by D. Laine
How would we move past this and fight the uncertain future that awaited us?
I had no answers by the time I finished my shower. I was left with no physical reminder of what I had endured over the past month, but no amount of clean water could wash away what I had seen nor the memories I would carry with me forever.
SHAVEN AND MINTY FRESH, I returned to find Jake with a stack of clean clothes tucked under his arm and an expectant look on his face.
“What’s taking you so long?” I asked him. “I figured you’d have taken one of the other stalls by now. It’s completely deserted in there.”
“I thought it would be best if one of us were here when Thea comes back,” he answered.
“She’s not back yet?”
“No,” Jake replied as I moved toward her adjoining door.
Despite his answer, I knocked anyway. I pressed my ear to the door to listen for movement. Her suite was silent, but I clearly heard a scoff from Jake’s open doorway behind me. I turned to find Maria glaring at me.
“You’re a real dick, you know that?” she leered. Whirling around on Jake, she added, “Both of you.”
“What did we do this time?” I groaned.
“Seriously?” Her eyes bulged. “You two idiots put the rest of us in danger! What were you thinking, bringing along a tag? We were holed up in a mine with her for days, and you never—”
“Exactly.” I cut Maria off sharply. “She’s had the mark for weeks. She’s never matured, because she’s one of us. Just because she has the mark—”
“Are you positive she can’t turn?” Maria fired.
“Spence confirmed what I already knew,” I answered stiffly. “He’s letting her go, giving her quarters with the rest of us.”
“You think he’s going to let her go?” Shaking her head, Maria laughed bitterly. “This girl has turned you into such a gullible chump. There’s no way Spence is going to let a tag up here with the rest of us. He’ll lock her away on level seven to study her—along with all the others.”
My stomach churned at her mention of the bottom level of the compound. We all knew it was down there, like some forbidden Ripley’s Believe It Or Not exhibit, but no one below a senior command level was permitted through the door to that level. Though none of us had seen exactly what was down there, we had all heard the rumors.
Tags. Those captured in the field and brought back to the base to be poked and prodded and studied in the agency’s attempt to understand them and determine how to kill them.
But they were real tags—ones that had developed into flesh-craving monsters. Tags that had activated a few weeks ago with Yellowstone’s eruption and the transition into the second stage of the apocalypse.
Thea certainly didn’t belong with them, mark or no mark. She wouldn’t survive five minutes. No way would Spence put her down there.
I glanced at Jake as Maria sauntered out of the room with a satisfied sway of her hips. She was my friend, but sometimes . . .
Sometimes I really disliked that girl.
“He wouldn’t . . .” My eyes narrowed on Jake. “Would he?”
“Nah.” Jake downplayed his own concern with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I think I would have sensed her fear if . . .”
“Yeah.” I drifted toward Jake’s door and peered down one end of the hallway, then the other, as Maria disappeared into her own suite three doors away. I turned to gaze longingly at Thea’s door.
I decided to try a different approach, and knocked again from the hallway with the hope that, if she was hiding inside, she would open the door if she thought I was someone else. When that didn’t work, I tried pleading.
I had no shame.
“Come on, Thea. Just let us know you’re okay. Please?”
I got nothing but silence in return, and pressed my forehead to the door with a sigh of defeat. I was about to give up when I heard her voice. Not from inside, but behind me.
“How long did you know?”
I turned to find her standing in the hallway. Damp hair fell past her shoulders. The smudges that had covered her face were gone, and she was wearing fresh, clean clothes. She smelled heavenly, and looked like an angel.
An avenging angel, and I was the target of her wrath.
“That’s what you were keeping from me,” she concluded. “That I was one of them. You—you couldn’t even tell me that I was one of them!”
“Thea, I’m—”
“I was forced into the role of a pincushion for some wannabe nurse who didn’t know how to find a vein for the past hour. I was prodded and poked and tested”—her fingers formed a quotations sign with obvious scorn—“by a roomful of idiots who wouldn’t recognize their own asshole from a hole in the ground. Of course, this was all after they decided that I wasn’t going to rip their throats out and that the handcuffs they had me in were a little overkill.”
My eyes narrowed. “Handcuffs? What—”
“So in case you were wondering, it’s a little too late for a pathetic ‘I’m sorry’ from you,” she finished with a snarl.
I nodded at the floor. “I just keep screwing this up, don’t I?”
“Yeah, you sure do.”
“Thea, I—”
“Get away from my door. Just leave me alone.”
I moved away from the door, allowing her to approach. But I wasn’t about to leave her alone. “Thea . . .”
My hand reached out to touch her shoulder, and she spun around with clenched fists.
“I said stay away from me!” At her outburst, Jake stumbled out into the hallway. She jabbed a finger at him. “You, too. Both of you, leave me alone.”
Neither of us moved as she slammed the door in my face. I stared at the floor as Jake strolled up beside me.
“You sense her now?” I asked him.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“She means it,” he muttered.
“That’s what I thought.”
As if it hadn’t been hard enough convincing Thea to trust me again, I had really gone and screwed everything up now.
9
THEA
A significant part of the next day was spent with my face pressed into an unfamiliar pillow in my new room. At least the bed was comfortable. There were moments where I managed to sleep, only to wake up in a strange place, surrounded by people I didn’t know, and remember that David was dead.
There were times I stumbled out of the bedroom, only because I feared I was on my way to developing bed sores. My tears covered nearly every inch of my new home.
It was a nice suite, even if it housed an entire colony of those long, skinny bugs that scuttled across the floor on hundreds of tiny legs, and the television displayed nothing but a blurry blue line when I turned it on. Not that I expected to find a Game of Thrones marathon to distract me from reality.
This was the apocalypse. Everything I knew was gone. My family—the only parents I had ever known—and all my friends were dead. Even my own identity was gone. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be now.
The morning of the second day, some big dude decked out in an all-black uniform came to my door and escorted me to the training facility for more “testing.” No needles this time. They wanted to see what I could do.
I wowed them with my target shooting, but suspected I fell significantly short of their expectations on everything else. Though I supposedly had the blood of an assassin, I didn’t feel like one. Once I was dismissed, I retreated to my suite. I made it back just in time for another emotional breakdown.
My head was buried in the welcoming cushions of the sofa when a soft knock sounded at the door. Not the main door—but the one that connected me to Jake. The one I had kept locked since I shut it nearly thirty-six hours ago.
A few times now, Jake had brought me food. He always left it at the door, for me to retrieve once he left to go wherever it was he went during the day. My stomach growled in expectation at the sound of his voice, but this time, he wasn’t ringing the di
nner bell.
“I’m going to be gone for a little while,” he spoke through the closed door. “Me and Dylan, we won’t be here if you . . .”
Sitting up on the sofa, I swiveled at the waist to face the door.
“Spence is sending us out,” he continued. “It’s a short mission. More like a perimeter check. Nothing big. We’ll be back tonight, but I thought you should know we won’t be here. Just in case you . . .”
My heart pounded through the silence that followed. Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the door separating us. I felt a pull—a deeply-rooted need to see him. My fingers clenched the cushions beneath me as my instincts warred with my will.
“I’m really sorry, Thea,” Jake sighed. “Neither of us wanted to hurt you. I hope you know that, and can bring yourself to forgive us.”
I pushed to a wobbly stand and turned to face the door. I took one step. Then two.
“Make sure you eat. I won’t be here to bring you something back from the mess hall.” There was a soft thud against the door that I suspected had come from Jake’s forehead. “Take care of yourself.”
I shuffled the few remaining steps to the door. Wiping at the tears on my face with one hand, I reached for the doorknob with the other. I froze there in deliberation.
I hesitated too long. The sound of Jake’s other door shutting, and the sound of footsteps passing by in the hallway confirmed that he had left.
He and Dylan.
They were gone back out there, where the blood-thirsty tags roamed, and I hadn’t said a word to either of them.
I PACED the suite for hours. After a while, I didn’t even feel hungry. My empty stomach churned and twisted from so much anxiety, I knew anything I ingested would come right back up.
I glanced at the red numbers on the wall so many times my vision started to blur. Fourteen hours—going on fifteen—they had been gone now.
It was nearly one o’clock in the morning. Everything hurt—my legs, head, stomach—but I couldn’t sleep. I had tried . . . and failed miserably.
Every noise that came from the hallway—a wide range of voices belonging to faces I had never seen and footsteps of those I had never met—sent me clambering for the door adjoining Jake’s suite. Each time I had been left disappointed twisted the knot in my gut tighter.
But this time . . .
I knew the heavy thump of boots passing by my door belonged to Jake long before I heard his door open and shut. I darted across the sitting room. My hand automatically curled around the doorknob before I yanked it away.
I held my breath and pressed my ear to the door. No voices. One set of footsteps.
Where was Dylan? Why wasn’t he back yet? Was he okay?
When I finally couldn’t stand not knowing anymore, I disengaged the lock and swung the door open. Jake looked up from the bag he was unpacking, his mouth unhinged.
“Is Dylan alright?” I asked quickly, before he could say anything.
Jake turned toward me with a faint smile. “He was hungry, so he made a stop at the mess hall first. He’ll be back soon if you—”
“No. I don’t—I just—” I nodded brusquely before stepping back into my suite. “Good night.”
I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I quietly shut the door.
Finally reassured of their safety, I drifted toward the bedroom under the weight of fatigue. I was stopped by the sound of a soft knock behind me. A shadow moved in the hallway, barely visible under the door, then disappeared.
Pure curiosity enticed me to crack the door open. No one was there, but at my feet, I found a wrapped sandwich and a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips on a plate. Stepping into the hallway, I glimpsed a pair of dark boots before they disappeared inside suite 514.
Peering down at the sandwich, a wry smile tugged at my lips. “Thank you, Dylan.”
HIS LIPS ARE warm on my neck as they inch toward my ear. I roll my head to give him more room, because my God, does his mouth feel incredible on me. Coming in a close second is the feel of his naked flesh under my roaming hands. I want him—again—and I don’t want to wait.
“I’m already looking forward to later,” he whispers . . .
Later never came.
The pleasant dream disintegrated as I stretched awake. The cruel reality I was forced to live in now surrounded me like a suffocating blanket. Reality knocked on my door like an obnoxious door-to-door salesman who couldn’t take a hint.
“Leave me alone, Dylan!” I shouted at the wall.
I grumbled as I buried my head into my pillow with every intention of stealing another few minutes of sleep. Preferably dream-free this time. Even if it had been a good one.
“It’s not Dylan this time.” Jake’s voice drifted through the door. “I, uh . . . I have something I need to give you. Spence’s orders.”
I flopped onto my back with a groan. “Can’t you just leave it there for me?” I shouted, then tacked on in a whisper, “Like you leave me food every morning.”
“Uh . . . yeah. Okay. Sure.”
I didn’t need the twin-bond thing we were supposed to have to hear the disappointment in Jake’s voice. A flood of shame washed over me.
“I’m the worst sister in the world,” I muttered to myself.
With a sigh, I rolled out of bed and approached the adjoining door. My hesitation was brief this time, and I swung it open as Jake was walking away. At my feet were a pile of clothes and the usual breakfast spread.
Glancing up to find his eyes widened on me, I offered a weak smile. “I think I need to learn where the mess hall is.”
He shrugged casually. “I don’t mind.”
I nodded as I stole a glance around his suite. It was identical to mine, aside from the pot of brewed coffee he had on his kitchen counter. The aroma instantly made my mouth water.
Jake followed the direction of my gaze and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “You want a cup? I have to make extra for—I have plenty if you want some.”
I nibbled my lip in contemplation. With a jerky nod of my head, I ambled farther into his suite. “I would love a cup.”
Jake took off like a third-string quarterback given his first big shot at the starting position. “You like sugar? Cream? They don’t give us any of the fancy flavored stuff, but I—”
“Plain cream and sugar is fine.” I scooped the food and clothes off the floor. I found several pairs of all-black camo—same I had seen a few of the other assassins wearing around here—in my size. “What’s with the uniforms?”
“Spence issued them to you. He uh . . .” Jake glanced up with a grimace. “He wants you to come up to the mothership with us today.”
“Mothership?”
“Sorry, it’s an inside joke. I forgot you—” Jake shook his head in frustration. “It’s what we all called the command center when we were younger. It kind of stuck. You’ll understand when you see it.”
“And Spence wants me to go with you for . . . what exactly?”
“I don’t know. He just requested your presence.” Jake approached me with a steaming cup of coffee and a smile. “You can request a coffee pot and all the fixings for your suite, you know. As long as they have it in supply, they won’t give you much grief.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I took a careful sip and my eyes nearly rolled into the back of my head at the taste of the elusive pleasure I thought I would never enjoy again.
“Or . . . you could always just come over here,” Jake amended quickly.
Again, no bond was needed to hear the sound of hope in his voice. It tore at a small piece of my heart. A heavy dose of guilt rushed to the surface as we studied each other quietly.
Then we started talking at the same time.
“I haven’t—”
“I know—”
We both stopped to grin at each other.
“You first,” Jake suggested.
“No, really . . .” I sagged in relief. “You go. Please.”
The smile on Jake’s face ev
aporated. “I know you’ve been sad. I can . . .” He shook his head at the floor, then peered up at me with a grimace. “Don’t be mad, but I can sense it. Sometimes. Not all the time. I don’t want you to think I know what you’re feeling all the time, because I don’t. But when you’re sad . . . or scared . . . or mad . . . I know. Sometimes.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “I really should have gone first.”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m not . . . I guess I’m not very good at this.”
“You’re better at it than I am.” I turned toward the sofa in his sitting room. It looked identical to the one in my suite—and its softness cushioned me just like mine did when I sat. Peering up at Jake, I asked him what I had intended to ask him. “I haven’t been a very good sister, have I?”
He smiled bashfully as he took a seat on the other end of the sofa. “Considering I went most of my life without a sister, I don’t really know if I’m qualified to answer that.”
Since first meeting Jake a month ago in Montana, I had questioned everything I knew about my childhood. The people who raised me had been good parents—but they weren’t mine. It had taken some time for me to be able to mutter those words . . . to myself. It had taken me longer to want to know the truth, and I saw the opportunity to get it now.
I pulled the box of worms out from under the bed and opened the lid.
“What happened?” I asked Jake quietly. “When we were kids. How . . .”
Jake turned to me with a wry smile. “We were playing at the park not far from our house. It was practically in our backyard, so Mom let us go whenever we wanted. As long as we stayed together . . .”
“Where was that?” I interjected. “Where did we live?”
Jake’s smile widened at the memory. “Tennessee.”
“Wow.” I had never been there—or so I had thought. To myself, I muttered, “I was born in Tennessee.”
“You wanted me to push you on the swing set.” Just as easily as his smile appeared, it vanished. “It was my fault, because I wasn’t with you. I wanted to practice on the monkey bars, because I could never make it all the way across without falling. When I finally made it, I looked for you on the swings, and you were gone.”
