“She wasn't one of us,” said Jenny. “Whatever we are. She was alive. Jesus, she was so young.”
“Fuck,” said Sully. “What happened? Fuck.”
“He nailed her to a telephone pole,” said Jenny, narrowing her eyes at him. “These big railroad spikes. I could hear her broken bones grinding against the metal when she moved.”
“So he didn't kill her?” said Sully.
“The fuck he didn't,” said Jenny. Sully shrank back. “He nailed her to a post and left her there. It only took one rotter. That baby would never have had a chance anyway. Not here.”
Sully swallowed hard. “Baby?”
“She was pregnant. First thing the rotter did was rip that baby out of her.”
“A baby,” Sully said, as if he couldn't quite understand the word.
“What else do you know about this guy?” said Jenny. “Why are you so upset? Your heart is racing.”
“Of course I'm upset,” said Sully. He cleared his throat. “Someone you loved died in a horrible way. Maybe I'm afraid the same thing will happen to me.”
“Maybe,” said Jenny.
“Did she say anything else?” said Sully. “Your friend.”
“No,” said Jenny, deciding to keep everything else to herself. “I'm going to catch this guy. And when I do, I'm going to take a page from Abel's book.”
“What does that mean?” said Sully.
“It means I'm going to follow my instincts,” said Jenny. “I'm going to do what nature intends. Lily was everything that was good. I've never met anyone so good. So I'm going to find this evil motherfucker and when I'm finished, he'll have felt every tear, every pain of every nerve, every broken bone. If I can, I'm going to make him as afraid as she was. If I can, I'm going to scare him to death.”
“I don't think you have any worries there,” said Sully. “You're scary as shit already.”
Jenny eyed him. “Good.”
“Any chance I could get some sleep?” he said. “I'm feeling pretty worn down.”
“Let's draw the blood first,” said Jenny. “Then you can sleep. I got syringes.”
“I can prepare the slides,” said Sully, “but the blood's going to go bad.”
“Then I guess we'll have to draw more later,” said Jenny.
One by one they came in and Sully helped guide the needle to the vein. Casey first, the thick black slime in the syringe looking more like tar than blood. Grayson and Fisher were the same. When it was Jenny's turn, she watched the needle go into her arm, expecting the same dark matter to get sucked into the syringe. Sully jumped and nearly ripped out the needle when it happened.
“What the hell?” Jenny said, looking at Sully in confusion. “Why is it--”
“Red,” said Sully, a note of awe in his voice. “Jenny, your blood is red.”
“I can fucking see that,” she said. “Why?”
He filled up the syringe and pulled it out. A drop of bright red appeared where the needle had made a hole. She looked at Sully again. He was looking at the syringe with a dreamy look on his face.
“What's going on, Sully?” she said.
He looked up at her, visibly shaken. “I don't know,” he said, “but I'm ready to find out.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
It was easy to slip out when Casey went to the basement to eat. Fisher and Grayson had gone out to find some canned food for Sully. It was a longer walk than a car ride, but it was easy now that she didn't have to worry about the hordes of rotters. Sometimes the loners would sense her and start following her around and she'd have to lose them, but other than that, it was a nighttime stroll.
She couldn't let Casey come with her. She had to do this on her own. Jenny couldn't shake the thoughts buzzing around in her head like angry bees. It took her a long time to come to the realization that all the places Sully had mentioned, all the spots she remembered hearing about the Righteous nailing rotters to posts, were places she had been. Correction: places she had been with Declan. And if Declan had killed all the people in the Underground, it couldn't be a coincidence that Lily had ended up on a post.
She couldn't believe it was Declan. He would never be so cruel. He wouldn't knowingly taunt her with her grandfather, and he wouldn't nail a pregnant girl to a pole. But Jenny wanted to be sure. She wanted to know without a doubt that Declan wasn't nuts.
It made her feel like even more of a monster when she thought about suspecting Declan. She wanted to disprove that he could do such a thing, but what if she couldn't disprove it? What would that mean? It was all a lie? Everything beautiful she had thought about the world? She didn't believe it. She wanted to run away and never talk to any of The Thirteen again, to bury herself in a cave somewhere and never come out. But if Declan was killing people, she had to know the truth. She couldn't run.
Jenny stood in front of the subway entrance for a long time. A putrid stench drifted out of the tunnel. It didn't make her gag any longer. She was starting to find the smell oddly comforting. At least there were no living. She wound the crank on the flashlight she'd stolen from Fisher's room. She wanted to examine every detail.
Her feet crunched on gravel as she walked down the tunnel, the sound echoing hollowly off the cement arches. She shone the light to her right and the train cars came into view. She tried not to look at them as she passed. She had no reason to be afraid any longer, but looking at those cars, she felt strange. She didn't feel angry or hungry. She felt afraid. She felt...human. Jenny froze with the realization. She should just keep walking. She should ignore the feeling. Human is not what she needed now. Jenny needed to feel invincible. But she couldn't help it. She felt afraid and anxious and shaky, and it was wonderful.
Training the flashlight on the car at the front, she heard her steps echoing without even realizing she was taking them. The broken window. The door that had been locked but was now completely torn off its hinges and lying innocently on the floor. She could smell the rot of things old and dead coming from inside. It was different from the putrid scent wafting from the Underground camp. It was dustier, earthier. Jenny stood there looking at the car for what seemed a very long time.
“This is stupid,” she muttered to herself. She turned to go, then paused in midstep. A noise. She was sure she heard it. It had come from inside the train car. She pulled out her knife and walked to the door.
“Is someone there?” she said. The last time she had said that, it had gotten her locked in with a bunch of hungry rotters. She looked around, even though she knew no one was here. She would have sensed them. Whatever was inside, it wasn't alive. Jenny shook her head, feeling stupid.
“Heeeelllp meee.” The voice was soft, almost a whisper.
“Fuck it,” Jenny said. And she stepped into the car.
It was just as she'd left it. Bones littered the floor, along with scraps of fabric and other refuse. She had a light this time, though. She didn't have to feel around. She looked down the car towards the end with the broken window. That was where she'd found Casey. She stared at the spot where he had sat for a long time. She moved the flashlight down the length of the car until it rested on the other end. Something was there. Someone.
Jenny walked toward the shape, leaving the light focused on it. Slowly, it moved. A hand, decayed and looking like something from a horror movie, moved from its lap and up to its face. It was shielding its eyes from the light. Jenny squinted at the shape. Wispy hair, mostly gone from his head, white eyes, decayed skin that was gone in patches on his cheeks.
A rotter. Just a rotter. She lowered the light. She had sworn she had heard words. She headed back to the door.
“Doon't goooo...”
A shiver that she hadn't felt in a long time went up Jenny's spine. She shot the light back at the dead man. He had lowered his desiccated hand, but moved his face away from the light. Jenny approached him.
“What is this?” she said, Her voice shook when she said the words.
“Deeeaaad,” said the rotter, his jaw moving as the dust
y words came out. “But noooow, not deeead.”
“You look dead to me,” she said. “You look like you shouldn't be moving any more, even for a rotter.”
“I rememberrr.”
“Remember what?” said Jenny sharply. “Why can you talk? You're not like us.”
“Yooouuu weeere here,” said the creature. “I'm...” The rotter stopped, looking up at her, into the light even though it seemed to pain him. “I'm sooorrrry.”
Jenny walked toward him until she was right next to him. She switched off the flashlight and crouched down. When her eyes adjusted, she looked at the rotter's face. He stared back, but after a time, looked away with a dusty noise that may have been a sob.
“I know you,” Jenny whispered. She looked down at the rotters legs. One shinbone was completely gone, the jagged stump of a bone glowing white in the darkness. She had broken that leg. She had forgotten about him until it was too late.
“You killed me,” she said. “How are you alive? Casey killed you, I saw it.”
“Woke uuup,” he said. He raised his face so she could see the mark under his chin. She shone the flashlight on it. A scar. A fucking scar right where Casey had stabbed her knife into his skull. Rotters didn't get scars. He lowered his face to look at her again and she lowered the flashlight.
“How is this possible?” she said.
“Woke uuup. Healed. Rememberrrred.”
“Remembered what?” she said.
“Everrrything. Death. Sooo many lives.”
“You remember everyone you killed?” Jenny said.
“I woke uuup. You woke me uuup.”
“When you bit me?” she said.
The dead man slowly nodded. “Nooot a murdererrrr. Had a family. I'm sorry.”
“It's not your fault,” she said. “You were undead.”
“You weren't the oooonly one. Soo much death. Soo much.” The dead man became smaller as he tried to pull his arms and legs close to his chest. “Pleeease. Kill meee.”
“What's your name?”
He stared at her blankly for a long time. “Dooon't know. Been too long. Only rememberrr my family. Liiillly.”
Jenny stared at him. “What did you say?”
“Myyy daughter. Lilllly.”
Jenny looked away. She pictured Lily's pretty face smeared with blood as the life went out of her eyes. My baby, she had said. Jenny wanted to scream again. There was nothing fair or good in this world anymore.
“I'm sorry,” Jenny said. “I'm sorry I did this to you.”
“I biit yoou. I killed yooou.”
“It wasn't you,” said Jenny.
“I waas a monster,” he said. “I deserve this.”
“You didn't mean to,” Jenny said. “You just did what was natural.”
“I have a choice nooow. Kill meee.”
“No,” said Jenny. “What if you get better? If you're like me, maybe you'll be okay.”
“Tooo old. Caaan't move. Not betterrr.”
“You might, though,” said Jenny. She should jump at the chance to kill him, after what he did to her. But looking at the pitiful wretch on the floor, rocking back and forth and waiting to die, she felt only pity. His memories of the murders he'd committed while he was a rotter must have been horrible. To wake up, rotted away and only your memories of doing horrible things, must have been hell. She would have wanted to die too.
“Okay,” she said.
“Thaaank you.”
“I hope you find your family,” said Jenny. “If there's a Heaven. Or something.”
“I won't,” he said. “I'm going to buuurn in Hell for what I've done.”
“I don't think so,” said Jenny. “I forgive you.”
What was left of the dead man's eyelids lowered as he closed his eyes. He seemed to relax a little. Jenny brought the point of her knife under his chin. She looked at the dead man's face, grotesque and rotting away. Without opening his eyes, she felt him give a little nod. He didn't make a sound as she shoved the knife into his skull.
When it was done, Jenny leaned back on her haunches, looking at him. It didn't feel right. Everything was off. She dropped the flashlight and it echoed in the train car. It rolled down to rest against the rotter's broken leg. Jenny reached down to pick it up and her hand brushed something. She picked up the flashlight and trained it to the spot.
Something white was under the rotter's bone. Jenny fished it out, trying not to touch the broken appendage. It wasn't that she was squeamish, it just seemed too personal after her conversation with the pitiful creature. Her fingers touched something that felt like paper. She pulled it out.
It was crumpled, but still in one piece. Jenny opened it and smoothed it out. There was writing on it. She took up the flashlight again and shone the beam on the paper. It looked like some kind of list. She squinted at it.
Dear Jenny, the top read. She frowned. She scanned the page and made out Casey's name. She recognized a few others, too. Paul Fisher was one. Grayson Taylor. Trixie Jiang. Abel Cruz.
“Holy shit,” Jenny said. It was the list of The Thirteen. The one Casey had lost. She looked at the bottom, at her mother's signature. Sincerely, Anna Hawkins, it said. The list was very clinical, just like her mother had been. It was written in a neat, tidy hand. She looked at the short note jotted at the top.
I don't know if you'll ever find this, but I pray you do. Stay safe and stay alive, because the world needs you. Protect Casey if you can. Attached is a list of the survivors of the trials. Find them. Protect each other, but above all, protect yourself. You are the cure. Survive.
The list followed, then the signature. Jenny stared at the words. The way Casey had explained it, the letter said they were all the cure. You are the cure, it said. Dear Jenny. Jenny folded it up and put it in her pocket.
TWENTY-NINE
Jenny grasped the tarp and closed her eyes. She had to leave her emotions behind. It was important to remain objective so she could not just look, but see what was on the other side. She braced herself and pulled violently on the plastic. There was a ripping sound from above and the tarp ripped partway from the ceiling. She pulled again and the Underground was before her, dark and rancid and wet with humidity. She took out her knife and sliced at the plastic. With a dull thump, it fell to the ground. If she had the time, Jenny would have burned it.
She was about to turn the flashlight back on when she felt it.
Someone was coming.
Before he had taken two steps into the encampment, Jenny was on him, her hand on his throat. She shoved him against the wall and the world turned a shadowy blood-red. She couldn't fight it. She was so hungry that every part of her ached. Her teeth were on his neck when he spoke.
“Jenny.”
She froze, her mouth at his neck. His heart was racing and she could feel his blood pumping. She wanted that blood. She wanted all of him. But something stopped her. That voice. Jenny receded from the red world, and came back to darkness. The man's neck tasted of salt. He tried to move but she was stronger.
“Do it,” he said. “Just fucking do it, Jen. I'm dead anyway. I've been dead since you left.”
She lifted her head slowly, afraid to see him. Afraid to see his face. He couldn't see her like this. She had tried so hard to keep herself from him, and now she had nearly killed him. She looked at her hand as if it were an alien thing. He fell to the ground when she let go of his throat. She took a step back, feeling dizzy.
“Declan,” she said. He looked up at her, his eyes slits. Jenny could feel the anger rising from him. “You shouldn't be here.”
He stood up, his large frame towering over her. How had she overpowered him?
“What are you?” he said through clenched teeth.
“Just get out,” she said. “Leave me alone.”
“No,” he said. She turned but he grabbed her bare arm. He let his hand rest on her skin for a few seconds. She could see his eyes widening in the dark, his jaw slackening. He pulled his hand away. Jenny closed her e
yes. His revulsion was worse than anything she had been through. She would rather he hated her than be revolted by her.
“You know what I am, Declan.” Jenny's voice was slow and tired. “You already know. Please don't make this more difficult. It's already so hard, Deck. I can't handle much more.”
“You're cold,” he said.
“Yes.”
“But, you're not one of them.”
“Yes, I am,” she said. “I'm just another rotter. I'm just less stupid. Now leave before I hurt you, okay?” Her voice wasn't angry. It was as gentle as she could make it. Jenny didn't want to do this. She wanted him to stay, would always want him to stay. But if he did, she was honestly afraid of what she could do. She could forgive herself for a lot of things, but hurting this man was not one of them. Again she felt the odd sensation of breaking open and finally recognized it. Her heart was breaking. Her cold, dead heart.
She could feel his eyes on her, burning into her. “It's you,” he said.
“I'm not her,” she said hoarsely. “I'm a monster.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You could never be a monster,” he said.
“Don't be stupid, Munro,” Jenny said, making her voice hard. “I will rip your throat out at any moment. I'm a fucking animal. I'm untrustworthy and unpredictable. And I'm not her.” she shook her head. “Not anymore,” she said softer. “Jenny is gone, Declan. You should accept it. Move on.”
She moved away from him, holding onto the makeshift table for support. She felt about to collapse. Any strength she had was gone. Jenny felt like if she looked at him, if she was close to him, she might just fall over. Or worse, that she might attack him again. It was so hard to control the hunger. She felt something on her face and reached up to wipe it off. It was wet. Wetness coming from her eyes.
“This is impossible,” she whispered. It must have been blood or some other disgusting fluid. Jenny flicked on the flashlight and shined it at her fingers. The liquid glistened clear in the light. She touched it to her tongue and tasted the salt. “What...?”
Declan was suddenly in front of her. She looked at him, the fierceness gone from her. She shook her head, unsure what else to say.
Jenny Undead (The Thirteen: Book One) Page 16