Eat the Ones You Love (The Thirteen Book 2)

by J. L. Murray

  “We don’t have a choice. We have to go with them,” she said. “But it’s a mistake to trust them.”

  “They’re part of The Thirteen. The same as you,” said Declan.

  Trix made the sign of the cross. “They work for the devil.”

  “Maybe they’re not the devil,” said Declan.

  “Everyone’s the devil,” said Jenny.

  “You’re both paranoid,” said Declan. “They’re just kids.”

  “Fuck that,” said Jenny. “Have you seen the world? Have you even been listening? My mother experimented on us. My grandfather put a bunch of weird shit inside me. My friend kidnapped me and tortured me for, for—I don’t even know how long. What about all this makes you think not trusting strangers is being paranoid?”

  “It’s not all fucking bad, Jenny,” Declan growled. “There’s us. You and me. Remember that?”

  “Do you?” said Jenny.

  “That’s really fucking nice.”

  “Fuck off, Declan. If you’re just going to be a dick for the rest of your Undead life, maybe just keep it to yourself.”

  “Fine,” said Declan. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

  “We know you’re not sleeping, dumbass,” said Trix. “You’re a fucking zombie.”

  “I’m resting,” he said.

  Jenny ground her teeth and watched the road.

  When the dune buggy slowed and then stopped, Jenny at first thought it ran out of gas, not that they had arrived at their destination. There were no landmarks indicating a bunker. To their left was overgrown forest, and to the right some fields with waist-high bright green grass with bleached rocks occasionally jutting through the earth. The mountains looked close here, like she could reach out and touch them. They seemed to stand as sentries over the field. She felt an odd prickle crawl up her spine.

  “Why are we stopping?” said Trix.

  Jenny got out of the car. Faron was stretching his legs. The others were exiting the dune buggy.

  “This is it,” said Angel. “Did you think a secret bunker would be visible from the road?”

  “I don’t think I expected anything,” said Jenny. “But I didn’t think it would be invisible.”

  “Trust me,” said Faron. “It’s here.”

  “Trust you?” said Jenny. She looked at Trix. Maybe Declan was right. Maybe she was being paranoid about this whole thing. But something just seemed off. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

  “It’s here,” said Benji, nodding toward the field. “Really. We’re not setting you up.”

  “See?” said Faron. “Benji wouldn’t lie to you.”

  “Benji’s a dog’s name,” said Trix.

  “Trix is a stripper’s name,” said Benji.

  “Point taken,” she said. “And also, fuck you.”

  “Just follow us,” said Angel. “That friend of yours is getting sicker. I can smell him from here.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Viral encephalitis,” said Rayanne suddenly and loudly, almost as though she didn’t mean to say it. It was the first time Jenny had heard her speak. There was a western twang to her voice. Rayanne raised a plucked eyebrow, her tenuous demeanor from before gone, the woman standing there now confident. This was her thing. She sniffed the air. “Yep. That’s bad. But if I give him a dose of corticosteroids and an antiviral, he might recover.” She looked at Jenny. “His brain is inflamed. It’s swelling. If we don’t give him something soon he’ll die. It’s rare of course, but when it rains it pours.”

  “He might need some sushi,” said Trix, “if you catch my meaning.”

  “No,” said Jenny. “No sushi. It didn’t turn out so well last time, did it?”

  “Seems okay to me,” said Trix, glancing at Declan.

  “Sushi? What the fuck are you talking about?” said Angel.

  “Nothing,” said Jenny. She looked at Rayanne who rubbed her glossy red lips together.

  “Are you going to bring him?” she said.

  Jenny looked at Trix, who shrugged. Declan wouldn’t look at her.

  “Fine,” Jenny said. “Can you help me?”

  Benji and a reluctant Declan carried Zeke down through the grass, avoiding the patches of jagged stone. Faron and Angel led the way and everyone else trailed behind. After the first five minutes, Zeke started to moan. His eyes were rocketing back and forth under his eyelids.

  “No,” he murmured. “No, stop this.”

  Benji looked at Declan and then they both looked to Jenny. She put a hand on Zeke’s forehead, blazing hot under a sheen of sweat.

  “He’s burning with fever,” said Jenny, looking at Rayanne, who came over and pulled open Zeke’s eyelids. Just then Zeke began to shake. He arched his back, his bones vibrating, and a trickle of blood and frothy saliva oozed out of his mouth.

  “It’s a seizure,” Rayanne said. “Put him down right now.”

  Declan and Benji didn’t have much choice. They were struggling to hold him. They set him down as softly as they could as he continued to shake and gyrate on the ground. Rayanne got underneath him, lifting his head onto her lap. She looked up at the rest of them.

  “As soon as he stops, we need to get him into the bunker as fast as we can. His brain is swelling. If we don’t stop it, he could have a stroke.”

  There was a groan behind Jenny and she turned to see the first rotter she’d seen in days, tottering towards her, behind the cars. It was joined by another and then another. They looked fresh and they were coming fast.

  “Holy shit, I thought rotters didn’t like sick people,” said Jenny.

  “I said he has a smell,” said Trix. “Fucking rotters will eat anything.”

  “They probably smell the blood,” said Rayanne, holding up her hand. Zeke hit his head when he was seizing on the ground and her fingers were shiny with blood. Pink froth was still coming from the corner of his mouth. He might have bitten his tongue.

  “Maybe they smell you,” Faron said, grinning at Jenny.

  Jenny narrowed her eyes. “You seem to know a lot about me.”

  “I’ve met your family,” he said, eyes gleaming. “All of them.”

  “What?” said Jenny.

  “We have to get inside!” said Rayanne. Jenny pulled out her knife and walked toward Faron. For a moment there was a satisfying fear in his eyes, but she stalked past him and headed for the rotters. She could hear the others’ voices receding as she walked away, Rayanne’s drawl shouting orders. Jenny glanced behind her, feeling herself separate and alone. She watched them carry Zeke to safety, Declan meeting her eyes before turning away. He showed no emotion, as if he didn’t even know her. They were just people, strangers passing on the road.

  She felt eyes on her and turned to see that Faron hadn’t left. He was standing perfectly still, watching her, an odd look on his face. Scrutiny, maybe. His crazy mask had fallen and Jenny wondered if she was seeing the real Faron now. But the rotters were almost next to her. She turned her head slowly to them, letting her body follow. For a moment, she had an odd feeling. The rotters seemed to pause, going still and just looking at her. But then she was hacking at them, chopping and stabbing and dismembering them. After the first few strokes their grunting noises had stopped, and they weren't moving soon after. But she couldn’t stop. She heard screaming and realized it was her own voice. The rotters lay in pieces around her, so new that their blood was still red. Her face and neck and hands were slick with it. Something hot was on her face and she knew she was crying, but she wasn’t sure why.

  Faron was still watching her. She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to look at him.

  “It’s not going to get better,” he said.

  Jenny stood, her knife dripping, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “They don’t understand,” he said. “You’re not like them. And no matter how hard you try, you can’t make them be like you. You might have saved that man of yours, but he�
��ll never be the same. He won’t love you again. He can’t.”

  “You don’t know him,” said Jenny. “You don’t know me either.”

  “It’s different for them, Jenny. You and me, we feel it differently. We’re somewhere in between.”

  “In between what?” she said, finally looking at Faron. She wanted to know. “What the hell am I?”

  “You and me, we’re halfway between Living and Undead. Our blood runs hot, our hearts beat, and we feel everything. But we’re cold, too. Like them, except that we have the distinct disadvantage of control. Of knowing how different we are. And we’ll never be like them. Not even when we wander over to being more dead than alive.”

  “You keep saying we,” said Jenny. “Us, you and me. What the fuck do you know about it?”

  “I’m just like you,” said Faron. “The old man took a shine to more kids than you. You didn’t think running away would stop him, did you?”

  “I…don’t know,” said Jenny, feeling limp. She looked at the rotters. It had been easy to destroy them. She remembered a lifetime ago watching Declan go crazy, when he thought she was dead. She’d been afraid for him then, but no one was afraid for her.

  “Just because you cared for him when you were dead doesn’t mean he can do the same,” said Faron, his voice soft and unnervingly sane. “It’s just not possible.”

  “You shut your mouth,” said Jenny, suddenly closing the distance between them, holding her knife out and settling the point under his chin. “You don't know him like I do.”

  Faron held out his hands in surrender, but he didn’t seem worried.

  “We can fix them, Jenny,” he said. “We can make them like us. We can give them back themselves.”

  “It didn’t work out so well for me,” said Jenny. “What the fuck is this? A sales pitch?”

  “Just an idea,” he said. “Think about it. They can live forever. Just like you.”

  “What did you mean you’ve met my family?” she said.

  “I told you I’d seen your mother,” he said smiling. His crazy mask back on. “I can take you there.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you knew why I was looking for her.”

  “Let me guess,” said Faron, pushing the knife away from his throat. “You think killing her is going to solve everything. It’s not. She’s not important, not anymore. Look at the bigger picture, Jenny. Can’t you see? We’re the cure. We can fix the world.”

  “I don’t think I believe that anymore,” said Jenny. “I’ve tried to save people, but it doesn’t mean anything. Everything just keeps turning to shit. I just…”

  “What?”

  Jenny met Faron’s eyes. “I want it to be over,” she said. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  “That’s not your choice,” he said.

  “It fucking is,” said Jenny. “I could take that big fucking gun away from you. Blow my brains out. It might not save the world, but it would solve all my problems.”

  “You don’t get it,” said Faron. He smiled again. “No matter what you do, you’ll always come back. You’re not you anymore. You’re the future. You can’t kill the future.”

  “Jenny?” She turned her head to see Declan, looking from her to Faron and back again. He looked nervous, something Jenny couldn’t remember ever seeing on him. “Everything okay?” His eyes flicked to the rotters, then to her knife, hanging limp in her hand.

  “I’ll be right there,” she said, trying to smile at him. He was still beautiful. She couldn’t help but remember him the way he was. Touching her hair every chance he got. The fierce fire that filled him whenever she was in trouble. The softer fire that touched his eyes when he stared at her from across the room. She wanted to cry again, but she fought it.

  “You sure everything's okay, Jen?” he said.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Zeke’s stable,” Declan said. “The girl, the one with the lipstick, she injected something and he seems okay.”

  “Is he awake?”

  “No,” he said. He looked at Faron and Jenny wondered if the old Declan would come out, to tell Faron that if he hurt Jenny he would kill him. But this version of Declan just turned and walked back toward the bunker. Jenny watched him go.

  “When I was dead,” she heard herself say, “I still loved him. I stayed away so he wouldn’t get hurt. So I wouldn’t hurt him. And when he did find me, and I was about to hurt him, I put a knife through my arm to stop myself. I never stopped feeling. If anything it got worse when I died.”

  “I know,” said Faron.

  “He’ll never feel that, will he?” The words were almost a whisper. Like they were an unutterable truth. “He’ll never love again. He’ll never want to.”

  “He will if you let me help you.”

  Jenny met Faron’s eyes. Pale blue eyes, pale skin, pale hair. She could see his pulse jumping in his neck. He was telling the truth. They’d done it to him too. Jenny looked at him for a long time. When she spoke her voice was flat, tired.

  “I tried to help him before,” she said. “It never turns out the way I want it to. Everything goes to hell. I’m tired of caring about it.”

  “So you don’t want my help?” said Faron.

  “No,” said Jenny. “I don’t want anyone’s help.” She thought for a moment. “No, that’s not right. I don’t want anyone. Not you, not Declan, not Trix. Not your weird friends and definitely not some fucked-up corporation that’s holding my mom prisoner.”

  “She’s not a prisoner.”

  “I don’t want anything,” said Jenny. “I’m going to take care of Zeke because he’s the only one who seems to give a shit what happens to me. He’s the only one who doesn’t have an agenda. But when he’s better, I’m going to get him somewhere safe and then I’m done.”

  “You’d leave him behind?”

  Jenny knew Faron wasn’t talking about Zeke anymore.

  “It hurts to be near him,” she said. “I feel like I’m picking up the pieces every day and he just doesn’t care. If I stay it’s going to break me.”

  “You’re not broken,” he said. “I’ve seen broken, and you’re not there.”

  “Maybe not,” said Jenny. “But if I stay, I will be.”

  “Do you ever see the red?” said Faron. “Since you came back?”

  The honesty of the question surprised Jenny and she took a moment to mull the answer.

  “No. But sometimes,” said Jenny, “I don’t even think the world is in color anymore.”

  EIGHT

  The bunker was invisible even when you were right on top of it. Faron waded into a particularly nasty-looking mess of brambles, bent over, and then Jenny heard a noise like a soda bottle opening. He straightened, turned to her, and motioned for her to enter. Jenny ducked through a hatch concealed in the rock, then started down a seemingly unending staircase, covered in moss, the walls crawling with ivy and the occasional fern busting its way through a crack in the concrete. When the staircase ended, they started down a tunnel that crawled even deeper into the ground.

  Vents above allowed dim, filtered sunlight through the dirt and plants and insects that crawled down through the slats and up through the drains set into the floor. The tunnel floor itself was sloped on either side with a center ridge, giving Jenny a sense of vertigo as she walked, only exacerbated by the dimness, the heavy smell of earth and mold, and the fact that she had to stoop to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling. As they continued deeper into the tunnel, the vents in the ceiling disappeared and they managed in pitch darkness.

  Jenny was all too aware of Faron’s gun, strapped across his chest, the barrel slapping against the backs of his legs. They didn’t speak, which heightened her dread even further, and she felt a drop of sweat crawl down her back. He had said she couldn’t die. What if he wanted to put it to the test? She took a deep breath and blew it out through her nose. And suddenly she realized:

  If Faron kills me, it’s all over. Everything. I’m done and I don’t have to do thi
s anymore.

  She felt a little more free then, a little less burdened. If he killed her, she wouldn’t have to run anymore. And if she wasn’t the only one, for lack of a better word, altered, then it wasn’t on her. They didn’t need her.

  “Why did you ask me to come back with you?” she said. The close space of the tunnel deadened her voice, flattening it until it didn’t sound like her, but like a recording. She spoke softly, but he heard her all the same. She heard the steady rhythm of his step falter, before he recovered.

  “What?” he said.

  “My mother doesn’t care about me,” she said. “So if she made others like me, like you, what the hell do you need me for?”

  “For your family,” he said. “Like I said. I can bring you to her.”

  “Why travel all this way?” she said. “She’s in New York, right? What do you want from me?”

  “Your mother—“

  “Fuck my mother,” Jenny interrupted. “It’s something else, isn’t it?”

  “You need to learn to trust.”

  “Trust has brought me nothing but shit,” she said. “And I know a lie when I hear one.”

  He only hesitated for a second. “It doesn’t matter if you trust me. I have the guns.”

  “You can’t kill me.”

  “Maybe not, but “I can sure as hell kill your friends,” he said.

  “Glad to finally see your true colors,” said Jenny.

  “I tried to be nice,” Faron shrugged, and she could tell he was smiling. She was going to wipe that fucking smile off his face if it killed her. She just needed time.

  Her forehead smacked into something solid in the darkness, and Jenny staggered back from the door that marked the end of the tunnel.

  “We’re here,” said Faron, reaching over her and turning a handle. There was a creak and a thunk and then she had to put up one hand to shield her eyes as light exploding out of the doorway blinded her. The smug bastard behind her was laughing. When her vision cleared, she saw that the light came from odd-looking bulbs set every two feet into the walls of a room. A circular room with a sofa and bookshelves and an open kitchen against the wall.