by Kate Morris
“…if you go to work, please stop temporarily. If you go to school, you will no longer report in. Our public school system is also being temporarily shut down until this is able to be controlled. Most schools and public buildings are being sanitized as we speak. It is imperative if you or someone you know has this flu, you immediately report to a hospital or medical site as soon as possible so as not to infect others. If you must go out in public, please wear the face masks and rubber gloves available at every medical site, pharmacy, police station, and hospital in your area as they have all received shipments of those care of our military. We recommend for the time being not going out unless it is of the utmost importance. This virus is not only transferred by touch; it is airborne. At this time, we will not be able to perform immunity tests as it would take our researchers and healthcare workers away from patients who need care. Prevention is the best medicine in this situation.”
“At least we know Alex is immune then, right?” she asked, to which he shrugged.
“…there is still much to go over, but anything I haven’t answered should be available on the website,” he said and repeated the site’s address. “At this time, I’ll introduce you to General Allerton to discuss the military’s role in this.”
A grave-looking man in a military uniform came to the podium next. He warned of an increased military presence in communities, which Wren noticed today near that shopping area. Then it was questions about food and water supply. He said that deliveries to grocery stores and medical supplies to pharmacies were going to be supervised by military escorts and that people should not panic. Too late. He tried to assure the reporters asking questions that law and order would still prevail. Someone in the audience asked if the sick people with RF2 were zombies.
“Zombies?” Elijah asked. “God, people are stupid.”
She grinned and said, “They’ve watched too many dumb television shows and movies about them. I guess it’s just easier to compartmentalize something like this if they can label it as a monster and not Aunt Betty.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
The questions about zombies didn’t stop, though. One reporter even asked if people should shoot them in the brain.
“Good Lord,” Elijah swore. “What the hell is wrong with people? This isn’t a video game.”
The general answered quickly, “No, just restrain them as best as you can and call the police.”
“Restrain them?” Elijah said. “You’re lucky if you can just get the hell away from them.”
She remembered the woman in the pharmacy, the man who’d stabbed people at the festival, the one who’d slammed into her in the alley, the people who were trying to get into Elijah’s house, and the one they suspected in the school that night. She shivered. Elijah must’ve sensed it because he wrapped one huge, strong arm around her.
The general revealed that it was Russia that released this flu by accident with their intention of hitting America with it. Reporters immediately began asking if the United States was going to war with Russia for this, but he answered evasively. When the reporters kept pushing for answers on this, they concluded the press conference and left the room.
The news channel immediately brought out ‘experts’ in their fields of medicine, emergency planning, and a whole slew of people who thought they knew how to handle this. It quickly turned into an argument. He turned it off, and they sat in silence and mostly darkness for a few minutes.
“This is really happening,” she remarked quietly when he stayed silent for so long. It made her nervous.
“Yeah,” Elijah finally responded. “I guess it is.”
They sat quietly for a while again until he turned to her.
“I think what we saw today is nothing compared to what is coming.”
“With crime?”
He nodded. “Yeah, crime, murder, the sickness, all of it. And I also think the principal knew that.”
Wren couldn’t help the shudder that passed through her. Elijah pulled a lightweight blanket from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her. Then he ran his hands up and down her arms.
“I’m not going to let anything like that happen to you. Not ever again, okay?”
“You don’t understand,” she said, wishing she could explain.
“Doesn’t matter, Wren,” he corrected and tipped her chin back so that she’d have to look at him. “I want you with me. If you can’t be with me at all times, I want you to stay in touch with your phone. Don’t ignore my texts. I think you should stick by your uncle’s side or mine at all times.”
“I have a gun, Elijah,” she reminded him. “You’re not…you’re not my protector.”
“I know, but it doesn’t matter,” he said and scooted back from her. “If they start letting criminals out of jail, what do you think they’re gonna do?”
“They’re only supposed to be releasing the non-violent ones.”
“Some people who are non-violent criminals only got that status ‘cuz their lawyers pled down the charges to that. Either way, there’s about to be a lot more criminally-minded people roaming the streets. Plus, we’ve already got the…the night crawlers or whatever you want to call them. And on top of all that, people like Russo are gonna come out of the woodwork. Mark my words. This is going to get really unsafe.”
“Do you think they’ll find a cure?”
He frowned hard and said, trying to soften the blow, “I don’t think so, Wren. If this wiped out a hundred thousand people just here in the States, imagine other more populated countries and continents. I don’t think eight-hundred thousand people with RF2 have died. I don’t think those ones die. I think they’ve had to kill them. The other hundred thousand probably had RF1 and did die. Like when Alex was in the coma. They probably didn’t ever wake up.”
“If they can’t find a cure for RF2, then they could outnumber the healthy. We could all be infected.”
“Unless we’re immune, which we won’t know.”
“You’ve been exposed to it close-up. More than once. Me, too. Maybe we’ll be some of the lucky ones and won’t get it.”
“Maybe,” he said in a way that gave her no hope. “I just think staying together is the key. Nobody’s going to survive this on their own.”
“I don’t know if that’s going to be an option for me, Elijah,” she said and rested her hand on his thigh again. “My uncle…”
“Screw that. I don’t care what he says. If this gets worse, I want you with me. I…” he began, clutched her hand tightly in his still on his thigh, and hesitated, “I feel very anxious when you aren’t with me. I feel out of control, like I can’t help you if you aren’t by my side.”
“Elijah, I’m not your responsibility. I’m Jamie’s.”
“You’re also eighteen,” he reminded her.
“That’s not it,” she said. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me,” he requested.
Wren considered it for a fleeting second but shook her head.
“Just tell me, Wren,” he said. “Soon, none of this is going to matter.”
“No, it will always matter. It will never go away.”
“Then we’ll tackle it together, whatever it is.”
Something nagged at the back of her mind, something she’d been considering for a while since this all started. She wasn’t sure if she had the courage to ask him.
“It’s too dangerous. You could be harmed,” she said and squeezed his hand gently. Her phone buzzed, causing her to jump. It was Jamie. She answered it simply, “Yes?”
She sighed at the news her uncle gave her because she knew it meant their time here was officially over. They would be leaving within forty-eight hours.
Chapter Twenty-three
“It’s over,” she announced when she hung up.
Elijah was confused, “What is?”
“This. Our friendship or whatever.”
Elijah felt a moment of pure panic pound against his chest wall. “No.
That’s unacceptable, Wren. Why?”
“There was a ping,” she told him.
Elijah shot her a speculative look. “A ping? What’s that even mean?”
She stood and walked over to the windows where she closed the blinds and then the drapes. Then she drew her gun and held it down at her side.
“What the heck are you doing?” Elijah asked and rose slowly.
“Take off your clothes,” she said.
“Um…what?” he asked with a nervous chuckle.
This was getting strange. Those were probably the last words he ever expected to come out of her mouth. Did she want some sort of kinky at-gunpoint sex right now?
“I need to make sure you aren’t bugged.”
“Bugged?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Bugged. Listening device, whatever you call them here in the states.”
“Oh, like I’m wearing a wire? Why…”
“We only have forty-eight hours, maybe less together,” she said, to which he felt buoyed to move. She said it like she meant they’d be together the whole time in those forty-eight hours. “Do you want to stand here arguing? Take off your clothing, Elijah.”
She was making no attempt to hide her Australian accent now. It was clear as a bell. Maybe that was one of her walls coming down. He slowly removed his clothing and set them on the coffee table. Elijah felt a little self-conscience. He’d never had a girl order him to strip in front of him while holding a gun.
When he was down to his boxers, he paused. “I’m not removing these.”
“Fine,” she said and set the gun on the table beside her.
Wren approached and rested her hand on the center of his chest. He tried not to flinch from her cool fingers as they slid around, exploring the concaves of his pectorals and abdominals. He was reasonably sure this had nothing to do with checking to see if he was wearing a wire. And why would she want to know that? At the moment, he didn’t care. She walked around, keeping one of her hands on him until she was standing behind him. Then she circled back around, ducking under his arm.
“Satisfied?” he asked with a cocky smirk. Her aqua eyes narrowed up at him. “Are you taking yours off or was this just so you could cop a feel?”
“A ping is an alert,” she said in a matter of fact tone and took a step back.
“What kind of alert?” he asked, wishing she would’ve answered with something different, maybe that she actually was going to remove her clothing. No such luck.
“It’s when someone starts pulling up information on me or my family anywhere in the world. It means we’ve made a mistake, information leaked. Someone has been snooping.”
“Because of your uncle?”
Elijah was confused. None of what she was saying made sense. She shook her head.
“Jamie thinks Russo was snooping on me.”
“Obviously he had some sort of fascination with you,” he said.
She scowled. “Maybe. He knew about my gun, and that pissed him off.”
“Is that why I saw you arguing with him in the parking lot that day?”
“Yeah, he didn’t think I should be allowed to carry it at school, but he doesn’t get a say in that.”
“So, the school knew about your gun?”
“Just Russo.”
“Why would that be okay for a young girl to carry a gun inside a school? We go through metal detectors. It’s not exactly something that would be normal.”
“Not for most students. And I get exemption from the metal detector. That’s why those two cops never stopped me.”
“What makes you so special then?”
Wren frowned, “Special. That would indicate something good. I need my pistol for protection.”
“Protection from who?”
“Bad people,” she answered without actually answering.
“Tell me what the hell is going on,” he demanded in a more authoritative tone. If someone wanted to hurt her, he wanted to know.
“Someone in this region was digging up information on the interweb on me. They hit on something, and it sent out a ping. It alerted the authorities…”
“Wait, are you wanted by the law?”
She looked hurt. “What? No.”
“Then why…”
“Sit,” she indicated the sofa. She sat on the wide, padded ottoman in front of it. He pulled his jeans back on and sat across from her. “I’m not a criminal, Elijah.”
“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. It’s…”
“My father was,” she said.
Whoa. He held his judgment and encouraged her to keep going with a nod.
“He worked for the biggest drug dealing, organized crime family in Greece who was shipping their product all over Europe and Australia.”
“Whoa,” he said it out loud this time. “Your dad was a drug dealer?”
She shook her head, sending black waves over her shoulder artfully. “No, not my dad. He was their accountant. He was laundering it, cleaning it, making it look like a legitimate shipping business. He was an investment counselor. That’s how it started. He had a degree in accounting and specialized in investment portfolio management. Had a lot of big clients. Made a good name for himself. At first, I don’t think he knew what the…Greeks were doing. He just thought they were a normal family in the shipping business looking to invest their wealth. Or, at least, that’s what the officials told me. They told me that the mob forced my father to do their dirty laundry, so to speak.”
Wren sighed and ran her hands through her hair, brushing it back away from her, twisting it into a long tail, and pulling it back over her shoulder to rest like that.
“I’ve never told anyone about any of this, but I feel like I can trust you not to say anything…”
“If you trust me, why’d you make me strip to look for a wire?”
“Sorry. I had to be sure. I’ve been trained on being careful for four years. That’s all my life has been for the last four years. Every day. Every week. Every month at a new school. Never associating with anyone other than Jamie. Trust is hard for me, Elijah.”
His pride at being made to strip was hurt, but her admission of what her life had been like for the past for years made his shallow feelings seem silly.
“Where’s your dad now? Why are you with just your uncle?” Elijah had about another ten thousand questions running through his brain.
She took a deep, shaky breath and reached for his hand. Elijah obliged and squeezed hers gently. She was shaking like a leaf.
“My family’s dead, Elijah,” she confessed, her eyes welling with tears. “My father turned against the mob from Greece. He turned over evidence to the government in exchange for safety. Safety for myself, my mother, and my two siblings.”
“Shit,” he whispered, feeling the pain oozing from her.
“They found out. These people…” she paused and pulled her hand free. He guessed that contact was probably hard for her. “These people have connections in every government in the world, in every city, in every country. Even some of your top-level government people here in your country, Elijah. And someone told on my father for the deal he made. The government was getting ready to move us to a new country when it happened.”
“And they killed him for it?”
She nodded. “Yes. But they killed my whole family. I saw the ones who did it, too. It was the head of the crime family’s son and two of his friends who came to our house that night.”
Her eyes darkened and glassed over as memories assailed her.
“I was asleep. We all were. I woke up first. I heard someone in the house or something. I’ve always been a light sleeper, a bad sleeper, really. I knew it wasn’t a normal sound I heard that night, though, more than just the wind or the waves crashing. I sneaked out of my room and down the stairs. That’s when I saw one of the agents guarding our house dead on the floor of the entryway. We lived in a mansion, you see, right on the beach. My old life was nothing like this life I am forced to live now. I surfed, had
friends, went to a private school. We had a maid and a chef. We lived in the lap of luxury only crime could provide a person, only I was too young to understand that. I was only fourteen when it happened, when my world fell apart.”
“Jesus,” he swore. “Wren, I-I’m so sorry.”
“I sneaked back upstairs to get to my younger brother and sister. I was the oldest. My parents slept on the first floor, so I knew I couldn’t get to them. I didn’t make it to Maggie or Dylan’s rooms, though. The son spotted me and shot me in the back. Then I remember trying to crawl away. It was painful, too. He stepped over me and shot me again.”
She removed her hoodie and folded it. Setting that aside, Wren also pulled her long-sleeved tee over her head and folded it, as well. She was wearing a lot of layers. Last was her tank top. When she took it off, Elijah felt a swell of lust at the sight of her standing in front of him in a white lace bra but pushed those feelings down.
“Here,” she said, taking his hand in hers and extending his index finger only. Wren pressed it against the top of her ribs under her left breast where a small tattoo of a black sun was inked on her skin. “That’s where the first one came out. Tattoos help cover the scars. And here.” She turned slightly and showed him up higher on her actual shoulder blade another tattoo probably four inches long of a surfboard covering the ridge of a small scar. “That’s the second one.”
“Jesus. Son-of-a-bitch. Who could shoot a kid?”
“My brother was twelve, and our little sister was nine.”
“Did they…”
She nodded. “They shot them, too.”
“Man,” he said and left it at that because words were unable to express his outrage. “What’s the tattoo on your wrist? The compass with the weird letters?”
“My family’s initials. M for Maggie, my lil sis. D for Dylan, my brother. A for Annika, my mother, and E for Edward, my father. M.A.D.E. instead of north, south, east, west.”
