“Guys, I want to prepare you for what we are about to face, but I am not even sure where to begin. It’s bad out there,” I said. “Trust me when I say we cannot afford to just go wandering around in the dark.”
“When you say bad…” Falisha trailed off.
“I mean bad,” I said, shaking my head. “As in, stuff is on fire all over the place, there are abandoned and wrecked cars littering the streets, and the parking lot is a hot soupy mess of melted tar.”
“Which means that pretty much any street they resurfaced in the last few months probably is, too,” offered Jake. “I am thinking we should probably map this little trip of ours out.”
He stepped out of the center of the huddle, grabbed a poster off the wall, and slapped it facedown onto the concrete floor. Jake sat cross legged with the paper spread before him, pulled the pen from behind his ear and started to take down everyone’s addresses.
“Okay, last but not least, Falisha,” Jake said, not looking up from his notes.
“I’m good,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You’re good?” He sounded exasperated. “I ask what your address is, and you say I’m good. What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means, I’m good,” she bit back.
“Seriously?” Jake either hadn’t picked up the finality in her tone or didn’t care because he pressed on. “Nobody cares what part of town you live in for Christ’s sakes. I think we are kind of past that prideful bullshit at this point don’t you? Would you please just tell where you live, so I can put it on the stupid map?”
Jake glared up at Falisha, clearly annoyed, but his frown quickly melted away as she sank lifelessly to the floor next to him and started sobbing. He flung his hands back like he had just broken a priceless vase, an expression of sheer desperation on his face.
“I— what just happened?” he asked, his eyes darting back and forth between us. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just trying to make the stupid map.”
“Go to hell,” Falisha buried her fingers in her hair and spun so her back faced him.
“Falisha, I’m sorry, I—” he stuttered, reaching out awkwardly to put his hand on her shoulder, but I shook my head at him and waved him away.
“What’s going on, Falisha?” I whispered.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just don’t have one.”
“Don’t have one, what?” I asked.
“An address,” she sobbed. “I don’t have anywhere to go. My mom kicked me out when she found out about Zack.”
“God, I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“My mom was really old-school, you know? She didn’t believe in mixing races or whatever,” Falisha wiped her eyes. “She said, as long as I live and breathe, no daughter of mine is gonna be with no white boy.”
“Jesus,” I said. “It’s not 1955.”
“Exactly,” she rolled her eyes, as tears streamed down her face. “We always had to be really careful about hiding our relationship so she wouldn’t find out. It was exhausting, Liv, and I hated keeping things a secret, but it was worth when we were together. Did you know we were both going to NIU in the fall? Yeah, we were going to get the hell out of this shit-hole town.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“I still don’t know how she found out, but when she did, all hell broke loose,” she flung her hands in the air. “She cornered me when I got home from school one day, slapped me right in my across the face. Called me a slut. I told her that I loved him and that he was a good man that treated me right, but she didn’t care. She said I had to choose, so I did…I chose him.”
“Damn,” I said under my breath.
“She moved to New York about a month ago, and I haven’t heard from her since,” Falisha said bitterly. “Get this, she even unfriended me on Facebook. Can you believe that?”
“I had no idea,” I said. “Where have you been staying since then?”
“As soon as Sara heard what happened, she told her mom,” Falisha’s eyes welled up with fresh tears. “Liv, they took me in without a second thought.”
The pieces fell together, and my heart broke for her all over again. Falisha and I were both orphans, but she had to cope every day knowing that her mother had chosen to walk away from her. The man she loved, and had given up so much for had eventually done the same thing. To make matters worse, Falisha’s best friend, and possibly the people who had chosen to be her family, was gone. The girl had nothing left to lose, and there was something truly empty about that.
Chapter 22
Roll Out
Zander was fully conscious now and, despite his weakened state and sickly color, insisted he was “fine.” He wanted to go with the rest of the group to gather supplies from the lockers and classrooms on the first floor. As happy as I was to see him smiling and moving around, I fought him on it, unwilling to risk a setback to his health. I could see he was frustrated, but he barely had enough energy to stand, let alone climb the stairs and run around in the sweltering heat.
Eventually, I dealt a low blow and reminded him what I had gone through to get him feeling better and he reluctantly agreed to rest just a little while longer. Lists in hand, the rest of the group piled out of the door to loot the lower floors of the school for supplies. I stayed close, just in case Zander needed me, and worked on a little project of my own.
The storage room was a virtual treasure trove of obsolete workout equipment and rusty old tools. I found one of those ancient ab-rollers behind a stack of weight belts. It was a simple contraption, just a big plastic wheel on a metal hub, with two gripping handles on either side of it. It was perfect for what I intended to do with it, so I added it to the pile along with some weight clips, a roll of wire, and a wooden broom handle. Aside from a few rubber bands, the only good thing I found in the desk was a brass letter opener shaped like a sword. I slid it into my back pocket and headed back out. I had tried to be stealth about it, but it was difficult to sneak a giant wheelbarrow down a flight of stairs and through a metal door, especially when it has a flat tire.
“What do you need that for?” Zander yelled, leaning over across the mat.
“Nothing,” I answered back. “Just relax.”
“Liv…?” He urged after me, but I closed the door behind me, leaving him to stew.
By the time I had finally wrestled the old tire off the wheelbarrow, the bolts were completely stripped. I wouldn’t need them anyway, so chucked them across the room, not caring where they landed. I stared down at the pieces in front of me, taking them apart and fitting them together in my mind. Once I had it worked out, I set to work on the ab roller. After a little tinkering, I realized the handle pieces unscrewed from the wheel part. I removed them both and tossed them aside. The hole in the middle of the wheel was about an inch in diameter, so I ran out to the weight room and started sifting through a pile of weights.
“Ah-ha, perfect.” I grabbed a small barbell, released the metal clips that held the ten-pound weights in place and let the disks drop to the floor.
“What are you doing, now?” Zander watched my every move, his face a mixture curiosity and annoyance. “Liv?”
“You need to drink some more water,” I dodged him with a smile as I tucked the clips into my pocket. “I’ll be back in a few.”
As I had hoped, the rod from the stripped barbell fit perfectly through the hole in the middle of the wheel. I sandwiched the disk between two weight clips, centered it in the middle of the brackets on the front of the wheelbarrow and slid the bar through until it wouldn’t go any farther, then hammered it the last few inches with a five pound weight.
Once the wheel was in place, I used more weight clips to cap off the ends of the bar, securing the new axle in its housing. I rolled it back and forth a few times, then climbed into the empty barrow and bounced around a bit, testing its strength.
“Huh,” I said, smiling down at my handy-work. “Go me.”
I tied the wooden broomstick loosely to the
underside of the wheelbarrow handles with some twine and slid it back and forth until I was satisfied it was completely centered. The pole hung about a foot past each handle, which was perfect for what I needed. I began the tedious process of anchoring them permanently with wire. I wove the metal strands over and back in an X formation around the spot where each handle met the broomstick. When I ran out of wire, I wrapped more twine over it, just to be safe. After several tests, my cross-bar held firm. I couldn’t hide my victorious grin as I went to check on Zander.
“There you are,” Zander said. “I like it when you do that, by the way.”
“Do what?” I asked. My head was still pounding, so I grabbed a bottle of water, popped some ibuprofen, and sat down next to him.
“When you smile,” he said, smirking. “You should really do it more often.”
“I’ll get right on that,” I chuckled softly, averting my gaze.
“Well, that’s twice in the span of two minutes,” Zander said, “so you are already making great progress.”
He tried to push himself closer to me but jarred his hand against the mat in the process. Swallowing a string of colorful language, he lifted his arm gingerly into his lap and breathed slowly through his nose.
“How is the hand, really?” I said, my brow furrowing. “And don’t try to bullshit a bull-shitter.”
“It’s kind of hard to explain, actually,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “I mean, yeah, it hurts, don’t get me wrong. It’s just a different kind of pain than I have ever felt before.”
“How so?” I asked, moving closer to him, so he wouldn’t bump his hand again.
“It feels cold and warm at the same time,” he shrugged, staring down at his hand. “And these black parts feel all stretched and tingly, kinda like when you get a bad sunburn.”
“Well, that makes sense,” I said, trying to hide my worry. “You burned yourself pretty good, Zan. There may be some residual nerve damage.”
“That’s just it, though. It doesn’t feel like damage to me. Well, it does, but—.” He raked his good hand through his hair. “I am not making any sense am I?”
Now that it had begun to cool down some and his fever had dropped, Zander’s hair had finally started to dry. The chunky strands had curled around each other and fell haphazardly against his face. Even in his disheveled state, he still looked amazing. For a moment, I just stared, mesmerized by his easy good looks. Nothing about my looks had ever come easy, though if I was being honest, I had also never tried very hard. He licked his lips before he continued and my eyes drank in the sight.
“Okay, let me put it this way,” he said. “You ran track, right?”
“Yeah?” I was impressed that he had remembered that little nugget of information after everything that had happened. I plastered a flat look on my face and dug through the med kit, pretending to do a quick inventory, to hide my blush.
“You know the feeling you get after a really hard practice?” Zander asked. “Your muscles scream at you, and you are exhausted. Everything feels tight, achy and stiff, but in a way, you are sort of numb and energized at the same time.”
“Uh-huh.” I didn’t realize I had stopped what I was doing and moved even closer. I was staring at him riveted.
“It’s like, yeah, this sucks and it hurts, and I am wiped out,” he said, talking with his hands. “But at the same time, you get this amazing rush because you can practically feel your muscles rebuilding. It’s almost like every agonizing jolt is making you stronger, more powerful.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, smiling at the memory. “That’s exactly what it was like.”
“Take that feeling, Liv, and multiply it times a thousand. That is what this feels like.” He held his wrapped arm out between us, his hand clenched in a fist.
“Yikes,” I said.
“It’s not that bad really, but I do have to admit that I feel drained.” He shrugged and another loose strand of hair to fall into his face. “It’s like my arm sucked the juice from the rest of my body. Does that even make sense?”
“It does,” I said. “I wish I could do more to help.”
I couldn’t stop myself from touching him this time as I found myself sliding his hair back behind his ear. It was a simple gesture, but my heart quickened when I saw the hungry look in his eyes. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. I even closed my eyes in anticipation and leaned in as Zander’s warm breath slid across my skin.
“Little help, here!” Riley yelled, kicking at the weight room door.
Damn it.
“I better get that before she busts the door down,” I said, trying my best not to sound disappointed.
“Good idea,” Zander laughed, sinking back down onto his back.
The second I opened the door, Riley barreled through it, huffing and moaning under her breath. Her tiny arms were loaded down and she wore a bright pink backpack on her shoulders. Micah, ever her shadow, trailed behind lugging the blue recycling bin, while Falisha brought up the rear.
“Those two are something else,” she said, shaking her head as she shut the door behind them.
They had only been able to pry a few lockers open, but thankfully the lost and found had yielded better results. Riley dropped her load (a pile of backpacks, as it turned out) in the middle of the room and slid the pink bag from her back, letting it drop to her feet. Micah’s bin held a random assortment of smaller items; pairs of sunglasses, a couple packs of gum, a roll of painter’s plastic, and two pairs of shoes.
I started laying the supplies out on the floor, dividing them so the weight of our packs would match each person’s ability to carry it. I made sure each pack had some food and water, medical supplies, and a weapon of some sort, just in case we got separated. Riley lingered nearby with a goofy grin on her face but said nothing.
“What’s up with you,” I said, staring up at my best friend from among the piles.
She unzipped her pink backpack and turned it over, dumping its contents out. Six rolls of toilet paper bounced off my lap, and scattered in all directions. “You said prepare for the worst, right?”
“That I did, Ry,” I laughed.
After all the supplies had been distributed and packed into our bags we all sat down together for a quick snack before we headed out. The jars from Mrs. Proud’s stash would be too heavy to carry, so we needed to rid ourselves of them now. Our dinner consisted of canned peaches and green beans. Despite the odd combination, it was nice to eat something that had not come out of a vending machine. Once everyone had got their fill, we finished off the last of the shower water. It tasted terrible, and I had to plug my nose to keep it down, but we needed to conserve the bottled stuff.
I finally disconnected Zander’s I.V, though I insisted the needle stay in place for his next dose of meds. With a sigh of relief, he forced his shaky legs toward the bathroom, mumbling under his breath about smelling like wet dog. As soon as the door closed behind him, I jumped up and ran to the guys.
“Can you help me with something quick?” I said, turning to Jake and Micah.
When Zander finally emerged from the bathroom, he looked like a new man. His smile was bright, despite how tired and weak he must have been feeling. At the moment, however, my attention was focused on the tiny drops of water running down his shirtless body. The muscles in his chest were thick and solid and merged seamlessly with the sculpted abs below. My eyes traced a path down the center of his stomach to his navel and past his hip bones that were jutting out past the waistband of faded blue jeans. I just caught a glimpse of a small tattoo over his heart, before he slid his shirt back over his head. My eyes followed the hem as it dropped slowly down his chiseled stomach.
Wow. I felt my jaw drop.
“Ah-ah-hem.” Micah, who was apparently the only one not staring at Zander, cleared his throat and shot Riley a dirty look. “We should go.”
She rushed to Micah’s side, offering him reassurances, while the rest of us shared a boggled glance. Falisha’s eyes wide
ned as she mouthed the word damn. Jake and I nodded subtly in agreement. Her eyes narrowed at Jake for a moment. He just shrugged and nodded. Falisha’s face lit up as she pantomimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key.
“Ready to get out of here?” I asked Zander as he approached.
“Yeah,” he said, teetering a bit on his feet. “Let’s roll.”
“Psssht, that’s a plan,” Jake snorted, dodging my elbow as he shot past me.
It was clear Zander was still feeling weak, but I didn’t push when he refused to accept my help getting up the stairs. When we finally reached the locker room, he looked like hell and took a breather on a nearby bench. Jake spent another few minutes downloading the weather balloon information onto a scavenged flash drive and slid the laptop into his pack. It was nearly ten o’clock, but I had a feeling it was darker inside than out.
We had to navigate the entire way using half-dead cell phones and tiny flashlights so when we reached the foyer, I was relieved to see the moon shining brightly through the one parachute-free pane of glass. My feat of mechanical wizardry sat right where the boys and I had left it, glowing in a beam of light just inside the door.
“What the hell is that?” asked Zander, breathing hard.
“That,” I said, pointing to the converted wheelbarrow, “is your ride.”
Chapter 23
Out of the Frying Pan
Riley’s flashlight moved with her as she stepped over one of the blobs on the ground. Even in the dim light of the moon, I could see the disgusted look on her face as she squinted down at the mysterious lump of blackened mush. She clutched the handles of her pink backpack as she launched herself over another one about the size of a football. I had seen plenty of them when I had ventured out earlier that day, but now they were starting to smell. When they were clustered like this, the stench was so thick you could practically taste it; sickeningly sweet and fetid, almost like rotting fruit.
Killshot (Icarus Series Book 1) Page 19
