by Katie French
When we get back to the apartment, the air is tangy with the smell of blood. I storm toward Bell, but Tommy grabs my arm. “Not so fast.”
I yank away from him. “Let me go!”
He holds my wrist, and I yank away so hard my shoulder twangs.
“It’s okay. I’m done,” Harpy says from the floor.
Tommy lets me go. I pull away and fall on my knees beside Bell. The knife is no longer buried in her stomach and a bandage has been wrapped around her waist. A thin, blood-filled tube snakes out of her arm. My eyes trace the tubing up to Gabe, who’s sitting in a chair beside her. A needle is buried in the crook of his elbow.
“You’re giving her your blood?” I ask.
Gabe smiles wanly. “I’m type O-negative.”
When I frown, he tries again. “I can give blood to anyone. It’s the perfect blood type.” He flashes a grin.
“Oh, I…don’t even know what type I am,” I say.
Harpy, who’s gone to the kitchen sink to clean off his tools, chimes in. “Most don’t, but Gabe’s had himself some extensive medical attention. Half the time, I think he’s just faking ‘cause he’s taken a shine to me.” Harpy smiles, showing off a gap-toothed grin.
Gabe lifts one corner of his mouth. “You’re just my type, Harp.”
Harpy laughs as he washes his hands. “And I do make a mean omelet.”
Gabe snorts. “Don’t tempt me.”
Tommy strides to Gabe and points to the tube of blood. “Do you think you should?”
Gabe looks at me. “I couldn’t let the poor woman die.”
And my heart flutters as his eyes meet mine. It’s stupid and girlish, but I can’t help it. “Thank you.”
Gabe smiles. “Don’t thank me, beautiful Ophelia,” he whispers. “She’s Hamlet’s love interest.”
Tommy rolls his eyes and helps Harpy finish up, but I can’t stop looking at Gabe and the sacrifice he’s making to save Bell.
The room is quiet and dim. Many of the candles have winked out, and the few that remain throw dancing shadows on the walls. I’m so tired. My body slumps down until Gabe draws me over and lets me rest my head on his leg. When sleep comes, it’s so welcome.
I wake in a room I don’t recognize. Bolting upright, I bang my head on something. It falls and clatters to the floor. Rubbing the tender spot on my skull, I scan the room. The ten-by-eight room is chock full of more make-believe items: masks, street signs, plastic swords, half a dollhouse, and a giant stuffed cat with glass eyes. It takes me a moment, but I realize I’m in one of Gabe’s collection rooms. As I slow my pounding heart, I get up and look for him.
I follow the sound of snoring, finding him under a velvet cape and tucked under an archway covered in plastic ivy. Toes stick out of a hole in his sock.
I reach a hand out to wake him and stop. What if Bell’s better? What if this is our chance to escape?
I tiptoe through the apartment, unlock the front door, and let myself out. They haven’t done much to keep me locked in, and I wonder if they think me so feeble that I won’t even try escape. Determination drums in my chest. I’m not feeble. I’ll get Bell and get the hell—
“Up I see,” says the voice behind me. Tommy sits in a chair in the hallway, his cap on his knee. A steaming mug rests in his lap.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” I ask.
He lifts the barest of smiles. “I slept.”
“How’s my aunt?”
His expression doesn’t change. “Recovering.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means I don’t know,” he says quietly.
“I want to see her.”
He nods, stands up, winces, and stretches out his back with a couple of pops. Then he leads me to his apartment.
Bell is where I left her, on her back, eyes closed. Someone, probably Tommy, has tied her ankles together, but at least the rest of her is free. A pillow rests under her head. The needle is gone from her arm and the spot is wrapped in a bandage.
I touch her face and hands. She doesn’t look as pale, but her breathing seems shallow. “Get well,” I whisper. “Fast.”
In the kitchen, Tommy is clanking around. When I get up and walk over, I watch him fill a large, metal jug with water from the sink. He gets out a canvas bag and scoops black powder into a metal basket. Once the basket is inside the jug, he puts the jug onto a gas burner. The hiss of gas fills the room.
Tommy leans against the counter and sips his coffee. “It’ll be a few minutes.”
I lean back against the counter, trying to think of the right words to say.
Tommy shifts the jug around on the lit burner.
“I think it was very brave of you to get Harpy to help her. What did you pay him, anyway?”
“Harpy’s a good guy,” he says, not looking at me.
I swallow. “I think deep down, you’re a good guy, too.”
He eyes me.
“And that’s why…” I sigh deep. “And that’s why I don’t think you should sell us.”
Tommy’s eyes drop from my face. He lifts the hot jug off the burner and sets it on the useless stove to cool.
“I know you’re in a desperate situation with Prentice, but isn’t there some other way to get the medication?”
“There isn’t another way.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He slams his mug onto the counter so hard the brown liquid sloshes out. “You think I like selling girls to traders? Is that what you think?”
I shake my head. “No. I just think maybe you haven’t thought of all the possibilities.”
He clenches his jaw. “I’ve given Prentice everything I’ve ever had and then some. I’ve been doing things I wish to God I never had to do for years, and you think I haven’t thought of every possibility?” A vein pulses on his neck. He looks at me and then away. He seems to collect himself. “Let the coffee percolate for two minutes. I’ll be in the hallway.”
That went well.
Footsteps in the hallway. I turn, thinking Tommy is back to apologize, but Gabe stands in the doorway. Sleepy-eyed and tousle-haired, he’s more adorable than ever.
“Hey,” he says, grinning. “Was Tommy yelling at you?”
I pour the coffee in the mug Tommy sat out for me, and it steams. “I said something aggravating.”
Gabe runs a hand through his hair. “Everything is aggravating to him. Pour me a cup?”
I try two cupboards before I find the mugs and then pour Gabe a cup of coffee. He sniffs it and sighs. “If only we had some sugar.”
“The hospital had sugar on special occasions. Not lately, though.” I blow on my mug.
“Listen, we need to get an early start. I’ve got a lot to show you.”
I sip my mug to avoid answering.
He keeps talking. “What do you want to see? The sound stage is amazing. There’s still half a set built in there from a western they were filming. Or the art gallery with the pieces that were too big to transport. Or the gym!” He raises his eyebrows, his voice getting more animated the more he talks.
“I think I’ll just stay with Bell today,” I say quietly.
Gabe’s smile fades. “But this is the chance of a lifetime.” He steps in front of me and dips his chin. “Come on, Janine, the dynamo queen. I wanna show you the world according to Gabe.” He sticks out his bottom lip.
I shake my head. “No thanks.”
His face darkens. “Did I do something wrong last night?”
I shake my head. “No, I appreciate all you’ve done.”
“Then what?”
I set my mug down and sigh. “I just don’t want to get too attached. You know, if I’m just going to be sold in a few days.” I look up at him through my eyelashes. Am I milking it? Yes, I think I am.
Gabe leans forward, a big smile breaking out across his face. “No, Janine, that’s not going to happen,” he whispers. “I’m not going to let Tommy sell you.”
Hope blooms in my heart, but I put a li
d on it. “And Bell?”
He grips my hand. “Not her, either. What do you think we are—monsters?”
“But Tommy said you need your medicine or you’ll die.”
“He’s such a worry wart. I’m much better than I used to be. I don’t need that medicine.”
None of this is making sense. I rub my hand over my forehead. “I don’t understand.”
“The medicine is only a precaution. I haven’t had a seizure in months. And the last time I had one, I only needed half of what I used to need to stop it.” Gabe searches my face with excited eyes. “I just thought of something. Someone, actually, to help us with our situation.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Is he dangerous?”
Gabe waggles his eyebrows boyishly. “Very.”
I can’t help but crack a smile. It’s impossible to take life too seriously with him.
He leans even closer. He smells like coffee and some sort of spice. “Tommy can’t know about it. Not yet. It’ll be our little secret.”
I pinky swear with him. Keeping a secret from Tommy is no problem.
Gabe takes my hand and sneaks me out of the apartment. But as we turn to glance down the hall, there’s Tommy in front of us with his arms across his chest. “Where now?”
Gabe shrugs. “I was just taking her to see the sound stage.”
Tommy shakes his head. “You and I have work to do.”
Gabe gives a coy smile. “But you work so much better without me around mucking it up.”
Tommy frowns, but he doesn’t disagree. “What if the other one wakes up?”
“We won’t be long,” Gabe says.
Worry blooms in my heart. “Someone should stay with Bell.”
Tommy looks between Gabe and me. “Harpy’s coming today to check on her, but I really want you to stay here.” He gives Gabe a narrow glance.
Gabe pats his brother on the cheek. “Brother, when have I ever done what you wanted?”
Tommy is immovable. “Why does she need to see the sound stage?”
His words make me boil. “Right, because why would a stupid girl need to see anything?”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Come on, Gabe,” I say, pulling him along if for no other reason than to make Tommy mad.
“You heard the lady,” he says to Tommy. He turns and follows me.
When we get outside, Gabe laughs. “You were saucy back there. I like it. I hope there’s more where that came from.”
I chuckle. “Your brother has a special way of making me furious.”
Gabe nods. “I know the exact feeling.”
He leads me at his breakneck clip through the campus, giving me the narrated tour again, even repeating things he told me yesterday. It’s almost like a recording. But I listen, content to be outside and away from Tommy. Who knows how many days like this I have? Though I feel more at ease now that Gabe’s said he won’t let Tommy sell me.
When we come to several fenced-in areas, painted with white rectangles, Gabe stops and points. “These used to be tennis courts. You play with a yellow ball and a racquet. The nets are long gone. Did you have tennis at the hospital?”
“We had swimming. And since it was required, that took all the fun out of it.”
Gabe studied my face. “I’ve never learned to swim.”
I smile at him. “Remind me to teach you some time.”
His smile quirks up. “This way.”
Next to the tennis courts is a large, square building. Gabe pulls open a heavy door and leads me into the dim interior. High windows, whistling with the breeze, let in enough light to see. We walk down a short hallway and then he pulls open another door.
A high-ceilinged room holds rows and rows of bicycles. Wheels, spokes, and handlebars spread like a metal sea everywhere you look. Off to one side, spare parts are lined in rows on the floor—seats, tires, chains, and rubber tubes. A large table displays a bike on its side. It’s clear someone’s been working on these bikes, tinkering, and piecing them back together. A few that have been remodeled and the most road ready are parked beside the workbench.
Walking over, I run my hand along a taut leather seat. I ring a bell screwed onto a blue bike’s handlebars. “I’ve never seen so many in such good condition.”
Gabe straddles a red bike with lots of gears. “College students were bikers, so there were a lot lying around. And Tommy’s a bit of a collector. He loves tinkering. Luckily, here we still have roads that aren’t broken all to hell.” Gabe squeezes the black contraption on his handlebars. “Pick out any one you like.”
“I don’t even know how to ride.” I run my fingers down a sparkly silver bike with black trim.
Gabe steps off his bike and comes over. He looks over the bikes, rubbing his chin as he thinks. “This one,” he says, stopping in front of a light blue bike with a white seat and far too many gears. “This bike screams ‘Janine.’”
I look at the bike and at him. “It’s beautiful,” I say, gripping the handlebars, “but I still don’t know how to ride.”
Gabe cocks his head coyly. “I’ll teach you to ride and later you can teach me to swim.”
“Is there a pool?” I ask, looking around the cavernous space.
“Nuh-uh,” he says shaking his head. “It’ll be later later.”
I laugh. After everything I’ve been through with Houghtson, the abduction, and Bell getting stabbed, part of me needs this fun. When’s the last time I had fun? With Sabrina back in the hospital? It’s hard to remember. “Okay, I give up. Teach me to ride.”
He grabs my bike and wheels it toward the door. “That’s a girl. No sense in fighting me,” he says. “I always get my way.”
But riding a bike isn’t as easy as it seems. Staying upright while pedaling and steering is more complicated than childbirth. I fall and Gabe has to catch me over and over. But he’s patient and I keep trying. Pretty soon, I’m pedaling on my own. He pedals up beside me, the breeze pushing back his hair.
“Fun, right?” he asks.
I look over at him, wobble, and look back to the road. “Um, yeah.”
He laughs. “Just wait until I show you how to switch gears.”
I gawk.
He laughs again. “Come on.”
He takes the lead, pedaling through the parking lot and toward the main road. I follow, but that feeling of trepidation builds. We’re out in the open, in broad daylight. And I’m still a girl and wanted by the Breeders as well as pretty much everyone in the world. I pump hard with my legs to catch up to him.
“Do you think we should be out in the open?” I shout over the wind.
He leans back on his seat and coasts down the two-lane highway. “Why?”
I glance at the shops and businesses around us. “What if someone see me?”
He waves a dismissive hand. “We’ll just tell them you’re a visiting dignitary from Dubai.”
When I frown, he shrugs. “We’ll tell them you belong to Prentice. If you’re with me, they’ll believe it.”
“I belong to Prentice?” I ask, bouncing over a crack in the pavement and wobbling again.
Gabe nods. “Nobody steals from Prentice.”
“Why?” I ask. “What does he do?”
Gabe pedals, his long legs flashing up and down. “That restaurant right there used to have the best Mexican food in the United States. Now it has the biggest rat colonies.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”
But I clam up as we ride down tighter streets with tall buildings on either side. Dark windows watch me. Alleyways seem to grow longer and darker the deeper in we bike. People could be hiding anywhere.
“Gabe, I think we should go back.”
But he doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care. He pedals faster until I’m pumping and sweating and panting. He never showed me how to change gears, and I don’t know if that would help, but my legs burn and my butt is starting to ache. And, God, what am I doing out here anyway?
“Wait!” I call, but he’s gone. I try to keep up, but my heart is thudding so fast. I just need a break. Just a small break. I squeeze the handlebar brake like he showed me.
The brake locks too fast. The bike skids, tires squealing. My body lurches forward. I fly through the air. The pavement slams into my body.
I lie on the concrete, a bundle of hurts sprouting up from far too many places. My knee, my ankle, my shoulder, and my neck all throb. How much damage have I done? And how long until Gabe realizes I’ve fallen and circles back? I glance at the abandoned buildings all around me. So dark. So creepy.
I sit up, and the pain in my neck and shoulder doubles. Breathing deeply for a moment, I’m able to open my eyes. My pants are torn and blood seeps from cuts on my knee. Nothing looks broken. The bike doesn’t seem so lucky. The chain has fallen off the gear, and since I know nothing about bikes, there’s no way I can fix it. I’ll have to walk if Gabe doesn’t come—
A noise from a dark building behind me stops me cold. I freeze.
Something crunches. I whip toward the sound, ears straining. Is someone there?
Another noise. I stand, my heart thumping.
Three figures—three men—step out of the darkness.
Chapter 13
Janine
Run! my brain urges, but I’m frozen. The men are huge. One holds a long object in his hand. A bat? A crowbar?
I run, but my ankle screams with pain at each step. I limp forward as fast as I can.
They’ll kill me. They’ll brain me senseless. I try not to cry, but, oh god, I’m so afraid. Their footsteps thunder after me, gaining ground by the minute.
A hand grabs my arm. I yank away, but another grabs my injured shoulder. I cry out, from pain or terror.
They whirl me around. Three men with scarred faces, missing teeth, eye patches. They’ve been cut and sown together like rag dolls with missing eyes and stitched-up scars. They leer at me like they’ve trapped something delicious they want to eat.
“Let me go!” I struggle, but it’s useless. The two men who hold me laugh as the third steps up.
“Lookie, lookie, caught us a cookie. We haven’t catched a bender in a long time,” the leader says. He’s as mutilated as the first two and when he smiles, he shows off empty gums. No wonder he talks so funny. He has both his eyes, unlike one of his crew, but an ear is missing. And as he brushes his salt-and-pepper beard with his hand, his middle finger is just a nub.