Now it’s just a big pool of waste, and I avoid it.
The second my feet hit the sand, I start thinking about my dad.
He had these deep crow’s feet around his eyes that crinkled every time he smiled. He always kissed my mom all soft and gentle, like she was fragile and might break.
I never felt like I belonged. They looked so different from me, both redheaded, and blue-eyed. Where did I come from? The memories are sharp as daggers. They make me burn with a white-hot guilt that I can’t escape.
Skitz.
I try not to think about them. I really do.
But standing here now, watching the gulls swoop down into the waves, water splashing up as they dive, all I can think of is my parents.
How they looked as I watched them sink beneath the waves.
The sand is warm and soft. Overhead, the sky is just starting to darken. A storm is rolling in, and when I look to my left I can see the distant shoreline fading, enveloped in fog.
“Where are you, Meadow?” I say out loud, and as I do, I notice a pile of rocks near the water, the sea spraying up as it crashes into them. Without thinking, I approach.
There’s a group of men sitting around a doused campfire, polishing weapons in the darkness.
Pirates. The Leeches’ brownnosers, who will do anything for some extra Creds.
“Gentlemen,” I say. I know it’s going to be trouble.
But for some reason, tonight, I want it.
The Pirate leader sees me and stands. He’s a tall guy, big and muscular, and he looks ridiculous with a three-inch knife in his hands. “You want to pass, you gotta give us something good. By the looks of you, boy, you’re a Ward.”
“We don’t let your kind enter the ocean,” another Pirate says. I can smell alcohol, something worth thousands of Creds. They probably caught some kid collecting pre-Fall stuff, Commandment Four, and kept it for payment. It’s disgusting.
I step toward them, hands outstretched. “I’m coming up empty.” I want to fight. I want to . . . I don’t really know what I’d do, but it feels like my body does.
“No payment, no passage,” the leader says. He’s got rotting teeth. Maybe I should knock them out for him.
“Let me pass,” I say.
They all laugh, and two more of them stand up. “You want to die, Ward?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I say.
Then before I realize what’s happening, I’m moving as fast as the lightning overhead. I’m striking punches, dodging. I snap a neck in an instant.
By the time it’s all done, there are three dead Pirates at my feet.
The last one runs down the beach like a terrified child, and I laugh at his back. “Yeah! Run away, Leech Lover!”
In the distance, I can make out the ghostly shapes of boats. I run for the ocean, dive in, and swim. The boats flicker in and out of view as the waves send me up and down.
Thunder claps above, and rain appears, so sudden it’s like a massive bucket of water has just been dumped into the ocean. I can’t feel my tears as they slide down my face.
I remember screams.
Oh, stars, and I remember my mom begging for mercy, and my dad, telling me he loved he, that everything would be okay if I’d just stop.
Stop.
Stop....hurting them.
As I swim, searching for Meadow’s houseboat, all I can think of is their corpses stretching toward me from the sandy bottom of the ocean, wanting nothing more than to exact revenge on the son who took their lives.
Because now I remember it all.
My parents were the first two victims.
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CHAPTER 43
MEADOW
My mother. Me.
They are talking about us.
My mind is racing. Lark Woodson was a nobody. An engineer who worked on the Initiative’s boats during the day and spent her nights locked in the bottom of our own. A woman who was murdered on the street, like so many others.
But my father said she was someone. Someone dangerous. Someone whose face is nearly identical to mine, whose blood runs in my veins, and because of her, I will never be completely safe. Because of my mother, I will always be watched. I shove my fist into my mouth and bite down so I don’t scream. So I don’t start banging on the sides of the crate.
It’s Patient Zero, sir. It . . . well . . . he hasn’t quite reached his daily goal yet. Daily goal. What is his daily goal? And the Commander’s voice. Urgent. Demanding. Who was the target? And who did he go after instead?
Lark Woodson’s daughter. Me. But I am a nobody. Just like my mother. Why would I be someone to be concerned about?
I heard his gasp when the tallies froze, saw his pad clatter to the ground when my mother’s name was mentioned. When I was mentioned.
I lean back to the hole now and press my eye to it. The pad still sits on the floor. On the screen, I see The Murder Complex. Patient Zero.
Six digits. There are other words and notations I don’t have time to read before the Commander bends down and scoops it up.
“Shut him down,” he says with a sigh. “He’s stronger than us now.”
“Sir?” the woman says, as if she did not hear his words right. “We could bring him back in for a routine check, I’m sure there’s a way to fix him— . . . ”
“Just do it!” He screams. “Take him out!” His voice echoes. He stomps away and the woman begins giving her shaky commands to the scientists.
“We’ll have to do it manually,” a man with glasses says. “The Creator won’t cooperate with us for an automatic shutdown. Especially not with him.”
“He won’t come easy,” says someone I can’t see. “He’s smarter than that. He may have figured it all out by now.”
“No one has figured anything out!” the woman says. She’s pacing. “Do whatever it takes. Bring Zero in, or kill him, whatever you want to do. He’s not fixable, not without the right codes. But the girl . . . bring her in. Alive. I want to know why that girl’s in our system. And how.”
And suddenly I realize why my heart has started to race and the sweat has begun to slip down my spine. I don’t know what I’d rather do: burst into tears or laugh. Because it all makes sense now.
Six digits. Patient Zero has the same Catalogue Number as Zephyr James.
Patient Zero is Zephyr James.
He went after me. I am the girl he should not have gone after, the girl somehow in their system, whatever that means. And now, they want to bring both of us in.
It all happens so fast. One minute I am sitting here, soaked in blood and my own haunting realizations. The next, the crate is being pried open, and it feels like my world has been set on fire. Light. So much light.
“What the . . . ” A blonde woman looks down at me, head cocked to the side. I read complete confusion on her face. She is weak. Incapable of defending herself.
I leap from the crate and close my hands around her neck. It snaps.
Chaos is upon me.
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CHAPTER 44
ZEPHYR
Even with the storm, it’s too quiet.
I find a houseboat that looks like the one Meadow described, and climb aboard.
I walk with light footsteps across the deck, whispering her name, like some creepy ChumHead. The boat rocks, angry, as the waves begin to rise with the wind, and soon it’s hard to keep my balance.
I stumble for the small cabin and cup my hands on the rain-spattered windows. Worn curtains cover the glass, but as the boat thrashes, the fabric sways, and I get a glimpse inside.
Lamps litter an old wooden table, flames flickering eerily. Two chairs are knocked sideways on the floor. And there are three mattr
esses in the far corner, empty, except for their twisted blankets.
Skitz. Meadow isn’t here. No one is.
A wave hits the boat, and the curtains sway closed. The boat drops back, and the curtains move again.
Two gray eyes stare at me from inside the cabin.
I stumble backward across the deck and nearly fall over the railing. But cold fingers close around my wrist. “Meadow,” I gasp.
Except it isn’t Meadow.
I get one glimpse of a young man, his entire body covered with scars, like he’s been shoved into a dull wood chipper. I open my mouth to ask him where she is.
He swings an oar at my head.
The world goes black.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
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CHAPTER 45
MEADOW
Always take in every detail of your surroundings, Meadow. Any daughter of mine will always know what is going on around her, where her opponents are, and who to strike down first.
There are eleven Initiative workers. Five men, six women. It should be easy.
The man to my left is 6 2 . Roughly 275 pounds, all muscle. Way too big of a target. I sprint past him, drop to the floor as he stretches to grab me, and roll. I fly across the floor like I am covered in oil.
“Get her! Get her!” voices scream. I have to run. I have to get away. I am a target that Zephyr should never have gone after, but did. They want to find me and question me, and they will stop at nothing to get their hands on us both.
I run for the computers. I see faces of people I recognize, faces of people that have been murdered. Children, young women, young men.
“She’s one girl, you fools! Stop her!”
A man lifts a rolling chair and launches it toward my head. I duck, then stand and swipe the man’s feet out from under him. He collapses and I don’t even try to avoid him as I race over his body.
Others chase me but I caught them off guard, so it’s easy, like playing tag with a child who is neither as fast nor as smart as I am.
I see a black, boxlike car in the far corner of the building. Unoccupied. I run for it, dodging workers, breathing in and out, in and out, focused only on escape.
I wrench open the car door and leap into the front seat. The key’s in the ignition so I turn it, hoping it runs like a boat. The engine roars to life.
“The alarms! Hit the alarms!” The Commander’s voice rings out through the chaos, and a wailing is so sudden and loud it makes everyone freeze for a moment.
I hear a shot. The bullet lodges itself into the steering wheel, less than an inch from my hand.
There’s a gear shift, like my boat. I slam it into drive, then stomp my foot down on the pedal, and finally, the car lurches forward. I steer it toward the massive metal door that is my only hope of escape.
The car crashes into the door. The metal buckles. I press the gas harder, and it starts to crumple, lifting over the top of the car. The metal rips, timbers tearing away with it. I hear yelling, probably for reinforcements, but I have already jumped out of the car and am heading into the mangroves, leaving the Initiative and the Murder Complex and my mother’s horrible portrait behind.
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CHAPTER 46
ZEPHYR
“What have you done with my sister?”
The boy with the scarred face leans over me in the darkness. He holds a candle in one hand, and a knife to my throat.
“I don’t know where she is,” I say. I can feel the cold steel now, stinging me. “Flux, man! I’m telling the truth!”
“Liar! Tell me!” He spits in my face.
“I swear! I don’t know, I swear!” My voice is pathetic. Terrified. The ChumHead punches me with the handle of the knife, and my head spins as blood starts to drip from my nose.
“Perhaps my father will be a little more . . . persuasive.” He walks out of the cabin, leaving me alone.
I try to wriggle out of my bindings, but they’re so tight I can’t feel my wrists or ankles anymore. I can feel the fear, though, and I can’t think straight. All I wanted was to find Meadow.
The door swings open and a man ducks in from the rain. He holds a tackle box in his hands. He sets it on the table beside me. “I’ve been a fisherman for as long as I can remember,” he says, so casual, like we’ve been friends our entire lives. He’s tall and tan, his skin worn from years under the sun, his hair so bleached it’s almost as white as Meadow’s. Oh, skitz. It’s her dad. The psychopath who trained her.
“You a fisherman, son?” He opens the tackle box and pulls out a coil of fishing line. His eyebrows rise as he looks at me, waiting for an answer.
“No . . . no, sir.”
He chuckles. “That’s good news,” he says. “Because today, I’m gonna teach you a little lesson.”
He pulls a steel hook from the box. The thing is massive. I gulp and focus on his face.
“Fish are smart creatures,” he says as he threads the fishing line through the eye of the hook. “You’ve got to hook them in just the right place. . . . ” He tests his knot. It holds. “Or else you’ll lose your catch.”
His eyes meet mine again. I stare back. I’m about to piss myself.
“Meadow’s a smart girl,” he says as he pulls a chair toward me and swings it around so he’s sitting on it backward. “She’s a lot like her mother. A survivor.”
“Her mom’s dead,” I say. What is wrong with me?
He just shakes his head and laughs. “Did you kill her, boy? Did you kill my daughter?”
“I would never hurt her.” He doesn’t believe me. I wouldn’t either.
“Of course you didn’t,” he says. “Because she’s my girl. And do you know what I do when someone tries to hurt me?”
All I can do is sit there, staring at the hook. He stands and grabs my chin.
“I teach them a lesson.” He grins. I thrash, as best as I can, but he only holds on tighter.
“You hurt my daughter,” he says. “Well . . . that hurts me.”
He sinks the hook into my cheek. I hear the pop as it breaks through the skin inside my mouth. I hear myself scream.
“You see, boy . . . I know how to keep a fish on my line. You tell me where my daughter is, and I’ll set you free.” He starts to tug on the line.
“I dun- ho!” I scream.
“That’s a lie!” he yells back at me. “What did you do to her? ” He gives the line a real tug. I can feel my flesh stretching, ripping, as he takes slow, deliberate steps backward.
“Please!” Every movement is pure agony. I’m on fire.
“Got a fighter on the line, Koi!” The cabin door bursts open and Meadow’s brother runs back in. “Last chance, boy.”
“Ahh swear!” I try to tell him. His face twists with fury, and suddenly he freezes.
“Dad?”
Outside, it’s still raining. I can hear it hit the ocean. And there’s another noise. Like a whirring. Meadow’s father crosses to the big, plate glass window and moves the curtain aside. I can see a blinking red light in the distance. A Leech boat, on this side of the Shallows? Meadow’s dad drops the curtain and curses under his breath.
“What did you do?” He whirls around. “Did you lead them here?”
“W-huh?” I mumble.
“Did you lead them here?” He gets in my face, and I shake my head, not understanding what he’s asking. “Koi, get your sister, we’re leaving!”
“But what about Meadow?” Koi says. “We can’t just— . . . ”
“I said get your sister and let’s go! Now!” Meadow’s father grabs an old brown sack lying discarded by the mattresses. I hear the clanking of metal as he rushes past me, and I’m almost positive the thing’s full of weapons.
“Where to?” Koi asks.
A little girl steps through the door. Skitz, Meadow wasn’t exaggerating. She’s a miniature version of Meadow, with silver of hair that hangs to her waist. It’s Peri. Who she loves more than anything in the world. She stares at me, at the bloody mess. She looks back at her dad.
“Daddy?”
“Oh my... no . . . ” I can’t hear him anymore. All I can hear is shouting. Something bumps up against the side of the boat. Meadow’s dad turns and punches out the window with his fist. The glass shatters all over the floor.
He grabs Koi by the shoulder, pulls him toward him. Kisses him on the forehead and pushes him out into the waves.
Meadow’s father turns and takes one last look at me, at the hook hanging slack from my cheek. “Go to hell, boy,” he says. He wraps his arms around his daughter, and disappears with her through the blowing curtains. The door of the cabin bursts open, kicked right off of its hinges.
It isn’t Leeches.
It’s something even worse, because I recognize the guy who steps inside. He has a big Initiative eye tattoo on his neck. “Well, well, well . . . what do we have here?” He cracks his knuckles, and I know I’m about to die.
This is the guy I just left on the beach, after I killed three of his men.
And there’s five more Pirates standing behind him, every single one of them just as pissed off as the first.
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CHAPTER 47
MEADOW
I run until my feet bleed. I run until I cannot run anymore, and even then, I keep going, through the crowded streets of the Shallows, shoving people aside. I race past the Rations Hall. Orion is standing out front. I was supposed to be at work today.
The Murder Complex Page 12