by Melissa Marr
“We’ll get there,” Cole said.
Tyler tried for a smile, pushed to his feet, and rumpled his brother’s hair. “I know we will. I’m just in a mood. I need to go back to work. Big job tonight. It’ll be late.”
“I’ll lock up.”
Tyler laughed. “Yeah. You do that. And see if you can’t get another couple of chapters read before the light’s gone.”
It was only after Tyler left that Cole remembered the paw. He was sitting there, trying to come up with other ways to make money, when he remembered it. Even then, he didn’t think “I can wish for money!” He wasn’t that stupid. Instead, he took it out, turned it over in his hands, and wondered how much he could get for it.
You could just wish for the money, he imagined Tyler saying.
His brother would laugh when he said it, but there’d be a little piece that wouldn’t be laughing. A piece that would be hoping, even if he’d never admit it. Tyler would make that wish, just in case.
Cole chuckled softly to himself as he fingered the mangy fur. “All right, then. I wish—”
No, the old man said he had to be careful. Be specific.
Cole closed his eyes. “I wish for five hundred dollars.”
He sat there, clutching the paw. It felt familiar, and it took him a moment to realize why. Because it reminded him of another paw he’d had once—a rabbit’s foot that he’d insisted on buying on their last family road trip before H2N3 hit. His lucky rabbit’s foot. He’d carried it everywhere for a month and then stuffed it away in a drawer. The last time he’d seen it, he’d been making a wish. Clutching it and praying that the bite on his mother’s arm hadn’t infected her. Praying she’d walk out of the quarantine ward and come home and see the rabbit’s foot, laugh, and say, “Good god, Cole. Do you still have that flea-bitten old thing?”
Of course, she hadn’t come out. She’d been infected, so they put her down.
Put down.
They had a dog once that had to be put down. It wasn’t the same thing.
When Cole opened his eyes, he could feel tears prickling. He swiped them away with a scowl and then turned that scowl on the monkey’s paw.
Yeah, you’ll make me some money all right. As soon as I figure out how to sell you.
Cole scoured the commercial section of New Chicago—the market and the shops—trying to figure out where he could sell the paw. The old man had talked like people knew what it was, and Murray said he did. Was it a famous superstition, like a rabbit’s foot? If it was, it had to be rarer—there were a whole lot more rabbits around than monkeys. But if it was too rare, could he sell it without someone realizing that he’d stolen it?
He was walking past the hope peddlers, when someone called, “You! Boy!” He glanced over his shoulder to see the old man, bearing down on him. Cole tensed to run, but he couldn’t, not without causing a scene that would mean he’d be remembered here for weeks.
He waited for the man to catch up. “If you want that money back, you said I could have it.”
“No, it’s not that.”
The old man waved him to the side. He looked agitated. Upset, not angry. Cole relaxed a little.
“If you need some of the money back, I could—” he began.
“No.” The old man turned. “It’s something else. There was a paw.”
“A what?”
“A monkey’s paw.”
Cole fixed the man with his best look of confusion. “A paw from a monkey? I took that money, and only because you said I could. If you dropped anything else, I didn’t see—”
“I gave the paw to a man.”
Cole stiffened. “If you’re accusing me of stealing—”
“I don’t care if you filched it or found it.” He met Cole’s gaze imploringly. “This is very important, son. Do you have the paw?”
Cole felt a flicker of guilt. Maybe he could just give … No, it might be a trick, forcing him to admit to theft.
“I don’t have anything like that.” Cole opened his jacket. “Go ahead and check.” He’d left the paw safely in their cubby.
The old man shook his head. “All right. I’m sorry, son. That’s what the money was for, so I thought maybe you’d followed the man who got it. He says it was pinched from his pocket.”
“He probably changed his mind and wants his money, without giving you the paw back. People do that kind of thing. They’ll take whatever they can get here.”
“I know.” The old man’s words came out on a sigh.
“I could look for it,” Cole said. “I’m pretty good at finding things.”
A faint smile. “No. With any luck, it’s gone for good. I only hope that bastard got a chance to try it first.”
“Try it?”
The old man clapped Cole on the back. “Nothing. Go on, son. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
As the old man started to walk away, Cole called, “Wait. If I do hear about it, should I tell you? Or does it go back to your friend?”
“Oh, he’s not my friend. And I would most gladly see him take the accursed thing. In fact, I’d pay to give it to him again.” He paused. “Let’s say ten dollars. If you do hear of it … ”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you.”
Cole had no idea what the old man had been talking about, but at least now he had a plan. He’d wait a day, and then say he’d scoured the alley where they’d first met and he’d found the paw there. Ten dollars was more than he’d hoped to get selling it.
Maybe the “accursed thing” did work, in its way. It was just like everything else in New Chicago. You had to lower your expectations. Significantly. Wish for five hundred bucks. Get ten instead.
Cole laughed softly as he approached his building. Then he stopped. There were three men outside. Two huge thugs and an older man in the middle. Russ McClintock.
When they heard him coming, they all turned. Cole couldn’t see their expressions in the gathering dark, but he called a greeting.
“Is Tyler looking for me?” he asked, hooking his thumb toward the building.
“No, Cole.” McClintock stepped away from his goons. “I came to talk to you.”
“Me? If this is about a job—”
“It’s about Tyler.”
Cole’s heart began to thump. “T-Tyler? Where—?”
“There was an accident on the job tonight. Tyler’s team was scouting in one of the abandoned skyscrapers. The floor gave way. Your brother fell.”
“Fell? Where is he? Is he okay?”
“No, Cole. He’s … not okay. It was a long fall. He didn’t make it. I’m sorry. I know how close you two were and, while it was an accident, I take care of my own.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “This is five hundred dollars. For you.”
Cole sat in the dark, shivering and alone. He’d already flown into a rage. He’d already broken things. He’d already cried. Now he sat on his crate with the pile of money in front of him. But he wasn’t looking at the stack. He was looking at the crate where he’d hidden the paw.
That accursed thing.
Cole hadn’t been specific enough—he hadn’t said how he wanted the money. So the paw provided it, in the worst possible way. That’s why the old man gave it to Murray. Cole had no idea what Murray had done to the old man, but it had been something, and that “gift” was revenge. That’s why he hadn’t taken the bills.
I killed my brother. I was foolish and I was greedy, and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could be lucky. I got my money and it cost me the only thing I cared about.
Unless …
Cole rose and made his way to the crate. He reached in and found it, down in the bottom.
The monkey’s paw.
He could use it to bring Tyler back. He’d learned his lesson. He took the paw’s powers seriously now and he knew to be very, very careful what he asked for. That was the trick. And if it failed? Well, it had already done its worst.
Still, he formulated his request
with care.
“I wish my brother—”
Was alive again? Hell, no. That wasn’t nearly specific enough. Tyler would probably rise from wherever McClintock dumped him, his broken body crawling back—
Cole shivered. No, he’d read too many horror novels to make that mistake.
“I wish my brother, Tyler, was alive and healed, just as he was before he fell, and I want him to be right outside our building, safely standing on the ground, in two minutes, with no memory of how he died or how he arrived there, just thinking that he’s come home, tired, after a regular job.”
There. You couldn’t get any more specific than that.
Cole stuffed the monkey’s paw back in the crate. He crawled out into the dark alley, looked one way and then the other. There was no sign of Tyler.
Had he done something wrong? He ran through the wish again. No, it was specific—
“Hey,” said a voice behind him. “What are you doing out here? Locking up?”
He turned and saw Tyler. His brother managed a faint smile and then rubbed his eyes. He yawned and looked around, blinking as if confused.
Cole’s heart thudded and he wanted to run over and hug Tyler like he hadn’t since he was twelve. But he didn’t dare, as if Tyler might evaporate the minute he threw his arms around him.
“You okay?” Cole asked finally.
“Yeah. Just a long day.” Another tired smile as Tyler clapped Cole on the back. “Come on, bud. Let’s get inside.”
Tyler had conked out as soon as he lay down. It took hours for Cole to fall asleep. He kept crawling over and listening to make sure his brother was still breathing. He was. He seemed fine. He’d rubbed his right arm a few times, but there was nothing wrong with it that Cole could see. He must have knocked it before the fall and it still stung.
Finally Cole drifted off. He’d barely gotten to sleep when Tyler bolted awake, Cole jumping up, too.
“Jake,” Tyler said. “Goddamn, Jake. That son of a bitch!”
Cole scrambled over, his heart thudding again. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jake. That bastard pushed me—” Tyler stopped and blinked. He looked around, as if getting his bearings. “Okay … ”
“What?”
Tyler shook his head sharply, the anger gone from his voice. “I was dreaming that I was on the job last night. We were in a building, ten floors up. Jake pushed me over the edge.”
“Well, obviously he didn’t.” Cole’s laugh was strained, but Tyler didn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah, obviously not.” Tyler rubbed his arm again.
“Are you okay?” Cole asked, pointing at the arm.
“Yeah. Must have done something to it.” Tyler clenched and unclenched his fist. “Seems fine, though. Sorry I woke you.”
“No problem.”
Cole lay down again. Jake was the leader of the gang Tyler worked with. Had he actually pushed Tyler? Had Tyler found something that Jake wanted? Or could it have been on McClintock’s orders? Was that why he’d been so generous with the payout?
Cole hadn’t decided yet what to tell Tyler about his death and resurrection. He’d need to say something. Tyler couldn’t just walk back to work tomorrow. If McClintock had ordered Tyler’s death, he really couldn’t walk back to work.
He’d have to tell Tyler the truth, as crazy as it was.
“Cole? How much money do we have now?” Tyler asked in the darkness.
Cole stiffened. “Uh, five hundred and thirty-two dollars. Like I said this afternoon.”
“Right.” A pause. “Can I see it?”
“Now?”
“Sure. I just want to … ” Tyler trailed off. “No. I don’t … Why … ?” A soft laugh. “Damn, I really am tired. I have no idea what I’m saying.”
“Oh, I know what you’re saying. You want to see where I’m hiding the money so you can slip some out and buy me more books. Uh-uh. That money is hidden for a reason. I do not want more books.”
Tyler laughed again. It was true—he had a bad habit of raiding the kitty to buy things that he decided Cole absolutely must have, which was why it was hidden.
“Go back to sleep,” Cole said. “Everything’s fine.”
“Where’s the money?”
Cole jolted awake to see Tyler’s face over his. His brother’s eyes were wild and bloodshot, his face twisted, nearly unrecognizable.
“Wh-what?” Cole managed.
Tyler grabbed him by the shirtfront and yanked him up. “I want my money, you goddamn little punk. It’s mine. I earned it.”
I’m having a nightmare. I must be. This isn’t Tyler.
“Can you hear me, brat? I said I want my money.”
Something’s wrong. Look at him. Something’s really, really wrong.
“You’re having another bad dream,” Cole babbled. “Like earlier. With Jake. You’re overtired. You’re just—”
Tyler wrenched him up and threw him across the tiny room. Cole hit the wall and slumped to the floor, staring as Tyler advanced on him.
This is not my brother. Something went wrong. The monkey’s paw. It tricked me. It did something to …
Cole’s gaze dropped to Tyler’s arm. The spot he’d been rubbing earlier was bright red now.
Cole remembered their father coming home one night, while they were still at home, while they still had a home, before the military began sending people into walled neighborhoods like Garfield Park and bombing the rest, trying to exterminate the infected.
Their father had come home, tired and dazed. In the middle of the night, he’d woken up. And he’d come after them.
You brats. You ungrateful brats. Spending my money. Eating my food.
As Tyler reached for him, Cole’s gaze shot to his brother’s arm. To that fevered red spot. To the white semicircles around it. The faint scars of a bite mark.
They say that one of the infected got in.
It’s Jake. That bastard pushed me.
Because Tyler had been bitten. He’d gotten ambushed by one of the infected, and Jake saw it happen and pushed him over the edge because he knew what was coming. Because Jake was a friend and that’s what you did if a friend got bitten. You gave him a quick and merciful death.
Then I brought him back. I asked for Tyler back as he was before the fall, whole and healed. So the bite healed, but his body was still infected.
Cole swung as hard as he could, plowing his brother in the jaw. Tyler stumbled back. Cole leaped up and raced to his dresser crate. He snatched the monkey’s paw and tore out the door.
Cole didn’t lead Tyler out onto the street. He might attack someone else. More important, though, he could be spotted. Cole had to solve this himself. So he stayed inside their bombed-out building, leapfrogging over small debris piles and hiding behind bigger ones, keeping one step ahead of Tyler as he tried to figure out what to do next.
He remembered the night their father got infected. Tyler had put Cole in the locked bathroom and told him to stay there, but Cole had snuck out. He’d followed as his brother led their father through the dark streets, steering him straight to a guard station. Tyler had shouted a warning and the guards came out and … And then there was a shot.
For weeks, Cole had hated his brother. He’d run away. He’d fought when Tyler came after him. He raged and shouted and called his brother every name a ten-year-old knew. He remembered Tyler explaining that this was what their father told him to do. Once you were bitten, even if you seemed normal for a while, something inside you had changed and no matter how good a person you were, you’d hide the bite, and you wouldn’t warn anyone. So they had to kill you before you killed them.
Eventually, Cole had understood, and they’d come to a pact. If either of them was bitten, they’d do the same thing. Don’t hope for a cure. Don’t hope it would get better. They knew it wouldn’t. A merciful death. That was the final gift they could give, as Jake had for Tyler.
Except this was different. Cole still had one wish left.
One cursed wish. One wish that would almost certainly go wrong.
The first time, he’d blamed himself for being careless. Yet he hadn’t been careless with his second wish. He just didn’t know all the facts, and there was no way around that, no way to account for every possibility.
Cole knew what Tyler would want him to wish for. Grant Tyler a merciful passing. Undo the second wish. Protect himself. Don’t take a chance.
For six years, everything Tyler had done, he’d done for Cole. To give him a better life. Now that dream was within Cole’s grasp. He had the money to get into Garfield Park and plenty of extra to help him lead a good life, a safe life, a hopeful life.
A life without Tyler.
What kind of future was that? His brother had already sacrificed everything for him and now he had to sacrifice his life, too? Tyler didn’t deserve that. Goddamn it, Tyler did not deserve it. If the world was a just place, Cole would be the one infected and Tyler would put him down and get the kind of life he truly deserved.
But that wasn’t happening. Cole had two choices: undo his second wish or pin his hopes on a third cursed one.
Cole rounded a chunk of wall and nearly ran into his brother. Tyler snarled and lunged at him. Cole stumbled, twisting and getting his footing just as Tyler caught his shirt.
“Give me that money, you ungrateful brat. It’s mine. I worked for it while you sat on your ass and—”
Cole wrenched free. As Cole ran, Tyler continued shouting after him. Shouting insults and curses. Maybe that should help his decision. It didn’t. Cole couldn’t even tell himself that maybe this was what Tyler really felt, deep down, because he knew this was the infection talking. His brother had given him everything because it gave him a purpose, it made him happy.
And you know what he’d want to give you now. The best chance possible.