Dying Light

by Kory M. Shrum

  “He does that.”

  I turn and find Maisie leaning against the wall at the edge of the hallway. Light from her bedroom spills past her. Winston is still snoring in her room, his snores audible, even from here.

  “Who does what?” I ask, unsure if she is talking about Winston or Caldwell.

  “Dad.” She comes further into the room and sinks onto the sofa. “He leaves all of the time.”

  “He’s probably out clubbing baby seals.”

  She shrugs. “Probably.”

  This makes me look at her. I’m not sure what I expected her response to be, with me implying that her father is a monster. But I certainly didn’t expect her to be so…agreeable.

  I take a seat beside her. “Why are you locked in this tower?”

  Maisie considers me a moment longer and then pulls a pillow into her lap. “He says it’s for my protection.”

  “From what?”

  She shrugs.

  “I guess you’re lucky that he cares enough to protect you. He tried to have me beheaded in a basement once. He also gassed me to death and buried me alive.”

  Her eyes go wide.

  “You must be his favorite.”

  “I’m not his favorite.” Maisie looks down at her lap, taking a sudden interest in the design on the throw pillow. “Mom is. He tolerates me because she loves me so much.”

  This is a sad insight, if it’s true. “Sorry.”

  She shrugs again. “He isn’t my favorite either.”

  A silence grows between us, thickening with each passing second. I’m not sure how to break it. Then my stomach grumbles. “I don’t suppose they actually feed us up here, do they?”

  Maisie raises her voice. “I can make breakfast. It’s about the only thing I can cook actually.”

  She goes into the kitchen and starts making food. Eggs, bacon, toast. A jug of orange juice is pulled out of the fridge and handed to me, no glass.

  I twist off the lid and gulp it down, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

  Maisie is scowling at me.

  I hold out the OJ bottle. “Sorry, did you want some?”

  She looks from my sticky mouth to the wet rim of the jug. “No, thanks.”

  A moment later, two plates are set on the dining table in one corner of the great room. I eat everything but the bacon, which I toss onto Maisie’s plate.

  Her eyebrows arch. “You don’t eat bacon?”

  “Nope. I’ve done so many different death replacements that I can’t help but see meat, as well, meat. I can’t bring myself to eat it.”

  “You don’t eat bacon,” she says again, in awe. “No wonder you’re not his favorite.”

  “Have your quad all mashed up like ground chuck on the pavement and I’d like to see you eat meat.”

  She shoves a whole piece of bacon into her mouth and smiles.

  What a little shit. I can’t help but smile back at the kid.

  I push my empty plate away from me.

  “So what’s that shiny purple thing around you?”

  “A chastity belt. I’ll tell you about them when you’re older.”

  She frowns at my evasion.

  I change the subject. “How long do you think we’re going to be locked in this tower? I don’t really understand why we’re here.”

  “Because the only way in and out is through Dad. It’s impregnable.”

  “Uh, I think you mean impenetrable. But yes, you want everything impregnable where sixteen-year-old daughters are concerned.”

  She doesn’t smile at my joke.

  I decide to test her, see how much she knows about what’s going on. “So we’re supposed to wait here until…what? What are we waiting for?”

  She pushes her own plate away. “Until everyone is dead.”

  Chapter 37

  Ally

  Gloria is packing up when I walk into the room with a duffle full of Jesse’s stuff. Her sketchbook is protruding from the top of her own bag as she slings it over a shoulder.

  “So we’re leaving now?” I ask. “Honestly, I can’t tell if we are coming or going. I feel like we are running all over the place and not getting anything done. First we try to leave, and Jesse disappears on us. Then Jason chases us all over the city, and here we are again, back where we started. I hope you saw something helpful in your drawing. I want to meet this backup already and go get Jesse.”

  “That’s what we’re doing now.”

  “Thank god.” I gather up my bags, in addition to Jesse’s. “Let’s go then.”

  Nikki catches up to us in the lobby, and I swear under my breath. Gloria cuts me a side glance.

  “I’ll get the car,” she says. “Meet me out front.”

  No one tries to stop Gloria from exiting the building. No sedation darts or dramatics. She exits just fine while I’m waiting for Nikki to stop running toward me.

  She slows when there’s just a couple of feet between us. “I know you’re mad, but hear me out.”

  We walk together across the grand lobby toward the doors. Outside, several people are rushing off to whatever comes next for them—work, home, school. They pay us no attention whatsoever. In a place as big as Chicago, two women standing on a sidewalk talking is hardly noteworthy.

  “You lied about the cameras, and you lied about protecting Jesse. You knew from the beginning that I joined all this because I wanted to make Jesse safer. I wanted more protection, not to suit her up and send her to the front lines.”

  “I didn’t lie,” she says. “I wasn’t allowed to tell you. That’s not the same.”

  I give her a hard stare. “That’s lying. You can’t expect me to spend all my time and energy

  guessing what you haven’t told me.”

  Her fingers brush my arm. “I’m sorry. You have to understand, that given my position, I can’t tell you everything.”

  “So there are still things I don’t know?” I ask, my mind reeling. “You could be planning to throw Jesse in a volcano to appease the gods for all I know.”

  Nikki tugs at her ponytail, tightening it. “No one is throwing Jesse into a volcano. It’s not like that.”

  “How am I supposed to know? You don’t tell me everything.”

  A taxi flies past us and we step a little farther away from the curb. I tug my coat around me tighter. It’s really too thin for a Chicago winter.

  “I told you I love you, and I mean it. I hope we have a chance for a life together. It’s what I hope for most in the world.”

  “How can you love me and lie to me? That’s not how it works, Nick.”

  She looks out over the crowded street.

  “You’re as bad as she is.” When she meets my gaze her eyes are hard.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Jesse spends all her energy trying to fight what she is. Sure, she’ll run into a burning building if you tell her to. Or play the hero for a paycheck. But she’s so noncommittal about it. You can talk to her for five minutes and know she doesn’t think her actions mean anything. Worse, it’s like she’s annoyed that she’s got this job to do.”

  “Tell me how you really feel.” My temper flares. I take a breath before speaking again. “You think Jesse isn’t enthusiastic enough about dying, or being your lackey?”

  “She came here to Chicago because you told her to. Not because she cares about what happens to the world. She isn’t altruistic.”

  A gold Cadillac pulls out of the garage and slides up the street toward us. I watch her come with a mixture of frustration and relief.

  “Who took advantage of that? To you and Jeremiah, I’m some tool you can use to make Jesse jump through hoops.”

  “Aren’t you?” Nikki asks. Her eyes go wide. “No. You’re not. I don’t know why I said that.”

  “Because you’re mad. I’m mad. We’ll have to do this later. I have to go save Jesse.”

  “Of course you do.”

  I yank open the door of Gloria’s car and stand there waiting for her to say whatever she thin
ks she needs to.

  Gloria frowns at my hesitation. “We need to go.”

  “Bye, Nick.”

  Nikki throws up her hands and turns back toward the building. I’m about to close the door when she says, “I do love you, Al. For whatever that’s worth.”

  Chapter 38

  Jesse

  “When you say ‘until everyone dies’, do you mean everyone?” I ask. I mean, I need clarification.

  “He’s going to destroy the city,” Maisie says as casually as ‘he’s going to pick up milk.’ “A lot of people will die.”

  “Chicago? He’s going to destroy all of Chicago?”

  “My mom told me that it’s important I stay in the tower until ‘it’s all said and done’.”

  Maisie uses air quotes around the part she stole from Georgia.

  My legs feel all wobbly so I sit down at the kitchen table. “So he locked you here to keep you out of the way?”

  “My mom asked him to.” Maisie shrugs “She doesn’t want me to get hurt.”

  “What does your mom do?” Besides suck the life out of everyone. “Is she his glorified secretary or what?”

  “No.” Maisie’s brow pinches together. “She’s awesome. She has powers like you, and she helps him fight the bad people that come to the city trying to kill us.”

  “Why would they kill you? You’re a kid.”

  “My mom says that kids die in war every day.”

  Fair enough. I glance down at my phone again. There’s still no service.

  “Is there no way to send a message out? I have people I love out there. I need to warn them that he’s going to like, blow up the city, or whatever.”

  “I have email.”

  “That’ll work.” I jump up, excited. “Where’s your computer?”

  Maisie rolls her eyes at me but retrieves her laptop from her bedroom. She places it on the dining table in front of me, but as I reach for it, I immediately see a problem. The laptop and table are shoved backwards as I try to use the computer.

  “You can’t send an email with your shield thingy up. Hey, be careful,” Maisie whines.

  “Right.” I frown at the screen. “Show me your hands.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it.”

  “God, okay, weirdo. Don’t spaz.”

  Her hands are empty.

  I consider my situation and decide that warning Ally is worth the risk that this kid is secretly a ninja and about to stab me or something. I drop my shield, count to ten. Nothing happens. So I open a web browser and go to my email.

  It’s not a beautiful letter or anything. It’s short and to the point, in case the computer blows up in my face, or Caldwell pops up behind me with a syringe.

  In The Needle with Maisie and Winston. Not harmed. Caldwell planning to blow up the city. Get out NOW.

  I hit send.

  I don’t get any failure to deliver message, so I exhale the breath I’m holding.

  “Okay,” I say with a little optimism. “That went okay. Can I send another email?”

  Maisie shrugs. “Whatever.”

  I pause in my typing. “Wait. How do we have wifi but no cell service?”

  Maisie shrugs. “Dad designed this place. How should I know?”

  I let it go and type up another email. This one is for Lane.

  We haven’t talked in a long time. Should we?

  As soon as the computer makes the little whoosh sound, acknowledging my email has been sent, I sign out and close the computer.

  “Who’s Lane? Is he your boyfriend?” she asks with a vicious smile.

  “Wow, you really must be my little sister. You’re sure annoying like one.”

  She smiles bigger. “If he’s your boyfriend, why hasn’t he called you or emailed or texted you? Why isn’t he trying to rescue you?”

  Her words sting. “First of all, I feel like it’s important that you know girls don’t need to be saved by boys. Secondly, mind your own business.”

  She harrumphs and falls onto the sofa. “Whatever. He’s probably ugly.”

  “He’s not ugly.” I get up from the kitchen and join her on the sofa. “He’s gorgeous. He’s got these sexy curls and blue eyes. Ocean blue, and when he wears this button down blue shirt I got him, it kills me.”

  “Why’d you get it for him if it kills you?”

  “It’s an expression. It’s horrible. In a good way.”

  She looks doubtful.

  “Anyway, for your information, he’s really, really pretty.”

  “Tall? Dark and handsome?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Winston jumps onto the sofa and nuzzles between my legs. Maisie looks a little disappointed that it wasn’t her lap he chose. I’m thrilled. Damn right he loves me more.

  “He’s probably got a funny looking nose or something.”

  “He does not.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Oh geez-zus, I’ll show you.” I scroll through my pictures on my phone, noting my low battery. Without a charger it won’t last much longer, but I have enough time to choose a suitable picture of Lane. He was stretched out on the sofa, curled around Winston, looking up at me with come hither eyes. Clothes on, totally PG. “Look. See? His nose is great.”

  Maisie reaches out and takes the phone. Her face drops. “This is Lane?”

  “Gorgeous, right?”

  Her brow furrows. “This guy? This is your boyfriend?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised.” My temper flares. “I’m not hideous.”

  Maisie gives me back my phone, but the confused look on her face lingers.

  “I’m going to bed,” she says.

  “We just had breakfast.”

  “I have a headache.” She stands and marches toward her bedroom. Winston dutifully trots after her, slipping through the crack in the door before she closes it all the way.

  I look down at the picture of Lane in my hand. He looks fine. It’s a great picture.

  I frown at the closed bedroom door. “What the hell was that about?”

  Chapter 39

  Ally

  “They’ll be here.” Gloria seems impervious to the cold, while I stand shivering on a street corner.

  I’ve buttoned my coat up to my chin, tucking half of my face into the collar. It’s the wind. Chicago wind cuts right through me.

  “Can we get a coffee? I feel like I need a warm drink in my hands.”

  “Go get coffee.” Gloria nods at the Starbucks across the street. “I’ll wait here.”

  I leave Gloria on the corner outside the Art Institute, next to a homeless man holding a sign. I glance back and see her giving money to the man with the cardboard sign. He thanks her and hobbles away to find another patron.

  The coffee shop is warm. I exhale and unbutton my coat. I want the heat to soak into my bones and warm me through and through. The windows have Christmas trees and gingerbread men painted on the glass and holiday wishes written in soap markers for all the customers to see.

  Christmas music seeps through the radio, some modern version of Jingle Bells, which is far sexier than I think it was ever intended to be, sung by some young diva of the hour. A man in a Starbucks apron is handing out samples of biscotti, wearing a charming Santa hat.

  Christmas.

  I’d completely forgotten. I haven’t been in any stores blaring Christmas tunes. I haven’t been in front of a television advertising a thousand commercials for what I should buy this holiday season. Even in Gloria’s car, the radio is always tuned to an AM radio talk show.

  I’ve seen the lights around town, and acknowledged the holiday in my mind, but it didn’t hit me until now that I have no plans. I haven’t sent my parents or brother or friends holiday cards. I haven’t bought Jesse a gift. I haven’t done a single thing to celebrate the Christmas season.

  I don’t even know what Jesse wants for Christmas.

  I doubt she’s thought about it either.

  “What would you like, miss?”


  I pull my wallet out of my pocket. “A grande white hot chocolate, please.”

  “Name?”

  “Ally.”

  “$4.28.”

  I hand her my card and turn at the sound of the bell ringing. Gloria steps into the store with two people in tow. A very tall guy, maybe Egyptian, with dark hair, eyes, and skin. His beard is trimmed and as black as his glasses. A girl with a sleek, stylish bob comes to stop beside him. She wears a fuchsia coat that hits high on her thighs, an inch of lace petticoat exposed beneath. She’s also wearing matching knee-high boots. If her legs are cold, she doesn’t show it.

  “Ma’am, your card?”

  “Oh, thank you.” I take the card from the cashier and slip it back into my wallet.

  Instead of walking down the counter to the where the drinks are retrieved, I go to the threesome. I must say, this duo doesn’t look like backup.

  The girl isn’t any bigger than me, and the guy is a little on the scrawny side.

  “This is—”

  “Ah, no names,” the boy says, in a crisp English accent. Not Egyptian then. And his voice is much more masculine than I imagined. So he isn’t a boy at all. “Not here.”

  “You know me, don’t you?” the girl asks, leaning forward and taking my hand. “By reputation if nothing else.”

  She stares hard into my eyes, a mischievous smile on her face. “Jessup and I have a past. I took a little vacation and voila. Here I am.”

  “Ray—”

  “No names,” the boy says again. “Honestly, if I have to black out another block in this city, someone is going to notice.”

  “Yes,” the girl says with a smile. “I knew you’d heard of me.”

  Rachel. Oh I’ve heard of her, and I know how she came to be Brinkley’s charge too. I don’t think Rachel realizes how much I know about that. She might be embarrassed to know how much Brinkley revealed about her in his journal.

  The image of Rachel tied to a bed while she’s killed repeatedly for a snuff film burns the back of my eyes. Then Rachel, first becoming a partis, sitting in her living room floor, carving herself up.

  Rachel holds up her wrist. “I kept the bracelet though.”