by Katie French
“I said come.” His eyes flash with something like violence until he seems to think better of it and smoothes out his face. “Please.”
“I don’t want to.” I glare at him.
Gabe runs a hand through his hair. “What can you possibly do for her now? Tommy will look after her. I need someone to hold the ladder so I can call the real help. Believe me, please. This is the best way to save her.”
What choice do I have? I follow, my stomach in knots.
Gabe leads me out of the theater and back outside. Dusk has settled and the sunset’s a bright red orange. Several hours ago, I would’ve seen the beauty in all these colors. Now all I can think is the sky’s bleeding out.
I follow Gabe across campus to a three-story building. We take the stairs up and up until we get to the top. He leads us down a dim hallway to a storage room with a ladder inside, leaning on the wall. Gabe climbs up while I hold it. He reaches the top and pushes a section of the ceiling away. Evening light pours in. He sticks his head in the hole and then looks at me. “It’s really pretty up here.”
I say nothing. He disappears into the hole. For a moment, I consider kicking the ladder away and running, but would that really help Bell? If this Prentice person can save her, we’ll have to wait.
“Janine, I need your help!”
I climb the ladder.
A roof, covered with tarpaper and gravel, stretches out before me. Gabe’s already standing at the edge, gazing out over the campus. With the sunset in the background, it really is beautiful, but I don’t look long. I pull myself up and walk toward him.
Gabe stands next to a giant, metal bell hanging beneath a huge, metal stand. It’s massive and looks really heavy. I wonder how they got it up here.
He follows my gaze to the bell. “It was a bitch to get it here. Tommy almost broke his back. He was so pissed. He said things that’d make your aunt blush.” He rests his hand on a metal ring welded to the bell’s top. “I’d cover your ears.”
He turns the wheel.
When the bell gongs, the sound is deafening. Sound waves vibrate my body, my teeth. Its sound must travel for miles in a nearly silent city. Gabe and I watch the horizon as the ding-dongs wind down, the tones softening until I can take my hands off my ears. With the bell rung, Gabe looks tense. He tugs at the collar of his costume again.
He offers me a fake smile. “Hopefully, Prentice is in a generous mood.”
We wait in Tommy’s apartment, silent and mournful like people at a funeral. Bell lies on the floor, the knife still in her abdomen, now crusted over with blood. She’s asleep, or unconscious, I can’t tell which, and I check her breathing every few seconds. The puddle of blood that soaked her shirt and dribbled on the floor has stopped, but there’s no telling about inside. I look at her stomach and wish I could see in. What organs might have been pierced? What structures vital to her survival are struggling to function?
This Prentice person scares me. Both brothers grow tenser as night falls. Tommy paces by the open balcony door. Gabe slumps against a wall and tugs at his clothes. He changed back into normal attire, black pants and a cotton shirt, but wears his black, knee-high costume boots. Even now he can’t stop acting. Maybe it’s how he copes. Maybe I should try it. Maybe acting like I’m not completely terrified that Bell might die and leave me alone out in this awful world would make everything better.
The sound of clomping hooves echoes from the open window and both men stiffen. Gabe stands beside Tommy as the noise grows closer. I get up from my place beside Bell and peer around them. Six men on horseback trot through the parking lot.
Six men.
Tommy senses me behind him and whirls around. He eyes my wrists and then grabs me by the shoulder. “He can’t see you free like this.” He leads me to a chair, plops me in it, and begins winding cord around me. “If Prentice asks, your aunt tried to escape and attacked me. I had no choice but to subdue her.”
I look in his face. “You want me to tell him you stabbed her on purpose?”
Tommy, sweaty and looking younger than he ever has, nods. “Please.”
When he cinches the knot, I watch him. I’m not sure I want Prentice tending to Bell.
Not that I have a choice.
Not that I’ve ever had a choice.
“Go meet him,” Gabe says to Tommy when the clomping stops under our window.
Tommy looks at the balcony. “You go. You got us into this.”
Gabe shakes his head. “You stabbed her.”
“Someone needs to go down,” Tommy says, tucking his gun in the back of his trousers. This really bristles the hair at the back of my neck. He hasn’t worn the gun since he abducted us.
“Will one of you go down? Who knows how long she has?” I say, nodding to Bell. I can barely see her chest rising.
Tommy looks at Bell. Then he stomps toward the door.
But the door pushes open at that moment. A man stands in the entryway—a tall, lanky man with a bowler hat cocked to the side and a cane with a polished, ivory handle. He’s wearing a tux jacket with tails that trail down to the back of his knees. An unbuttoned, frilly, light blue shirt reveals a gold, spiral-shaped medallion with an upside down L running down the center. His face could be handsome in an angular way, with his jutting chin and high cheekbones. His lips are full and his eyelashes are thick. I wonder if he’s wearing makeup.
It’s another costume. No wonder he and Gabe know each other. They both have a flair for the theatric.
The men around him are more plainly dressed and big as redwoods. Clearly, they’re the muscle. They flank him as he steps in, his cane tapping on the floor.
“Prentice,” Gabe says, striding forward. “How are you?” His voice is high-pitched, but he’s smiling ear to ear. “So good to see you.”
“Is it?” Prentice says, looking past Gabe to Bell’s body on the floor. “You called and I came. Although, I wasn’t sure why you summoned me. Now I see.”
He walks past Gabe and kneels beside Bell to examine the knife. “What happened?” he asks evenly, looking up at Tommy.
Gabe twists his hands. “You know how my brother gets. So eager to get you what you need. This one was a wildcat.” Gabe scratches the air with fake claws.
Prentice watches, unamused. “You couldn’t subdue an old woman without nearly killing her?”
“She attacked Tommy,” Gabe says, flicking a glance at me.
I bite my lip. If I tell this man the truth, what then? He doesn’t look any more trustworthy than my current jailers. At least I know they have some compassion. Then again, their compassion brought Bell to death’s door.
“Can you help her?” I ask.
All eyes turn on me, and I regret speaking. Prentice walks over and kneels before me, his eyes scanning my face, my body. I want to curl up and hide. Instead, I look to Gabe, but he’s too busy watching Prentice.
“What happened to her face?” Prentice asks Gabe, pointing at my bandages. “You do this, too?”
Gabe shakes his head. “She came this way.”
Prentice slowly lifts back the cloth covering my face, winces, and lowers it. “She won’t be worth much.” He sighs and stands up. “A charred mess and a nearly dead grandma.” He lifts his hands to the ceiling as if pleading to a higher power. “Scraps. They bring me scraps.”
Gabe bounces on the balls of his feet. “Prentice, no one comes through town anymore. Now that there’s gambling in Albuquerque, traffic has shifted that way. These two were the first pair we’ve had in months.”
Prentice strolls to the kitchen, grabs himself a glass from the counter, and turns on the faucet. He takes a good, long drink and sighs. “Water’s still good, eh?”
Gabe nods. “Yes. We’re really lucky.”
“Lucky, yes. Lucky I have a crew who keeps it on. And the medicine for your seizures, Gabriel. Is it luck that gets you that, too?”
Gabe wrings his hands. “No, that’s you. I really appreciate it.”
Prentice leans against
the counter and stares at Gabe. “Funny way of showing it.”
Gabe takes a deep breath. “When you helped us out of Albuquerque and set us up here—”
“Yes, remember that? Remember how I saved your lives and gave you a fresh start? You were eating out of pig troughs, right?”
Gabe drops his eyes.
“And that trader—Gasher was his name, really swell fellow with the hook hand—had taken a liking to Tommy and was offering to split the earnings fifty-fifty if Tommy would… Well, you know what he would’ve had to do.” He glances at me, an amused smirk on his face.
“We owe you a lot.” Gabe’s voice is deadpan.
Prentice whirls toward Gabe. “You owe me everything.”
Tommy speaks up from a dark corner. “Are you going to fix the Breeder?”
Prentice shoots a glare at him. “What’s it to you, Thomas? She’s mine anyway, right? As payment for the medicine your twin needs. What if I choose to let her die on your carpet?”
Tommy’s body tightens. “It seems a waste.”
“You should’ve thought of that when you stabbed her.” Prentice turns back to Gabe. “Turns out, your medicine supply has run dry. And speaking of dry, a drought is coming. I hope you two will be all right.” He takes the half-full cup of water and pours it down the drain.
Gabe takes a step forward. “Prentice, I’m sorry. We’re both sorry. We’ll figure out a way to pay you back. If you’ll help us fix the Breeder, we can sell her—”
“She’ll be dead in twenty-four hours,” Prentice says with a dismissive wave. “That one might be worth something to the right buyer, but I’m afraid I’m too busy to make that happen.”
“We could do it,” Gabe says frantically. “We’ll find a buyer.”
Prentice thinks this over. “That’ll be a start.” He smiles thinly and strides toward the door. “Two days,” he says, not turning around. “I’ll be back.”
When Prentice leaves, we sit in stunned silence. My head’s buzzing with all that’s happened. Prentice won’t fix Bell. Gabe offered to sell me without hesitation. The room seems to shift under my feet.
Tommy stares at the open doorway for a few moments before kneeling at Bell’s side and taking her pulse. He frowns.
“I told you he wouldn’t be happy,” Gabe says.
Tommy shoots him a dangerous glare.
Gabe runs a hand through his hair. “What are we gonna do? We don’t know any buyers.”
Tommy glances at me. “She’s sitting right there, idiot.”
Anger burns through my confusion. “You think not mentioning that you plan on selling me as a sex slave will hide it from me?”
Neither will look at me.
I glare at Tommy, kneeling beside Bell, the woman who saved me over and over. I want to smack him. “You are responsible for her,” I say through my teeth. “If she dies, you are responsible.”
Tommy stares at Bell’s barely rising chest.
“Did you hear me?” My blood is boiling.
Tommy pushes up. “Keep her warm,” he says to Gabe. Then he strides toward the door, tugging on his worn newsy cap.
“Where are you going?” Gabe and I ask at the same time.
“To get help.”
Chapter 12
Janine
I sit holding Bell’s hand for hours. The floor puts my legs to sleep and sets my tailbone complaining, but it doesn’t matter. I watch her shallow breathing, the rise and fall, rise and fall. I’m not sure how many breaths she has left, and I want to be there for every single one.
Gabe lights candles and tries to distract me with tattered copies of Shakespeare, colorful picture books with the pages still intact, but I barely glance at them. Any other time I would’ve jumped at the chance. We didn’t have books at the hospital. Bell told me the doctors wanted to control what we knew about the outside, history, everything.
Bell. Oh, God. She cannot die. I’ve lost Sabrina. I can’t lose Bell, too.
Footsteps in the hall startle me out of my thoughts. Gabe’s eyes flick to the door. “I hope it’s Tommy.”
I stiffen. “Who else would it be?”
But he leaves the room and comes back with a sword. I raise an eyebrow, and he shrugs at me.
We zero in on the door and the approaching footsteps. “Is it locked?” I whisper.
Gabe eyes the lock. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” I’m nearly hysterical. “Then lock it.”
But the footsteps are too close. Gabe raises the sword.
The door creaks open. Tommy walks in the door, looking road weary and dusty. An old man follows close behind.
Gabe lowers his sword. “You got Harpy?”
Harpy limps in. “Dragged me outta my bed and ever’thing. Better be worth my time if you catch my meanin’.”
Tommy grabs a rag from a kitchen drawer and begins mopping his face. “We’ll get you your payment, just hurry.” He points to Bell.
Harpy—a stoop-shouldered old man with about ten hairs clinging to his head, a veiny nose, and leathery cheeks—shuffles over to Bell. A giant leather bag clanks at his side.
I lean protectively over her. “What’s he going to do?”
Harpy inspects the knife handle embedded in Bell’s side. “That looks nasty.” He touches the hilt carefully. “But you did right not removin’ it. Hopefully, it missed all her major pumpers, but she’s lost a lot of juice.” He looks up at Tommy. “You did this?”
Tommy blushes. “It was an accident.”
I raise an eyebrow. Now it’s an accident.
But I clam up as Harpy opens his bag and draws out his equipment. Seeing the scalpels, clamps, and gauze brings back too many memories. I start to feel faint.
“You okay?” Tommy says.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” he says, stepping forward. He eyes me intently.
I wipe a hand over my suddenly sweaty forehead. “Maybe I need a glass of water.”
“She needs some fresh air,” Harpy says, drawing more tools out of his kit. “‘Sides, it’d be better if she weren’t here while I work.”
“No,” I say, grabbing for Bell’s hand.
Tommy touches my shoulder. “It’s safer if you give Harp some space.” His eyes are kind, but I don’t want this kindness.
“I need to be here,” I say, hunching down.
Harpy stops digging in his bag and looks at me. “Darlin’, I’m ‘bout to operate. When the Breeders operate, they get everyone out except the most important people, right?”
I wrinkle my brow. “Yes, but…”
“But nothing. Now get a breath of air and I’ll have her better in no time.” He winks at me. His face is kind, his hands steady.
Tommy takes my wrist and starts drawing me way.
“I’ll take her,” Gabe offers.
Tommy snorts. “Not on your life.”
When we get down the stairs and out into the night air, Tommy leads me over to a metal bench and nods at it. At first I refuse, standing with my arms crossed and my frown set, just to let him know I’m not having a nice evening stroll with him. But then the world spins and I’m forced to slump on the bench. Tommy stands in front of me, frowning.
“When’s the last meal you’ve had?” he asks.
I shrug, not meeting his gaze. The air is cool and fresh and does a lot to help clear my head. But he’s right; I’m probably dizzy from hunger.
Digging in his jacket pocket, he pulls out a plastic bag. He holds it out to me.
I turn my face away.
He digs inside and draws out a piece of beef jerky, tender and salty. The smell of meat makes my stomach lurch.
“I don’t want it,” I say through my teeth.
He holds it out. “How’s your aunt gonna feel when she wakes up and realizes you died from a hunger strike?”
Staring at him, I take it and shove it in my mouth. I chew angrily and don’t say thank you.
He sits beside me and takes a pi
ece for himself. I stare up at the crescent moon. The campus is dark and quiet. Bugs buzz and an owl hoots in the distance.
“Harpy’s good at what he does,” Tommy says, handing me another piece.
I take the jerky and run it through my fingers. “Will he save her?”
“He’ll sure as hell try.” Tommy looks up at the window glowing with candlelight.
“Is he the local doctor?” I ask.
Tommy studies me, one blue eye squinted.
I throw his jerky at him. “Knock it off with the ‘you don’t need to know’ nonsense. You owe me.”
Tommy blows out a breath, picks the jerky off his coat, and offers me another piece. “Harpy is the local medicine man. He takes care of Prentice’s horses—”
“Horses!” I sit up. “He works on horses?”
“Calm down,” Tommy says. “He set my leg when I busted it. Diagnosed Gabe with his seizures a handful of years back. Saved his life.”
“Is Gabe awful sick?”
Tommy scratches his temple. “Sick in the head,” he says, smiling a little. Then his face grows serious. “Gabe can’t survive without medicine. Prentice is the only one who can get it. So we’re in Prentice’s pocket all the time. Not a great place to be.”
“And Prentice makes you pay,” I say quietly.
“Pay big,” Tommy says, his face tightening.
I chew my jerky for a moment. “So, that’s why you have to sell me.”
Tommy says nothing and drops his eyes.
“I know,” I say sarcastically. “Nothing personal, right?”
He shifts in his seat. “Gabe’s my brother. My twin.”
I look into his face. “Bell’s my only family.”
He stares at the moon. His face is stone and it hardens the longer he glares up at the sky. He might’ve been soft once, pliable, but he’s had years of practice to make himself granite. There’s nothing I can say in two days to change his mind.
“We should go back in,” he says, standing up. When I don’t get up, he clears his throat. “Now.”
I glare at him, but I do as I’m told. Following orders is all I seem to be good at.
