alley, annoyance flashing in his eyes as he shook his head. “I’ll have to call it in. Everybody keep working! No reason to gawk at the poor bastard.”
He took off for the truck, which was parked a block down, ripping his gloves off in the process and swearing up a storm as he went. I took a few deep breaths before lifting the bag I had just dropped. The muscles in my arms throbbed.
All around me, people did exactly what the crew leader had said not to do: hurried over to get a glimpse of the body. I ignored them and headed for the truck, sweating like crazy and praying Mom could get her job back so I didn’t have to do this again tomorrow.
“We have a body out here,” the crew leader was saying into the radio as I approached the truck. “South Peachtree Street.”
Static broke through just as I tossed my bag in the back, but I didn’t wait for the response before heading back to get more.
“Did you see that guy?” a girl about ten years older than me asked as she passed me. The load slung over her shoulder was so small a toddler could have carried it. “Gross.”
“No,” I gasped.
A crowd was still gathered around the alley, and since I honestly wasn’t interested in seeing a dead person—Didn’t I see them every night at Dragon’s?—I tried to move past. But just as I was stepping around the people crowded near the body, a girl squealed and jumped back.
“Don’t poke it!”
I spun toward the group, all ready to tell them to have a little respect, but the words died on my lips when I caught a glimpse of pale, blond hair.
“No.”
I was moving before I could think better of it, pushing people out of my way so I could get a better look. Knowing before I even saw his face that it was Jimmy and he was here not only because of me, but as a warning to me.
Someone swore when I shoved them aside, but I didn’t care. My eyes were glued to the blond head just barely sticking out from the pile of black bags. When I steppe
d closer, shockingly blue eyes stared up at me from a baby face and my stomach convulsed.
“No,” I said again, this time backing away.
“You okay?”
“Did you know him?”
“Who is it?”
Questions were thrown at me, but I didn’t stay long enough to answer. I turned and ran, ripping my mask off and tossing it aside, then my gloves. My jumpsuit was unzipped before I’d made it to the end of the street. The crew leader called after me, but I didn’t stop or look back or even think about pausing. I ran, shoving the jumpsuit down as I went, almost tripping over the fabric when it bunched around my ankles. Somehow, I managed to kick it free without falling on my face. I didn’t care that I was only in a pair of skimpy shorts and tank top after that, because all I could think about was finding Ticker.
I was gasping for breath by the time I made it to shantytown, and I could barely focus enough to remember where I’d seen him. I passed shack after shack, squeezing between metal and wood siding as I called his name, barely able to breathe let alone think. My leg caught on something, but I barely felt the sharp prick of the cut when it sliced across my skin.
“Ticker!” I stopped and called his name as loud as I could, spinning in a circle.
Until now, I hadn’t realized how many shacks had sprung up. Blocks and blocks of them were lined up in front of me, shoved so close together that there was barely any room between them. It was unreal.
The hacking sound of illness was rampant. Echoing off the walls of the buildings. Even worse was the smell. We’d picked up the garbage in this area already, so I knew for sure the faint stench of decay had nothing to do with trash. Death had fallen across the city.
“The flu,” I said, almost to myself because I had a feeling there weren’t many people around to hear it. Right now they were either at work or too sick to understand me, or they’d already passed over to the other side.
Based on the way they were living, maybe it was better. Maybe we all would have been better off if the virus that had swept the country twenty years ago had destroyed the human population. We sure hadn’t done a better job the second time around.
Twisted World Series Box Set | Books 1-3 & Novella Page 28
