Twisted World Series Box Set | Books 1-3 & Novella

by Mary, Kate L.

  Only, I had no clue which result I was rooting for.

  My day started too early, with the lights in the cell bursting to life and waking me from a fitful sleep where Jackson Star cut my sister’s throat over and over again. I was drenched in sweat, as was the bed under me, and breathing so hard anyone passing by might think I was having a heart attack. It felt like I was. It felt like my insides were on the verge of exploding, and all I could do to hold myself together was press my hand against my chest and pray that God would make this all end soon—one way or another.

  The image of Jackson Star’s sick smile stuck with me more than the image of what my sister had looked like the last time I’d seen her or how hopeful Meg had been when she’d learned that her dad was alive, because I knew what fate was in store for me. I had a one-way ticket to zombieville with Jackson in the driver’s seat. That’s why I was here. That sick asshole was going to inject me with something and then watch me turn. What he’d do with me after that I didn’t have a damn clue, but I had no doubt that if he did manage to find Meg and her family and drag them here, my zombie self would somehow be involved in their torture.

  I was honored with breakfast in bed, which included a bowl of slimy oatmeal and a huge-ass vial of blood being drawn. Two guards held me down while I thrashed, one sticking his knee in my back so hard that I felt like my spine was about to break in half. It hurt like hell, but I used all the strength left inside me, refusing to let these pricks off easy. Before they left, I got a kick to my already sore ribs that left me breathless and curled up on the floor of my cell.

  Lunch came a few hours later, this time with no blood draw, but that was about it. I was locked in a cell with nothing to do but replay every bad thing I’d done in my life that might have landed me in this shitty situation, but for the life of me I couldn’t come up with a single thing that would have deserved this kind of karma. Nothing. Sure I’d been an asshole from time to time, but for the most part I’d minded my own business and worked hard to keep my sister safe. A lot of good that had done her.

  My shitty sandwich—something that I thought was supposed to be egg salad—had only been gone for about an hour when the door in the hallway finally opened. I stood, half expecting to see Jackson, but instead caught sight of the head asshole himself. Garrett Star, the big shot Regulator of New Atlanta. He barely looked my way when he passed me, too engrossed in a conversation with the man at his side. I watched as they headed down the hall, pausing outside several cells to discuss something.

  From where I was I could see straight into Axl’s cell, which was currently empty, but I also had a glimpse of the one to the right of that. Just on the other side of the glass stood the guy I’d met only a few days earlier in Dragon’s Lair, the man from Meg’s crew. I couldn’t for the life of me remember his name, and at this point he was nearly hairless, the sprinkling of black hair that had still clung to his chest when I’d been brought in seemed to have vanished overnight. His skin had lost most of its color and was taking on the same translucent look the hybrid zombie I’d fought had. I remembered how it had felt under my grip, soft and thin, as if it would rip if I grabbed him too tightly.

  Whatever Star was doing here, he was utterly engrossed in the cell next to me. It was the one that held the teenage girl I’d seen when I was dragged in. Her brown eyes had been sad and swimming with pain, her barely covered body strapped down while tubes ran from her veins to the IV bags that dripped only God knew what into her bloodstream. I had a pretty good idea who she was, but it was an idea I couldn’t bring myself to entertain just yet because it was just too dark, too twisted. Even for this place.

  Star and the man stood outside the cell talking for a few minutes before he finally nodded and turned to go, leaving the other scientist to do his bidding. Thinking about what it might be gave me the chills, and I found myself wrapping my arms around my body like they would protect me from the cool air whooshing through the vents in my room. The head asshole glanced at me when he walked by, but it was a passing look, one that told me he hadn’t given me a second thought since I was brought in.

  I wasn’t sure if his indifference to me was good or bad. I knew I was here because Jackson had a beef with me, and I doubted the plans he had for me would do anything less than give me nightmares. What would his father do with me if Jackson wasn’t allowed to return to his position? Would I be forgotten and simply left to rot, or would I still find myself injected with whatever strain of this virus they were currently working on?

  The scientist outside the girl’s room went in and I waited with my breath held to find out what was going on, but he was out again in no time and the girl wasn’t with him, so I had no way of knowing.

  Being behind the window made me feel like a lab rat, and it cut me off from everything in a way I’d never experienced before. I’d been in prison, in the DC colony, but it hadn’t been like this. That place was a hellhole, a city of scum who lived in filth and behaved like they were animals, not human beings. Here everything was pristine and white and sterile, but there were no sounds other than the ones I made. I could lie on my bed with my eyes closed, holding my breath, and discover what utter silence actually sounded like. It was shocking in its intensity. The way it seemed to cover me, coating my body and making me heavy. I’d been here for less than a day, but already the lack of sound and human interaction threatened to drive me mad.

  I tried to distract myself by thinking about Patty, but that just made me ache. She was dead and it was my fault for getting wrapped up in all this, for not taking care of her the way I should have. So instead I thought about Meg and tried to allow the knowledge that she was at least safe calm me. No matter what happened to me, no matter what kind of horrible death I was facing, Meg was at least someplace where Jackson couldn’t find her. She was with her family and hopefully working on a plan to rescue us, but even if she didn’t make it in time, even if I died before she managed to get here, she would be okay. That was enough for the time being. It had to be.

  Chapter Seven

  Meg

  The day of revelations seemed never-ending. Angus would share stories about things he’d seen through the window of his cell or been told by Jane, Glitter’s mother, and my family would fill him in on little details about the last twenty years. Mom wept when she learned that Dad was immune and had hidden it from her, but no matter how many times she asked the others why he’d felt he had to do it, no one had a good answer. It was entirely possible that there wasn’t one, but either way, he was the only one who could answer any real questions about his motivations.

  Jada stayed with us in the backyard but remained separate from the group. She acted like she was waiting for something, and even though we were all anxious to learn how we were going to get into the CDC, no one asked any questions. Probably the only thing that could have distracted us from the impatience of being filled in on the plan was learning what the last twenty years had been like for Angus. And his stories seemed to be endless.

  It was late afternoon by the time Bonnie poked her head out the backdoor. The gnarled side of her face was turned in our direction and she had to twist her head so she could see us out of her remaining eye. “They’re here.”

  Jada, who sat on the grass at my side, nodded. “Thanks. We’ll be right there.”

  “Who’s here?” I asked, voicing the question I was certain was on everyone else’s mind as well.

  “Hopefully our allies. We’ll have to see.” The blonde woman barely glanced my way as she hauled herself to her feet, her gaze too focused on Angus. “Are you ready for this?”

  My uncle grunted as he dragged himself up off the ground. He had a cigarette between his lips and a scowl on his face, but he nodded to Jada. When he looked the rest of us over, sucking the toxins from the cigarette into his lungs in the process, his expression was unreadable.

  He plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and blew the smoke out. “This ain’t gonna make much sense at first,” he began to no one in pa
rticular, “but you just gotta trust me. We got a plan.”

  Jim had crossed the lawn to join Jada and together they started walking, but they didn’t go into the house. They went around it, heading to the front yard instead. Charlie and I walked side by side with the rest of the group, and when she caught my eye I shrugged at the silent questions in hers.

  On her other side stood Luke. He glanced my way, but I still couldn’t look him in the eye. I felt betrayed. Of everyone here, I felt like he’d lied to me the most. Why I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d found out something major and had kept it from me for no reason. At least no good reason.

  We rounded the house and I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight in front of me. Of everyone I’d expected to find waiting for us, these people would have been on the bottom of my list, and I could tell by the confused expressions on my family’s faces that they were feeling the same way.

  The people in front of us wore robes constructed of thick, red material that made me sweat just looking at them. They didn’t open in the front like normal robes, in fact they were unlike any robe I had ever seen before. The neckline was wide, open to below the chest and giving us all a glimpse of the bronze pendants they wore around their necks. A swath of excess material at the back of the robe formed a hood, and the sleeves were long and fitted, the hem going all the way to the ground and so heavy that it barely moved in the wind.

  While most of the people standing in front of us had their hoods down, allowing us to see their faces, the woman leading the pack had hers pulled forward so much that it shadowed her face, making it nearly impossible to discern her features. Not that I needed to see her to know who she was. Everyone in New Atlanta knew the High Priestess of The Church, my family especially.

  For some reason she had a fairly large group of followers with her, but even more baffling than her entourage were the two zombies standing at the back of the group. The creatures’ arms had been cut off and they had collars around their necks, as well as square metal cages fitted over their heads that were made of thick steel bars that crisscrossed on every side and had been welded together, making it impossible for them to bite anyone

  “Priestess,” Jada said, stepping out in front of the rest of us.

  The High Priestess lowered her hood dramatically when she stepped forward, either so she could look us over or so we could get a good look at her. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her, but her appearance was no less shocking now than it had been every other time. Her blonde hair was pale enough that it looked almost silver, especially in the sun, and her eyebrows and lashes were the same shade, giving her eyes a hairless look that brought a lizard to mind. Or the freaky hybrid zombie Donaghy had fought only a few nights ago. The High Priestess had strikingly pale blue eyes, so light that they seemed nearly as colorless as her hair, and her skin was the purest ivory I’d ever seen. It gave off the impression that she’d never set foot outside in her life, and I found myself holding my breath, waiting to see if she would burst into flames now that she was exposed to the sun’s rays. She did not.

  “I am here at your request,” she said, nodding to Jada but not giving away if she was curious, annoyed, or thrilled about being summoned here.

  “Yes.” Jada glanced back at us before saying, “We have someone with us that you might be interested in meeting.”

  The High Priestess’s nearly invisible eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t smile. “I highly doubt that anyone who chooses to degrade their bodies in the way that you have—” She looked pointedly at Jada’s tattooed neck. “—would be of any interest to me. I am a prophet, sent here by God to pave the way for the Savior. I am pure. I do not mix with the likes of you.”

  To her credit, Jada didn’t even blink at the insult. She did, however, turn and nod to Angus.

  My uncle, who was still smoking, walked forward with a swagger in his step that should have looked out of place on a man who’d just been released after nearly twenty years of captivity, but instead fit every story I’d ever heard about him perfectly. When he stopped in front of the High Priestess he had a smirk on his face that brought to mind how many times I’d heard my mom or dad mention what an asshole he could be. He hadn’t shaved today, and the growth on his face made him look scraggily and worn next to the woman in front of him. Despite the fact that I despised her and everything she stood for, I couldn’t help thinking that standing next to him, she did look pure.

  The High Priestess looked him over and for the first time a small smile formed on her lips. “This man?” She shook her head. “I have no interest in this man.”

  Angus sucked in a mouthful of smoke, holding it in his lungs longer than necessary and then purposefully blowing it in her face. The High Priestess frowned and two of her followers stepped forward. They were tall men who looked silly in their red robes, their muscles making it seem like they were playing a child’s game when they should be out guarding the city.

  “See here,” Angus said, his smirk growing, “that’s where you’re wrong.”

  The High Priestess must have seen something in his expression that interested her, because she lifted her hand to stop her men from moving forward. “Go on.”

  My uncle grinned as he took another drag on his cigarette, seeming to draw the moment out as if was a game. When he finally spoke again, smoke came out with the words. “I’m Angus James, and from what I hear, you’ve been waitin’ for me to come back.”

  Silence followed his revelation as everyone from The Church tried to absorb this information and my family waited with baited breath to find out what was going to happen.

  Angus alone seemed unaffected by the moment. He simply smoked and stared at the woman in front of him like he was trying to size her up, or possibly trying to figure out just how insane she was. He inhaled slowly, pulling smoke into his lungs, and then drew it out even more dramatically when he exhaled. He scratched his arm, pulling his sleeve up to reveal the tattoos on his bicep, faded from time and age, and grinned like he knew the woman in front of him was going to be disappointed.

  “You are not,” the High Priestess finally said.

  Her gaze moved past Angus to the rest of us, and when she took in the group behind him, doubt flickered in her translucent eyes. She knew us, had stalked us for years. She’d stood outside our building holding up signs that told everyone how special the James family was, how they had holy blood and that Axl would one day take his place at his brother’s side. She was fully aware that standing in front of her were some of the few people in the settlement who actually knew what Angus James had looked like.

  My uncle stuck the cigarette between his lips so he could pull his shirt over his head. When he tossed it aside, no one was watching to see where it landed. We were all too focused on his chest and arms.

  He was more muscular than I’d expected considering his years in a cell, but it shouldn’t have been a surprise. He’d already told us that he’d spent a lot of time exercising, even after he’d given up hope of escape, just in case he ever managed to get his hands on Star. But it wasn’t his muscles that drew our attention; it was the scars that dotted his arms and chest. There were dozens of them. Crescent in shape, they were jagged the way only teeth marks could be. Some were dark and stood out against his pale skin while others were small and shiny and red, and others were so faded from time that we wouldn’t have been able to see them if it weren’t for the sun shining down on us now, but there was no mistaking what they were. Human teeth left very distinct marks behind.

  “Like I said—” The cigarette between my uncle’s lips bobbed when he spoke. “—I’m Angus fuckin’ James.”

  One of the followers stepped forward. “Mother.”

  Sabine was several years older than me, but our school had been small thanks to the decimated human race and even if she hadn’t treated me like I was something special, I would have known who she was. Everyone did. Not only was she the daughter of the High Priestess, but Sabine had been the first
person to ever receive the vaccine after the CDC released it.

  “This cannot be him,” she said.

  The way she spit out the last word made Angus laugh.

  “Shit. I heard you was puttin’ me on a pedestal, but I didn’t believe it.” My uncle waved to the people behind him. “Shoulda talked to somebody who knew me. If you had, they woulda told you what an asshole I was.”

  The High Priestess sucked in a deep breath, seemingly trying to gather herself. “This is unexpected, but nothing we can’t deal with.”

  She waved to the people at her back without looking over her shoulder just like my uncle had only a moment before. The followers at the front of the group moved aside, making room for two men who were standing at the back. The ones who were in charge of the zombies. They came forward, pulling the chained creatures with them, and as they moved the red robed followers began to chant.

  “They are dead, they will not live; they are shades, they will not arise; to that end you have visited them with destruction and wiped out all remembrance of them. They are dead, they will not live…”

  “Fuck,” my uncle muttered under his breath as the chant went on and on.

  The High Priestess kept her eyes on him as the zombies were pulled forward. She didn’t join in the chant with her followers, whose voices had grown louder. They echoed through the settlement, bouncing off the surrounding houses until the words made even less sense than they had when they’d first started. It made the hair on my arms stand up.

  When the men had pulled the zombies to the High Priestess’s side, she raised her hand and the chanting died down. Her pale eyes were focused on Angus, her gaze intense and calculating, and even creepier than the chanting had been.

  She once again raised her pale eyebrows at my uncle and said, “Kill them.”