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

by Mary, Kate L.

  “I can walk,” I told him for the tenth time.

  He shook his head and his arms tightened around me. “I’m fine. There’s no sense in hurting yourself when I can carry you. You don’t know what walking may do to your leg.”

  He had a point. The bullet had gotten me in the calf and even though the injury seemed superficial, it still throbbed with each step he took, so I couldn’t really imagine what it would be like to walk on it myself. Not that I wouldn’t do it if I needed to. I worried that carrying me was putting him at a disadvantage. That he wouldn’t be able to defend himself if necessary, or that he would get run down too fast thanks to the virus still left in his system.

  “Don’t push yourself,” I said. “You’re still recovering.”

  Donaghy’s grip on me tightened, and his blue eyes focused on mine. “No. I’m not…”

  The unsaid words hung between us. He wasn’t recovering; he was dying. And it was my fault. I should’ve held off. I shouldn’t have broken the vial when I knew what it would do to him. We could’ve waited. I could have hidden somewhere in the city and waited an hour or two before breaking the vial. The results would’ve been the same for the zombies. They still would have died, but it would’ve given the vaccine time to work its way through Donaghy’s system. Now though, it was just a waiting game. Soon the bacteria would spread and begin to destroy the zombies’ brains, as well as his.

  For a moment I couldn’t talk. It felt like someone was squeezing my throat, making it impossible for me to get even a single word out.

  We reached the end of the street and stopped outside Dragon’s Lair. Donaghy was breathing heavily, and even though I knew it was from the trek through the city, the worry that the bacteria had already invaded his brain was still present.

  “How do you feel?”

  He swallowed and sucked in a big mouthful of air like he was trying to catch his breath. “I’m okay. I feel better, really.”

  We both knew it would only be temporary, but neither one of us said it.

  The adrenaline from our escape must have been wearing off, because by the time we got back to Senoia my calf felt like it was on fire. The drive seemed longer than the first time too, and every bump in the road sent a throb pulsing up and down my leg. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, hoping to bite back the moans of agony that tried to force their way out of me. I wasn’t fooling Donaghy, though. It seemed like his eyes were on me the entire trip, like he was memorizing my face, trying to absorb every one of my emotions. I didn’t know if he was just checking to see if I was okay or if it had something to do with the fact that he knew he was about to die. Like maybe he was hoping to be able to cling to the image of me even after his brain began to deteriorate.

  I wanted to ask him how he was feeling, but I also didn’t want to know. We knew very little about the bacteria we’d released. Not how long it would take to start working or how quickly it would eat away at the zombies’ brains. Or if Donaghy would suffer.

  When we rolled through the gates of Senoia, my focus shifted slightly, but not completely. My mind was at war with itself, part of it thinking of Donaghy and what he would very soon be going through while the other part was focused on my family. On Dad and his injuries, on Margot and the effects of being locked away for so long. Then there was Angus and his vendetta against Star, as well as Dragon and Glitter and how they would react to Helen’s death. So much had happened, and it was too much to think about because there was still so much to do, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Donaghy and it only made me feel guilty for not devoting a hundred percent of my energy to my family.

  The truck rolled to a stop and we all climbed out. Donaghy helped me down, his hands firm on my hips like he never wanted to let me go. It was dark and the town was silent, but I could see Max and Bonnie’s house from where we stood. It was lit up, nearly every window glowing with life, and I knew my family was there, together again after all these years. Mom, dad, and Margot. They were waiting for me.

  Donaghy supported me as we made our way toward the house. Every step made my leg throb, but I ignored the pain and kept going, my sights on the house that held something I never thought I would have again. A complete family.

  We were still a good twenty feet away when the front door opened. Mom stepped out, Aunt Lila at her side, and Dad was right behind her. I craned my neck, trying to look past them, hoping to see Margot there even though I knew it was a long shot. She’d been so drugged up that she was probably sleeping it off, but I couldn’t stop hoping. I wanted everything to be normal. Not that I even knew what normal was. Instead of my sister, I saw Dragon and Glitter, and my heart sank.

  Angus walked at my side with Helen in his arms. I could tell when Dragon saw her because I recognized the expression on his face. It was the same one Mom had worn after Margot disappeared, after Dad was declared dead. It was heartbreak and devastation. It was a person breaking right in front of my eyes. There was so much hurt and anger and betrayal that it felt like a knife in my chest.

  Glitter’s hand went to her throat and her mouth opened. As far as I could tell, no sound came out, but it didn’t matter. She was as heartbroken as Dragon. He was already moving down the stairs, his hands out and reaching for Helen, but Glitter didn’t move an inch. I actually saw it when her legs began to tremble, and then she was going down, dropping to her knees on the porch like she couldn’t stand up any longer.

  Dragon reached us and took Helen from my uncle. I couldn’t look at him, but I could hear his quiet sobs as they forced their way out. My uncle said something I didn’t catch, and then he was moving past the sobbing man to the house where his daughter sat in silent shock.

  Mom came down the porch to me, but Dad stayed where he was, staring at my uncle like he was looking at a ghost.

  “What happened?” Mom asked when she was still five feet away. She reached for me, her hands ready to catch me in case I fell. Her eyes swept over me, moving down to my bloody leg and going wide. “You were shot.”

  “I’m okay,” I said even though I wasn’t sure if that was true.

  Of course, my uncertainty had nothing to do with the injury. Al had checked it out, and he’d been around long enough to know when a gunshot wound was serious. I’d believed him when he’d said it was minor even though it hurt like hell. But my heart told a different story. The ache in my chest had nothing to do with physical injuries, and everything to do with the things we’d lost and the things we still might lose.

  Mom’s gaze moved to Donaghy. “Bring her inside.”

  Donaghy nodded, and before I could protest he swept me up into his arms again. Once I was there I didn’t want to argue, because I knew that we had a very limited amount of time left together, and I wanted to be able to remember what it felt like to have his strong arms around me once he was gone.

  We followed Mom inside, leaving Dragon behind with Helen’s body, passing my uncle who was doing his best to comfort his daughter. When we walked by Dad, he reached out and stroked my head, and the touch was so familiar that it made my eyes fill with tears. I leaned into his hand, squeezing my eyes shut and remembering all the other times he’d done the exact same thing.

  The touch was so simple, so small, but it brought back hundreds of memories. Me playing on the floor as a child, how he would walk by me and run his hand over my head without even really knowing he had done it. When I’d had a bad dream and he would sit on the edge of my bed, how he had run his hand over my head, pushing the hair back out of my face. When I was sick, when I was hurt, when I was scared. Those times and so many more. I’d thought that I would never have the chance to feel that gentle touch again, but here he was and here I was. We’d been given a second chance.

  Donaghy followed Mom into the house, Dad trailing after us. She led us to the same living room we’d taken Donaghy to just two days earlier when he’d shown up burning with fever. It was the middle of the night, but the house was alive with activity. Charlie sat in a chair next to the couch, staring d
own at Margot. My sister was resting, covered in a blanket even though the air was thick with humidity. Her face was slack and peaceful, but my cousin’s expression was ripe with worry and pain.

  “Has she said anything?” I asked, looking to Mom.

  “Not yet.”

  Her voice was level and calm, bringing to mind the woman I’d grown up with. She’d been gone for so long that I’d almost forgotten how strong she could be. Finally, she was back. I could see it in the way she held herself, in the steady way she looked at me, in how she motioned for Donaghy to put me down, her hand not trembling in the least.

  “Is she okay?” I asked as Donaghy set me in a chair.

  Mom knelt in front of me, her brown eyes holding mine and somehow giving me strength even though at the moment I felt ready to scream. “Right now, we need to worry about you. Margot is resting and she is going to be okay.”

  The certainty in my mother’s voice helped stave off my worry, but I knew it couldn’t last. There was too much to worry about, too much going on to chase the concern away forever.

  Mom didn’t say anything else but instead focused her attention on my leg. The fabric of the scrubs I wore was glued to my skin thanks to the dried blood. She pulled at the hole, trying to make it bigger so she could examine the wound, but after a moment she sat back and shook her head.

  “We’re going to need to get these pants off.”

  Dad crouched down next to her and pulled out a knife. “Just cut the pant leg,” he said, and I didn’t miss the way his eyes moved toward Donaghy.

  Mom must not have either, because she rolled her eyes and almost smiled, something I hadn’t seen in weeks. Not since Dad disappeared. If it wasn’t for the fact that Donaghy was living on borrowed time, I might’ve smiled too. Maybe even laughed. I’d thought I would never be able to witness my dad being overprotective again, and it was amazing how something that would have annoyed me in the past now filled me with gratitude and joy.

  Despite the eye roll, Mom took the knife and used it to cut the leg of my pants off below the knee. Once the fabric was gone and she was able to get a better look at the wound, some of the worry in her expression faded away.

  “It’s not bad.”

  “Al said the same thing,” I told her. “I think it just grazed me.” I held out my hand then, showing her the cuts on my palm. “This may be more of an issue. I think there may still be some glass in the cuts.”

  She took my hand so she could examine the injury more closely. “What happened?”

  “I fell. The vial broke in my hand.” Saying the words was a reminder of what I had done, of how I had sentenced Donaghy to death.

  Mom must have realized it, because she froze, my hand still held in hers. “You released the bacteria?”

  I swallowed. “I did.”

  I could see the questions in her eyes, how she was wondering if enough time had passed and what had happened while we were out there. She held my gaze, searching for the answers, and I could tell when she found them because her face fell.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “So am I.”

  Dad looked confused, but I couldn’t explain. Not now. Donaghy stood at my side, his hand resting on my shoulder like he couldn’t bear the thought of not touching me. I knew he wanted to be alone with me, but I had other things to worry about right now.

  I turned my gaze on Dad. “How’s your head? Are you okay?”

  He nodded and reached out, putting his hand on my knee as Mom went to work trying to get the glass from the cut on my palm.

  “I’ll be alright.”

  “Jackson is dead,” I said. “I should have listened to you. You tried to tell me who he really was, but I didn’t want to hear it.”

  Dad gave me a crooked smile. “Ain’t that how all teenagers are?”

  A tear-clogged laugh bubbled up in my throat. “I guess so.”

  “What ‘bout Star?” Dad asked.

  “Never saw the bastard.” Angus stepped into the room and Dad turned to face his brother. “He’s always been the type who gave orders from behind a desk, so it ain’t much of a surprise that he didn’t have the balls to show up today.”

  “He can’t make it through this,” Dad said. “If he does, he’ll just figure out ‘nother way to take over.”

  “Then we gotta stop him,” my uncle agreed.

  Mom sucked in a breath, but I could tell by the expression on her face that she didn’t disagree. And sitting here, seeing what Star had done to my family and the people I cared about, I couldn’t either.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Donaghy

  I tried to convince myself that I didn’t feel any different then I had before Jackson injected me. The effects of the virus had worn off, there was no more pain, no more burning in my veins, no more disorientation, but something else had taken its place, something I couldn’t describe even if I’d wanted to, which I didn’t. Right now, the only thing I wanted to think about was Star and what we needed to do to take that bastard down. His son was gone, which put him at a disadvantage, but he still had guards and a fortified building that wouldn’t be easy to get into. Our biggest advantage was Angus. The Church, those crazy zealots who had been waiting years for him to return, would follow Angus James no matter where he went. Especially if he promised retribution.

  “Can we get into the city the way we came out?” Axl asked.

  “No,” Angus shook his head. “You ain’t goin’.”

  Meg’s dad started to argue, but Vivian put her hand on her husband’s arm. “You can’t. You’re hurt.”

  “If you think I’m gonna sit back and do nothin’ after what he did to our daughter—” He choked on the words.

  Angus put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “I know you don’t wanna give in, but you gotta stay. I know what he’s done, and I ain’t gonna let him get away with it. You can trust me lil’ brother. I’ll take care of this, you just gotta take care of yourself and your girl.”

  Axl’s gaze moved to the couch where Margot was still sleeping. Every few minutes she twisted in her sleep, and every sound she let out seemed like a knife in her parents’ hearts. I couldn’t imagine anyone coming back from this. Her life must have been hell for the last nine years. If nothing else, if he hadn’t destroyed the lives of anyone else, Star deserved to die for what he’d done to Meg’s sister. But he’d done so much more, so much more than anyone in the history of the world had done. He’d created and released a virus that had destroyed everyone’s lives, every family had been affected, were still being affected, by what he’d done. Star didn’t just deserve to die; he deserved to suffer.

  Reluctantly, Meg’s dad nodded, but his eyes were still on his daughter. His brother pulled him forward so roughly that it looked like someone had shoved them together, and then Angus wrapped his arms around his younger brother in a tight hug and whispered something in his ear that was too quiet for any of us to catch.

  Axl nodded twice and closed his eyes. “You promise me,” he said.

  “If I hafta die tryin’, Star will pay.”

  Once Axl had accepted the fact that he wouldn’t be heading back into New Atlanta, things moved quickly. The usual suspects were going: Parvarti, Jim and Jada, Dragon, Al and his son. I could tell Meg’s mom was torn about what to do, but ultimately she chose to stay with her injured daughters and husband. It seemed to hurt her deep inside, but all it took was one look at the determined expression on Angus’s face for her to make the decision.

  “You’ll take care of it?” she asked him.

  “You don’t hafta worry,” he replied.

  Vivian nodded once.

  “I’m in,” I said when there was finally a break in the decision making process.

  All eyes went to me, and I knew they were looking for any signs of weakness. I wanted to be angry, but the truth was, they had every right to be worried. I’d ripped out Jackson’s throat with my teeth, and even though I could tell the effects of the virus had worn o
ff, no one else knew that for sure. Even more troubling was the fact that a brain-eating bacteria could attack me at any moment. We had no clue how long it would take to work its way through me.

  “If something happens,” I told them, hoping to ease their concerns, “you can leave me behind. I won’t slow you down.”

  “Fine,” Angus said. “But I’m the one who kills Star.”

  He gave everyone a cold stare, sweeping his gaze across the room in a way that made even me give pause. I would have loved to be the one to draw that asshole’s blood, but I knew that if anyone had a right to Star, it was Angus James. He’d probably spent the last twenty years imagining how he would take the life of the man who’d imprisoned him. Those fantasies might have been one of the few things that had kept him sane for all these years. If all went well, by the end of the day he would get to live one of them out, and I couldn’t wait to watch.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Meg

  With Helen gone, the settlement’s doctor was our only option for medical care. He was a grizzled, old man who I imagined had been close to retirement age when the virus was first released, and who now looked as if he’d been living with one foot in the grave for years.

  He gave my leg a cursory glance, declaring that it was going to take time to heal but would be okay, and then graced my hand with four shaky stitches. Parv and Kelly’s gunshot wounds were more serious, but nothing that a few stitches couldn’t fix. They had both gotten lucky and the bullets had gone all the way through.

  When our injuries were done, the doctor checked out Dad, declaring what we all already knew: he had a concussion and needed to take it easy. Then it was Donaghy’s turn. Only his diagnosis was less straightforward than all the others had been.

  The white-haired doctor was so hunched over that even though he was standing and Donaghy was sitting during the exam, they were practically eye level.