Benjamin doing Jacob’s bidding, no doubt. But who were these others he was talking about? And more importantly…
“Takes me where?”
“The…the room. The one with the metal door.”
“What room with a metal door?”
“On the west side of the building. The…the hall just past the kitchens.”
She knew where that hallway was. She’d never been down it—there was never much point of venturing over there—but she knew how to find it.
“It’s locked. It’s always locked.”
“What do they do there, David?”
“I…I don’t know. I’m serious. They…no PLEASE…they don’t tell me. Honest.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
She spoke in barely more than a whisper now. A still confidence flowed through her. When she spoke it was deadpan, serious, brief and to the point. No threats, just ruthless action.
Reminded her of someone.
“Why me?”
“They never said.”
Again she sparked the lighter.
“Why…me?”
David grew silent a moment. His eyes found that tiny patch of skin where he’d accidentally wiped away the makeup on her arm, to reveal the pink flesh beneath.
Justine shot to her feet.
“You knew?” she gasped.
“Of course. Everyone knows.”
~
She interrogated him further, but he didn’t have much more to offer. Benjamin had supplied the pills and given the instructions, but no one let David past that metal door, he told her. The spineless lackey was just one cog in the wheel. He made excuses, saying Benjamin had threatened his family. His poor, poor little boy. She wasn’t sure if she believed him. Or if she cared.
It did hurt, though. She’d come to like her baby-faced consort. He’d been an outlet in a way, a conduit to spin the old tale. It’d been cathartic in a way, reliving all those memories. It reminded her that she had power. And damage.
When she was satisfied she’d learned all she could, Justine gagged the deceitful punk and locked him in her closet. He took to it without complaint. He seemed relieved, even.
She went to the dresser and opened her rectangular necklace box. Justine chose the one furthest to the right, her favorite of the bunch.
She put on the bullet slug necklace.
~
Downstairs, she fetched the remaining wine glass—the one she hadn’t broken over David’s head—and filled it near to the brim. It was well past midnight and all the trust fund babies were sound asleep when she stumbled into that slender hall, just past the kitchen. All she had to do was stomp her feet and scratch a nail against the wall, giggling drunkenly to herself, and there he was: a long shadow at one end of the red carpeted floor. Benjamin.
She stood halfway down the hall, bookended by the butler and the locked door. A poor, skinny, black-haired beauty, lost and helpless.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed. Benjamin took a few steps towards her.
“Oh Bennie. Are you going…” she giggled, “are you going to send me to bed?” She leaned one shoulder against the wall for balance, and continued towards him, spilling wine as she careened from one side of the wall to the other. She clawed at the expensive wallpaper, and finally lost her footing, upending the glass. Second one tonight.
Benjamin rushed to her aid. He did his best to lift her skinny arms but she wriggled from his grasp, still cackling like a hyena. She crawled on the floor, dress straps falling off her shoulders, mascara running. She grasped at his ankle, still laughing, pulling up his pant leg. She knew what was there. Of course she remembered.
The revolver that rested there slipped out of the holster, nice and easy. Once she had it, the giggling stopped. Lying on her back, staring up at him, she pulled back the hammer. It’d been easy to play the part, to fake it, to be bait all over again. It felt like old times.
Above her, Benjamin looked more shocked than truly afraid. Impressed, even. She’d expected Benjamin to devolve into a crying, sputtering little girl, same as David. But this one was cut from a different cloth, it seemed.
“If you cry out, I’ll kill you,” she said. She rose to her feet. “Keep your hands up and keep quiet.”
His cheery disposition was long gone, but his eyes still seemed to smile, as if he were curious to learn what she might do next.
“Now,” she said, holding the weapon in both hands, “walk towards the door.”
“Door?”
“You know the one.”
He nodded, moving carefully around her. Hands raised, he walked slowly, as if upon a plank, halting at the end of the hallway before the doorway in question. It was gray, with a steel handle and a key lock. The door looked somehow sturdier than all the rest in the house. It gave itself away.
“Open it. I know you have the key.”
“You don’t want to do this, Miss Justine.”
“Like you have any idea what I want.” She pressed the weapon against his spine. “Open it.”
Benjamin reached slowly into his blazer pocket and revealed a ring of keys. He inserted it, turning. She heard the deadbolt shift. The butler grabbed the handle and pulled the door ajar. He flicked on a light switch, taking a step in. Everything in there was white. Bright, clean off-white. Like an empty pallet. Like heaven.
She followed him inside.
11
-KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED-
-Marco-
LEON HOVERED OVER HIM, crossing his arms. All ‘tsk tsk’ like.
“How you lasted this long, I’ll never know. You must be the dumbest sumbitch I ever met.”
Marco was laid out in the bedroom. His face felt twice its size, distended and thumping in a rhythm at odds with the Pulse. Which, for once, was oddly faint. Had he dreamed, just now? It felt more like being knocked out on a general anesthetic, how the time away seems like only a split second. You’re down one moment and then you’re coming to the next, and those first few minutes are just your brain trying to figure out how the hell you got there. Leon tossed him an ice pack, which landed on his stomach. Marco groaned and grabbed it. He placed it to his right eye, the source of all this pain.
“I mentioned this place to you, what, two days ago? And it’s the first place you run off to.” He shook his head. All around the room were the books he’d tossed about, night before last. Leon had picked up the broken bookcase and pushed it against the wall. Behind him, upon the vanity, sat the items he’d taken off Marco’s unconscious body: a pack of cigarettes, a white bic lighter and Conrad’s diary. Marco’s Beretta, which had been in the living room, sat beside the other items.
“You got nothin to say for yourself? Uh?”
Marco swallowed.
“Sor…sorry,” he said, voice raspy.
And then he was fading again. Back to sleep. This time around, he’d dream. He was bracing himself for it already, that other world that emerged from the comfort of a head against a pillow. A place somehow more brutal than this one.
~
When next he woke, Leon was leading him out to the living room and handing him a bowl of food. Leon sat on the recliner, thumbing through Conrad’s diary, while Marco sat on the floor, silently picking through a can of Shokuji. He’d forgotten how hungry he was.
“You’re lucky I found you first. If it’d been Knox, you’d be another stain in the kitchen there.”
“So, you’re not gonna kill me?”
“What do you think?” he sneered, shaking his head. Leon tapped the cover of the diary. “Where’d you dig this up?”
“It was stuffed behind the bookcase,” Marco said. His voice was a low, famished drone.
“You shouldn’t a run, man. We could’ve talked it out. Why’d you run?”
“Knox was pointing a gun at me.”
“And I stopped him! Fuck, man. You think I was gonna let him gun you down like that, fore you even had your say? We coulda worked it out, right there. Inste
ad you gone and pissed him off. Fuckin…that was reckless!”
“You would’ve kept me along? Even as a q-soldier.”
“That’s for Mother to decide. Still is. But, you coulda pleaded your case better if you hadn’t of run. Now, man. It’ll be tough.”
Marco sighed. He lowered his head.
“So, that’s it then…”
“No it ain’t it. I’ll vouch for you, same I did before.” Leon sighed. “I’m gettin sick and tired of vouchin for you.”
Marco opened his mouth to speak. The word caught in his throat. He shouldn’t ask, but he had to. He couldn’t help himself.
“Why do it then?”
“What?”
“Why vouch for me?”
“You’re really gonna ask me that? I did it because I know you. Soon as I met you, I could see you was good people. This place could use good people, man.”
“I guess.”
“When we met, you told me you was from Ridgewood. Said the high school team name was the Chargers.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s the Ridgewood Raiders, fuck stick. Goll-lee.”
“So, this whole time-”
“I knew you was full of shit. I just didn’t know how, exactly.”
Marco lowered his eyes.
“It didn’t matter,” Leon continued. “I know who you are, Marco. You were never gonna pull a gun on me. Something’s got your head a little fucked up, but you don’t have violence in you. Not like these other guys. Everything about you is at odds with this place. You shoulda died a hundred times by now and been weeded out like all the other cowards and weaklings. But, you didn’t. You’re still here, and it ain’t just dumb luck. After a certain point it can’t be.” He sighed. “What you gotta come to terms with is…maybe you fit in here better than you ever did out there. I think about that shit all the time. You know? I’m somebody here.”
He wanted to disagree, but thought it better to leave things alone. Marco held the ice pack to his face.
“What do you think of it?”
“This?” Leon said, pointing to the diary. “It’s about to put me to sleep. Conrad always was a boring prick.”
Don’t tell him. Don’t tell him.
“What? Why you lookin at me like that?”
“Nothing.”
Leon knelt beside him.
“I’m missin something, ain’t I? In here?” he asked, pointing to the book.
Marco swallowed.
“In back. Written on the jacket.”
Leon stood, flipping to the back. His expression changed immediately.
“Fuck. These…this is…”
“Coordinates. To her.”
“Jesus, Marco. This could be it, man. This could be what we’ve been searching for, all this damn time.” Leon was beaming, suddenly. The disappointed big brother act, the pep talk, was all forgotten. He slapped at the journal with the back of one hand. “This is why the hell I brought you here.”
He looked like he wanted to be more excited, but his mood seemed tempered by how uneasy Marco was. If nothing else, the big scavenger could read a room. Still, he pulled the map from his back pocket and unfurled it, plopping right down on the floor beside it.
“Read them off to me,” he said, handing Marco the book. Marco did as he was told, and as he spoke Leon traced the path with his finger. First, north and south, then east and west. When he finally found the exact spot, he circled it with his red marker. The area was all forest, by the looks of it, well off of any major road. Secluded from other residential areas.
“It’s gonna be a hike to get there, but we can make it, no problem.”
Leon stood, folding the map and slipping it back into his pocket.
“That diary got any useful information in it?”
“Some, yeah.”
Before he made for the door, Leon slapped the book against Marco’s chest.
“Good. Gimme the cliff notes on the ride.”
~
Marco waited by the car while Leon paced the porch. He held a green two-way radio to his lips, speaking in hushed tones. Try as he might, Marco couldn’t make out the words. It was Knox on the other end, no doubt. Or Mother. The conversation was quick, and before he knew it they were filing into that rust-red Trans Am again.
Marco was keenly aware that Leon hadn’t offered to give him back his gun. Instead, it rattled in the glove box in front of him as they followed that gravel path back down towards that long, narrow entryway. He glanced back once as the twin houses of Ashe grew smaller and smaller. Then they were in amongst the trees, and the preserve was but a dot in the rearview.
“Leon?”
“Yeah?”
“What happens when we find her?”
The scavenger kept his eyes on the road.
“We’ll worry about that when we get to it. Let’s find her first.”
“You’re gonna kill her,” Marco said, defeated. “You were always gonna kill her.” He held the ice pack to his head, eyes out the window.
“Does that change things for you?”
“Yeah. It does.”
“Why? You don’t know her.”
“How do you know that she’s a host? I mean, what if she’s-”
“What, the cure? Ain’t no cure. Never been a cure. We know because we know, Marco.” He cleared his throat. “You got family outside the q-zone, right?”
“Yeah.”
“This is how we protect them. Kill the host, the bug can’t spread no more.”
Funny. He’d heard this speech before.
“And what if we’re wrong?” Marco asked.
“If we’re wrong…then it’s a damned shame. But, it was worth it. Just on the chance that we was right.”
“She’s just a girl.”
“That’s a damned shame too. But, it don’t change nothing. It’s one life verse thousands. Millions, Marco. Shit, here I thought you was ready to save the world.”
They drove in silence another twenty minutes. Marco hadn’t bothered to ask where they were going: back to the Armory for his judgment or straight to the Maiden. From what he could tell, it looked like neither. They were driving to some rendezvous point, more than likely, to meet up with Knox. He hoped Leon was ready to back up the things he’d said in the house and step between them. Knox hadn’t seemed angry when he found the dog tags. The look on his face had been one of vindication. He’d known Marco to be counterfeit. He’d always known. Marco recalled that first moment together, when he stood with his hands bound, stripped and covered in gasoline. Knox had tipped back those sunglasses and judged him guilty, right from jump street.
“How’s that shiner treatin ya?” Leon asked.
“It hurts.” Marco removed the ice pack and examined that bulbous half of his face in the side mirror. “Back in high school, I always thought it’d be cool to be bruised up like this. But, all it does it hurt.”
Leon chuckled.
“Call it a rite of passage. I remember the first time Jase took a beating, he cried like a bitch. Least you didn’t cry.”
“I was too busy being unconscious to cry, man.”
“True. True.”
“What was he like?”
“Jase?”
“Yeah.”
“Man…he was smart as a whip. Had a couple scholarships lined up when the bug hit town. He was well on his way out of here. Knox and me, we never had the patience for school. He dropped out junior year and I graduated by the skin of my teeth. College was barely a thought. Jase, though, he was the small town boy who was destined to make good. But, then them walls went up, and he was on the wrong side of em. He didn’t match up with the new world. We knew it and we protected him for as long as we could, but it was bound to happen. We both knew it. Didn’t make it hurt any less. You two would’ve got along fine, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah. He was a scatterbrain like you. Fuggin…all over the place. Operating on a whole different level from me. Shit, he was funny too. He
’d snatch some of Knox’s jerseys and scribble ‘dipshit’ or ‘Fart Knox’ over the names on the back. It’d take Knox half a day to notice, people were so scared to tell him. And man, when he found out he was pissed,” Leon said, smiling. “Flippin tables. He’d chase Jase’s ass around the whole Armory. And another thing, is he would take his gum-”
Leon grew silent, suddenly. Marco opened his mouth to ask why, but then he heard it too. A dirt bike, echoing through the empty streets. It appeared in the rearview, following them up the winding hills. Leon punched the gas, but the bike still seemed to be gaining on them. This time, there were two riders. One driving, the other raising a pistol in hand.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Marco said. “My gun! My gun!” He pulled on the glove box, but it was locked. The bike pulled closer, maybe two lengths away from the car now. Leon kept his hands tight to the wheel.
Pop! A bullet crashed through the back window. Marco ducked instinctively. He heard another shot, and the sound of a bullet ricocheting off of the car. They were pulling closer, on Marco’s side. Nearer, nearer. Again, he fumbled with the glove box.
He glanced up to the windshield. Up ahead, a car emerged from a hiding place in the woods. It pulled in front of them.
Leon hit the brakes and slowly the car drifted sideways, squealing, emitting that smell of burnt rubber. The two cars collided, hitting the driver’s side. Marco smashed his shoulder against the glove box as Leon’s airbag deployed. And then they were in a tailspin, the whole world around them a blur. Two of the wheels lifted off the ground, then settled, skidding…skidding…until the car halted finally. Marco grasped his aching shoulder. Beside him, Leon appeared dazed. He was fumbling with something, reaching below. Unfurling his knife to stab the airbag and get it out of his way.
Outside the car, figures were emerging before them.
He heard it before he saw them. Four quick shots, and the tires went out. Leon got his knife free and stabbed down, busting the airbag with a loud crack. Outside the car came a yell, some indiscernible word. And then they rained hellfire.
Marco ducked, holding his hands over his head, contorting and pulling himself down onto the footrest. Above him, he could hear the gunfire. Shot upon shot upon shot. The rat-tat-tat of automatic fire. The clunks as it struck metal, the chinks as it caught glass.
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