Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1)

by Ann M. Noser

  I swipe at my streaming eyes. “You’d rather live in denial?”

  “Oh, denial’s not such a bad place to live.” Franco half-smiles and half-frowns. “Sometimes, it’s the only way to survive.”

  “I can’t live like that.”

  Franco’s grip tightens. “I can see that. And that’s one of the things I admire most about you.”

  “You admire me?” I sniffle. Great timing for a runny nose.

  Steps approach in the hall. Franco drops my arms and takes a step back, right before Liam pokes his head in my room.

  “Hey, you guys,” Liam says. “What are you doing in here? Yoshe’s asking about you. So, get your butts back in the kitchen before you freak her out, will ya?” He spins around and strolls away.

  Franco raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think your mom likes me very much.”

  “Sure she does.”

  “Thought you didn’t believe in denial.” He offers a tiny smirk.

  “Okay, fine. She just likes Liam more for whatever reason.”

  He shrugs. “I’m used to that. Everybody likes him more than me.”

  “Is that so?” I tease, refusing to admit I might feel differently. “Maybe it’s because you label your clothes—”

  He narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a ‘Property of Franco Harman’ label on your jacket. That’s kind of weird, you know.”

  “So?” He scowls but appears amused instead of irritated.

  “I haven’t seen those kind of labels since the Early Grades in school.”

  “I happen to like my coat. I don’t want anyone to take it.”

  “Or maybe it’s the way you dress. First of all, I swear you must wear that jacket all year long because even when it’s blasted hot out, you’ve still got it on.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Again with the jacket.”

  “And those combat boots are a bit intimidating.”

  Franco grabs my arms again. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my face. “You don’t seem to mind them.”

  He’s got that right. We stare into each other’s eyes long enough for my heart rate to accelerate far above any pace induced by running. My stomach jumps like it’s full of bouncing balls.

  All too soon, Franco breaks off his gaze. “Let’s go back to your mom before she bans me from your apartment altogether. ”

  He tugs on my arm, and we leave the room.

  I frown. Just as things were getting interesting.

  he next morning, I force myself down each step to Mortuary Sciences. As the glass entry doors swish open, cool air strikes my face and loud music blasts my eardrums. Out of dueling speakers, a rocking guitar solo battles with glass-shattering high opera notes. Gus and Dr. Wang work back-to-back in the middle of the room, their shoulders tense. Once again, I note that the overhead camera is aimed at Dr. Wang.

  Her face is wan and pale. Her previously over-groomed, shiny, bobbed, black hairdo is rumpled and dull. She leans against the table and closes her eyes. The scalpel in her hand wavers and falls into the open chest cavity of the body lying in front of her.

  I drop my gym bag, yank on gloves, and extract the scalpel, holding it up in the air to glisten for the camera before handing it back to Dr. Wang.

  She shakes her head. “No… I can’t. You’ll have to finish for me.” She rushes out of the room, moaning and clutching her side.

  I turn to Gus. “What should I do?”

  “You heard her. Finish it up and make a show of it, will you?” He glances toward the camera. “And turn off that shrieking opera. I can’t hear Slash.”

  I click off Dr. Wang’s music. “He’s from the band Guns and Roses, right?”

  “Yes, of course. Only the best for your auditory enjoyment, my dear.” He focuses on his autopsy, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  I laugh and grab the chart Dr. Wang was working on before she became “ill.”

  By the time I sew up the gaping chest cavity, we have unexpected company—although, perhaps, not so unexpected for Gus. The doors swish open, and two Suits step inside Mortuary Sciences. I tense, my heart leaping into my throat, in case I am their target once again.

  “Gus Andrews?” A third Suit says as he enters the room but keeps a safe distance from our tables of death. “I need to speak to you in private.”

  “Of course.” Gus sets down his instruments with great finesse and removes his gloves. “Silvia, you can finish up for me, can’t you? This one only needs closing. I’m done, otherwise.”

  I nod, still rendered silent by the presence of the Suits.

  After filling out the chart for the first body, I move to Gus’s. I hate turning my back on Suits, but I don’t like watching them either.

  “Listen to that guitar solo,” one Suit murmurs to the other.

  “If you’d prefer, I could turn the opera back on,” I reply.

  “Opera?” the second Suit protests. “Just shoot me now. My wife makes me listen to that crap. She says it’s romantic, so what’s a guy to do?”

  I smile and relax. These two aren’t the bad guys.

  Within a half hour, Gus and the third Suit return, and Dr. Wang has been removed from the premises, swearing that all men are despicable and asking if she could please have a female doctor for once in her life because her insides feel like they’re being ripped in two. After her noisy departure, I clean the work area, and Gus moves into the office, singing along to his music. Once the garbages are emptied, I’m done for the day.

  Gus waves me inside the office. “Don’t worry. It’s safe to talk in here. I checked.”

  I glance at his desk, comforted by the presence of his familiar penholder and paperweight. “It didn’t take you long to get rid of Dr. Wang. I’m amazed—stunned, actually.”

  “What do you mean?” He smirks. “It took three whole days. That’s long enough. I couldn’t have taken much more of her.”

  “How’d you do it? Besides that awful tea, I mean.”

  “You’re right. That wasn’t enough. It took a little finagling, but I managed to contact the favorite niece of the surgeon she blackmailed years ago. I was sure she’d still hold a grudge since her uncle killed himself over the deal. I’d heard she’d climbed her way pretty high up in influential circles, so I knew she’d have the ability to get rid of Edwina.”

  “You’re a tricky man to figure out, sometimes.”

  “It’s how I keep so young at heart and mind.” Gus waves his hand airily, stapler in hand to fasten his maps back on the wall. “Don’t you need to go run now or something? No need to wait for me. This could take hours.”

  “Yeah, I’m going running, but we’re starting to taper, so I’ll probably be home early tonight.”

  “Good. Your mom probably gets lonely without you.”

  “So… regarding the race.” I pause. “Do you still think I should throw it? Because, if you do, I need to tell Liam, so he knows what to expect from me race day. Otherwise, it isn’t fair to him.”

  Gus turns to me, an urgent tone in his voice. “Don’t tell Liam anything. And I’m not sure about the race. I’ve got some feelers out, trying to figure out if Edwina was right about them taking you away from me, but I haven’t heard back yet. I’ll have to let you know.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait, then.” Why are things getting so weird around here? “I’ll keep practicing like I’m trying to win although, I have to say, this puts a cramp in my focus. I like to know what I’m doing.”

  “I understand.” Gus pats my shoulder. “But I don’t have an answer for you yet.”

  As I head to the gym, everything in my body feels heavy—my legs, my head, and my heart. Why can’t I just be happy that Dr. Wang is out of my life? But what if what she said is true? What if there are plans for me? Plans I don’t get a say in? A life I won’t get to choose? I don’t want to leave Gus behind even if it is my mom’s dearest dream. She wants me to win the race to move her up in Orchestra. But Gus might still ask me t
o lose. When do I get to choose? And what options do I really have, anyway?

  “Did you hear about Liam?” a familiar low voice interrupts my question-packed reverie.

  “Wh-what?” My head pops up to discover Franco strolling next to me. He doesn’t even have his bike. He looks upset. Not quite crazy-man-screaming-at-the-Incinerator-workers upset but very unhappy, almost distraught.

  “Liam got hit.” Franco shakes his head as if, somehow, this is his fault.

  “What?” I turn the corner with Franco close at my side. “Who hit him?”

  “Some guy on a bike. That’s all he said in his message. I just got here.”

  “Is he all right? Where is he?” I realize I’m still headed to the gym, and Liam could be at the hospital for all I know. But then why would Franco be walking in the same direction as I am?

  “He’s waiting for me at the gym. He said not to worry, that he’s all right, but he won’t be able to run today, I don’t think.”

  We reach the 37th Street Gym steps and jog up them. Liam lounges in a chair near the entry door, a harem of young women fussing over him. They scoot back as Franco pushes to Liam’s side.

  “What happened?” demands Franco.

  “Holy crap.” My gaze falls on Liam’s scraped legs. His right knee is swollen, and both legs are bruised and bloodied. “Have you cleaned your wounds yet? Did anyone check your knee? Can you walk on it?”

  “Listen to the doctor over here, Liam.” Franco chuckles then turns serious again. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Liam waves his hands. “I’m going to be fine. Superficial wounds mostly, and I landed on my knee, but I should be back to normal after a day or so.”

  “I hope you didn’t tear your cruciate ligament.” I cross my arms. “Let’s see you stand. Do you need a crutch or anything?”

  “No, I don’t need a cane,” Liam grumbles as he struggles to his feet. “I’m fine, see?”

  “You should go home and rest,” Franco instructs. “Plus, Linda’s going to blow a gasket if she can’t keep an eye on you.”

  “Yeah, I figured Mom would be upset. Right before the race, too. I’m so sorry, Silvia.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” I say. “I’m sure it was just an accident. Let’s get you home.”

  Franco and I both take one of Liam’s arms and assist him down the front steps. He can bear some of his own weight but flinches and groans with each step.

  Liam scowls. “I can’t believe this happened. Training was going so well. I really thought we were getting somewhere.”

  “We’re tapering, anyway.” I reassure him. “Focus on getting that knee back to normal size, all right?”

  “What did the guy look like who hit you?” asks Franco.

  Liam glances around and lowers his voice. “Like he was homeless.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “Aren’t the Representatives always saying that housing is one of the basic rights guaranteed by New Order? The homeless aren’t supposed to exist.”

  Liam shakes his head. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I swear he looked and smelled like he hadn’t showered in weeks, months maybe. His teeth were dirty. I swear they were brown. I’ve never seen anything like it. I guess I never realized how clean everyone is, normally.”

  “Was he drunk?” asks Franco.

  “No. I mean, he acted a little bit crazy, but he didn’t smell like booze or anything.”

  I frown. “Did he at least apologize and make sure you were okay after he hit you?”

  “That’s the funny thing.” Liam pauses. “I think he hit me on purpose.”

  “What? But why?” Franco tenses. “Did you recognize him?”

  “No, I’ve no idea who he is. But he knew me, that’s for sure.”

  Franco’s eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

  “Like I said, he probably ran me over on purpose. Then he jumped off his bike, grabbed my arms, breathed his rotten meat breath right into my face, and said, ‘You’re a dead man if you run that race. Did you hear me? A dead man.’”

  Franco tenses. “He threatened you?”

  Liam shrugs. “Maybe he just wants somebody else to win.”

  I sigh. “I don’t know why everyone assumes we’re going to win. It’s starting to bug me.”

  Franco stares at me a second then breaks his gaze. “Maybe he’s right, Liam. And at least you’d have an excuse to back out now. You could show them your leg.”

  Liam shakes his head. “But I don’t want to quit. And I can’t believe you’d want me to give in to some freak show bullying me into giving up on something I wanted.”

  Franco frowns. “This guy sounds dangerous. Who knows what else he could do to you?”

  “I’m not afraid of him.” Liam turns to me. “Silvia, what do you think? What would you do if this happened?”

  I pause to consider the question. “I probably would’ve been so pissed that I’d have grabbed his bike and rode off with it. See how he liked it. That is, if I could do it with a bum knee.”

  “You see, Franco?” Liam laughs. “Silvia’s got more balls than both of us put together.”

  Franco rolls his eyes. “Lovely analogy.”

  “At any rate, I’m with Silvia. I’m going to rest up, fix this knee, and run the race to win it—no matter what anyone else has to say. I hope that guy doesn’t show up and breathe his deadly breath in my face again. It was awful. Thank goodness I floss.”

  iam’s mom, Linda, hovers at the apartment door as we approach. She points to the couch where a soft blanket awaits. As soon as we have Liam situated, she brings over a small tray crowded with ointment jars, bandages, and wet clothes. Linda opens two jars, and the room fills with the smell of camphor and lavender.

  “What do you think?” Franco asks his aunt. “How bad is it?”

  Liam gestures at me. “Oh, hey, Mom, this is Silvia Wood.”

  “Yes, I know,” Linda answers without even a glance in my direction. Instead, she focuses on Liam, who winces as she flexes and extends his swollen knee.

  “He can bear partial weight on that leg,” I add, trying to be helpful.

  “It’s too swollen for me to say how much permanent damage has been done.” Linda grabs a fragrant jar and begins to rub a greasy yellow ointment around the affected knee. “We’ll have to try to get the swelling down and see what happens.”

  I cross the room, grab a few pillows, and bring them to over to the couch. “Do you want to elevate the leg? Should I get you some ice?”

  Linda turns to me. Her frosty gaze makes me feel I’ve done something wrong. I’m just not sure what it could be.

  “I’ll take it from here,” she says. “Thanks for bringing him home.” But her gratitude is aimed at Franco, not me.

  For some reason, she doesn’t like me. Maybe it’s something stupid like how Citizen Family Planning wants to inject everyone with birth control the second they come in contact with a member of the opposite sex. Perhaps they aren’t the only ones who believe I’m sleeping with her son.

  “Ouch!” Liam squirms on the couch. “Come on, Mom, that hurts!”

  Franco elbows me. “We’d better hurry out of here if you don’t want to see Liam turn into a infant. He’s not good with pain.”

  Feeling a bit dismissed, I head for the door. Franco and I exit the apartment, head down the hall, and turn a corner before either of us speaks a word.

  “Listen, I have to ask.” I pause, wondering if I really want to know why Liam’s mom was so cold toward me. Her instant dislike of me is irrational and, perhaps, irrelevant. I couldn’t possibly have done something wrong. “Why does your aunt hate me so much? I don’t even know her.”

  He frowns. “She doesn’t really hate you.”

  “It sure feels like it.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it does. You have to understand—Linda’s not the happiest person on the planet. Liam’s a lot different than her. He’s more like my Uncle Jack.”

  Liam’s more like his dad. N
ow, I understand.

  “Is it because I remind her of the accident?” I ask. “Is that why she doesn’t want me around?”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s it. So, don’t take it personally.”

  “I’ve never understood that saying. It doesn’t make any sense. How do you not take something personally when it’s about you—which is personal, right?”

  “I guess so,” Franco changes the subject as we enter the elevator. “What do you want to do now? Are you still going running?”

  I sigh. “No. I don’t really feel like using the treadmill, and if I go outside on my own, I’ll worry that freak guy on the bike will run me down, too.”

  Franco shakes his head. “He’s probably long gone by now.”

  The elevator door opens on the first floor, and we stand in the entryway, staring through the windows. The sun beckons us outside. Now what?

  “What are you going to do?” I glance at Franco, wanting to stay with him though I have no idea what he’s doing next or if he’d even want my company.

  “Well… we’re both done with work, I guess.” He squints at the sun as we step outside. “And your mom isn’t expecting you home for a while, right?”

  I nod, full of hope.

  “How about the park? You like plants, right?”

  “Yes, of course.” I smile. Finally, a moment alone with Franco. Not that it isn’t a shame Liam had to get hurt in order for me to spend some time alone with his cousin.

  We hurry our steps to the Northwest Citizen Park. A couple times, Franco’s fingers brush mine, and I hold my breath, wishing he’d take my hand. But he doesn’t. As we reach the tall metal gates leading into the garden, a flood of people rush out of the park.

  “Oh, no,” I exclaim. “Is it closing time already?”

  “No. Everybody’s heading home for supper. These are just the day pass people, but you can go at night anytime.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I come here a lot.” Franco gestures at the lilacs. “It’s peaceful here.”

  “Yes. It’s like home… Or what my home used to be like.”

  Franco pats me on the back twice then quickly removes his hand. I wish he’d put his arm around me and leave it there.