by Ryan Decaria
“But,” he continued, “you’re amazing. You can do anything you want to do.”
“Until they come after me. You know it’s bound to happen sometime. They can’t have a zombie running around.”
“You’re not a zombie. You have more empathy than all the science nerds in Moreau combined.” He leaned back against the embalming table, a smile creeping onto his lips. “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”
“I might not be the undead.” Sasha put her hands on the metal countertop, eyeing her reflection. She wore so much makeup to hide the parts of her that didn’t quite look like her old self. That girl was dead. Sasha wished she could still cry, that somehow she could will the tears to work out the pain. “A part of me is dead, though. I can feel it. Do I even have a future?”
He snapped his fingers. “Boulsour is like you, right? He seems fine.”
She nodded. Boulsour was the one person she didn’t understand. After Dravovitch brought her back to life and tossed her in the garbage, Boulsour had saved her from the incinerators, charged her up, clothed her, and set her free. He didn’t say a thing. Somehow Anika could understand him, but she was nutso, like the other megalomaniacs in this horrible place.
“Boulsour’s a lackey, and Anika’s a fool to trust him.”
“But he’s still alive.”
“Maybe.” Boulsour seemed more dead inside than out. “But only when he’s driving 100 miles an hour down main street. Is that the life I have to look forward to?”
He took her hand and Sasha felt a little spark, a tiny bit of energy she pulled from his fingers. Or did she imagine it? His eyes widened like he’d felt it too. “I’d say you have a lot to live for.”
The doorknob turned.
Sasha slid in front of Hawking, fists ready.
The door opened, and a short black woman peered inside. “What are you doing in here?”
“Mom.” Hawking stood tall and stepped between them “I was showing Sasha around. She’s a little jumpy.”
“During school hours?” Hawking’s mom wore a long, tie-dyed dress and a matching head wrap. She put her hands on her hips. “Couldn’t you have given me a heads up? I thought we had a prowler down here.”
“Sorry.”
“Well now, Sasha.” Hawking’s mom examined Sasha from her jet-black hair down to her combat boots. “You must be the girl Hawking’s been talking so much about.”
“That would be me.” Sasha slid her arm around Hawking’s shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Hawking’s cheeks reddened.
“Well, I’m not happy you’re cutting school, but since you’re here, you might as well join us for lunch. Ah, assuming you’re done with the tour.”
Sasha focused on the freezer. She wasn’t going to find her parent’s bodies being escorted around.
“Yes,” Hawking said, “We’re done.”
“Great,” his mom said. “Let’s eat.”
Hawking grabbed Sasha’s hand and pulled her forward, leading her back to the main house. Sasha could smell the spices in the food all the way in the kitchen. Food which she couldn’t eat, like at all. She wasn’t even sure she had a stomach anymore.
“It’s leftover jollof rice and moin moin from last night,” Hawking said.
Sasha pulled her hand away. Ever since that night when Victor showed up at her door, Sasha hadn’t eaten a single thing. She didn’t get hungry, but she had cravings for pretty much everything. She missed eating. School lunch was easy to ignore, but a home cooked meal was painful.
“I can’t eat,” she whispered.
“Oh. We already ate.” Hawking slid his hands into his pockets. “We’re going to head back.”
“We have more kelewele from last night,” his mom said. “You’ll love it.”
“We can’t, Mom. We have to get back to school.”
His mom tapped her foot. “Oh, so now school’s important?”
“It’s always been important.” His cheeks reddened. “We were just…”
She smirked. “Doing research?”
Hawking squirmed, breathing faster as he scanned the floor for words. “Something like that.”
Sasha chuckled, deciding whether she would let him off the hook. “As romantic as your mortuary is, Hawking was just showing me around. Nothing happened.”
His mother grinned. “I understand, dear. It’s a bit morbid for snogging.”
Hawking groaned. “Mom.”
Sasha snorted. “Yeah, it’s a little dead in here.”
Hawking rolled his eyes as he backpedaled toward the exit. “We do need to get back.”
Sasha followed him. “Thanks for the invite to lunch. Maybe next time.”
Hawking’s mom folded her arms, still smiling. “Make sure you go straight to school.”
“Bye, Mom.” Hawking pulled Sasha toward the back exit.
“Not so fast,” his mom said. “Come and introduce Sasha to your father. He’d love to meet her.”
Sasha didn’t want to be rude. Plus, she wanted to get a read on him. Hawking believed he was innocent, but in a town of mad scientists, that was a statistical impossibility. “I’d love to meet him.”
“Great. Follow me.”
Hawking’s mom seemed nice, but as Sasha followed her through the house, she couldn’t help feeling that his mom was stalling. What could she have to gain by keeping them there for a few extra minutes?
Hawking’s dad sat in a recliner reading a thick, leather-bound book. He wore a thin, black suit and white collared shirt with a paisley tie. He stood and bowed his head. “Well, hello. Who is this young woman, and why do I have the pleasure of meeting her?”
“Dad, this is Sasha.”
“A pleasure.”
Sasha smiled, but kept eye contact with him. Could she even tell his alignment from a glance? “Nice to meet you.”
“Are you both joining us for lunch?”
“Can’t.” Hawking said. “School called. Wants their wayward pupils to return to class.”
His father looked over at his mother. She shrugged a shoulder.
“Hawking,” he said. “Can I speak with you a moment in the kitchen?”
Hawking followed his dad into the next room. Hawking’s mom folded laundry from a basket on the couch. She hummed a tune Sasha hadn’t ever heard before.
Sasha padded toward the door. Hawking’s mom’s eyes shot to her, but her smile remained.
“Tell Hawking I went back to school on my own.”
Her smiled faded. “He’ll just be a minute.”
Sasha turned the doorknob, half expecting it to be locked. The door opened, and she hurried out. “It was nice to meet you.”
Sasha rushed away from the house, head down as the rain pelted her face. She bounced over the short wooden gate and froze. Across the street, in front of his yellow Hummer, stood Dravovitch, smiling, his unruly silver hair billowing in the wind. Boulsour stood next to him, holding an umbrella over the man’s head. Sasha viewed both directions. The street was empty, the sky gloomy.
She stalked up to him, her hands balling up into fists. He didn’t flinch. She stood in the middle of the street glaring up at him. Boulsour opened a second umbrella and held it over her. Rain fell onto his blank face.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Sasha, dear,” he said. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“Of course, you do. You had Hawking’s parents stall me so you could get here.”
He nodded. “I’m here to give you your life back.”
Sasha wiped wet hair out of her face. She knew this day would come—facing off against Dravovitch, but she didn’t expect… “What do you mean?”
“I was wrong to discard you so quickly. I regret my actions. I’m truly sorry. I cared much for your parents. They were great assets to me. And friends. I wanted revenge. I was hasty. When I couldn’t get you to speak, I decided to try other means. I was awful, and I wish I could have taken back my decisions of that moment.�
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Dravovitch actually seemed sincere, but he was who he was, so there had to be a catch.
“What did you do with my family?”
Dravovitch watched the sky. Was he scrutinizing the clouds? Willing the lightning to strike his precious laboratory? “What I can do is arrange for their bodies to be discovered in a plane crash. You will be the sole inheritor of their belongings and bank accounts, as well as insurance monies. Their home is yours as well.”
He handed her an envelope.
“This is a bit extra I owed them for services rendered, which should see you through until everything—well, until everything goes through.”
Sasha opened the envelope and fanned out hundred-dollar bills. Her jaw dropped. She’d never seen that much money. Her parents had done well enough, but since they were killed, Sasha wasn’t sure she’d ever have money she didn’t have to borrow.
She closed her fist around the cash and stared up at Dravovitch. “Why are you doing this?”
“When I first heard you were still—how shall we say?—walking around. I was angry. Who could have interfered in my business?” He glanced at Boulsour. “But then I realized it could have only been one person, right? The old softie.”
Sasha glared at Dravovitch, betraying nothing.
“Still, what would you be doing out on your own, attending high school like nothing had happened? What motivated you?” He snapped his fingers. “Then it came to me. I’ve felt it, too. Revenge. We wanted the same thing, and I wanted to help you get it. But, alas, Anika found it before either of us could manage. I’d like to think you had some part in that business.”
Sasha was stone.
“Yes, yes. Your business is your own, and I expect nothing from you.”
He tossed her a set of keys.
“For a storage locker. Your family’s belongings are there, completely unmolested. Your house keys, too, but you should wait a bit for that.”
She growled. “Why are you doing this?”
“If you must find an ulterior motive, perhaps you can be assured that your continued silence at the nature of my, how shall we say—my work—is greatly desired. It is of mutual benefit, as you no doubt are aware.”
She listened to the rain hitting the top of the Hummer. Dravovitch flashed a wily grin, and he was right about everything, which made Sasha furious. Fighting him now would be counterproductive at best, and self-destructive as Boulsour would stop her before she threw the second punch. Instead, she let the steady sound of the rain suppress her urge to strike out.
“I get it. I go public and you’ll deny everything. When the dust clears, you’ll still get to resume your work and I become a lab rat in some government facility.”
“Perhaps.” Dravovitch regarded the gloomy sky. “Let’s not find out, shall we?”
She folded her arms. “What about Anika?”
“What about her?”
“What are you going to do to her?”
“Anika is my daughter. I created her.” He smiled, his gaze returning to Sasha. “Kind of like you, after a fashion. I will do everything in my power to see that she’s safe.”
Sasha stared into his eyes, but they were so cold and calculated, letting nothing show.
“So that’s it?” Sasha asked. “We go on with our lives?”
Boulsour was as stone-faced as ever.
“That’s it.” Dravovitch opened the door to his Hummer. “Oh, and if you ever need any—well—any work done, please come to me. I’m sure we could figure out an arrangement.”
There it was.
Dravovitch was true to himself after all. He assumed he could turn her into his lackey. Sasha had more power than he ever imagined. More than a driver, or a desk guard, or a chaperone. She could be a soldier, no, a warrior or an assassin.
But he would never get to her.
Dravovitch smiled again before climbing inside his vehicle. Boulsour handed her the umbrella and walked around to the back, climbing into the Hummer through the hatch back. Dravovitch nodded to her before gunning his vehicle down the street and screeching around the corner.
Dravovitch had the gall to assume he could be—what? Her creator?
No. Her father. Wasn’t that what he insinuated? Like Anika. Like Anika was her sister. Her family.
The only family Sasha had left.
Sasha tossed the umbrella into the gutter and took one last look at Hawking’s house. She’d been so upset that she’d been letting Anika keep walking into trouble with her. If Anika wouldn’t protect herself, then—then—
Sasha would protect the stupid girl
Her sister.
Sasha sprinted back to the school.
The power flickered everywhere.
Anika sat up, rubbing the back of her head where she’d smacked it against a toolbox. She sprawled out in her assailant’s impressively messy van. The parking lot was empty. No one would be walking out in the rain. Talking her way out seemed like the prudent option, or perhaps, knocking him over the head with something heavy, if she could find something in this disaster area.
She straightened her shoulders and held her up chin. “Listen up, meathead.”
“My name is Wallace.”
Thunder rolled overhead. Anika paused for the rumbling to cease so Wallace could hear her well. “You think I’m still the lost little nerd girl you can push around, but you should know a little about what I’ve done the last few weeks.”
The truth was a gamble, but she didn’t have many other outs.
Wallace pulled out a chewed-up pen and scratched his arm under his cast. “Where’s Billie?”
“This place isn’t normal.” She peered around the van for anything she could use as a weapon, but there were too many fast food wrappers and beer cans. A tire iron lay inside, near Wallace. “And you should know that I killed the last man who assaulted me. He was far more dangerous and slightly less disgusting.”
He blinked, as the rain pelted his face. “What are you talking about?”
“You might want to rethink this kidnapping. Oh, but the best part? The best part is that my dad owns this crappy town, and he has a vested interest in my future. He is not a nice man.”
Wallace hung his head. “Tell me where Billie is and I’ll let you go.”
She sighed for dramatic effect. “We both know I’m not going to do that.”
He glared up, and she got a good look at a scar running across his cheek. Billie had hit him pretty hard with her car. She’d likely killed brain cells he couldn’t afford to lose. He had bandages running down his chest into his tight shirt.
“You might as well get on with it, though I predict you won’t get past the city limits.”
“You don’t understand.” Wallace gripped the door handle so tight it creaked. “Billie cost me everything. They searched my car and my house. There’s a warrant out for my arrest. I can’t go home now. I’ve got nothing.”
The irony! “What a waste. You. You’re a waste.”
He scowled. She probably shouldn’t have said that last part out loud.
“I’m going to find Billie,” he said, “and she’s going to pay. You hear me? Where is she?” He grabbed the tire iron and held it out as he leaned into the van.
Anika scrambled back into the seats.
The van door slammed into the side of Wallace’s head, and he recoiled, turning in time to see a fist smash into his petulant face.
Wallace collapsed.
Darwin, the Swampazazi Boy, opened the door, looking in on Anika. He pressed his boot down on Wallace. His scream was drowned out by another rumble of thunder.
“Eh taght ew ma nee a han.”
Anika crawled to the van doors and jumped into Darwin’s arms, hugging him tight. “Your timing is impeccable.”
He lowered her to the ground. “I wa alwedi arwon.”
Wallace knocked Darwin’s foot away and rolled, grabbing for the tire iron. Darwin dropped on him, flipping the meathead over, kneeling on his neck and tied his hand w
ith a cord he pulled from his pocket. It was like—like wrestling an alligator.
Darwin’s eyes flicked toward the school. “Aniwa, da is a wiga oble den wa reli.”
Anika wasn’t sure what he said, but his face was all puckered up. He stood, wiping his brow with a filthy rag.
His world was all swamp and gator. If he was upset about something, it had to do with that. She stepped on Wallace’s back and stared into Darwin’s eyes.
“Don’t talk. Just listen to me. I’m getting pretty good at reading people. This has something to do with the alligators?”
He nodded.
“They attacked me last night. Several of them. Some bad people put out fresh meat behind the school. I stumbled on the scene at the wrong time.”
His eyes widened. His fears confirmed?
“They’re getting smarter?”
He scrunched up his face and shook his head. No then.
“Okay, I saw about eight of them all in one place. I don’t think that was normal. The dudes leaving meat out certainly couldn’t handle that many of them at once. Some of the gators ignored the meat and came straight for me.”
He stuck his bottom teeth out and bit his upper lip. His eyes bounced from left to right and back. She was close.
“The alligators are working together?”
He nodded.
“Like a pack of wolves?”
He puffed up his cheeks and blew the air out.
“Oh, crap.”
He nodded vigorously, pointing a skinny finger at her.
“Me? What about me?”
He shook his head again.
“Not me.”
He pointed around her. His emotes didn’t make any more sense than his speech.
“What? What do you want me to do?”
He opened his mouth but shut it again. Okay, the alligators were a problem, but not the problem. It was the one. From the other night.
“We need to stop the alpha?”
He snapped his fingers.
Wallace shifted underneath her feet. She couldn’t deal with alligators or the meathead right now.
