Libby is pointing at Ghost. Has pointed something at Ghost. It has to be what’s causing the screams. It has to be what has been tormenting Rue’s friend. What else could it be? And Rue screams again, but this time it isn’t fear at all. This time it is rage. This time there is far too much to feel for Rue to experience only the fear. All of it floods over her. All the times Rue has been scared or frightened. All the anger, all the hurt, all the things Rue has always kept inside of her all her life… All of it shatters and Rue flies at Libby, uncertain what she wants to accomplish except that she needs to get her hands on what her nemesis is holding.
All her life, Rue has thought of herself as fairly weak, despite her dancing instructors’ best efforts. She’s never felt particularly strong but, if she is honest, she might be stronger than Libby. The other girl has always weaseled her way out of sports and dancing class, which Rue never has. Yet they’re both struggling for the upper hand. For all that Rue feels that she’s probably stronger, she can only use one arm and she’s trying desperately to keep her injured wrist from hurting worse at the same time. Libby only needs to focus on attacking her. But there! There!
Rue has managed to find whatever it is that Libby was holding and which got dropped early on into the fight. It’s a small, black rectangle, only visible in the shadow of the desk because the room is so very bright. It doesn’t look like much, like something that could cause so much suffering.
Rue has only just managed to grab it, with her injured hand because it’s closest, but she has no time to figure out what it is or how it works because Libby is on her again, yanking on her hair and Rue is screaming and Libby is screaming and then there is complete and utter silence. Or there seems to be. There is silence and calm where there was a flailing of limbs and hair before and then Ghost is there beside Rue, and Libby is limp on her back. Ghost is kneeling, holding out her hand, though Rue cannot take it.
There are words coming from Ghost’s mouth, but Rue can only dimly make them out. It’s like she’s detached from her body, floating through the confines of her skin with no control, but it only lasts… a moment. It lasts an eternity. Rue doesn’t know. She doesn’t know and she doesn’t care because then, almost with a rush, the pain hits. The way her scalp hurts and her arms and legs hurt and her wrist…
Somehow, Rue manages to crawl out from under Libby’s unconscious form. She feels like she should be coughing and isn’t. The entire room is clear of dust.
Still on one hand and her knees, Rue looks over at Libby. The other girl is curled in on herself now, her long chestnut hair covering her like a blanket. In a different situation and on a different person, Rue might almost like the shade and want to see if it’s as soft as it looks. But it’s Libby. Libby who is not unconscious. She seems to be muttering words that Rue cannot make out, but that send a chill down her spine.
The other ghostly figure has vanished. If not for that, Rue would have thought that Libby was arguing with them. She’s argued with Ghost that way before. Or perhaps she was imagining it. But Ghost is still there, beside her, all but screaming to leave now and never come back. Rue has dropped the device somewhere, though, and she can’t see it. She tries to pull herself up by the desk, but all the strength seems to have gone out of her good arm.
“You need to go now!” her friend is yelling.
“I can’t.” And Rue isn’t just talking about the way her whole body feels like it’s made of jelly and she isn’t sure if she’ll be able to stand on her own. Her breath is hard and ragged, but she’s pulling herself back up anyway. She needs that device.
“He’ll –” But Rue’s friend never manages to finish that sentence as Libby uncurls herself and gets up too. There’s a narrowing to the girl’s blue eyes that Rue has never seen on her face before.
22
“HELLO,” LIBBY SAYS, but her voice is somehow lower than Rue remembers it. “I didn’t think you’d bring any friends to play.” Rue would frown, but instead her eyes fixate on Libby’s hand. She’s holding the device again.
“Let them go.” Ghost’s voice is clipped and precise. Careful. “You don’t need the girl. Either of them.”
The device is blinking a slow, steady red. Rue scarcely pays attention to Libby or Ghost, staring as she is at the thing in Libby’s hand.
“Oh, but I do. I need both of them so very, very much.”
Her friend snarls. At least Rue thinks it’s a snarl. It may have been a shout or a strangled sob or something else entirely. Rue’s sprung forward at Libby again, making a grab for the little device. The other girl sidesteps her, turning as she does so that when Rue finds her balance again they’re still facing one another.
“She’s a bold one. This one –” Libby shakes her arms and Rue does frown at that. Presumably it is what makes the other girl laugh. “Oh, you haven’t told her anything, have you? How very precious.” She laughs again. It’s not an altogether unpleasant laugh, merry and round, but it sets Rue’s teeth on edge regardless. It is not, emphatically not, Libby’s laugh, which has always been thin and slightly strident.
“What’s going on?” Rue asks, though she doesn’t try to make another grab for the device. It isn’t being used at the moment, she tells herself. And, anyway, she cannot go charging in blindly. It was stupid to begin with and it’s stupid now and she really just wants to be home in her own bed and curled up with her own thoughts. But she’s not and she’s here in this situation and she’ll have to see it through. She’s not sure Libby would let her go home anyway. Not anymore. “Tell me.” Her voice, surprisingly, is steady.
“I wouldn’t worry your pretty, little head about the details, girl. Suffice to say that your… friend there has something I need, and this child was foolish enough to help me get it. Humans are so predictable.”
“I don’t understand.” Rue shakes her head, tries not to keep her eyes focused on the device in Libby’s hands. Tries to seem as demure and defeated as Libby has always known her to be. She wouldn’t have expected an answer to her whisper, but her friend is beside her. She can sense Ghost, can feel the silence to their communication now, to what her friend is telling her. It’s more intuition than anything and that intuition says ‘run’.
Rue itches with the desire to obey, but she gives a short, sharp shake with her good hand and hopes, prays, that Libby won’t know what it means. She drags her eyes back up to the other girl’s face and turns, slightly, to keep Ghost in her vision as well. “I don’t understand what’s going on.” There’s a slight hitch to her voice and she doesn’t know who to look at. The device is still slowly blinking red.
“He possessed her.” Ghost’s voice is flat. “She’s gone.”
“Oh, my dear, not yet. The older someone is the more time it takes to consume their being. It’s been so long since I’ve had any flesh.”
Rue doesn’t understand, desperately doesn’t want to understand, and makes another grab for the device in Libby’s hands. This time, the other girl doesn’t step away. This time Libby catches Rue’s injured wrist and twists the arm behind her back. Through her own screaming, she can just make out that Libby has been speaking, saying something about eating. And there is such fear that blossoms in Rue’s heart that she doesn’t understand, may never understand, why she doesn’t fight. Just stands stock-still, barely even daring to breathe. It hurts, badly, but the fear is stronger still and yet… It is like, somehow, Rue believes that if she stops breathing, if she stands perfectly still and doesn’t even make as much noise as a whisper, Libby will forget she’s holding her and let go.
The world is painted with splotches, but Rue can see her friend’s face before her, the way it’s contorted into a grimace before it goes completely blank. She’s never seen Ghost look so dead before. Rue is used to the blue-tinged edges around her friend’s body, to the darker highlights in deep, blue-red hair. But she’s not used to the utter lifelessness of that face, to the dullness of those eyes. They’ve always sparkled.
And Rue knows, without any
doubt, that if she doesn’t do anything now then whatever her friend is protecting or guarding or whatever it is that this thing she’s stumbled into is all about… If Rue doesn’t do something soon - now - then whatever her friend has been doing will have been in vain. She knows it with the same certainty that she knows her name is Rue and that she never, ever, wants to brave again. Ever.
Possess me, her brain screams at Ghost, because if Rue wants to be able to never be brave again she needs to be exactly that just a few moments longer. She pushes the thought at the edges of her mind where she can find her friend. She’s never tried that before, never done it before, but if Ghost can send impressions of commands her way then surely it will work the other way around. She pushes against the boundaries of her mind, tries to push past.
“No,” Ghost says, and if it weren’t for the undercurrent of their thoughts, their link, Rue would never know it for an answer.
“Please,” she whispers, because her throat is dry and she thinks she might have split one of her lips at some point. She’s no recollection of how it happened. All she remembers is a flailing of limbs. It’s the only way, she adds.
“No.”
“Please.”
And then the world goes black.
23
IT IS AN odd experience, Rue thinks, to be inside your body but to have no control over it. She feels detached, again, and is not, truthfully, paying much attention. She knows Ghost is in control, can sort of feel her limbs move and if she really concentrates she can tell what her friend is doing, but the sense of floating is far more comfortable. It is like being cradled, perhaps, only nothing like it at all. It is nothing like Rue has ever experienced. She knows Ghost is fighting Libby, whoever possessed Libby, and that her body is moving in ways she has never thought a body could move and she suspects, far from the nerves of herself, that it is going to hurt tomorrow. Not even Old Earth style ballet has prepared her for this.
And then there is running. The running jolts Rue into some form of attention because it is so very strange to be jostling so much, so fast. It is strange, Rue muses, that it is running that brings her back closer to herself when it was fighting that did nothing at all. Here, in the sprint, there is little more than the pounding of her heart and the dulled movement of her limbs. There is no anxiety, no fear save that of someone likely chased by something and she’s trying, trying desperately, to steer her friend to the window that she climbed in through. Surely that is a way out.
Rue wonders if her wrist is broken. Probably. She wonders whether Ghost can feel it and whether it matters. She doesn’t notice when her friend slips sideways and out until she’s crashed back into her own body and she trips over her own two feet. She’s stopped running and misses a beat in trying to understand what has just happened. It means she sprawls to the ground and something underneath her makes a soft (loud in the silence) crushing sound. For a moment, Rue thinks it’s her wrist, broken beyond all healing skill, but as she struggles to get back up, she realises that what she heard is the strange device that Libby had. It’s broken. The case is cracked, the wiring is loose and the blinking red light has gone utterly dim.
“Shit,” Ghost says from behind her. Rue just stares at the device for a moment then turns to stare at her friend. Ghost has done many things society would disapprove of, but cursing has never been one of them. If she had energy left to be shocked, she would be.
“I can barely see you.” Ghost is only outlines, faint ones. Nothing more. That’s all.
“I’m tired. We’re not supposed to… possess people like that. It’s harmful to everyone.”
Rue is tired too, but it doesn’t seem like the right place or time to point it out. Whatever is going on is far beyond her and she’s too tired to care anyway. All she wants to do is go home. “I came in through a window.”
“You’re in no shape to go through a window. There’s a door. Come on. We don’t have long.” Any other time, Rue might have reacted to the tone, so much like Amaranth’s. Well. No. She knows she would not have reacted at any other time. She might have, at a different point during this time, but she would only have made herself smaller and tried to hide. Perhaps one of the crates is open and she could crawl into it. She can’t. Besides, she’d like a door and she’d like to be as far away from the building as she can get. She has no desire to see Libby again.
Carefully, Rue looks out past one of the stacks. There is no sign of Libby anywhere, so she dashes along to the next aisle and ducks into that. Just to be safe, Ghost urges Rue to check out the other side near the wall as well. No Libby.
Darting back and forth, Rue makes her way to the door with Ghost following behind. When she gets close enough, it turns out to be open. Ghost urges Rue to stop and check, but Rue keeps going. She doesn’t stumble, doesn’t explain. She only throws the last of her energy into a headlong run for the fresh air outside.
A few metres onto the yard, Rue stumbles to a halt and doubles up to catch her breath. She can hear the door close behind her and all she can do is trust that the person responsible is Priti. If it’s Libby or that other ghost, they’re both doomed.
“What happened?”
That’s Priti’s voice, all filled with shock and concern, and as much as Rue would like to breathe a sigh of relief and explain, all she can manage is a weak shake of her head and a limp away from the building. Ghost is with her now, dim and faint but there.
They need to get as far away as they can as quickly as they can and Rue just drags herself to the road. There is no awareness left for her to tell whether Priti is following, no energy left to care. All Rue can do is get to the road. Walk along the road. Her wrist really, really hurts. Somewhere along the way, Rue is aware of Priti’s voice talking to someone. Ghost is talking to someone too.
When Rue stumbles and catches her balance against the wall with a hiss, she realises that neither of her friends are talking to her. Neither.
“You can see her?” she asks Priti, incredulous. “You can see her?”
Priti shrugs, though it seems uncharacteristically unsure. “Everyone in my family can see ghosts,” she says, and her voice is so soft Rue barely hears it. “I try to ignore them.”
“We don’t have time,” Ghost cuts in. “He’ll catch up with us.”
And so they trudge on in silence, along the road because there really isn’t any reason to pretend they’ve gone anywhere else and it’s the easiest route. Mostly even, mostly flat, and it’s still abandoned. There is no one there and Rue has never been so grateful in her life.
She looks a mess. She’s never been this dirty before and whatever is keeping her from noticing the pain in her limbs is vanishing. She must be bleeding somewhere because she feels faint, but she’s ignoring it as best she can. She pushes all her feelings back as far as they’ll possibly go before fear starts clawing at her throat again. Pain, at least, seems to be good for that.
All three of them walk in silence and, when they start to approach inhabited areas again, they’re careful to hide in the shadows as well as they can, as much as they can. Rue’s appearance would make people stop and ask questions, so Priti and Ghost guide them along less densely populated pathways and roads until they get to Priti’s home.
A small part of Rue wants to keep going, all the way back to her own house. Wants to take a long, hot bath and be fussed over by Mrs Krombel like when she was still a toddler. Even though she has no idea how she’d answer any of the questions that’d be thrown her way, Rue can think of nothing better.
But Priti insists. And, truly, Rue knows the other girl has a point. It would be one thing to go home dressed in worker’s clothes. It would be quite another to go home dirty and grubby and as messed up as she is. She’s probably covered in bruises too. And Priti is promising her a shower, clean clothes and a bed. Rue would so very much like a bed now.
When they arrive, she has a shower first, though. Rue doesn’t remember how how she managed to get into it, but it’s divine. It is, perhaps, even be
tter than a hot bath since all the dirt and blood just drifts away from her. It is certainly more luxurious than she expected. The shower uses real water. Rue’s never thought that the working class would have access to real water too. It stings, where it washes clean cuts, but not as much as the disinfectant that Priti’s mother applies later. Priti’s mother, it turns out, is a nurse of some sort. That surprises Rue, but she’s too tired to consider why or how. She barely manages to eat the soup she’s been presented with before she stumbles into Priti’s bedroom and onto the bed.
“We need to talk,” says Priti who was already sitting at the foot.
“We need to figure out what to do,” says Ghost, who is standing beside Priti.
“You need to rest,” Priti’s mother says from somewhere behind Rue.
But Rue doesn’t care about any of them. She’s exhausted and in pain and she wants to do nothing except sleep and she mumbles as much. She’s dimly aware that Priti and Ghost are upset, but she doesn’t care. She is out of brave, out of fear, out of caring, out of fuel, out of everything but the desire to sleep for a whole year until the aching has stopped.
24
RUE ISN’T SURE how long she’s been asleep, but when she wakes up she’s feeling a lot better. Her body still aches, but it is dulled and she can see that someone has put her wrist into a cast. Rue doesn’t even remember that. Are her parents worried about her? Mrs Krombel probably is. It takes her a while longer to recall that she’s not in her own room in her own bed, but in someone else’s.
Memories of the events from the day before — she thinks it’s the day before; perhaps it isn’t — come rushing back soon after.
They make her shoot upright so fast her vision blurs and her head spins. When it settles, Rue looks around. The room is dark and empty. She can hear muffled sounds from somewhere else, presumably another room, which helps a little, but not enough. She’s in a dark room. Alone. Injured. With strangers outside. And she doesn’t have the rush of adrenaline or whatever it was that helped her keep the fear at bay the last time.
Courage Is the Price Page 9
