Another pair of hands seized her ankles and tugged.
No, stop!
She thrashed downward, clawing with her unfinished hand. She needed to stay submerged. For a moment she fought the pull with all her strength. Then the creek bed slid against her belly as she was dragged backward by the ankles.
Helpless to stop it, she broke the surface.
Her unfinished hand melted off her wrist.
“No—nooo!”
Icy air slashed her exposed skin. Her wet clothes strangled her upper body. Every movement came with a frigid shock. She rolled onto her back and tried sitting up. Loose water trickled down her sides, soaking her jeans. Her waterlogged ears swished as a jumble of voices called her name.
Then her ears popped.
That voice…
She pushed her hair from her eyes and looked.
Above her stood Cheeto.
40
“You idiot!” Ash tried pushing herself up and her lone hand slipped. She plopped back into the mud. “You’re not supposed to look. You interrupted right when—”
No. She stopped herself. Christ, how much had he seen? How much had he heard? Shivering wet, she hugged herself, making sure to tuck her empty wrist beneath her armpit. The wind burned her as she met his eyes. She didn’t know what to say.
Luckily he went first.
“Ashes?” He wiped his wet hands on his jacket. “The hell are you doing? It’s like you were trying to drown yourself.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came.
In one swift motion he nabbed her forearm and yanked it toward him. She’d never seen him move so fast in all the time she’d known him. His grip was sure and tight, and before she could stop him, he pushed back the sleeve.
The moment he saw the absence, he made a bizarre squealing sound, like something out of a Nickelodeon cartoon. The expression on his face seesawed between bafflement and horror. He tilted her wrist toward the light shining from nearby. Ash suddenly realized Berke was standing behind her with a flashlight. Under its beam her empty forearm glistened.
With a cautious finger, Cheeto touched the stump.
Her flesh shuddered, along with the rest of her.
She ripped her arm free. “Fuck off. I’m in middle of something. Now shut your eyes. You too, Berke.”
“Ashes,” Cheeto said, breathless, “what happened?”
Berke pulled him aside. “Just close your eyes, okay?”
Shivering, Ash crawled to the bend and lifted her phone from the mud. She wiped the screen and shined it over the water. Her water-twin reappeared.
Before she could ask for another go, the strangest shit happened. Water droplets raced down her forehead. They felt like ants crawling along her flesh. Within seconds her face, hair, and clothes were dry. The moisture flowed away with purpose and determination, flushing down her legs like accelerated sweat. It puddled beneath her knees before rolling back into the stream.
“Thanks,” she said, awestruck. “Now how about my hand?”
“How about no.” The voice sounded from the nearby thicket. Branches brushed and crackled. Frazzled blond hair emerged. Candace. In her right hand was a polished black pistol. For a moment she surveyed the clearing, squinting with fury. When she spotted Ash, she aimed the gun. “Get away from there. Now!”
Ash went numb. She’d never had a weapon pointed at her before. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think straight.
“Leave her alone!” Cheeto shouted from across the clearing. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“An underwear model,” Candace deadpanned. “You’re the singer, right? Cheesy? You being here, that’s a problem.”
“Same with you gunning for Ash. Point that shit elsewhere.”
“Careful what you wish for.” Candace looked at Ash. “Show’s over. Get away from the creek.” She strode over to Ash, gun aimed at her heart.
“C-Candace,” Ash said. She could barely talk with the gun focused on her. Her body felt floaty. “Please. I’m just—”
“Putting lives at risk? Why, yes—yes you are.” Candace snatched Ash’s elbow and dragged her along. “Don’t think you’re getting off easy this time.”
“But Snare—”
Candace cracked her across the face with the gun.
Ash’s cheek exploded. She didn’t remember hitting the ground, but she was writhing in mud, face roaring with heat.
“Fuck you, lady!” Cheeto snarled, running toward them.
Candace aimed at him. “Back down, Cheesehead. You don’t want to mess with me. I’m a good shot, and I’m not the only one who can shoot you dead.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Candace whistled, and the thicket shook behind her. Within seconds, Bill Werner and Gina Narducci marched through holding pistols of their own.
Cheeto froze.
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Berke whimpered, but aside from that and the flapping tarp, the clearing was silent.
Ash lay there, hand cupped to her aching cheek. The pain had worn off, but she pretended otherwise to buy herself time to think. With three guns, Candace had an overwhelming advantage. Reasoning with her had already proved useless, but somehow Ash needed to talk her way out of this.
The thicket shook again. Dad poked his head through.
“Bout time, Karl,” Candace said. “What took you?”
“I was… Ashlee, what’re you doing here?” Dad said. He shined his light across the clearing, his brow folded in confusion. He stopped abruptly. “That’s the tarp from my truck. What’s that doing here?”
Ash swallowed hard. Her father knew exactly what. He was playing dumb to make Candace believe he was still a team player.
“Dad, I tried to talk to Snare. I almost got my hand back.” She looked toward Candace. “Give me one more minute alone.”
“You’ve had your last minute.” Candace glared at Cheeto. Raised the gun. “How much does the singer know?”
“He barely knows anything!” Ash cried, her voice rising. Losing her hand was bad enough. Losing her lead singer would crush her. “He snuck up here. Followed me and Berke. He doesn’t know anything. Please, you can’t shoot him.”
Candace stared. “Believe me, I can.”
“I don’t know shit. Really.” Cheeto held up both palms, trembling. “I just followed her because I was worried. Ash has been acting strange all week.”
Candace steadied her aim.
“Candace,” Dad said, stepping toward her, “if you shoot that young man, I’ll have to arrest you.”
“Do that,” Werner said, lifting his handgun, “and you’re dead. Same with your dirtbag daughter. Whatever it takes to keep us Traders safe.”
“Safe?” Ash asked, incredulous. “You think you’re safe? One of your own died this week. John MacReady. He’s gone, and there’s no telling what happened. Any of you could be next.”
“Spare us the fear and panic,” Candace said in a bored tone. “You sound like cable news.”
“You’re the one who’s afraid. Otherwise you wouldn’t be charging in here with a gun.”
With a snort, Candace pocketed hers. “Happy now? See, I’m not afraid. I’m just prepared for the worst. I have lives to protect. People count on me for their survival, and you sneaking up here is no different from you sneaking into their homes with a knife and bad intentions.”
“Bad intentions?” Ash got right in Candace’s face. With the gun gone, she felt like herself again. “I intend to free the Traders—to help them live normal lives.”
“They don’t need your help.”
“The hell they don’t. This town isn’t safe. Look at MacReady—he was killed for his parts.”
“We don’t know that. He could’ve had a heart attack. Besides, he traded his kidneys. I doubt someone would murder him for kidneys of all things.”
Ash stood her ground. “What if he traded something more?”
“He didn’t.” There was a slight twitch in Candace’s stance, as
if she’d been knocked off balance. “MacReady traded his kidneys. End of story.”
“You’re lying,” Ash said, but she stopped herself before she could reveal how she knew. If she mentioned the stolen money, Dad would eat shit. She needed another explanation. “Snare told me MacReady traded more than his kidneys. I almost got the answer before you barged in.”
“Snare told you? Wow, what a reliable source.”
“You’d be surprised,” Ash said. “Snare said Bill Werner traded his skull. His wife traded—”
“Shut up!” Werner shook his revolver. “That’s private!”
“Candace, you can’t protect everyone forever,” Ash said. “The outside world will find out eventually. Traders will die from cancer, organ failure, car accidents, whatever. And when they do, they’ll leave behind bodies with missing parts. How’s an ER doctor gonna react when Werner’s skull disappears from his head?”
“We’ve dealt with this before,” Candace said. “Someone died with a foot missing. That was eighteen years ago. Nobody cared after a week.”
“Because it was one person.” Ash met Narducci’s eyes. The woman’s gun was aimed at the dirt now. “What happens when four or five Traders die within a couple years? What’ll stop reporters from sniffing out this place? Or the police? Or the FBI? Face it, the truth will come out.” She gestured to the creek. “This is our last chance.”
“Not ours. Yours.” Candace stepped close until their noses were almost touching. A stare-down ensued, like two boxers before a Vegas fight. “We’ll make adjustments as needed. Just like we always have. If we end up starring in a Netflix documentary someday, so be it. Till that day comes, we’re riding this out.”
Ash squeezed her fist in frustration. Her fingernails pierced her palm. She wanted to smack that snide look off Candace’s face. “Know what? Why wait for the documentary? If you’re so comfortable with the world finding out, I’ll get on the phone and tell everyone right now.”
The clearing went quiet again, aside from the click of the creek. Candace stared back without a word. Her silence sounded like victory. Sounded like freedom.
Then Dad spoke up. His voice sounded wounded.
“No… Ashlee, no.”
“What, Dad?”
Candace cleared her throat. “You just broke the number one Trader law: selling out the group. Normally that would earn you the highest punishment. But since you don’t have a traded part, your father will suffer in your place.”
41
Candace stretched out her hand. “Karl, your gun, please.”
All eyes swung toward Karl. His heart slammed wildly as the clearing shrank around him, its fishy odor leaving him queasy. To his left stood Narducci, to his right Werner. Funny how just hours ago Candace had pegged Werner as her top suspect in the MacReady investigation. Now the two of them banded together like allies, both armed and ready in case Karl gave them a reason to shoot.
He didn’t plan on giving them one.
He also didn’t plan on holstering his weapon.
“Your gun, please,” Candace repeated.
“First, I wanna say something.” He locked eyes with her. “My daughter is right. We can’t go on like this forever.”
“Nothing lasts forever.” She gestured at his weapon. “Still, every day is a blessing around here. More than sixty people wake up lucky every day. Lucky to breathe, lucky to walk, lucky to spend time with their loved ones.”
“Not when their loved ones leave town.”
“Small price to pay,” she said. “Beats gambling our lives on some cryptic offer.”
“Wouldn’t be so cryptic if you let Ashlee finish talking to Snare.”
“She’ll say anything to get her hand back.”
“I haven’t lied,” Ashlee said. “Not once.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Candace snapped. “You just threatened to expose everyone. That’s reckless and inconsiderate. My people are human beings, not casino chips. Keep arguing, Ash, and your father will get the full punishment. Right now, he’s facing a partial.”
“Please, Candy—”
“Don’t call me that.” Candace glared at him without mercy in her eyes. She grabbed his gun by the barrel. With a single tug, it left his grasp. “You’ll serve a twenty-four-hour sentence. If you have patrol duty tomorrow, call off.”
“Why him?” Ashlee said. “I’m the one who threatened the Traders. Take it out on me.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” Candace turned to her. “Since you don’t have any traded parts, you’ll have to live with the fact that your father will serve the sentence.”
“What sentence?”
Candace faced Karl. With unblinking eyes, she said, “He’ll spend the next twenty-four hours at an unspecified location several miles away.”
“Several miles?” Ashlee said. “But he’ll… You can’t!”
“I’ll be fine, Ashlee.” Karl knew he wouldn’t, but he needed her to stay calm. “We’ll see each other tomorrow.”
“That’s only if Ash cooperates,” Candace said. “If she or anyone else tampers with my cameras or visits this creek, you’re taking a trip outside the zone, Karl.”
He swallowed hard. The thought of his knees vanishing from his legs put a sick twist in his gut.
“You can’t…” Ashlee shook her head. “That’s insane.”
“Nothing insane about keeping order around here.”
“But he didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’ve got reason to believe he’s been helping you all day. Want me to lay out my case?”
“Go for it.”
“Ashlee.” Karl forced a smile. “Settle down, okay? No need to make this any worse.”
“But, Dad…”
“Ashlee.” Karl pleaded with his eyes. She must’ve gotten the message because she stopped arguing. It was for the best. Once Candace announced a punishment, there was no going back.
And if Ashlee pushed any harder, he’d be back in a wheelchair.
42
Ash climbed into the van and slammed her fist against the steering wheel. The horn moaned under her blows. Futile, useless blows. In the passenger seat, Cheeto anxiously lit a cig. He hadn’t said a word since they left the clearing. Whether he was dazed by Snare or petrified by Candace, Ash couldn’t tell. All she knew was that she dreaded what might happen to her father.
What scared her even more was the thought of Dad continuing to live in this hellhole. With Candace calling the shots, there was no telling when he would lose his knees over some stupid-ass disagreement. For the first time, she could honestly say to herself that completing Snare was about more than getting a new hand.
It was about so much more.
She checked the dashboard clock. They had nineteen hours till sundown, but it felt like nineteen minutes. Somehow she had to march five people to the bend while avoiding any situation that could endanger Dad’s health. Keeping him safe was critical. This whole creek deal wouldn’t be worth shit if Dad’s legs turned to rubber.
She looked at Cheeto. He tapped his cig out the window without a word. Though there were many times she’d wished he came with a mute button, now wasn’t one of them.
“Cheets?”
He flicked his cig outside. “Yeah?”
She told him everything.
By the time she finished spilling details, Cheeto had burned through the last of his smokes and was now flicking his lighter anxiously. They stared up the street at Candace’s house, awaiting the bitch’s return. No telling where Candace had taken Dad or why no one had returned yet. Earlier, Ash had considered tailing them, but getting caught would cost Dad his knees.
“Should we be here?” Cheeto asked, itching his scruff. “I mean, if Candace sees us, she might think we’re ambushing her.”
“From five houses down? We’re not snipers.”
“Just saying… Candace seems pretty high-strung.”
“Yeah, but what else can I do? Sit at home?” She squeezed the steering whe
el in a chokehold. “There’s gotta be a way to finish Snare without putting Dad in danger.”
Cheeto frowned. “You sure this is all worth it?”
“Hell yeah. It’s a golden opportunity.”
“You said that about the club we played in Akron. The one where Kane got his gear stolen.”
“This is different.”
Cheeto shrugged. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Are you blitzed? Look at me.” She rolled her sleeve to reveal her empty cast. “I’m not me. Not without my hand. If I can’t play guitar, what good am I?”
“I could teach you to sing.” He grinned stupidly. When she glared back, he frowned. “Look, for what it’s worth, I don’t think of you as a guitarist. To me, you’re Ash Hudson.”
She scrunched her brow. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Hand or no hand, you’re you. And that works for me.”
She rolled her eyes. “You and your low standards.”
“Nah, they’re sky high.” Cheeto drummed his fingers along the dash, pausing only when a pair of headlights turned onto Peak Ave. Tension spread through the van as they both leaned forward, anticipating Candace. But it wasn’t her vehicle, and they sank back into their seats. Cheeto yawned. “Getting late. Wanna call it a night?”
“I don’t even have a plan yet.”
“So sleep on it.”
“That won’t help.”
“You’d be surprised. Last month I listened to this podcast on how sleep affects the mind. They said REM sleep helps your brain with creativity. Who knows? Maybe you’ll wake up with an idea.”
Much as her aching body needed a snooze, she knew sleep wasn’t happening tonight. Not until she solved this. It was like when she stayed up late tinkering with a new guitar solo: no shuteye till she nailed the right sequence of notes. With Dad and her hand at stake, she couldn’t afford to sleep. She’d be an idiot to sleep. That would waste time, and there was only so much left.
She killed the motor and zipped her coat.
“Where you going?”
“Candace’s.”
Bad Parts Page 15