by J. L. Murray
It looked like a home.
“What the fuck?” said Jenny.
“Welcome to the bunker, Jenny Hawkins,” said Faron, guiding her inside and closing the door. He locked it behind him, then pocketed a set of keys. He saw her watching and shrugged.
“Can’t be too careful,” he said.
“You think I can’t get those keys from you?” she said.
“Maybe you can,” he said. “But you’re going to want to take a look around.”
“Why?” said Jenny. “You’ve probably already taken anything worth a shit.”
“We didn’t take anything,” he said.
“Why should I care what my mom’s old house looks like?”
“Because it’s not just your mom’s house,” he said, grinning again. “It was Casey’s house too.”
Jenny looked away. Faron was watching her closely when he said her brother’s name. It felt like a violation. “Where is everyone?” Jenny said, too loudly, refusing to let him see her reaction. He didn’t get to watch her feel. “What did you fuckers do to Zeke and my friends?”
“Relax. They’re probably in the lab.”
“There’s a lab?” she said.
Faron rolled his eyes. “Have you even met your mother?”
There wasn’t even any dust on the painted concrete floor. The air, so dense and wet in the tunnel, was fresher here than it had been outside. There was a faint whir from the ventilation system. But Jenny was most interested in the lights. As she watched them, they seemed to flicker a bit.
“It’s gas,” said Faron, “if you’re wondering. It powers the filtration system too. It turns on automatically with the lights.”
“Gas?” said Jenny.
“Not gasoline,” said Faron. “Propane. There’s shitloads of the stuff. Buried tanks and whatnot. Enough to last for years if you’re frugal.”
Jenny looked at him. “You know an awful lot when you’re not acting like a freak.”
He shrugged. “It comes and goes.”
She walked through the room. There were no personal items belonging to her mother here. No pictures or scribbled notes. But then, Anna Hawkins had never been much for reminiscing. Except for the one letter, she’d never given her daughter so much as a birthday card. Any kindness she had received as a child had come from her father. Jenny ground her teeth. But her father was dead. As dead as Casey. He had to be. There was no other reason he wouldn’t have come back for them. She and Casey had been left alone with their mother and grandfather, along with a hundred other kids. Jenny had to believe he would have come for them. He wouldn’t have left them unless he had to. Unless he was dead.
“Where’s the lab?” said Jenny.
“Down this hallway,” said Faron. “Follow me.”
The hall went off the side of the kitchen. Jenny watched Faron’s giant gun bounce gently against his back. It was a mistake to believe they were anything other than hostages. Even though these newcomers hadn’t pointed the weapons straight at them, it was implied that they could at any time. Jenny understood Faron and even Angel. She couldn’t quite make out Rayanne yet. But Benji, that confused her. Unless he was the best actor in the world and he was playing her, she got nothing but a feeling of honesty from Benji. She couldn’t wrap her mind around him being a killer, a kidnapper who would hurt them to get what he wanted.
She stopped suddenly and Faron looked around. Jenny reached out and touched a door. They had passed two others, but somehow she knew.
“Go ahead of me,” she said.
“Don’t you want to check on your friends?”
Jenny could hear the murmur of Declan’s voice. She heard Trix call faintly. There was nothing wrong, no urgency in their voices.
“I’ll be right there,” she said. She didn’t want Faron to see her. She didn’t even want her friends to see her, where she was planning to go. Where she knew she had to go before she broke apart.
“Whatever,” said Faron, trying to shrug. But he was watching her too closely to pull off his nonchalance. He turned and walked slowly down the hall, glancing back at her before he turned a corner. Jenny waited for him to disappear before she reached out. She didn’t want to do this, but she had to.
She had to go into Casey’s room.
Closing her eyes, she turned the handle and went inside.
NINE
It had been months since Casey died. Since Jenny had buried him. And she hadn’t cried. Not really. She never had a chance to talk to anyone about losing him, with so much happening all around her: Declan died and came back; Zeke killed his step-father and was disowned by his mother; so many others were lost. Trix rarely talked about them, and she couldn’t cry anyway. Declan didn't talk much either, between his fits of rage and feeding frenzies.
But now, Jenny was here. She wasn't sure how she knew this was his room. Maybe it was a smell, or a sense of him prodding her subconscious. But now, as she stood in Casey’s room, dark as a cave, she didn’t even have to turn on the light to know he had been here. He was alive when he lived here, before their mother left him disappearing in the night, before he’d been bitten and died, before he even met Trix. Casey had been here. He’d lived here and slept here and eaten here.
He lived here. Jenny kept repeating it in her head, like a song stuck on repeat. Casey was alive here. He lived. Lived. Lived. Lived.
She sank down to the floor, back against the door.
“Goddammit, Casey,” she said and the sob took her by surprise. She was filling up inside and it wasn’t anger or rage or hunger. She felt a warm wetness on her face and she realized she was crying, the tears gushing out of her eyes, and she was glad for the darkness.
“It was my fault,” she said. “It was my fault and you shouldn’t have fucking saved me. You should have let Declan put a bullet through my head. You should have let me die.”
If Faron was right, it wouldn’t have mattered. She’d still be walking around with a beating heart while everyone around her died, and came back to life, and then died again. An infinite loop of death and grief and guilt. And blood. Always blood. Jenny made her way to Casey’s bed, crashing into a small table and hearing glass shatter on the cement floor. She sat down on the cot that was steeped in Casey’s smell. She found the pillow that his head had lain upon and put it over her face. And then she finally mourned him, with an anguished, keening wail.
Jenny found the light switch after crying herself weak. One guttering sconce on the wall blazed to life. Jenny looked around, her mouth thick with tears and her body limp with exhaustion. A ratty, torn-up Sex Pistols poster was held to the wall with something sticky. It looked as though it had been folded multiple times. Casey probably found it at an Expo or traded for it. The cot had one thin blanket, and the small table that Jenny stumbled into, knocking over a drinking glass, had others stacked beneath it on the floor, as though Casey spent a lot of time in his room and didn't leave, even to wash his glasses.
Jenny walked over to a set of shelves against the wall. Most were empty, only a random sock and a torn and stained tee shirt left behind. The last shelf was full of battered paperbacks. Jenny smiled at the covers of the romances, with shirtless men and subservient women. A few well-worn graphic novels, some Heinlein, a Stephen King, and The Stranger, by Albert Camus. Jenny opened to the first page: “Mother died today. Or, maybe, yesterday,” she murmured. Jenny held onto the book. There was nothing else here.
Casey was gone. All she had left of him was an old paperback.
“You look like shit.”
Jenny turned, catching her breath. “Casey,” she breathed. He grinned. “I knew it was you, I knew you were alive.”
“Except I’m not,” he said. He shrugged. “Still dead, still in your head.”
“I’m going crazy, aren't I?” She reached out to touch him and he suddenly wasn’t there anymore. Jenny’s heart sank.
“You can’t touch me,” Casey said, now on the other side of the room, sitting on the bed. There was no indentation o
n the mattress. It was like he was a…
“Ghost,” said Jenny.
Casey snorted. “You wish. Then you wouldn’t be crazy.”
Jenny sat down next to him.
“I’m sorry, Casey. It was all my fault.”
“No it wasn’t. Don’t be stupid.”
“It was. If it weren’t for me, Sully wouldn’t have taken you. Wouldn’t have cut you.” She swallowed down a lump. “He wouldn’t have killed you.”
“Shut up, I’m the one who brought you there. It’s not your fault some guy got all obsessed with you. He hurt you too. Hurt you bad. I’m glad I died.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Because life gets better after he does all that shit to you? That’s got to be the real torture.”
“It’s not that,” she said. “It’s Declan. I saved him but he’s not the same.”
“Of course he’s not,” said Casey. “It’s not a fucking fairy tale.”
“I thought he would get better.”
“Jesus, woman up,” said Casey. “Stop whining about it. He’s different, but he’s alive. Fucking accept it.”
“I want to,” she said.
“You’re not the center of his universe anymore, is that it?” he said.
“Yeah,” she said, realizing it was true.
“Then make him the center of yours,” he said. “Keep saving him until it sticks.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“Fuck if I know. I’m dead.”
“I miss you, Casey. It hurts.”
“Nothing hurts when you’re dead,” he said. And then he was gone. Jenny looked around the room, waiting for him to come back. But he was gone.
She opened the door, looking behind her at her brother’s old room. This hadn’t been a happy place for him, she knew. But it had been his last home before he became something else. Something dead.
“Goodbye, Casey,” she whispered.
The bunker contained a concrete circle of rooms, most of them unused in a decade. Some had military bunks. Some were stacked with boxes. Most were completely empty. After walking around like a rat in a maze, Jenny finally found a hallway that looked different than the others. The light was different, brighter, and the voices grew louder as she walked. Declan was arguing with someone, the irritability in his voice growing more apparent as she got closer.
“Where is she?” Jenny heard him say.
“She’s on her way,” said Faron.
“Bullshit, did you do something to her? Answer me!”
“I’m right here,” said Jenny. She frowned as Declan’s face relaxed in something that looked like relief. He walked over to her and hugged her tightly. Jenny saw Trix roll her eyes. Faron grinned crazily at her, but she saw something else in his eyes. Something cold.
“Are you okay?” said Declan, releasing her and looking down at her. She could see anxiety wrapped up in his eyes, a tightness in his mouth. Was it hunger? Or something else? Jenny looked past him at Faron, who wouldn’t meet her eyes. He’d said that the others couldn’t feel.
“I was in Casey’s room,” said Jenny, looking from Declan to Trix. Trix froze when she said her brother’s name. She brought a hand to her mouth, touching her lips with her fingers, putting her hand quickly behind her back when she realized she had done it.
“What did you find in there?” said Trix, trying to sound bored, disconnected. But she was zoned in on Jenny.
“Just some books,” said Jenny weakly. “A Sex Pistols poster.” Trix almost smiled. She brought her hand to her mouth again, trying to cover herself, to keep her emotions in check. Jenny glared at Faron. She watched Trix, fighting to stay cool when she was obviously full of grief, just like Jenny. She looked into Declan’s anxious but concerned face. They were in a blank, white room that seemed to be an entryway. Rayanne was sitting on a chair in the corner, looking drawn, Benji crouched down and talking softly to her. Jenny saw that Benji made her smile.
“Where’s Zeke?” Jenny said carefully.
“I’ll show you,” said Declan.
“I’ll do it,” said Faron, stepping toward her. Declan narrowed his eyes.
“Fuck off,” said Jenny to Faron. “You and I need to have words later.”
Faron was playing her. He had a machine gun, yes, but he obviously didn’t want to kill her. He was trying to get her away from her friends. Why?
Declan walked past Faron, towering over him. He was at least a foot taller and twice as wide. But Faron didn’t seem to notice. He just smiled, showing too many teeth. Some meat was stuck, next to one of his canines.
Faron was a shark, Jenny realized. And as she followed Declan into the lab, she saw with full certainty, so was Angel.
Faron’s sister smiled at Jenny, ignoring Declan.
“Hey there, Jenny,” she said, showing the same amount of teeth as Faron. Jenny stared at the gun she held pointed at Zeke’s head. It was at least as long as her arm. Her finger moved on the trigger as if she yearned to use it.
“I think it’s time we had a little chat,” said Angel, still smiling. “Woman to woman.”
TEN
“What the fuck are you doing?” said Jenny, looking at Zeke on the slab. “Get away from him.”
Angel looked at Declan.
“Get out,” she said.
“No,” said Declan, standing in front of Jenny.
Angel laughed and swung the gun to point at him. Right at Declan’s head.
“Declan,” Jenny said softly.
“No,” he said, and Jenny knew without seeing his face that he was gritting his teeth. She almost laughed for joy at how little he had really changed. Deep down, he was the same man he had always been. She put a hand on his arm.
“She won’t kill me, Deck,” Jenny said. “She can’t.”
Declan turned his head to look at her. “I’m not afraid to die,” he said.
“I can’t lose you again,” Jenny said, so softly that she wasn’t sure if he heard her. It wasn't until he stepped back that she knew he had.
“Jen, don’t make me do this,” he said. “Don’t make me leave. The last time some crazy bitch with a gun tried to come between us, she shot you.”
“But I didn’t die. I was already dead.”
“Don’t worry, loverboy,” said Angel. “They have guns in the other room, too. There’s still time for you to die.”
Jenny looked at Declan. “Trust me,” she said.
Declan looked at her then.
“Please,” he said. Jenny understood. He was asking her to be careful. He was asking her not to die. He was begging her.
Jenny nodded and Declan backed out of the room, breaking eye contact with Jenny only when he got to the door. He met Angel’s eyes.
“If you touch her, I’ll fucking destroy you,” he said.
“Oooh,” she said in mock fear.
Declan backed out.
“Well, that was touching,” said Angel.
“What the fuck do you want?” said Jenny.
Zeke was lying on a black granite counter. He was breathing deeply, resting comfortably. He still had his shoes on and Jenny saw his foot twitch.
“What did my brother say to you?” Angel demanded. She was still smiling but there was an odd fragile look in her eyes. She suddenly reminded Jenny of Lucy, the girl in love with Declan who thought Declan would finally love her once Jenny was dead. Lucy had the same broken-glass look in her eyes that Angel had now. Right before she'd shot Jenny and, in turn, Declan shot Lucy.
“Jesus. Are you jealous?” said Jenny.
“Fuck you,” said Angel.
“That’s really fucking messed up,” said Jenny. Angel pointed the gun at her again and Jenny raised her hands and narrowed her eyes. “He asked me to prom,” said Jenny.
“TELL ME WHAT HE SAID!” Angel screamed. Jenny sighed. Angel’s smile was gone. She was all yellow hair and gnashing teeth.
“Fine,” said Jenny. “He asked me to come with him. With all of you. He said my
…He said Declan couldn’t love me anymore.”
“You’re lying,” she said. “That wasn’t in our orders.”
“Orders?” said Jenny. “What the hell does that mean? I thought you were sent by my mother.”
“Yes,” said Angel too quickly. “We were.” She glanced down at Zeke. He was moving, his hand clenching, his eyelids fluttering. Jenny took a step toward him, but Angel didn’t notice. She was looking at Zeke with a furrowed brow, eyes darting toward the door and back to Zeke.
“Shit,” she said. She glanced at Jenny, before turning and rummaging through a tidy shelf that seemed to be stocked with medical supplies. A padlock hung from its metal door, unlocked and open. Jenny heard the tinkling of glass bottles knocking gently against one other as Angel searched through them. She held the submachine gun loosely in one hand, forgotten. Jenny put her hand on Zeke’s forehead. The fever had passed. He was mumbling something that she couldn’t make out. She put her ear by his mouth.
“Jen…Jenny,” he murmured.
“What? I’m here,” she whispered. Angel half turned her head, but then turned back to the cabinet, seeming to decide that finding the vial was more important. She thought she was unbreakable, Jenny realized. That made her smile a little.
“Don…don let them…”
“I won’t let them take you,” she muttered, and started to make her way around the counter, toward Angel.
“No.” Zeke said, a little clearer, a little louder. His hand grabbed at her sleeve and Jenny looked down at it. His eyes were open but unfocused.
“Jenny,” he said. “You have to save her.”
“Who?” said Jenny.
“Sister,” he said. He finally focused on her, meeting her eyes. He lifted his head and managed to prop himself on his elbows. “Don’t let them get her,” he said, his voice intense, pointed. “You have to save her.”
“I don’t have a sister,” said Jenny, unable to look away, frozen to the spot.
“Yes, she’s in—“ Zeke drew his breath in sharply as Angel plunged the syringe into his neck. She smiled victoriously as Zeke’s eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped back onto the granite with a thump. She was so intent on stopping Zeke that she didn’t have time to react as Jenny wrested the giant gun away from her.