“You’re useless to me with half your energy,” he’d said to her. “You have to forget the fear, just for a few hours. Trust me enough to turn yourself off, completely. Then you’ll be alert enough to survive the morning.”
~
The lights were off, casting the room in shadow. On the counter, the two guns lay where she’d left them last: the black pistol and the oversized silver revolver. Knox, too, remained in that same position, head dipped forward, mop of black hair hanging down over his eyes. Part of her hoped he’d died in the night. A bullet was waiting for him as soon as the sun came up, but at this point she would have been fine with dodging that unpleasantness altogether. Especially with Marco around. And yet, another part of her wanted one last chance at this wicked man, cut from the same cloth as her attacker all those months ago. The man who’d assaulted her, who would have raped and killed her if Zeke hadn’t shown up. Every time she looked at Knox, she saw that man.
This one deserved far worse than a bullet.
She stepped up to him and checked for a pulse. Still alive, somehow.
“The mighty Knox,” she said, hovering over him. “Look at you now.”
~
“So let me get this straight. The bumps in your head are telling you where to go?”
“It’s more than that. It’s a feeling.”
“And that feeling says we need to go to Garland.”
They were down in that basement again, surrounded by that treasure trove of goods. The spoils of two years of killing and scavenging. Blood and bodies and sleepless nights for over six hundred days, and here’s what they had to show for it.
“The Pulse speaks in a different language. But I understand. It calls out to me.”
“And your brain has like, some kind of GPS that says go to Garland.”
“This isn’t a joke.”
“I’m just making sure I’m following along.”
She sat Indian-style. A few feet away, Zeke sat beside one of those suitcase-style portable record players. A guitar lightly strummed, surrounded by eighties synths and ethereal voices. She had to strain to hear it. He kept it low because he wanted to be able to hear any sign of approach on the house. As if he couldn’t just dispatch any comers with the ease he did with all his enemies. Of late, it seemed like anything remotely fun they did came with a caveat.
“So, what do we expect to find there?”
“I’m looking for the source.”
“The source. And this is like…a person?”
“Yes.”
“And when we find this guy or gal? Then what?”
“Then we make our escape. We leave the quarantine zone.”
“I thought you liked it here.”
“I do. And once I’m out, everywhere will be like here. It’s just a matter of time.”
“You sound like a supervillain, telling his master plan. How exactly, Lex, do you plan to get past all those soldiers?”
He licked at his scar.
“I have some ideas.”
She stood up and waltzed across the room.
“So what do we need to pack? Lots of the red flavor Shokuji, I think,” she said, taking inventory of the room. “Maybe a couple Patterson novels? It’s getting nicer out, we won’t need to dress too warm. Not that that matters to you.” She stood over him and ran a hand through his hair. The scavenger recoiled, standing up and taking a few steps away. The record continued to play faintly in the background.
“What?” she asked.
“I don’t want to be touched,” he said. He crossed his arms, looking away.
“Fine.” She scratched the back of her neck. “How long will take us to walk there?”
“You keep saying we.”
“Well, there are two of us.”
“Justine,” he said, pausing. “You aren’t coming.”
“What do you mean I’m not coming?”
“I’ve made arrangements. You’ll have a safe place to stay while I’m gone.”
“I’m not staying anywhere. We stick together. We’re a team,” she said.
“The man’s name is Jacob Crowe. He and I came to terms. You’ll be safe with him, and well fed.”
“Zeke-”
“The others who live with him will be unskilled. Unworthy of this world. But, you’ll endure them. I’ve found contact lenses for you, and powder for your skin. You’ll need to keep up a disguise while you’re there. When I return, we can leave this place together.”
“How long?”
“A few weeks. Maybe longer. There’s a lot of ground to cover. The city is vast.”
“I’m not the same girl you found when we met. I can help you. I won’t slow you down.”
“Pack your things.”
“And what if I say no? Are you going to force me?” She got right up beside him, but still he avoided her eyes. “You don’t get to decide. You don’t own me.”
She walked back towards the record player.
“What if stayed a block or two behind you? Let you scout ahead, then I’ll follow?” He made no answer, eyes low, expression blank like usual. “Hey, do you hear me? Zeke. Zeke!” Nothing. He was a statue. She crouched beside the record player. “What is this, Diamond Dogs? Shocking choice!” She turned the knob, boosting the volume louder and louder, until it echoed off all the walls. It seemed for a moment that there was no other sound in the world, save for that voice and that music and the pounding bass.
And then, as she’d seen before, he activated, moving with impossible speed. He seemed to reach her in two quick leaps—leopard fast—and then kicked over the record player. It emitted an ungodly screech and then crashed onto its side, discharging the record itself, which rolled harmlessly away. His hand wrapped around her neck.
“Ah, stop, you’re hurting me,” she said.
“This is what’s best for us. Do you understand me?”
“Zee…Zeke-”
“Do you trust me, Justine?”
“I…”
“Do you TRUST me?!”
“Yes. Yes!”
“Do you love me?”
She choked the word.
“Yes.”
He released her.
“Good.”
She doubled over, holding her throat with two hands. She glared up at him, still in shock.
“You’ll need to promise me that you’ll keep your appearance a secret. Makeup, every day. Contact lenses, in all the time. Say it.” He glared at her. “Say it.”
Justine caught her breath. She spoke through clenched teeth.
“I promise.”
~
It was far from the farewell she’d imagined. No kiss goodbye, not after what she’d just experienced. He didn’t seem to want one anyway. They said a few forgettable words and then she was walking towards the mansion, backpack slung over one shoulder, while he watched from the edge of the brush. Halfway to the house, she glanced back. He was already gone. She wondered if he was still watching her, somewhere just out of view. Somehow, she felt like he wasn’t. He was gone already, well on his way to Garland and his bullshit quest. She halted in the tall grass.
No. He wouldn’t be rid of her that easy.
~
So, she searched the two towns. She did her bait act, her literal cry for help, and nothing. Looking back, it had been beyond foolish, putting herself out in the open like that. She was unarmed, underfed, weak and alone. It should have ended with her body in a ditch. Instead, by sheer dumb luck, she met the perfect scavenger.
Nathan Conrad, she’d later learn, was a killer near as fearsome as Zeke. But, he was a very different man. Even early on, when she was bound to a chair, she felt a different sort of vibe. He spoke to her like a person, not some fledgling that he knew better than. They played cards that first night, and almost right away, she knew this man wouldn’t hurt her. He had the look of a man who’d had violence in him, once, but like a fever, it had run its course. By the way he talked, the only thing she worried about was Conrad hurting him
self.
~
Zeke had made her jot down the coordinates to the mansion before they went. Like a true teenager, she’d written them down on the palm of one hand. Sitting before Conrad, she squinted to read the smudged ink on her hand. He sat with his little journal open on the desk, holding a pen.
“You’re sure this is smart?”
“I’ll keep watch the first night. Light a candle in your window if you’re safe. If not, I’ll come in guns blazing.”
“Okay. You got your pen ready?”
“I do.”
“Four, one. Period. Seven, two…”
~
His car idled before the clearing. He looked at her with the affection that Zeke had never once offered.
“How do I look?” she asked.
And Conrad smirked.
“Diseased.”
She lit a candle that night. And never saw him again.
~
Her hand had snaked down to her waist. Before her, Knox slumbered. Knox the Kid, who no doubt had treated the quarantine zone like his own private playground these past two years. She could only imagine the damage he’d done.
With a thumb, Justine tapped the butt of her pistol. One kill, to end this. Her hands were already dirty. What was one more sin for the damned? She’d claimed two of her own and assisted in countless other murders. Bait for Zeke the Dollface. What was justice then, in this place? What was the right thing to do, here and now?
Be smart. He’s too dangerous to be left alive. He’ll find you if you let him go. He’ll bring the wrath of the whole damned Bloodline down on you.
Justice is a fairy tale.
She felt movement behind her and turned. Marco stood in the doorway, crossing his arms.
“Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
She swallowed.
“Almost dawn.”
Marco’s eyes darted over to the counter, where the two guns lay, then back to her. Blink, and she would’ve missed it. He nodded, solemn.
“Almost.”
10
-SHADES OF BLACK-
-Marco-
DEATH didn’t suit Leon. He’d been so charming in life. Tall and strong. Even with the bug, he’d appeared impervious to harm and pain and even sickness. Always cracking a joke, always smirking at Marco in that knowing way. Now, the wraith that sat before him was a sunken thing. He was still large and bone-pale, but something had gone out of him. That glint in his eyes had burned to smoke, carried away with his earthy soul. Everywhere were the wounds, some still weeping. His shirt was in tatters and he was spotted with bullet holes. Jaw, forehead, neck. But, like Shelby, his eyes remained red. The bug fades from the dead, Marco knew, but these shades that haunted him were forever infected, somehow.
Leon sat hunched forward in a chair at Marco’s bedside, holding an apple. This had been one of those nights where Marco had actually made a true effort to sleep, but as soon as his eyelids closed he’d heard that throaty breathing beside him. Maybe a bullet had punctured one of Leon’s lungs or messed up a windpipe; maybe both. Marco sat up in his bed and watched the dead man bite down into his green apple.
“You’re getting blood on the chair,” he said, rubbing his eyes.
“I’ll bleed wherever the hell I want. It’s your fault I’m here.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, it’s obvious you was followed. And even if you wasn’t, I’m only on that road because I had to grab your ass. If you don’t run, I ain’t out there getting you and I ain’t out there getting shot to shit. Caterpillar effect.”
“You mean butterfly effect.”
“Whatever.” He bit into his apple. “Then you go and honor my memory by saving the bitch we was there to kill and helpin her shoot my best friend full of bullets.”
“He was going to kill me.”
“And another thing…you didn’t even have the decency to bury my ass? I’m out there on the road, right fuckin now, drawin flies and shit.”
“There wasn’t time.”
“Wasn’t time? You…you fuckin think we’d be here if you’d just put us in the ground where we belong?”
He motioned towards Shelby, who had appeared across the room. She sat on the desk, kicking out her legs. She held her teddy against her chest.
“You fucked up,” Leon said. “Every chance you got, you fucked up. Every decision, you made the wrong one. Until now. Sunup is in half an hour, and you got a choice to make. You got a way to make this right. All of it.”
“Marco,” Shelby said, “don’t listen to him.”
“Shut up!” Leon yelled. “When the fuck has she ever helped you? Huh? Everything she’s ever told you has gotten you deeper and deeper into a hole. I’m the one who’s gonna tell you what’s what. I’m in charge.”
“Nah,” Marco said, eyes low, voice almost bored. “You can’t help me. You’re dead. Both of you.”
“Marco, leave here tonight,” Shelby said. “Go away from here. As far as you can go.”
He ignored her.
“Leon, you remember right before we took off, back at Conrad’s place-”
“You mean right before my untimely death?”
“Yeah. Then,” Marco droned. “So, we were in his living room and you were telling me about how maybe I fit in better here, in the q-zone, than I ever did in the outside world. I’ve been thinking about that a lot tonight.”
“Well, maybe that’s because you’re a selfish fuck,” Leon said, catching him off guard.
“Excuse me?”
“What, is that surprising to hear? You never did anything for anybody, or for the greater good. Not in the military, not in the Bloodline. Your problem ain’t the world, bud-o. It’s you.”
“That’s not true.”
“C’mon man. You’re incapable of going with the flow. You expect the whole world to adapt to you, not the other way around. Like you’re the god-damn hero of the story. Get over yourself! Nobody’s good enough for you. Not women, not friends. The only time you wanna hang out with us is after we’re fuggin dead.”
“He’s right!” Shelby cut in.
Marco bit his lip.
“Marco, lemme tell you suttin,” Leon said. “A wise man once told me that all a man’s gotta do is know where he’s been and where he’s going. All the rest is gravy.”
“That wise man didn’t tell you. He told me. That was my father.”
Leon nodded. He bit into the apple again. Only then did Marco notice that the fruit was bruised and rotten. A white worm was tunneling through it.
“I know where I’ve been.”
“Do you? Did you learn anything during your Army days? Or with the Bloodline?”
“Sure I did. I-”
“C’mon, Marco. You ain’t changed. You’re as scared as you ever been. You don’t know where you’ve been. And as for where you’re going, shee-it, you ain’t got a clue what tomorrow will bring. Do ya?”
“No. I don’t. So, what does that make me?”
At long last, a smirk crossed Leon’s lips.
“Lost.”
~
“Did you sleep?”
He hung in the doorway, watching the two of them. Knox had reverted back to a wax figure, frozen perfectly in that same pose. A statue save for those faint breaths. Marco couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer control and patience that it must have taken him to remain so still for so long. He was more than just a skilled gunslinger. It seemed he’d go to any lengths to survive.
“A little,” he lied.
A single lamp was on in the living room, painting the kitchen in an array of shadows. Justine took a step sideways and her face caught the light.
“Almost dawn,” she said.
His mind was on Knox then, as if her words had triggered him somehow. Activated him. He glanced over to the counter, where those two pistols lay. Johnny U and his nameless counterpart. Marco’s eyes darted back towards Justine. Had she noticed?
“Almost,”
he replied. “Is he still breathing?”
“For now,” she said, the words catching in her throat. “Have you seen him move at all?”
“No.” He couldn’t get the word out quick enough. “He’s been just like that the whole time. His neck must be sore.”
She didn’t laugh. Instead, she looked back at the slumbering Knox, and gazed at him for a long moment. She drew a knife from her belt, a large bowie knife like the one that Leon always carried.
“You should go upstairs, Marco.”
“You aren’t going to use a gun?”
“People might hear the shot.” Her eyes were still on Knox. “And it’s a waste of a bullet.”
Marco swallowed. She glanced back once to see if he’d heed her and leave the room. He stood his ground. So, she turned and pushed Knox’s limp head backwards to reveal his neck. His eyes remained closed, hair falling backward to reveal his handsome face.
Justine raised the blade, turning it over in her hand to stab down.
“Wait,” Marco said.
“Marco-”
“There has to be a way out of this,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “There has to be a better way.”
“Leave the room, Marco.”
He shifted closer to the counter, his weight on his good leg.
“This is happening now,” she said. “Leave or don’t.”
Again she raised the blade. She prepared herself, crouching slightly, to bring the blade across his throat.
“WAIT!”
He reached over to the counter, grabbing the pistol closest to him. He pulled back the hammer and she halted, turning. She froze in place then, staring back at him, wide-eyed.
“Step away from him,” Marco said. “Step away from him!”
She backed a few paces to her left, hands raised, still holding the knife. He kept the gun trained on her, but his gaze was on Knox. The scavenger’s eyes remained closed, head slumped back.
“Are you a man of your word?”
Bury Me in Black Page 29