Twisted Fate

by Kate L. Mary

  Everyone started moving toward the door, Mom included, but I suddenly found that I was the one who couldn’t make my legs work.

  “What about Donaghy?” I whispered, afraid to voice my concerns when I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer. “What will they do to him?”

  Helen and Angus exchanged a look I didn’t like, and then the woman crossed the distance between us and took my hand.

  “Honey,” she said in a gravelly whisper. “He’s going to be okay. We have a plan, and the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can put it into motion. Every second counts right now. We can’t hesitate.”

  I didn’t believe her, but I nodded anyway because I knew there was nothing I could do on my own. My first instinct was to push Helen away and run back to the CDC, maybe even try to reason with Jackson. There was still a part of me that was clinging to the Jackson Star I’d thought I’d known for all these years, the one who was reasonable and caring. But the logical part of me knew that man didn’t really exist. He had been all for show, a caricature of a person. The real Jackson wouldn’t negotiate with me. The real Jackson wanted to trap and control me, to bend me to his will.

  “Okay.” I nodded twice, which was more for me than for Helen this time. I looked at the weathered woman in front of me and then at Dragon, and it suddenly occurred to me that they hadn’t headed for the door. “What about you? Are you staying?”

  “We have to keep up appearances,” Dragon said.

  Helen gave my hand a squeeze. “If I don’t show up at work, Star will know I’m involved. As it is, I’ll be questioned the second I set foot in the CDC.”

  “You’ll be okay?” Fear gripped me at the idea of Helen getting taken by Star, but I was ashamed to admit even to myself that more of it had to do with the idea of losing our inside person than concern for her.

  “There’s nothing concrete to tie us to anything right now other than Helen’s position at the CDC. She’s been there a long time and has gained Star’s trust, but if we leave now it will be a huge red flag,” Dragon said. “And you need someone on the inside if our plan is going to work.”

  “We’ll be okay,” Helen assured me.

  I turned to look at Glitter, who was currently clinging to her father. “What about Glitter?”

  “I’m going,” she said, holding onto my uncle tighter.

  “We ain’t gonna risk her gettin’ sent back,” Angus growled.

  This time when the group headed for the door, both Mom and I moved. I gave my boss and Helen one last look before stepping forward so I was standing next to Mom. She slipped her hand into mine and gave it a squeeze, and I suddenly felt like the woman I’d grown up with was back. The woman who had survived an abusive childhood and the virus that had wiped out most of the population, who had weathered the early days of the apocalypse with a strength that had made her stand out. Vivian Thomas—Vivian James now—was back.

  “I know I’ve missed a lot,” she whispered to me, “and I don’t know what’s going on with you and this guy, but I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.”

  I returned the gesture when she squeezed my hand again, hating how bony her fingers felt in my grip but loving the strength her support gave me.

  Jim paused when we reached the door so he could glance back over his shoulder. The expression in his eyes as he looked everyone over seemed to shine in the shadows of the room. It was a mixture of anguish and pain; as if being with this group reminded him of something he’d lost. Under the lines from sun exposure and age, and the scars that seemed to tell a story of how wrong his life had gone, lingered the remnants of another man, and I couldn’t help wondering who he’d once been and how he’d come to be this person, this zombie slayer who lived on the outskirts of civilization. Who was battered and scarred, yet carried so much pain right beneath the surface.

  “Is everyone armed?” Jim asked.

  Around me, heads bobbed and weapons were pulled from sheaths and hidden pockets. I pulled out my own knife, leaving my gun tucked safely in the bottom of my bag. It was a good thing to have, but it would have to be a serious situation for me to use it. Guns would only draw more zombies, and possibly give us away if someone was searching for us right now. Which I was certain they were.

  Charlie alone was unarmed, and when Luke rolled his eyes and pulled a knife out for her, I found it difficult not to smile.

  “You should know better,” he said, holding the weapon out to his sister.

  Charlie ripped it out of his hand and her face scrunched up so much that it reminded me of when we were kids, and I was suddenly certain that she was going to stick her tongue out at him. Instead, she looked away. The room was so dark that I couldn’t be positive, but it looked like her cheeks were red.

  “I didn’t know what was happening when I was ripped out of my bed at the ass crack of dawn,” she said, trying to cling to her sassy attitude but failing miserably when her voice shook. “The last thing I ever thought I’d be doing is going outside the wall.”

  “In the apocalypse, you always have to assume you’re going outside the wall,” Luke replied, which only made his sister swallow.

  Lila put her hand on her daughter’s arm and whispered something while Luke turned back to face Jim. The older man’s hand was resting on the doorknob. Luke nodded and Jim turned the knob, and then the door was pulled open and we followed the two zombie slayers into the outside world.

  The city was black and felt as endless as a nightmare you couldn’t escape, while the silence surrounding us seemed to defy reason. The trees that had long ago taken over the city swayed noiselessly above our heads, as if they didn’t dare make a sound, and our footsteps were just as defiant to the laws of nature. There was no crunch of gravel when I took a step, no shuffling of feet from the people surrounding me. No creak or thump or thud. There was nothing but noiseless progress as we moved away from the building we’d just left, packed together in a tight clump of bodies.

  The humidity in the air was less responsible for gluing my shirt to my back than the close proximity of my friends and family was. I found myself somewhere in the middle of the group, making the moist Georgia air feel even more oppressive than usual. Glitter walked on one side of me and Charlie was pressed up against the other while the people in our group who had more experience with the dead surrounded us like a protective cocoon. Mom, Angus, Parv, Al, and Lila had all traveled the country together during the early days of the outbreak. They’d struggled and fought and made their way here to safety—or at least that’s what they’d thought. Jim and Luke were zombie slayers, so they were prepared. The most I’d done was go to the shooting range with Mom and Dad so I could learn to fire a gun, which now felt horribly insignificant. That was how I felt too, insignificant and useless. Why wasn’t I more prepared for the world I’d grown up in? Why had my life up until the last few weeks been so cushy and sheltered?

  The darkness made it nearly impossible to read the expressions of those around me, but I could tell by the stiff movements of my family and friends that they were on edge. Just as Jim had promised though, the city was clear. The road in front of us, while littered with debris and overrun with weeds and plants that had sprung up during the years of neglect, was empty. I inhaled slowly, pulling as much of the muggy Georgia air into my lungs as I could, but it was clear and fresh. Wherever the zombies that ruled this city took cover at night, it wasn’t anywhere close to where we found ourselves now.

  “How far?” I heard Mom whisper.

  She glanced back and the dim light from the moon made her eyes shine in the darkness. I knew the tremor in her voice had nothing to do with her own safety. No, her thoughts were of me. She’d lost two daughters already, one way back at the beginning of the apocalypse, and another not that long ago. Right now I was in danger. Out in the open in a city that was crawling with the dead, unable to defend myself the way I should have been. I had no doubt that my mom was cursing herself for how she’d failed me. She and Dad had embraced the id
ea that I would never have to face something like this, that the wall surrounding our city would be enough to keep me from experiencing the horrors they had once gone through.

  “Our rendezvous point is two streets over,” Jim replied.

  “Exactly who are we meeting?” Parv asked with a slight edge in her voice.

  It couldn’t have been suspicion. No, she knew Jim. It had to be something else. Nerves, dread, or maybe even a tinge of hopelessness seeping through.

  “We—” A moan echoed through the air, cutting Jim off.

  Mom’s steps faltered and I found myself slamming into her back, while to her right Al walked faster. All around me the others did the same, some people slowing down while others seemed to be grabbing for the person next to them as they moved faster. The tight clump we’d been traveling in broke up, creating craters between us that felt insurmountable when yet another moan cut through the air. Charlie whimpered and grabbed for my arm. I let her hold it even though her nails felt like they were cutting into me. I slipped my other hand into my bag and fingered the gun hidden there. My gaze was on Jim though, waiting for his cue. He was the zombie slayer. He knew what he was doing.

  “Everyone just needs to stay calm,” he said.

  He reached behind him and pulled a shotgun off his back even though he already had an eight-inch knife out and ready. Luke didn’t pull his own gun, but he looked as ready to pounce as Jim did.

  A third moan rang out and Jim turned to the left. It was hard to see anything in the thick darkness that surrounded us, but he acted like he knew where the sound was coming from.

  “Let’s move,” he said, his voice a low hiss. “Before they find us.”

  This time when we started walking, our footsteps seemed louder than a crack of thunder. Every step felt like it was pounding through the city, echoing off the buildings and calling out to every zombie within a mile. There were nearly a dozen of us, and the pounding of our feet against the street was deafening in the silence of the city.

  Our pace was brisk, not quite a run but faster than a walk. We slowed when we reached the end of the street, but only long enough for Jim to look around the corner. The coast was clear though, and then he was moving again and we were following, sticking so close to one another that it felt like we were a single person. Down the dark street, then cutting through an alley before emerging on yet another desolate stretch of old Atlanta roadway. This time we were met by the low rumble of an engine, and the sound of it in the midst of the starkly silent city was enough to make my heart beat harder. I could just make out the silhouette of a large truck in the darkness, and Jim was already heading that way when its headlights flashed once.

  When we got closer, the driver’s side door was shoved open and someone jumped out. “You’re late,” a husky yet feminine voice growled.

  “I’m right on time,” Jim replied with no malice in his voice.

  The woman snorted but didn’t contradict him. “We have to go.”

  Luke’s voice broke through the darkness. “Everyone get in the back.”

  There was no argument from us. The moans of the dead had increased, and even though none of them sounded particularly close, I wasn’t willing to wait around and find out how long it would take them to locate us. Especially with the hum of the truck’s engine calling out like a Siren’s song.

  I tried to get a good look at the driver when I passed her, but all I could make out was a surprisingly small shape that was nearly swallowed up by the black night. Luke followed the rest of us to the back of the truck while Jim stopped next to the driver. They spoke in low words that I couldn’t make out, but the throaty tone of her voice seemed to defy her desire to whisper.

  The truck was an old military vehicle that had benches lining each side in the back and a canvas cover—now patched and ripped and filled with holes. I climbed in behind Charlie, who clung to me when we took a seat. Mom was on my other side, but beyond that I couldn’t tell who was who. It took less than a minute for all of us to climb aboard and take our seats, and what seemed like only a second later the truck lurched forward.

  The drive was bumpy, the vehicle moving much faster than it should have considering the damaged streets in front of us. We bounced on our benches when the tires rolled over obstacles in the road, and Charlie’s hand tightened on mine, but no one spoke. Partly because it was too loud in the back of the truck to even attempt a conversation, but also because none of us knew what to say at this point. We only had a vague idea of what was going on, and speculating not only felt pointless, but terrifying as well. Every time I allowed my mind to wander to Jackson and the CDC, I imagined the horrors that could be happening right now. The experiments being performed on Dad—who I now knew was immune—the virus they could be injecting Donaghy with, turning him into the same kind of creature they’d transformed my Uncle Joshua into. It made me sick, so it was better not to think about it right now. Better to instead focus on the people around me who were safe, and the knowledge that we had people with us who were informed and prepared. Who had a plan. That’s what I told myself at least.

  Two

  Donaghy

  How many hours had gone by since Jackson and those asshole guards of his dragged me out of Dragon’s Lair? A few hours at the most, although it felt like longer. Still, I’d been in this damn cell long enough to know that morning was right around the corner, and when Jackson showed up outside my cell it seemed to confirm my suspicion. The little shit stopped in the hallway right outside my room. He barely glanced my way, but he looked over long enough to give me a great view of the smug expression on his face. The sight of it made me clench my hands into fists and jump to my feet. Even after my short time in New Atlanta, I’d been around him long enough to know what that look meant. He had a bomb to drop. One I wasn’t going to like.

  In the cell across from me, Axl didn’t move. But he did stare at Jackson like he was imagining what the asshole would look like with his stomach slashed open and his guts pouring out onto the floor. I had to admit, the image gave me a warm fuzzy feeling, but at this point I knew I would never have the chance to make it happen. Being stuck in a cell in the CDC put me at a pretty big disadvantage.

  Jackson stood in front of Axl’s cell and stared at the older man through the glass, and the smile on his face made him look even more sick and twisted than he ever had before. A shiver ran down my spine, repeating itself when Jackson stepped forward and pushed the button on the wall outside Axl’s cell. My own intercom was off and the prick’s back was to me, making it impossible to tell if he was talking, but somehow I knew he hadn’t uttered a word. He was staring at Meg’s dad the way a cat stares at a mouse, cool and calculating and eager to pounce.

  It took less than a minute for Axl’s mouth to move and I was able to read his lips just well enough to know that he was asking about his family. About Meg and her mom, Axl’s wife, probably everyone else he loved too. Jackson turned his face just enough that it was partly visible when his smile stretched wider. He said something I couldn’t make out, but then paused and turned to face me. His smile as he crossed the hall was the coldest thing I’d ever seen, and then he pushed a button and the intercom crackled to life.

  “As I was saying—” Jackson’s voice filled my room. “—Meg and the rest of your family are on the way.”

  I growled and Axl’s gaze snapped to me. There were dozens of questions swimming in his gray eyes as he looked me over, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask who I was or why this news seemed to hurt me, which it did. It made me feel like a knife had been plunged into my heart.

  Instead, Axl turned his gaze back on Jackson and said, “Don’t hurt her.” His words had no hope.

  “There’s no reason for you to be concerned,” Jackson sneered. “I don’t intend to keep you in suspense. You’ll be able to witness the entire thing. Right here.” He stepped closer to Axl while shooting me a look, like he wanted to make sure he had my undivided attention. “You’ll be able to watch as I take h
er. I’ll let you hear her cries. Your family, her mother, will all be right there—” He motioned to the hall behind him. “—watching. I know how close your family is, and I wouldn’t want any of you to miss the show.”

  I clenched my hands tighter, wishing I had the strength to punch a hole in the window in front of me. Wanting to shatter it and jump through so I could wrap my hands around Jackson’s throat and squeeze the life out of him.

  Across from me, Axl’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he wasn’t the one who yelled. It was me. Curses ripped their way out of me as I slammed my fists against the glass, a useless action that I knew would only wear me out, but one that I couldn’t control.

  “You son of a bitch!” I growled, my voice coming out sounding feral and crazy. “Don’t you touch her! I will rip you to pieces!”

  Jackson only grinned. “You aren’t exactly in the position to make threats.”

  I continued to bang my fists against the glass, but in the cell across from me, Axl looked broken. He was still solid and broad despite his age, but right now his body was slumped, making him look suddenly old. The lines on his face deepened as if to illustrate the stress and violence and hard times he’d witnessed during his forty plus years on this Earth. There were dark circles under his eyes, and the lights above him emphasized the gray hairs dotting his head. He looked like he was on the verge of withering away, and I had a strange sense that if he had to witness the things Jackson was describing, he just might.

  Before the little prick could say another word, the door behind him opened. I pushed myself closer to the glass, holding my breath, but the guards that stepped through were alone. There were no crying prisoners, no frightened and tear-filled eyes. Nothing but a group of guards who couldn’t even meet Jackson Star’s gaze.