Lucy smiled harshly. He would delay her, that's all. Soon as they moved on, she'd wheel Tilly across the river, load her in the trunk, and drive on back home.
Something thumped heavily to the floor. Beside the bed, Tilly swayed on her hands and knees, head hanging, drooling on the carpet.
"Where are we?" she said, spit gleaming on the corner of her mouth.
"What kind of bum drugs did that boy sell me?" Lucy said. "I just sent you under not thirty minutes ago!"
"Tilly!" Nerve called.
"Is that him?" Tilly tried to stand and fell to her knees. She looked up at Lucy, hair dangling down her eyes, and laughed like such a Hollywood imbecile it made Lucy want to cry. "I told you he'd come for me. He loves me."
"You're drugged," Lucy said.
She laughed some more. "He's gonna be so mad at you."
"He won't have the chance."
"Think so? I think when I scream my little lungs out, he'll come running like the wind."
Lucy clenched her teeth. "You keep your mouth shut."
"Or what?" Tilly grinned. "You'll shoot me?"
"I'll shoot him." She grabbed her umbrella from beside the door. "Moment he steps in the door, I'll sponge-paint the walls with his guts."
Tilly's face grew somber. "You can't do that. I'll warn him."
"Then maybe I'll bash your teeth in. I never made no promises about saving those."
The other girl blinked heavily, mouth hanging half open. "What are you talking about?"
"Quit talking or you'll find out."
Miraculously, Tilly obeyed. On the street, men went in and out of fast food joints and dress shops and discount shoe outlets, giving each store no more than a minute or two before moving to the next. Weren't going door to door, then. About time she caught a break.
"What do you think happens next?" Tilly said, more quiet and lucid than before.
"Once they get tired of hunting for your replaceable ass, we walk on out of here."
"I'm not leaving the city."
Lucy braced her umbrella across her knees and put on a special-big grin. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice."
Tilly rolled her eyes. "And then what, genius?"
"We take a walk across the river. I got a car parked over there. Town's got the most ridiculous name you ever heard."
"After that. Back home. You think I'll be grateful? That I'll learn my lesson? Jesus, do you think we're friends?"
Lucy looked from the window. "How do you mean?"
"We barely spoke the last year!"
"Friends don't need to see each other every day. We were off doing our own things, that's all."
Tilly laughed sickly, then touched her temple. "My head hurts, you dumb bitch."
Lucy rooted around in her pack and flipped Tilly a white pill. "Here."
"What's this?"
"You think I'm gonna drug you again?"
"Don't try to play innocent with me. I know you far too well."
"It's Advil." Anger welled up inside Lucy. "What's your problem?"
The girl shook her head and dry-swallowed the pill. "Don't even start."
"Is this about Lloyd?"
"My boyfriend? Why would you think that?"
From the window, Lucy thrust her finger at Tilly's chest. "Ex."
"You think that makes it better? What kind of fool doesn't know you don't go after a girl's ex?"
"There aren't exactly many dudes around town these days. You expect me to cross state lines every time I want some dick?"
Tilly snorted and looked to the ceiling in disbelief. "Do you have any idea how selfish you are?"
"You should talk," Lucy said. "You're the one who fucked Jordan Brewster."
Her eyes snapped to Lucy's. "I did not!"
"That's what I told him when he was bragging around school. Then he told me about the scar on your butt. The one you got from the nail on the dock."
Tilly squeezed her temples, eyes shut, voice gone weary. "We didn't have sex. I went down on him. Didn't even take my bra off."
"And even though he was gonna be my first boyfriend, I forgave you. Boys are just boys. There's always a new one. They're nothing to wreck a friendship over."
"This isn't about Jordan or Lloyd or any other boy, Lucy. Sometimes the past just adds up. For me, that town is nothing but bad memories."
"Well, I don't believe that at all," Lucy said. "That's where you grew up."
"Exactly!" Tilly laughed. "You should know all about it. The way the other kids treated you? That's where you want to stay your whole life?"
"We had fun, too. What about the Sunday we went down to the river and we fished and swam around and dried off on the rocks? And while we were lying there, you said what if we just never left? So we stayed the night, even though we had school the next day and your parents would be worried sick."
"They cussed me blue. Surprised they didn't slap me red, too."
"Or when Myra Lowe got that Mercedes for her birthday. Remember? It wasn't even new, but she was so snotty about it. Gunning it out of the parking lot. Swearing at us when we were walking home. But I knew she kept her keys in her locker, so you said we should teacher her a lesson about—what was it, 'the temporal nature of material things'?—and we stole them, and you drove that Mercedes right out of the school lot. Drove around town until it was running on fumes, then you crashed it into the ditch!"
Tilly frowned. "Lucy, that's not how it happened."
Lucy quit cackling. "They had to winch it out. Whole front end was as busted as Myra. Remember?"
"I said we should park it in the lot behind the school to give her a scare. You're the one who was driving. When you drove it into the ditch, I swear to God I thought I was going to die."
"I don't think so. I think you were driving."
Tilly shook her head. "You cut your eyebrow on the steering wheel. You probably still got the scar."
Lucy thumbed a small ridge on her eyebrow. Down in the street, two men approached their building and disappeared inside. "Well, I know this much. You were there with me, and you were enjoying yourself."
"Whatever. I don't care about what happened then. That's the whole point."
"You can't do that!" Lucy bolted upright. Something clunked down on the street. Her survival instincts squeezed her wrath dead; it evaporated, leaving her pain crystallized and inert. Her voice, a shout just seconds before, was steady and low. "You were my friend. The only one I ever had besides my cat, and he didn't have a choice. Then one day you quit on me without a word. Well, you can't do that. You owe me."
"What kind of ass-backwards logic is that?" Tilly said. "I never had to be your friend in the first place."
"But you did. So that means you got to stick with me. It was like all of a sudden you got too pretty to be seen with me."
"Oh please. You had nothing to worry about, Black Swan."
"Then what? Was I too low-down?" Motion in the street. Lucy waited for the men to go inside the next building before she continued. "How were you supposed to get invited to their parties when you hung around with a girl whose momma was a meth head?"
Tilly crossed her arms tight and jutted her jaw. "You make me sick, throwing all this on me. You duck blame like it's thrown at your head."
"What did I do?"
The girl laughed, harsh and righteous. "My dad the saint brings you into our house. Six months later, my mom moves out. You think I can't add two and two?"
Lucy understood at once, but it was a long moment before she could find the words. "You think me and your dad?"
"Quit it! God, the way you lie, it makes me want to vomit."
"Nothing happened!"
"That's not what my mom said. You do nothing but take with no regard for anyone else. First you take my dad from me, and when that isn't enough, you take him as a man. It so happens this takes my mom from me, but do you care? Not one whit. You just stuck around, eating up our food, stinking up our garage. And then—and this is the biggest joke of them all—you
were the one with him when he died."
"Is that what you think?" Lucy got quiet as church. "What's the matter with you? Why didn't you say something?"
"Like you'd listen?" Tilly's eyes got as bright and red as embers when you blew off the ash. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hey buddy, you mind keeping your panties on around my dad'?"
"Once he took me in, your dad was my dad. I could never have done a thing like that."
Tears blipped down her cheeks. "Then why did my mom think you did?"
Lucy sighed shakily. "The way he talked, she wasn't happy with him even before I moved in. Then he's got a teen girl around—and a troubled on at that—and her middle-aged mind starts going crazy. No wonder she made me sleep in the garage."
"I told her you could share my room. She said it would only encourage you to keep taking things that weren't yours to have."
Lucy pressed her knuckles against her brow. "I'm mean when I don't have to be and I get mad too easy and I'll shoot a man who looks at me cross. But when a person treats me right and doesn't want a thing in return, I won't never betray them or let them down."
Tilly's voice was dreamy. "I know all that. Why do you think we made friends in the first place? You were the toughest girl I ever saw."
"You believe me?" Relief washed across her heart. "Then how about we walk out of here?"
"Walk out? I got a new life here. A job and a boyfriend and everything that makes life life. Do I got a new perspective on the past? Well, maybe so. Goody-gumdrops for me. But I can't pick up on the past like all the years between were nothing but a bad dream."
"You can't stay here, Tilly. A fight's coming. And Nerve and Distro are right in the middle."
Tilly swatted her hand through the air. "Little boys trying on their daddy's pants. Once they calm down, everything will be peaches and schnapps." She'd quit crying, but a tendril of drool spooled from the corner of her mouth. She touched it and blinked at her glistening fingers. "You bitch. That was no Advil."
"I'm sorry," Lucy said. "But I made a promise to keep you safe."
Tilly tried to stand, but her legs were no good. She sprawled on the rug and glared at Lucy. "Why does everything always got to be your way?"
"'Cause I'm the only one who ain't blind," she murmured.
Tilly fought to stay awake, propping herself on an elbow and pinching the skin above her hip, but after a minute, her head sagged to the rug. Lucy made sure she was breathing okay, then returned to the window to watch the men work their way down the street.
She felt as clean as a spring rain. And, against all odds, grateful toward Tilly. The girl must have hated her with the heat of a stove. That's why she distanced herself that year before the plague. But afterward, she came back. Lucy couldn't delude herself about the why—Tilly had known that if anyone was to make it through the aftermath, it would be Lucy—but she liked to think that, as they'd begun their new life together, Tilly had been making an effort to reconcile, too.
For a while, they'd gotten back to normal. Between themselves, anyway; meanwhile, the rest of the world had gotten fucked up like you wouldn't believe. But Tilly had tried to put the past behind them. Lucy could see that now. They'd set up a couple of homes right down the block from each other, sowed gardens, gone fishing in the sea, shot possums and squirrels in the woods. If Lucy hadn't had that drunken tumble with Lloyd, could be they'd still be neighbors in sunny, quiet Florida.
The sex hadn't meant a thing to Lucy, but it had meant the world to Tilly. Once more, her best friend was coming after the only man she cared for. But rather than beating Lucy's face in, or slitting her throat in her sleep, Tilly had run off to New York without one hurt word. Because she wasn't like Lucy. She was a good person. Heart as gold as a field of corn.
A drop of water hit the windowsill. Her eyes stung. She couldn't remember crying since she'd been the smallest little girl. Another droplet hit the outside of the window and slid down the pane. It was snowing.
Lucy pressed her face to the window. It was frigid on her cheek and her nose fogged the glass. A block away, Nerve pointed at the sky. The men gathered, shaking their heads, gesturing this way and that. They pulled their collars up to their chins and walked away.
She gave them ten minutes to clear out. Would have preferred longer, but she didn't trust the second dose to last any longer than the first. She brought her bag downstairs to the clothing store, then climbed back up for Tilly. Her legs weren't too happy about this repeat performance, and her tweaked ankle had a few complaints as well (though it was in far better shape than she'd initially feared), but at least it was only two flights of stairs. She took them without a candle, feeling each step forward, gruelingly slow. At the bottom, she lowered Tilly to the wheelbarrow, covered her with a puffy black winter coat off the racks, and wheeled her outside.
Snow sifted darkly to the streets and melted there. Wind swirled between the buildings in irregular gusts, twirling the flakes, driving them sidelong at Lucy's face. She put on wool gloves and headed northwest.
She'd spent enough time on the Twelfth Avenue rooftops to know the stone arches of Lincoln Tunnel were less than half a mile away. She drove the wheelbarrow steadily along, its rubber wheel whispering over the pavement. Snow stuck to Tilly's hair and melted on her face. It was going to be a long roll to the car, particularly if Tilly woke again, but Lucy had some nice thin rope and it was easy enough to make a gag. One way or another, they'd soon be gone. Who the hell wanted to live a place where it snowed?
As she entered the looping, spaghetti-strand snarl of the roads leading to the tunnels, an analog bullhorn boomed from the rooftops.
Lucy stared up in disbelief. The man's voice repeated, calling out her location. Lucy leaned into the wheelbarrow and made a break for the tunnels. Footsteps pounded from two directions, ricocheting between the shops and offices. She curved along the road and entered the high-walled culvert feeding to the dark mouth of the tunnel.
Hampered by the wheelbarrow, she couldn't manage more than jogging speed. Shoes slapped toward her. "Lucy!"
She slowed, reaching for her umbrella.
"One more inch and I shoot you in the back."
She stopped and sighed, too weary and too close to her goal to muster more than exasperation. Nerve strode up to her, pistol extended from his body.
"What's the big deal?" Lucy said. "I'm just doing my laundry."
"You are kidnapping a Distro employee." He stopped five feet away, strands of slick black hair blowing in his eyes. "One who means very much to me."
"She was never supposed to be here. It was all a misunderstanding. Why don't you go back to your big-city business and let us country gals get on with ours?"
"Because she's mine. You should pray that her sense of loyalty is stronger than yours. You know what I do to traitors?"
"Bring them a car so you never have to see them again?"
He pulled the trigger. The bang roared between the culvert walls. The bullet struck Lucy square in the chest like a mustang's kick.
She dropped to her seat. Snow battered her face, but she felt warmly numb and giddy, as if her body were about to laugh at the silly thing that had just been done to it. Nerve took her umbrella from the wheelbarrow, pocketed the shells, and tossed it to the street with a clatter. One of his troops jogged up and took her bag.
Nerve lifted Tilly's head and spoke her name. She slept on. He scooped her from the wheelbarrow, threw her over his shoulder, patted her butt, and spat on Lucy. She wanted to stand, but she had never felt weaker in all her life.
20
"Hang on," Ellie said. "There's been a mistake."
The woman kept the gun trained on her chest. The man approached and motioned Ellie to turn around. "The mistake was letting you people live the first time you came around."
He took away her gun and slid it across the floor to his wife. Ellie tried to catch Hobson's gaze. "Our people? I haven't been through here since the Panhandler."
Sheriff Hobson smiled tightly
. "I believe the good man thinks we're associated with the Albany Clavans. Ironic, given that we oppose—"
"Quiet down, you old fart." The bearded man pulled Ellie's wrists behind her back and closed the handcuffs on her with a click of steel teeth.
"We're from Saranac Lake," Ellie said quickly. "The Clavans—"
The man grabbed the chain of her cuffs and twisted. Metal bit into her skin. Her arm bent against her side, pain flaring in her elbow. She inhaled with a hiss.
"Last warning," the man said. "One more word and my wife repaints the kitchen with you."
The cold wrath in his voice made Ellie a believer. He disarmed and cuffed Hobson and Dee. With the woman's shotgun trained on their backs, he marched them down steep stairs to an unfinished cellar. Tubs and bins lined the walls. Sunlight fought through the snow muffling two narrow windows high on the back wall.
"Sit down," he said.
"Sir," Hobson said gently. "We are hunting down the very people who hurt you. I am a sheriff. Tell me the crimes against you and I vow to do my utmost to bring you justice."
The man seemed to consider this, then slammed a right hook into Hobson's jaw. Unsuspecting, hands bound, Hobson dropped straight to the dusty concrete. The man turned on Ellie and Dee. The woman held the shotgun steady. Ellie knelt, gaze locked on the woman's trigger finger. Dee lowered herself and sat on her heels.
The man turned and clumped up the stairs. The woman followed. He closed the door. Metal scraped from the other side. A heavy padlock clunked shut.
"What are they doing?" Dee whispered.
"Getting friends or equipment. Neither option's good."
"Sheriff Hobson?" Dee shook the old man's shoulder, but he remained lost to the world. His slack face and the egg-white skin beneath his eyes looked much older, as if the spark in his eyes were all that kept the decades at bay.
Ellie cast around the dim room. Dee had her dark hair in a ponytail, her ragged bangs clipped tight to her temple.
"Your bobby pin," Ellie said.
"I think he's hurt," Dee said.
"We don't have time. Lean down and close your eyes."
Dee cocked her head, but did as she was told. Ellie turned her back so her cuffed hands could reach Dee. She owled her head over her shoulder and groped the side of the girl's head, working her fingernail under the pin. She slid it loose and sat down.
Reapers (Breakers, Book 4) Page 23
