Twisted World Series Box Set | Books 1-3 & Novella

by Mary, Kate L.

  In the cell across from me, Axl didn’t move. But he did stare at Jackson like he was imagining what the asshole would look like with his stomach slashed open and his guts pouring out onto the floor. I had to admit, the image gave me a warm fuzzy feeling, but at this point I knew I would never have the chance to make it happen. Being stuck in a cell in the CDC put me at a pretty big disadvantage.

  Jackson stood in front of Axl’s cell and stared at the older man through the glass, and the smile on his face made him look even more sick and twisted than he ever had before. A shiver ran down my spine, repeating itself when Jackson stepped forward and pushed the button on the wall outside Axl’s cell. My own intercom was off and the prick’s back was to me, making it impossible to tell if he was talking, but somehow I knew he hadn’t uttered a word. He was staring at Meg’s dad the way a cat stares at a mouse, cool and calculating and eager to pounce.

  It took less than a minute for Axl’s mouth to move and I was able to read his lips just well enough to know that he was asking about his family. About Meg and her mom, Axl’s wife, probably everyone else he loved too. Jackson turned his face just enough that it was partly visible when his smile stretched wider. He said something I couldn’t make out, but then paused and turned to face me. His smile as he crossed the hall was the coldest thing I’d ever seen, and then he pushed a button and the intercom crackled to life.

  “As I was saying—” Jackson’s voice filled my room. “—Meg and the rest of your family are on the way.”

  I growled and Axl’s gaze snapped to me. There were dozens of questions swimming in his gray eyes as he looked me over, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask who I was or why this news seemed to hurt me, which it did. It made me feel like a knife had been plunged into my heart.

  Instead, Axl turned his gaze back on Jackson and said, “Don’t hurt her.” His words had no hope.

  “There’s no reason for you to be concerned,” Jackson sneered. “I don’t intend to keep you in suspense. You’ll be able to witness the entire thing. Right here.” He stepped closer to Axl while shooting me a look, like he wanted to make sure he had my undivided attention. “You’ll be able to watch as I take her. I’ll let you hear her cries. Your family, her mother, will all be right there—” He motioned to the hall behind him. “—watching. I know how close your family is, and I wouldn’t want any of you to miss the show.”

  I clenched my hands tighter, wishing I had the strength to punch a hole in the window in front of me. Wanting to shatter it and jump through so I could wrap my hands around Jackson’s throat and squeeze the life out of him.

  Across from me, Axl’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he wasn’t the one who yelled. It was me. Curses ripped their way out of me as I slammed my fists against the glass, a useless action that I knew would only wear me out, but one that I couldn’t control.

  “You son of a bitch!” I growled, my voice coming out sounding feral and crazy. “Don’t you touch her! I will rip you to pieces!”

  Jackson only grinned. “You aren’t exactly in the position to make threats.”

  I continued to bang my fists against the glass, but in the cell across from me, Axl looked broken. He was still solid and broad despite his age, but right now his body was slumped, making him look suddenly old. The lines on his face deepened as if to illustrate the stress and violence and hard times he’d witnessed during his forty plus years on this Earth. There were dark circles under his eyes, and the lights above him emphasized the gray hairs dotting his head. He looked like he was on the verge of withering away, and I had a strange sense that if he had to witness the things Jackson was describing, he just might.

  Before the little prick could say another word, the door behind him opened. I pushed myself closer to the glass, holding my breath, but the guards that stepped through were alone. There were no crying prisoners, no frightened and tear-filled eyes. Nothing but a group of guards who couldn’t even meet Jackson Star’s gaze.

  “Where is she?” he growled, stopping the men in their tracks.

  “The family was gone,” the man at the front of the pack said. He glanced up as if wanting to verify that Jackson wasn’t charging him before once again focusing on the floor. “We checked with the surveillance team. They left in the middle of the night, but there’s no mention of where they went and we haven’t been able to locate them anywhere.”

  Jackson, who was usually controlled to the point where he seemed almost mechanical, shook with fury. He looked on the verge of exploding, and he seemed to lose himself to the rage. He had always been a creepy guy, but the transformation he went through was something I’d never seen before. It was like a wild beast was breaking out of him and taking over, changing him into a creature even more terrifying than the zombies, more evil than the devil himself.

  He had the door to Axl’s cell open before I could even register what was happening, and then he was inside. I pressed my hands flat against the window in front of me, watching in horror and feeling utterly helpless as Jackson’s fist slammed into the other man’s face. Blood sprayed from Axl’s nose, painting the white room in dots of red. The enraged man struck again and this time Meg’s father fought back, getting in a few good punches, but Jackson didn’t seem to feel a thing. It was like he wasn’t in his body, like Axl’s knuckles hadn’t made contact with his eye. He didn’t stumble back, didn’t blink, didn’t even grimace.

  Before long, Axl was unable to fight back. The older man was on the floor before the guards were able to react, and even I found that it took too long for me to muster up the shouts that had been trying to force their way out of me. I slammed my hands against the glass and yelled for the guards to do something even as they rushed to Axl’s aid. They were shouting too, a few of them running to drag Jackson off the prisoner while two others fled the hall, probably for help. Everyone was yelling. Me, the guards, Jackson, who sounded more animal than man. Everyone except Axl.

  Eventually, they managed to drag Jackson from the cell, but not before he got in a couple good shots with the guards. He thrashed and fought so hard that despite his height disadvantage, it took several men to subdue him. They had him face down in the hall outside my cell, but I was too focused on trying to get a look at Axl to pay attention to the furious man in front of me.

  People poured into the hall. Doctors and nurses who rushed to Axl’s aid, Jackson’s father, who looked only slightly less furious than his son. They shouted questions and yelled orders, and the atmosphere was so chaotic that I found it impossible to grasp even a single thing that was happening. I just knew that someone needed to help Axl. Someone had to save him before he died, because Meg had lost enough.

  Jackson was covered in blood. So much that it left streaks behind on the white floor. His knuckles were cut and bruised, but it was the splatters of red on his face and neck that had my attention. It wasn’t his blood and there was so much of it. Too much.

  One of the doctors produced a syringe and something was injected into Jackson’s neck, making his entire body jerk. His struggles had lessened already, and after the injection, his body began to relax even more. He blinked and his eyes seemed to grow heavy, and then, finally, his body went slack.

  That was about the same time that someone yelled, “We’re losing him!”

  My attention was pulled to the other cell. The doctors were working furiously to repair the damage Jackson had inflicted on Axl. A gurney was brought in and his body was loaded onto it, giving me my first really good look at Meg’s dad as they rushed by. His arm flopped over the edge as the doctors pushed the gurney down the hall, and his face was a swollen and bloody mess. A head injury was likely with as much damage as there was, and I found myself saying a prayer that he’d pull through. It couldn’t end like this.

  It wasn’t until he’d disappeared out the door that another thought occurred to me. Maybe we’d all be better off if he died.

  I hated to even think it, but it was something I had to consider. Axl had definitely been brought
here because he was immune to the original virus, and whatever the CDC was doing couldn’t be good. I’d met Star and I knew he was slimier than a slug, but Jackson was even worse. Whatever was going on here, it wouldn’t turn out well for humanity, and for some reason they needed Axl James to achieve it. Maybe everyone in New Atlanta, maybe even this whole damned world, would be better off if Axl died today and the Stars were never able to achieve their goal. It would no doubt be the end for me if Axl did die today, but I couldn’t help thinking that if it saved the world from whatever Star had up his sleeve, it might be worth it.

  Two guards dragged Jackson out only a few minutes after Axl, and then I was left alone, staring at the blood streaked across the floor. Unsure of what I wanted to happen. Unsure of what my future held.

  Hours passed with me pacing the room before I finally gave into my exhaustion and plopped down on the bed. I’d been waiting, hoping to get some news about Axl, but I knew that was idiotic. Not only was no one thinking about coming back to tell me how Meg’s father was doing, but if he was as injured as he looked, he wouldn’t be coming back this way any time soon.

  Chapter Three

  Meg

  The drive seemed to take forever even though Jim said the unsanctioned settlement wasn’t far. It was impossible to tell how long we drove, though. More than thirty minutes but less than an hour after climbing into the back of the truck, we finally slowed. I leaned forward so I could look out the back, but the landscape was impossible to identify with the darkness surrounding us and how overgrown everything was. It all looked the same. Trees on top of trees on top of trees, with an occasional rundown building peeking through the foliage, the civilization that had once existed here had been swallowed up, and it now seemed like that whole world had been nothing but a fairy tale.

  We all lurched toward the front when the truck came to a stop. Voices managed to make their way to us, and Charlie’s hand was still gripping my arm, my skin now sweaty under her grasp, but I barely noticed it because I was straining to hear what was being said. It was impossible, though. Between the distance, the canvas that separated us from whoever was talking, and the hum of the engine, I couldn’t make out a single word.

  “Where are we?” I asked, searching the darkness for Luke.

  I couldn’t make out his face, but I knew it was him when he leaned forward. With his thick clothes—which he wore despite the heat so he could protect himself from the claws and jaws of the dead—and the bundle of weapons strapped to him, he seemed larger than the rest of us.

  “An unsanctioned town,” was his only response.

  “You already told us that,” Parv piped in before I could. “Where?”

  “A place that existed before the virus. It’s been expanded since then, but it’s secure.”

  “A town?” Mom asked.

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  No one spoke, as if we were all trying to figure out what that meant, and then it was too late because the truck had started moving again, tossing us around. The sound of the engine and the crunch of the tires made it impossible to ask the questions we were all most certainly entertaining, let alone have a conversation.

  I stared out the back and gradually the darkness gave way to the soft glow of what could only be firelight. It flickered and bounced off the gate that shut behind us, highlighting the people guarding the wall and illuminating more of the world as we continued driving. The street was lined with buildings that had probably once been stores or restaurants, and the wall we’d just passed through cut across the road, blocking it so no one could get in or out without being seen, while the buildings formed the rest of the barrier.

  “Wait.” My uncle Al got to his feet but stayed low. He made his way to the back of the truck, shaking his head, and stared out at the street as we drove slowly through town. “I recognize this place.”

  “How?” Lila asked. “You never came to Georgia before the virus and we’ve been in New Atlanta since we got here. How could you recognize this?”

  Al turned to face his wife. “Because this is Woodbury.” No one said a word, so he shook his head again. “From The Walking Dead.”

  I had no clue what he was talking about, but everyone who had been alive before the virus reacted in different ways. Mom and Angus turned to look out the back and Parv shook her head.

  My aunt Lila snorted. “Twenty years and you still haven’t let that show go.”

  “Maybe I would have if it didn’t feel like I’d been sucked into it,” Al responded.

  “What are you talking about?” Charlie asked.

  “It was a television show.” Al turned his back on the street just as the truck rolled to a stop. “About zombies. This was a town in one of the seasons.” He turned to look at his son. “Right?”

  “That’s what I heard.” Luke nodded and got to his feet. “It’s also why people took refuge here when the zombies first popped up. Because there was already a walled community. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  He climbed out of the back and the rest of us followed. I was fourth, right behind Mom, and when I made it out I turned my back to the gate we’d just come through so I could get a look at what Luke was talking about. That’s when I saw it, the wall in front of us. Steel and reinforced with beams, it surrounded a pretty good size group of houses. You could tell which part of the wall was original and where it had been expanded to include more of the town, and from the looks of it, the little community that had been built for a television show had come in very handy when zombies suddenly became reality and not just fiction.

  “I can’t believe it,” Al said from behind me.

  “So this is where they filmed the show?” Charlie asked.

  Luke nodded as he passed us, heading to the front of the truck where Jim stood with the woman who had picked us up. “It is.”

  I followed, as did the rest of our group, and for the first time I was able to get a good look at her. Her husky voice had made her sound like someone much more mature, but in the light of the fire I discovered that she wasn’t much older than me. Twenty-five, maybe a year or two older, but not much. She was small, fit but thin, maybe only five inches over five feet, and strikingly pretty. Even without a stitch of makeup her porcelain skin was flawless. Her long, blonde hair was twisted into dreads and pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore army green cargo pants that had seen better days—hell, better years was more like it—and a threadbare black tank top that clung to her curvy frame. Her arms were covered in tattoos, flowers and animals entwined by vines that snaked up and curled around her neck and chest. The ink was dark against her flesh, but hidden between the lines were scars that told stories about the hardships she’d endured living in this unsanctioned town in the midst of a zombie apocalypse.

  She and Jim stood close to one another in a way that indicated they shared some kind of intimacy, but at the same time he held himself slightly back. Like there was a barrier between them that he couldn’t quite get over. They both turned when we stopped in front of them, but for a moment nothing was said. I had a million questions, a million thoughts and ideas and concerns, but I held back because I knew all of it would be answered in time.

  “Welcome to Senoia,” the woman said after a moment of silence. “I’m Jada. I know who most of you are just from hearing about you.” Her gaze moved across us, stopping longer on Angus than anyone, before saying, “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, and we’ll get to all of them, but first I’d like for you to follow me.”

  We did as we were told, maintaining our silence as we followed the small woman down the street toward the steel wall that used to serve as the set for a television show. I didn’t have much more than a minor understanding of all that—mostly gleaned from my research about my biological mother, Hadley Lucas—and seeing how elaborate the set had been made it even more confusing. I’d watched movies with Jackson, seen how the world used to go to great lengths to create realities very different from the one they existed in, but seeing it in p
erson, being able to reach out and touch the now rusted steel walls and support posts, was a totally different sensation. These things were real. They had built a fake walled city out of real materials, around real houses to combat an apocalypse that had been fiction at the time. How few worries that old world must have had.

  We followed Jim and Jada through the town, but it took until we were a good distance from the fire to realize that the sky was gradually growing lighter. The tops of trees, as well as the wall that kept the dead out, blocked the horizon from view, but if I looked hard enough I could discern a faint glow in the distance that told me a new day was on its way.

  Jada led us to a house that had probably been beautiful when it was new, but now reminded me of an old man who had lived on the edge of shantytown for as long I could remember. Gnarled from age just like he was, the porch was slightly crooked and the siding, which had once been white, was now only a little lighter than the old man’s weathered skin. The house wasn’t alone in its age or disrepair since all the homes we’d passed on our way through the town had been in the same state, but there was something about this house in particular, which was larger than the others on the street and I imagined had once been more grand, that stood out.

  The porch protested when we piled onto it, as did the hinges when Jada pulled the door open without knocking. Inside, the house was well kept and clean, but lacked the care that I imagined the people who’d built it would have shown. There was no clutter, but a layer of dust covered everything and one of the rooms we passed on our way in was stuffed full of boxes. They were piled on top of one another, nearly reaching the ceiling and filling most of the space, leaving only narrow walkways that ran through them, as if they were islands separated by rivers of flowing water.