The System (Virulent Book 2)

by Shelbi Wescott

  “I had time to prepare for my wife’s death. I can’t decide which is worse…to know or not to know.”

  “Does it really matter?” Darla asked him and she pushed her bowl of soup away. She was no longer hungry.

  “No,” Dean answered. He tapped his fingers against the can. “No.” He sniffed. “Loss is loss.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Darla replied and she leaned back in the dining room chair. A breeze blew in through the kitchen. The CD Dean had plopped into the player carried a song into them—something soft and romantic, something that didn’t match her feelings. She listened to Teddy in the den, his imagination taking him to far off lands. She couldn’t wait for the next part of Ethan’s evening; she couldn’t wait for something to feel normal.

  They ate their soup with occasional lulls in speaking; the music filled in the silences. Then Ethan stopped, mid-bite, and looked up. The twinkle lights in the trees caught Ainsley in a perfect glow—her hair falling into her right eye. She looked up and caught his glance, and she slowly she tucked her hair behind her ear and narrowed her eyes.

  “You’re staring,” Ainsley replied and she slurped a noisy bite of soup off of her spoon. It was an exaggerated unladylike action. He knew she meant it as a warning. “Seriously. Stop.”

  Ethan put his own spoon down. And he blurted before he could help himself, “You’re beautiful.”

  “Shut up.”

  “No,” Ethan said and he shook his head. “You really are.”

  “Beautiful is not a word that boys like you say to girls like me. Unless we’re the only ones around, right?” She took another bite and rolled her eyes.

  “Hey now,” Ethan grumbled. He put down his spoon and looked at her. “It’s not like that.” It wasn’t. “And what do you mean boys like me?”

  “Boys. Like you. With girlfriends and charm.”

  “You think I’m charming?” Ethan asked and he pointed a finger at his own chest. Then he laughed straight up to the sky. “Funny, Ainsley. Real funny.”

  “Okay,” she said simply. And then she sat back and looked at him. “I am beginning to feel like this is just some big joke to you.”

  Ethan looked crushed. He opened his mouth to say something, but he felt a stab in his stomach and a pain travel across his chest. Buckling over, he slapped his hand over his mid-section and let out an involuntary gasp. Spots traveled into his sight and he tried to blink them away. In an instant, Ainsley was on her feet. She rushed over to him and spun his chair away from the table; kneeling down he put her hand against his forehead.

  “You’re hot,” she said.

  Ethan raised his head. His skin went clammy and he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. “Shut up,” he said back.

  “You are burning up,” she reworded. “You’re the worst patient. You can’t decide if you want to yell at me or hit on me.”

  The pain subsided and Ethan slowly sat back up. “Probably just the beans,” he said and he took a deep breath. “Sit down. Finish eating.”

  “It could be anything. A heart attack, blockage…”

  “Really, I feel better. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. I should get my mom—”

  “No!” Ethan snapped and he grabbed Ainsley’s arm. She looked at him to his hands and he released her. “Please? I want to finish this. I want to enjoy the rest of this night. It matters to me.”

  They paused and the music played in the background: The soft undertones of saxophone, the crooner singing smoothly.

  “I’m worried about you,” Ainsley said in a soft voice. “Do you see how everyone worked their tails off today to make this happen? That’s because they’re worried too.”

  “I thought it was because they believed in true love.”

  “Ethan—”

  He lowered his head. “The joking is just because…” he paused and looked back up. “How else am I supposed to go on like this? With everyone waiting around for me to die?”

  Ainsley didn’t say a word.

  “Are you done with dinner?” he asked, changing the subject, and he struggled to sit up. Once he was upright, he took a large breath and gave her an A-okay sign.

  She nodded. “Yes. And I’m done with the juice too. Let’s go in. You lay down. Thanks for dinner.” She made a move to leave, but he stopped her.

  “That’s not it,” he said. “What a lame date. Music and taco soup.”

  She bowed her head and took a deep breath. When she raised her head, her eyes were pleading, worried. “Here’s the thing, Ethan. I like you. I believe in you. And I want you to live, dammit. This scares me. You’re not well.”

  Tears welled in Ethan’s eyes. He felt the surge of emotion build in his chest; he hadn’t felt this close to losing it since he first saw Lucy bursting forth through their doors and barreling toward him—her joyous celebration at their reunion marred by his knowledge of what she was about to discover.

  “The world is awful. Dark,” Ethan said.

  “You’re forgetting the new rule,” Ainsley reminded him with a smile.

  “And I just wanted this. For all of us. So we could forget.”

  “It’s not fair to forget.”

  “What kind of future is this for us?” Ethan asked. He let a tear roll down his cheek, he didn’t care anymore. “What if no one comes?”

  “They’ll come for you,” Ainsley said and she patted his shoulder. “Your family won’t desert you.”

  “They’ve already deserted me,” he said and his voice rose, and trembled. “I have strangers who have seen me at my worst. It’s not supposed to be like that. You’re not supposed to be alone at the end. You’re supposed to have the people you love.” He wiped at his cheek angrily.

  The porch door swung open and closed and Ethan and Ainsley turned and saw Dean standing in the shadows. He was holding a beer can in his hand; he tilted his head back and finished it.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting,” Dean said and he watched as Ethan wiped his eyes. “I was just thinking you guys might be ready for the grand finale?” he asked and he stepped forward into the light.

  Ethan said they were. And Ainsley turned and looked at him, her eyes lingering.

  Dean walked over to the far part of the King yard—grabbing an extension cord, he unplugged the stereo and plugged in a video projector. The bright blue light from the projector illuminated a white sheet hung on the fence with white clamps. Ethan rolled over to the part of the yard where they had set up the equipment and pointed his finger toward the sheet.

  “Dinner and a movie,” he announced with pride.

  Ainsley brightened at the thought of a film. “You don’t know what kind of movies I like,” she teased.

  “Too bad,” he replied. “This part of the date is for everyone.”

  Darla, Teddy, and Joey poured out of the house and Doctor Krause was quickly on their heels. Even Darla had a smile on her face. She clapped Ethan on the shoulder and gave him a little squeeze.

  “Nicely done, kiddo,” she said. “Who would’ve thought, huh?”

  The group arranged pillows and beanbags, and out from the shadows, Dean and Joey helped bring forward a couch. Together they helped Ethan move from his chair to the sofa, propping his leg up. Ainsley sat down below him. She put her arm up along the side, and Ethan slipped his hand into hers.

  She tried to tug away, but he gripped firmer.

  “Fake date,” she reminded him. But Ethan ignored her.

  Dean stood before the blue screen and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Whispering Water’s neighborhood showing of Star Wars.”

  Teddy jumped up and down, his face beaming with pure excitement. “Oh, it’s real! It’s real!” he said and then he rushed up to Ethan and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Thank you, Uncle Ethan. It’s all I’ve wanted for my whole life.”

  Laughing, Ethan unhooked his hand from Ainsley’s and hugged the child back. “I kno
w, Teddy. I picked it just for you.”

  The boy beamed with excitement and went back to sit on Darla’s lap. “He picked it just for me,” Teddy whispered.

  “Courtesy of our dear James Spencer…who opted out of this evening…but did wander back to Pacific Lake high school to raid the audio-visual equipment,” Dean continued. “We present for you. A movie.”

  Everyone cheered.

  “I’m here,” a voice called from the back and Spencer ambled over, sitting down with his back against the couch, next to Ainsley. Everyone paused and looked at him and he shrugged. “Come on, I’m not going to turn down a movie.”

  Dean hit the play button and the movie began. The familiar music blasted from a set of six-inch speakers.

  The opening gave Ethan chills and he motioned for Ainsley to sit up beside him on the couch. She shook her head. He pleaded with his eyes and she relented, snuggling up between Ethan and the arm of the couch; he rested his head against her shoulder, leaning back into her body.

  “You did good,” she whispered to him.

  “It seemed so unfair for the kid to never watch it.”

  “Not just that,” Ainsley said. “The whole night. Thank you. It was a good fake date. You care about us. Really, I mean it. Thank you.”

  With his eyes on the screen, Ethan sighed. “Maybe it wasn’t so fake.”

  “The truth,” Ainsley replied ominously. “All a ploy to watch a movie. I get it. You could have just asked. Spencer would’ve gone back to the school to get a projector if you had traded him something of value.”

  “Wouldn’t bet on it,” Spencer interjected and Ainsley waved him away. “I’m not always in such a generous mood.”

  “Private conversation,” she replied.

  Ethan shook his head and his hair rubbed against her shoulder. Then he shifted and looked at her. The light of the projector illuminated her eyes—he could almost see the entire movie playing as a reflection. “I’m scared,” he whispered.

  She turned to him. Her lower lip in a pout. She brought her hand up and patted his head in a sisterly way. “We’ll take care of you,” she replied. “My mom’s a good doctor…”

  “No,” Ethan replied. His eyes were drawn to the movie for a moment and then he looked back up at Ainsley. “I’m scared I’ll never get a chance to really live. To get married. To have kids. To have a future. I don’t care if the world is gone…if we’re the only ones left. It’s not selfish to still want something good—”

  He wondered if this is what Grant felt like the night he spent at their house. Feeling, for the first time, like there were things he’d never get to do. It was emotionally draining and he knew he wasn’t handling it well.

  “Oh, please, Ethan—”

  “I’m serious.”

  She shifted and lowered her voice, shooting looks out at the other survivors, who seemed to be enthralled with the film. “Please stop trying to make everything out to be something bigger. The best way to get back to normalcy is to stop comparing what we don’t have anymore. Please. I’m begging you.”

  “You can feel it, then,” he replied. “You’re scared too.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She made a move to leave, but he put his hand out and grabbed her knee.

  “Ainsley—”

  “No,” she whisper-yelled. “Stop, please.” Joey turned and looked at them, but then quickly turned back to the movie. She rolled her eyes.

  “I could fall in—”

  “You’re feverish.”

  “And you’re not listening.”

  Darla shot them a glare. “Hush up, kids.”

  He rested his head against her shoulder; she seemed tense and rigid. Then he reached up and tried to grab her hand, but Ainsley pulled back. She leaned down and put her lips next to his ear. “Please, Ethan. I’m sorry. I’ve already loved too many people who aren’t around anymore. Don’t make this harder on—”

  “You?” he whispered. Then he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it gently. She made a soft sound of protest, but didn’t pull her hand away. “It’s okay. I understand. Just hold my hand…be my fake girlfriend. Just for tonight and then I won’t ever say anything about it ever again.”

  “Perfect,” Ainsley whispered and she gave his hand a squeeze.

  They settled in together in the darkened yard, the story of love and loss and good and evil playing out before them, blanketing their features with whites and blues. Teddy sat wide-eyed and Darla held him close; everyone cheered and booed and celebrated together—bonding over something that they would have taken for granted a month ago.

  Ethan closed his eyes and felt the fever envelope his body, numb his brain, send him spinning, but he didn’t let go of Ainsley’s hand.

  For a brief moment, the Oregon survivors pretended everything was normal. They could not see or understand the dangers and tragedy lurking just around the bend.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Maxine was a shriveled mess. Her nose was red from crying, her eyes bloodshot. She looked from Lucy to Scott with her mouth open in shock, a crumpled tissue in her hand. It was morning and Lucy hadn’t slept—from the looks of everyone else in the room, no one in their small underground apartment had much sleep. Upon waking, her parents had called an obligatory family meeting. Galen collapsed with a grumpy yawn on the floor; the twins sat beside him, and Harper had tried to crawl into Lucy’s lap, but Maxine called her away.

  Lucy secretly wondered if Cass was on the other side of their bedroom walls with her ear pressed to the sheetrock, attempting to eke out all the details of her failure.

  The guard sold her out. Scared into submission after Blair’s original antics, he told Huck, who sent a note to her father.

  She hadn’t stood a chance.

  All her plans for saving Grant seemed to slip right out through her fingers. But while hysteria was building beneath the surface, Lucy stayed outwardly calm. She sat on the floor in the middle of the room and watched her mother cry her way through a lecture.

  “And the mangoes, Lucy. For a dog?”

  An attempt to lie about the mangoes unraveled when Galen inadvertently mentioned that the mechanic Kip was pedaling the fruit in the Center later that afternoon.

  “This is not you. This rebellion. This disrespect. Who are you and what have you done with my real daughter?”

  Lucy raised her eyebrow and didn’t say a word.

  “Oh, I know what that look means little lady, but don’t you dare turn this around on me.”

  “Do we have to be here for this?” Galen asked and he rolled his eyes.

  “We’re bored,” Malcolm echoed.

  “This is a family discussion,” Maxine snapped at them and the boys sulked.

  The knock on the door made them all jump.

  “No, no, no,” Maxine cried and she looked around wildly. “Scott?” she said his name with a tremor. “They wouldn’t take her away without letting us know. You told him we would handle it. Did you tell him we would handle it?”

  There was another knock.

  Scott closed his eyes and then pivoted. He opened the door a crack, took a note, said thank you, and shut it again. Unfolding the sealed paper, he looked up at the whole room and then his shoulders sank. He walked over to Lucy and handed her the paper and she took it, unfolded it, and looked at the message.

  “Is this for real?” Lucy asked.

  “It’s his seal,” Scott replied.

  Maxine rushed over and put her hand out for the note. Lucy handed it over and crossed her arms.

  “What does this mean?” her mother asked. “What could this possibly mean?”

  After clearing his throat, Scott pursed his lips and inhaled. He looked at his family, all of their eyes turned on him. “It means what it says,” he turned back to Lucy. “Go get dressed.”

  She obeyed and slunk away from the family room and into her shared room, slipping back on the sundress her mother set
out for her the first time she went to the Sky Room. Using her fingers as a comb, she untangled her hair and then pulled it into a ponytail. By the time she walked back out, the rest of her family had scattered and only Maxine was waiting for her.

  “Huck never meets with people,” she said, more like a reminder. “Good manners and protect yourself…”

  “Mom. I’m fine,” Lucy replied.

  Her mother sniffed. “Everything your father sacrificed so we could survive—”

  “I get it, Mom,” she said. “You’re starting to sound like you’re only trying to convince yourself.” And Lucy walked right past her mother, out the door, and down the hall toward the elevator.

  Huck and the Sky Room awaited her for an early breakfast.

  When she stepped off the elevator, she noticed the difference right away. The buzz and hum of people congregating for a meal was notably absent. Instead she was greeted with silence. She took several tentative steps and her shoes clapped with loud urgency against the floor. The hair on her arms stood on end. There was nobody up here—the space felt vacant and hollow. Lucy contemplated her fate if she ignored Huck’s breakfast invitation and slunk back downstairs. Would she be allowed to refuse him? What would happen then?

  No. Lucy had wanted this meeting to happen. She had requested it and she would not become a coward now when there was so much to lose.

  With a deep breath, she forced herself to enter the room. And just like she predicted, the room had been cleared. All the tables were gone, sans one. The single table sat in the middle of the room, directly under the apex of the artificial ceiling. Fake sunlight tumbled downward and washed the room in an eerie glow.

  Huck waited.

  He waved as she entered and pushed his chair back to stand.

  Steady, steady, Lucy thought to herself. On her approach, a single server appeared from the side and pulled out her chair for her. She slipped into place and then the waiter pushed her chair back in. To keep busy, she ran her hands over her dress, smoothing the fabric along her thighs. When she looked up, Huck was smiling at her.