The Virulent Chronicles Box Set

by Shelbi Wescott

  Blair grabbed Frank’s leash and walked up to Darla. “Teddy’s mom,” she said. “As if my day couldn’t get more heartbreaking.”

  After a beat, Darla nodded. “He’s my everything. I don’t know how you know my son…but…”

  Behind a bookshelf, they heard a low whisper. “You left me,” a voice cried, raspy and hoarse.

  Grant froze and Blair shrieked, dropping to her knees.

  Dean and Darla stared at them and then looked at each other. They began to laugh. It was a bubbling of all the pent-up tension from the last forty minutes. Darla wiped her eyes and wandered to the nonfiction aisle, and Dean joined her. A girl was splayed out making dust angels against the hardwood floor.

  “We’re sorry, Ainsley...but trust us...you didn’t want any part of what just happened down there,” Dean said. He stretched out his hand and she sat up.

  “Ainsley...” Grant repeated.

  “Grant, right?” Ainsley asked and she extended her hand to him. He took it and shook her cold hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she added. Grant raised his eyebrows and looked at her. She had wild frizzy hair and a large nose, and one of her front teeth protruded out in front of her other one. She wore torn jeans and there were dark circles underneath her eyes. When she noticed him staring at her, she ducked behind Darla and put her hands on her friend’s shoulders.

  “He’s looking at me,” Ainsley said. “Make him stop.”

  Dean nudged his son and Grant turned to Blair, unsure of what to make of the girl with the wild hair. He took a step forward. “What happens now?” he asked. “There’s no Copia?”

  “There’s no Copia,” she confirmed.

  “And I’m supposed to be dead.”

  Blair didn’t answer.

  “Blair—”

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said to the group. “You’re alive and the guards are dead. And Teddy’s mom is alive and...” Blair looked like she was too overwhelmed to continue. “And I’ll have to face my father.”

  “Look,” Darla said, but Blair put up her hand to stop her from continuing.

  “No,” Blair spat. “Nobody talk to me. You have to let me think. You don’t understand...none of you can understand. I just saved you, but...”

  Grant put a hand on her shoulder and she didn’t shove him off. They all stood watching her, realizing slowly that their entire lives rested in Blair’s hands. Frank barked and outside a strong wind blew and it rattled the roof.

  “You don’t understand,” she repeated. “What happens now? Now that everything I’ve worked for and wanted is gone?” And without saying anything else or giving them any instructions, Blair tugged on Frank’s leash and stormed out of the library and onto the deserted Brixton road.

  Ainsley stuck her head out and followed the line-of-sight out the door and then ducked back. “Who was that?” she asked, pointing after Blair.

  “The woman who is going to take me to my son,” Darla answered, and she stuck her gun in the back of her leggings, following Blair into the bright afternoon sun.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Maxine slopped a large scoop of eggs on Lucy’s plate. She kept moving down the line: some for Galen, Malcolm, Monroe, and Harper. They looked at the eggs and pushed them around on their plates; a thin layer of uncooked whites wobbled under their forks.

  “Where did they come from?” Malcolm asked.

  “Chickens, dummy,” Monroe answered.

  “I mean...” Malcolm continued, ignoring his brother, “where did the chickens come from?”

  This seemed like a valid question, so everyone turned to their mother and awaited her reply. Scott, with wild hair and several days of beard growth, crossed his arms over his chest and pushed the plate back an inch. Maxine watched his actions scornfully and turned her attention to her children.

  “The East Tower has an agricultural level. They have chickens there,” Maxine said with a curt nod and raised eyebrows. “Any other questions?”

  “Do they deliver them to your doorstep every day?” Monroe asked.

  “Do we have to eat eggs every day?” whined Malcolm.

  Lucy took a bite and felt the soft folds of the undercooked egg rest against her tongue. She swallowed quickly and reached for the salt. Galen pushed it toward her and then nabbed the pepper, and they sprinkled their mother’s meal with enough spices to hide its imperfections.

  “No and no,” Maxine replied. “Eat and stop your complaining. You have fresh eggs, seasonally appropriate vegetables, and your mother just made you breakfast. Get up anytime you want and make your own damn meal if you want.”

  It was just going to be one of those days. The kids exchanged wary glances and started to eat. Harper rested her fist on her chin and slid her breakfast from one end of the plate to the other. She started to mumble something, but Maxine shot her a withering look and Harper clamped her mouth shut. Even she knew it was best not to push further.

  Scott stood up without touching his breakfast.

  “I’m going to the track,” he announced. “Run a few laps.”

  “Now?” Maxine asked, but it wasn’t a question. “When we can, we have breakfast as a family.”

  Her father looked at the empty chair where Ethan should have been. He’d been up and out of the apartment before any of them woke. While he hadn’t been as brusque to Lucy (she was sure he heard about her conversation with Cass and perhaps he felt guilty for excluding her and hurting her feelings), he had not warmed up to their parents. Scott took to the behavior by withdrawing. Maxine seemed perpetually wound-up for a fight.

  “Yes, now,” Scott said.

  The kids held their breath.

  “Sit down and eat your eggs.” Maxine pointed to his plate.

  “I’ll eat them when I return.”

  “Then sit down and don’t eat them,” she said.

  It was a brief showdown with neither parent willing to back down. Scott’s face was expressionless, but Maxine stood there holding her spoon like a catapult. It was angled in his direction just enough to look like she was considering launching the rest of the eggs straight into his pajamas. It wouldn’t have been the first time Maxine had thrown food at them to incite proper behavior or change the current tone. Lucy didn’t know of many other mothers who used food fights to their benefit, but in many ways Mama Maxine was magical.

  Once Lucy had told Salem, “She will bite your head off in love,” and it was the truest sentence she had ever said.

  “What’s your deal?” Maxine asked Scott once he sat down.

  Scott scratched at his chin. He looked quickly to Lucy and then back to Maxine. “It’s just a big day and I’m nervous. Copia is leaving today.”

  Lucy raised her eyebrows and swallowed another bite. “Really?” she asked, smiling. “Will Grant be able to call once he gets there? When can we visit? Can I go there? That’s the best news!”

  “I don’t know any of those answers,” Scott answered.

  “That was faster than I anticipated,” Maxine added. “No need to be nervous. It’s out of your hands now.” Scott nodded and pulled his plate back toward him; he took a tentative bite. Her mother reveled in her victory by smiling widely at the faces before her. “Eat up, kiddos. I’m reinstituting date days. So, let’s do our drawing...” she reached behind her and grabbed a small mug, “Who shall it be today?” She shook the mug and it made a small fluttering noise.

  “It used to just alternate,” Galen said. “I am pretty sure it was my turn and then you had the twins.”

  “I’ve had dates with you since then,” Maxine replied and rolled her eyes.

  Galen shook his head adamantly.

  “I have.” Maxine lowered her chin and stared at Galen while she reached into the mug and drew a name. “Lucy,” she read and opened up the paper for everyone to see.

  “What if it had been Ethan?” Monroe asked.

  “Then I’d go find Ethan and drag him on a date with me.”

  “Galen can go if he wants to,” Lu
cy said, pointing at her younger brother with her fork.

  “I picked you,” Maxine said as if that solved everything. “We’ll go in an hour or so?”

  “She said I could go instead...”

  “It’s Lucy’s date.” Maxine put her cup down loudly on the table and bits of coffee splashed down the sides. “That’s the name I picked and that’s the way it works. And that’s final.”

  Lucy froze and watched her mother wipe at the spilled drink. Dates were intended to be fun and spontaneous, and spending an afternoon with her mother on Kymberlin didn’t sound like something she wanted or needed. It sounded forced and atrocious.

  Galen pouted and grumbled, taking spiteful bites of his breakfast and rolling his eyes. After taking a final bite, Scott got up and went to the sink; as he walked by, Maxine put her hand out and touched his arm. He stood facing away from them, staring at the wall, and when he turned, he had tears in his eyes.

  “Scott—” Maxine said, concerned, and she started to get up, but he motioned for her to stay seated.

  He walked over to Lucy and kissed the top of her head.

  “Have a good date day with your mom, okay?” He nodded to encourage her. Lucy knew that tone: the subtle warding off of future meltdowns. “Promise me. Have fun.”

  “Jeez, Dad. It’s a date. And it’s not like you’re going off to war,” Lucy said, laughing.

  Scott didn’t answer. He just smiled wanly and took off toward his room without another word. Maxine watched him with a confused expression, but then she turned back to her kids and clapped her hands. “Okay, clean those plates and clear the table. Chop-chop.” Standing up in a flurry of busyness, she grabbed glasses and orchestrated a queue to the sink, patting bottoms and facilitating her cleanup crew with military precision. Once all the plates were deposited into the sink, Maxine shooed the children off to play, but Lucy hung back. She watched her mom wipe a flyaway piece of hair out of her face. When her mother’s back was turned, Lucy walked over to the mug where their names had been written on neatly folded pieces of paper and she dumped the paper into her hands.

  She opened up a strip. Lucy. And another. Lucy. And the last three: Lucy, Lucy, Lucy.

  Her hand went to put the paper back into the mug and she jumped when she heard her mother talk to her from the sink without turning around.

  “So, now you know the secret,” Maxine said.

  “It’s cheating.” Lucy crumpled up the paper and walked it over to the garbage instead.

  “Nope,” her mother replied. “It’s called parenting.”

  “Galen wanted to go,” she said to her mother.

  Maxine turned. She looked so exasperated and yet so mischievous, it was hard for Lucy to look away.

  “And Galen will get to go when Galen gets to go. But today...my lovely favorite oldest daughter...”

  Lucy smiled and rolled her eyes playfully. “Always such a cop-out...”

  “...go get ready.”

  “I blame Harper for losing favorite daughter status. It was mine for the taking.”

  “Shoo,” Maxine tried again and this time Lucy acquiesced. She slipped upstairs and stood in her room for a requisite amount of time before just slipping into the pair of jeans and white t-shirt that Gordy had sent over to their apartment. It was her size, but she hated that she had to wear them.

  When she reappeared downstairs, her mother was waiting. She was wearing a black skirt, knee-high boots and a tight sweater. Her mother wasn’t thin—she hadn’t ever been tiny—but Lucy always thought her mother was the perfect size. It hadn’t ever occurred to her that her mother was anything but gorgeous. Her dad thought she was beautiful and she carried more confidence in her pinky than Lucy would have in her lifetime. She never shied away from a body hugging sweater despite her paunchy belly. It was like her mother owned her extra pounds with pride. Sometimes, she was downright inspiring.

  Lucy had carried so much anger since arriving at the System that she forgot what it was like to see her mom all dolled up for a date, waiting just for her. To see that loving wink, the melting away of pretenses, the beauty of knowing that everything was going to be okay for a few hours.

  “You ready?”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “I have a map,” Maxine announced and she unfurled a small pamphlet.

  “He thought of everything,” Lucy said with a droll laugh. “Sometimes...this place...”

  Maxine poked her finger into Lucy’s shoulder. “Save it, kiddo. You have my undivided attention today. Let’s get going and then put it to good use.”

  They started with manicures. And then they ended up at a small place called the Tea Room. The Tea Room was nestled between a music shop and a job recruitment center. Maxine stopped in at the small recruitment office just to ask questions while Lucy stood there hoping her mother would stop talking, but the young man working there had recommended the tea house as a good place to visit and they took his advice.

  It was ornate and sophisticated and dimly lit. The couches and chairs were reproductions of Victorian-era furniture: opulently carved walnut sofas with tufted backs and parlor chairs upholstered in patterned fabrics. The tables boasted lace tablecloths and all the utensils were pure silver.

  Lucy stood in awe of the entire setup and couldn’t help but look confused when the big black man with the calloused hands introduced himself as the owner. She didn’t think of herself as someone who would be so quick to judge, but she would have bet anything that a little old lady had been the one to craft each egg-salad sandwich without the crusts and hook tiny cookies onto each teacup.

  “I’m Jeremiah,” the man said, and he greeted Maxine with a sturdy handshake. He turned to Lucy and took her hand next.

  “Maxine and Lucy King,” her mother introduced for the both of them. “Which EUS did you come from?”

  Jeremiah motioned for them to sit in a fancy velvet sofa and chair. “I’m not from an EUS,” he said, and he cleared his throat. “I’m one of Huck’s builders. We’ve been employed for a long time, and when the Islands were finished, we were offered second chances. I suppose that’s how you’d put it.”

  Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Wait,” she said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but—”

  “Yes,” he answered before she could finish her sentence. “I was in construction. And now I own the Tea Room. Many of the shops here in the main tower are run by people who were employed by Huck and were no longer needed. Electricians. Engineers. Construction workers. Huck worked hard to make sure we could follow our dreams. That man is in the wish fulfillment game and I’m indebted to him.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Maxine answered. Lucy thought she seemed teary. She sent up a silent prayer that her mother wouldn’t start crying.

  “So, welcome to my dream,” Jeremiah said, and he explained the tea offerings of the day then disappeared to get them ready.

  “We should be wearing dainty little hats,” Lucy whispered to her mother when he was out of earshot. Maxine smiled and nibbled on a cookie.

  “This is nice,” her mother said as if to remind her.

  “It is,” Lucy answered quickly, not looking for a fight. Their afternoon had been wonderful so far. They had talked to their manicurists and learned their stories, and had wandered from one end of a floor to the other, assessing all the amenities. Payment for services was taken out of a virtual bank. Every month residents were allotted a fixed amount to use for things that qualified as entertainment or luxury. Necessities were freely provided. While it felt strange to simply name an account and leave without exchanging money, Lucy knew that she would soon adapt to Kymberlin’s strange set of rules. At times, it felt like they were on vacation in a foreign land and exploring their large hotel. Lucy had to remind herself that she lived here and she couldn’t leave.

  “Thank you for coming to the date today...I know you could have fought it, and...” Maxine started.

  Lucy braced herself. She had seen her name on those pieces of paper and knew that her
mother had wanted to spend time specifically with her. If the date had some ulterior motive, it was about to rear its ugly head in the privacy of their Tea Room booth.

  “Can I ask you something?” Lucy interrupted. Maxine nodded. “Do you think you can be happy here?”

  Maxine picked up a silver fork and hit it against her open palm. Then she put it down and straightened it on a cloth napkin. She took a sip of water.

  “Mom?” Lucy asked.

  “It’s not fair to ask me a question like that,” Maxine finally answered. “Because it’s not about me. It’s not about my happiness.”

  “Yes, it is,” Lucy said quickly.

  “No,” she shook her head. “It isn’t.”

  “It’s unlike you to play the martyr,” Lucy said. She looked down at the tablecloth. “Will you be happy here?”

  “I will,” her mother answered without delay. “For the rest of my life. I will find the happiness that awaits us here. I will raise my children on Kymberlin the same way I raised them back in Portland. I will be the same wife, the same friend, the exact same woman. Nothing has changed except my location. My desire to protect my family is even greater now that we are here...and the best way I can protect you is to show you that this is our life now.”

  “Mom—”

  “It’s not martyrdom, Lucy. And frankly...when did that become a bad word? You asked me and I’m telling you. Just because you don’t like what you’re hearing doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Living here doesn’t mean I accept the actions that brought us here...”

  “Mom—”

  “Everyone has to live under or work under people who they disagree with. For me, I understand what Huck is capable of and I want my children protected. Huck’s...”

  “I told Grant that I loved him,” Lucy blurted.

  Maxine blinked.

  Jeremiah appeared at their table and placed a white porcelain teapot between them and two floral teacups. He poured them the tea and explained what they were drinking: a citrusy black tea from Ceylon. Sensing Lucy’s blush and Maxine’s tight-lipped smile, he poured quickly and then left them alone.