Текст книги "Writing on the Wall"

Автор книги: Tracey Ward

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

Chapter Sixteen

That night I don’t think any of us sleep. I see Lexy before going to bed and when I ask her if she’s gotten the names of the new gang members in the Pod she shakes her head sadly. Tim has never seen them either, only heard of them. She tells me they’re from a gang called The Elevens, some reference to the Eleventh Hour, but I’ve never heard of it. I never got the name of Ryan’s gang anyway. I’m more convinced with each passing second that he is one of them and the writing I left on the wall is burning in my mind like a brand. I’m dying to walk past it but terrified as well. What if there’s a response?

I decide to lie down and toss and turn in my bed instead.

At least that’s the plan, until a hand clasps over my mouth. Second time since I’ve been here and I still don’t like it. When my eyes pop open I come face to face with Vin, his handsome features shrouded in darkness giving him a sinister quality.

But I know it’s him. I’m know I’m safe.

So why do I backhand him across the face? Because he knows better, that’s why.

He doesn’t cry out as Lexy did when I hit him or even as Ryan did when I punched him for messing up my night. He simply looks away for a moment, takes a calming breath and looks back at me with hard eyes.

“You think I deserved that?” he asks tightly.

“If not for startling me awake then I’m sure somewhere at some point in your life you earned that.” I whisper angrily.

“Fair enough. Come on.”

“Where?”

“Outside.” He stands, offering me his hand. “We have to talk.”

I ignore his hand but I follow him out of the dark room, leaving the soft sounds of even breathing and light snoring behind us. He leads me silently through the hallways and out the door, the same door I burst out of earlier tonight. It’s even colder now. I can see my breath coming in small puffs of white in front of me. There’s no one patrolling nearby and I imagine we have a small window of opportunity to talk and freeze before the next guard comes by.

“Merry Christmas.” he says quietly, pulling something from his back pocket.

I frown in confusion then smile in delight when I see what it is. It’s a shiny, sharp trowel with a holly green handle. It’s stolen from the gardens for sure. It is the single greatest gift I’ve ever received.

“It’s so pretty.” I whisper happily, turning it over to test its edge.

“I promised you something shiny.”

“And you delivered.” I press my finger against the tip then pull it back quickly. “It’s sharp.”

“Why else have it, right? Keep it with you when you can. If something goes down while I’m gone I want to know you have it.”

I nod my head as I slip it into my back pocket. The handle sticks up but the point is hidden.

When I look up at Vin my heart skips. His eyes are sharp, intense.

“Come with me.” he commands quietly.

“No.” I reply immediately.

I was waiting for this. From the moment he woke me up, the second I saw his eyes, I knew. And just as quickly as I recognized it, I knew what my answer would be.

He shakes his head in disbelief. “You know I’m not coming back here. Not for you, not for anyone.”

“Maybe not, but if I go with you then you definitely won’t.”

“It’s not going to work, Joss.” he tells me seriously. “The Hive won’t bite. They don’t want to rock the boat with the Colonies and the pot isn’t sweet enough to convince them to try. They’ll pass and everyone here is going to either stay here forever or die in a revolt.”

“Nats included.” I remind him coolly.

“She’s a big girl. She knows how it really is. She can yell at me all she wants, but she knows just as well as I do that no one will come here to help.”

“Especially if you don’t ask.”

“What the hell do you want from me?” he whispers fiercely. “You want me to go out there and rally the troops, bring them back here riding on a tall white horse and save the day? I’m no hero. I never have been. It’s how I’ve stayed alive.”

“It’s also a great way to stay alone. And if you do this, if you go and pretend we don’t exist, then I’ll pretend I never knew you. Nats will too, I’m sure. You’ll be nothing to no one and won’t that make life easier for you? So go on and go, you coward, and don’t ever look back because there’s nothing to look back on. You were never even here far as I’m concerned.”

I turn to leave him standing there in the cold beside the words I wrote to Ryan, words that have gone unnoticed and feel like nothing in the night. I’m spun around roughly and pinned against Vin’s chest. His breath is coming even and hard, sharp inhales and exhales that burst against my face leaving my skin freezing in their absence.

“Don’t turn your back on me.” he growls.

I can see the enforcer in him now. The hard ass who lived on the outside by the skin of his teeth and grit under his knuckles. It’s something I understand, something I can respect. Something I can relate to.

I lean closer, no longer being pulled but rather pushing against him until our faces almost touch.

“No, don’t you turn your back on me. On us.” I whisper harshly, pushing at him aggressively. He lets me go and I stumble back from him.

“I’m no hero.” he repeats.

“How do you know until you’ve tried?”

“You expect too much of me.” he says quietly. It could be a trick of the light, but I swear his eyes look sad.

“I expect you to be a man.” I say harshly. “Not a great one, not even a good one. Just a man. A little bit of bravery and a little bit of honor. That’s all I’m asking.”

He shakes his head at me, running his hands over his hair. It’s growing out again. It’s getting longer and he’s looking less like the Vin I’ve gotten to know in here and more like the guy from the outside.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I get out, Kitten.” he tells me softly. He’s not looking at me and it somehow makes me trust him more. “I have no idea. I know what I should do.”

“You should walk away.” I say, knowing it’s true.

“Yeah. I should forget all about all of you. But I don’t know if that’s what I want to do. I don’t know if it’s something I can do.”

“You’re not going to know until you try. That’s all any of us can ask of you anyway. We just need you to try.”

He looks at me then and it’s strange. He doesn’t look so much older than me anymore. He looks young and vulnerable, completely unsure.

“What do you think I’ll do?” he whispers. “Do you think I’ll do the right thing?”

“No.” I answer without hesitation.

I’m relieved when he laughs. “Thanks for that.”

“I have my doubts, just like you. But the fact that you’re torn gives me hope.”

“Ooh.” he says with a wince. “That is a dirty word, Kitten. You know that.”

I step closer to him and wrap my arms around him tightly, shocking him. He hesitates before hugging me back gently. I’m proud of him that his hands stay out of my danger zones.

“You’ll come back for us, Vin.” I whisper in his ear. “I know you will.”

I know no such thing, but I want it to be true and I can tell he does too so I tell him that it is. I lie to us both and I hope it makes it real.

Vin nods his head beside mine and buries his face in my shoulder. I do the same. We stand huddled together against the cold and the uncertainty of everything tomorrow will bring.

That’s why we never see it coming.

Vin is slammed harder against me, pressing me painfully into the wall. When I open my eyes I feel his breath rush out of him in one huge exhale. He groans as his head sags forward, his hands clenching hard against my skin. I’ll have bruises later. But that’s the least of our worries. I’m looking over his shoulder staring face to face with Caroline. Her eyes are wild and huge, staring straight at me as she leans against Vin’s back.

“Should have stayed away from him, whore.” she breathes at me.

I watch in shock as she steps back, leaving Vin sagging against me and pulling a long, bloody knife away with her. She’s stabbed him. I don’t know where and I don’t know if it’s fatal, but the knowledge shifts my gears. The shock wears off and the autopilot kicks on. When I look at her, I know she knows.

She’s made a terrible mistake.

I shove Vin to the side, letting him fall carelessly onto the frozen ground. Then I lunge at her. I don’t make contact, I only lunge. I’m testing her reflexes, seeing how she wields the knife. I need answers to a few questions right now and they’re all put to rest with that one movement. Her reaction tells me everything I need to know and the simple truth is this: Barbie doesn’t have what it takes.

When I lunge at her she jumps back quickly and slashes the knife in front of her. It’s a good move, it keeps me away from her. But a better move, one that a person accustomed to working with a weapon and letting it work for them would do, is to meet my lunge with her own and stab at me in close proximity. I can’t just take that knife from her, not if I want to keep my blood in my body, and if she’s quick and efficient enough she could kill me before I lay a hand on her.

Kind of like this. Watch.

I pull the trowel from my back pocket, holding it at waist level in my right hand. My strong hand. I miss my ASP and its long reach, but autopilot doesn’t care. All autopilot wants is to put down the threat and go to bed. So that’s what it does. It lunges forward again, backing Caroline up until she stumbles off the walkway and lands on the ground on her back. It watches as she slashes out wildly, hoping to force me back away from her. It waits patiently. Then it lunges again. It stomps on her arm holding the knife, pinning it down. Forcing it to be still. It moves forward, bringing the sharpened trowel down. It sinks it uncontested into Caroline’s throat. It watches her eyes go wide, then roll back in her head.

It slips out of the driver’s seat.

I shake as I watch her bleed into the ground.

Dead.

Dead at my hand.

Chapter Seventeen

As I feel the adrenaline leave me, I feel the cold sink in deeper. It sets root in my heart and freezes my blood until I can’t move, until my muscles atrophy. I’m paralyzed and eggshell fragile. I’m a statue. A porcelain figurine. A killer.

“Kitten.”

Vin’s weak voice calls to me from far off. I try to ignore it but he won’t shut up.

“Kitten.”

My eyes gain focus. I find myself staring at Caroline’s lifeless corpse. I’ve seen plenty of dead bodies in my day. A lot of them are actually ones I laid to their final rest. But they were all dead already, all on their way and lost in the confusing haze of being a Risen. I helped them find clarity. Finality.

This is different. This was a living, breathing, seething person until along came a spider who stabbed her in the neck and let her bleed out at her feet. This is ugly and hateful.

Is this me?

“Kitten!”

“What?!” I cry, turning to face him.

I’m actually surprised to find him still alive. I figured that despite the fact that Caroline was literally a backstabber, she was probably a finish the job kind of girl too. But there he lies, a pool of dark blood seeping out of his side. He’s breathing and cursing like any other day of the week.

“You okay?” I ask numbly.

He glares up at me. “Do I fucking look okay?!”

I fall to my knees beside him. “You’ve looked better.”

“What about you?” he wheezes, grasping his side and eyeing me. “Are you okay?”

“I fucking look okay?” I deadpan.

“Was it your first time?”

“Yeah.”

“It gets easier.”

I snort. “I doubt that.”

“Trust me, it does.”

“I don’t want it to.” I say weakly, my eyes stinging.

“It’s not really a choice.”

I move to glance over my shoulder. To look at Caroline. At my kill.

“Don’t.” Vin says firmly, gripping my hand with his blood smeared palm.

“What the hell happened?!” a voice cries from the doorway.

Vin and I both look over slowly to find Tim standing there in shock, looking from us to Caroline and back again.

“What?” is all he can muster.

“We ran into a little trouble with the plan.” Vin tells him with a grunt.

He keeps moving around. I assume he’s trying to ease the pain but it’s not going to happen. Not until he’s sewn together again. I grab his shirt at the front then yank hard. It rips down the center, tearing in two. I help him pull his arms out of it then ball it up and press it firmly against his wound.

“Vin needs a doctor.” I tell Tim. He’s staring at Caroline. “She doesn’t need anything. Not anymore.”

Tim looks at me for a long moment. His face is a mask and I wonder what he’s thinking. Can he see it on me that I did it? That I killed her? I feel like it’s marked on me somehow like a stink I’ll never be able to wash away.

“Here’s what happened.” he says quickly and quietly, moving to Caroline’s body. “Joss came out here for some fresh air. She saw Vin and Caroline… being intimate. She felt angry and jealous so she attacked Caroline with… what is this in her neck?”

“A trowel.” Vin and I say in unison monotone.

“Alright, Joss attacked her with a trowel. She killed Caroline and found the knife that she always kept on her for protection. Then she turned the knife on Vin, stabbed him, took Caroline’s keys to the fence and ran.”

“I’m leaving?” I ask, looking at him in surprise.

“Hell yes, you’re leaving.” He’s rooting around in Caroline’s pockets now, jostling her body back and forth. It flops lifelessly and I worry I’ll be sick. “Vin can’t go and you can’t stay here. You killed one of the leaders. And this is better than Vin escaping. That brings up questions of how and who helped and is there dissension in the ranks. This way it was a lover’s quarrel, something not uncommon in the Pods, though it usually ends in fist fights not…”

“Stabbings?” I ask.

“Exactly. Here.” Keys land beside my knees on the packed, frosty dirt. “Take those. Get out of here. Do what he was supposed to do.”

I shake my head, staring at the keys. At freedom. “The Hive doesn’t know me.” I protest weakly. “They’ll never listen to me. They’ll never even speak to me.”

“Take this.” Vin says. He pulls his ring off his finger and slips it on mine. On the ring finger of my left hand. He smirks through a grimace. “Don’t get excited, it’s just a loner.”

“Nothing would thrill me less.” I mutter, staring at the ring. It’s a dark metal full of dents, scratches and dark blue flecks. It’s beautiful.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Act like I don’t know.”

“Will they recognize it?”

“Marlow will. He knows it was my old man’s. It’s the only thing that’s ever meant anything to me.”

I look in his eyes and feel like crying. He could die. I could die. We all might die no matter what I do but suddenly I feel so cold and bone tired I don’t even know which way is up anymore.

“They won’t listen to me, will they?” I whisper.

His lips form a grim line. He shakes his head sharply. “Probably not.”

I nod, looking at the ring and thinking it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Not if we never try.

“Alright, I’ll go.” I say, standing and quaking with cold and nerves.

“Hey.” Vin says. He’s staring up at me and in this light I can’t read his eyes. “You’ll get it done. You’re a better man than I am.”

I chuckle. “No shit.”

Two minutes later I’m wearing Tim’s sweater, carrying the knife and trowel and I’m running through the gates. I fumble in the dark, slipping on the wet boards of the dock. Finally I get my hands on a small rowboat and cast off, launching myself out over the cold, black water. If a guard sees me they don’t say anything and I wonder if some of them aren’t sick of the Colony after all. It’s a miracle I’ve made it out unseen and unhurt. It’ll be an even bigger miracle if I survive.

It’s icy cold out here and even with Tim’s sweater I’m still shivering violently. It’s not just the cold. It’s the lack of adrenaline after the fight, it’s the shock of having killed a woman, it’s the fear for Vin’s life, it’s the fear for my life and the fear of the Risen that surround this place in a thick wave that comes crashing in on me the second I take to shore.

I have to start running immediately and I can only hope I’m going the right way. Tim told me to head southeast. He said there are roads that are intentionally filled with debris and made impassible to force attacks from only one direction. Southeast.

I run as fast as I can, leaving a pocket of Risen behind and finding a blessed silent section of the city. I know the Risen are surrounding me on all sides, I can hear them everywhere, but I have to get it together. I slow my pace, slow my breathing and try to slow my mind. It’s racing ahead of me, running away from me. It’s already at The Hive. It’s already standing before Marlow, assuming I ever even make it that far without being killed or pimped, and it’s failing. It’s showing him the ring, he’s laughing in its face and he’s sending it to the stables. All my worst fears are running around me, after me, before me. I feel so boxed in and terrified that I stop moving entirely to lean over and vomit on the street.

A Risen stumbles in front of me from out of nowhere, though in this darkness everywhere is nowhere. It takes me a moment to get my bearings and it’s a moment I don’t have. I take an extra second too long to verify that it’s dead, that it’s not another Caroline and in that second it grabs me hard. I drop the knife to push on its forehead and keep its gnashing, drooling teeth from closing in on my face. I can smell the putrid breath of the thing rolling over me and I gag hard. I can’t get in a clean breath. I’m starting to see stars. I’m wondering what the hell is wrong with me when I finally get it together enough to jam the trowel into the Risen’s eye. It’s too large to go in far enough to damage the brain so I have to pull it out and try another tract. It will scar me further for the rest of my days, but I do what I know works. I start stabbing the trowel into the neck of the thing, front and back and sides, pushing harder and harder back until it finally does it job. The head falls forward useless as all of the muscles I’ve cut lose tension and give out. It’s drooling over its own chest now, unable to look anywhere but at its feet and as I back away it starts walking in circles looking for me.

I can hear the moan and groan of other Risen falling in close on me from all sides. They smell the blood on me. Caroline’s blood. It’s all over the shirt beneath Tim’s sweater. Even now with that sweater covered in the cold black tar that this zombie just sprayed all over me, they smell Caroline. There are too many here and I don’t have the kind of weaponry I need to survive this. Even with my ASP and a gun I don’t know if I’d survive this swarm. This is part of the Colony’s defenses, I realize. This is just another way they keep us locked in. Or dead.

I give up running. I’m lost in the dark at this point and exhausted beyond reason. I decide to head for the nearest building. It’s my only shot though it’s not much of one. I’m shivering and shaking as I sprint clumsily inside, feeling the agonizing press of the walls around me and the hands at my back. They’re everywhere, literally everywhere here and I wonder if this wasn’t the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. I make it to the stairwell and start to climb, my legs shaking beneath me. I stumble twice and each time it’s harder to get back up. I can’t see a thing in here and I’m working entirely on feel. Do you understand how horrifying that is? Being in the dark, nearly unarmed and surrounded by your worst nightmare. I expect every step to stumble me, every breath to be my last. Every corner holds the promise of stepping straight into the crushing embrace of a hungry risen, primed and ready to devour me with yellow, rotted teeth. They’ll sink into my flesh. They’ll tear it from the bones. All while I live and breathe and scream.

By the time I burst through the opening to the roof, I’m crying. I’m weeping, nearly hyperventilating and shaking from head to toe. I slam the door behind me, nearly screaming in relief when I find a working lock on it. I don’t hear the infected coming, but that doesn’t mean they’re not. They’re down there in the streets below, shuffling and moaning. They were in the building as I ran through. They know where to find me. It’s only a matter of time.

I collapse against the door, sinking down onto the rough rooftop. I’m feeling like this is as good a place as any to die. I work harder than I ever have before to find my numb. To get it back, to be the unfeeling, uncrying, unafraid, unaffected husk I have been for the last six years. To be the girl who survives. But I’m not her anymore. I haven’t been since the comet and the music and the kiss. Since the words on the wall. Since the back of the van. Since the kitchen and the laughter.

I’m not a survivor anymore. But I am alive.

“I’m awake.” I whisper into the cold darkness.

I doze off. Somewhere in the night my shivering isn’t enough to keep me awake anymore. But the sudden banging on the door is.

Directly behind me, separated by only inches of steel door, are clawing hands and shuffling feet. Gnashing teeth and hungry, dead eyes. I can feel the salty trails of my tears dried on my cheeks, making them feel stiff and strange. My body is achingly cold and angry from sitting in front of this door for so long. I can’t run. I doubt I can fight. Even if I can, how many are there? One for sure, for now, but how many will follow? Given enough time there will be enough to bring the door down and where will I go from there?

Light is building in the sky, telling me where east is. Taunting me with the knowledge that now means nothing to me. I’m sitting facing it, watching the warm glow grow and grow as the pounding behind me builds as well. Another set of hands has joined in. How many can the door hold? Not many, I imagine. The light is turning yellow, rays of the sun piercing the dark sky and falling on my face. In my eyes, blinding me. I wince against the light, reminded of my last moment out in the wild before they shut me in the van.

Then I’m on my feet, falling as my numb legs try to support my weight. I rise again, stumbling and crawling toward the edge of the building, looking for the perfect spot. A place where the skyline gives me a clear view toward my neighborhood. Toward a red brick building on 7th and Boren.

I pull the trowel from my pocket and shine it with my shirt as best I can. I spit on it again and again, moistening the dried blood that I try so hard not to think about. Some of it is the Risen’s. Some of it is not. Finally it shines like new and I hope so hard it hurts my heart. This will work. This has to work.

I use the rays of the sun, reflecting them on the clean shine of the metal. I create the most erratic pattern I can manage. I’m not going for an SOS, I don’t know Morse Code. All I can do is get someone’s attention. I can only hope that I’m not too far away. That he’s watching. That his sharp, unnerving eyes are enough to save me.

The moans at the door increase behind me. The sun’s rays disappear behind a walking bridge between two nearby buildings. I drop the trowel by my side and I wonder if it was enough. If the Lost Boys will save me.

But when have I ever needed saving?

“Are you a Wendy?” I whisper to myself, scanning the low rooftops on the surrounding buildings. It’s a long drop to every one of them. But is it too long? How would a person know unless they tried?

I take several steps back from the edge, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Then I crouch.

“Or are you a mutherfucking Tinkerbell?”