Jenny Undead (The Thirteen: Book One)

by Murray, J. L.

  “You want to start a war, undead girl?” he said under his breath. “Go ahead. But the kid is off limits.”

  Jenny pressed her lips together, frowning. The two men were staring at her. The blond's gun was shaking.

  “Sorry,” Jenny said. “I get carried away sometimes.”

  “They're not even loaded,” Zeke said irritably from behind the two men. “Just go back and tell my stepfather I sent you away.”

  The other man, a middle-aged man with red hair and a round belly, looked at him. “You know what he would do to us, Ezekiel. Just let us do our duty.”

  “Well, do your duty over there,” said Zeke.

  “Ezekiel, they seem dangerous,” said the blond.

  “Fuck off!” shouted Zeke. “If I have to smell your sweat again, I'll tell him you tried to manhandle me.”

  The two men looked at each other, then the blond gave a resigned shrug and they walked a few steps away and sat down on the rubble.

  “Further,” said Zeke. Muttering, the men moved further away, out of earshot.

  “Hi, Zeke,” said Abel.

  Zeke was pale and impossibly thin, with a patchy beard and deep, dark circles under his pale blue eyes. His light brown hair looked like it had been hastily chopped off with a knife and stood in uneven spikes on his head. He took a drink of his beverage, slurping loudly.

  “What the hell took you so long?” said Zeke.

  “Traffic was killer,” said Abel, sitting next to him.

  “Funny,” said Zeke. He looked at Jenny. “I've been looking forward to talking to you. Sit down.”

  “I'd better not get too close,” said Jenny.

  “Because you're hungry?” said Zeke. “Don't worry. You're not going to eat me.”

  Jenny took off her sunglasses. “You know what we are.”

  Zeke leaned forward and smiled at her. “I know all kinds of things,” he said.

  “I don't think she believes you,” said Abel.

  Zeke nodded. “Understandable. It defies logic.”

  “Logic?” said Jenny. “I thought you were some kind of prophet. Doesn't seem like logic fits into it.”

  “So you think you're smart,” said Zeke. “I'm no thumper, Jenny. And to be honest, you are in no position to judge me.”

  “Point taken,” said Jenny. “You know my name. Did Abel tell you?”

  “No one tells me anything,” said Zeke. “I've seen you. Up here.” He tapped a finger on his temple.

  “Okay,” said Jenny.

  “I saw you hiding in that closet,” said Abel. “You tried to let him go, didn't you?”

  Jenny froze, shocked. “What?”

  “You can't let him go, ” said Zeke. “You and Munro, you're the real thing. You're going to try. It'll be a noble effort, trying to give him a normal life. But no one has a normal life anymore. And he'll never be able to cut it without you. You're stuck together. Oh, and don't blame yourself, when it happens.”

  Jenny narrowed her eyes. “Blame myself for what?”

  “Just don't,” said Zeke. “Munro won't blame you. Try to forgive yourself. It's not your fault.”

  “Jesus Christ,” said Jenny.

  “Now who's the thumper?” said Zeke, leaning back against a rock, looking satisfied. Jenny sat down.

  “What's going to happen to Declan?” she said.

  “You know what this place used to be?” said Zeke.

  “Here we go,” said Abel.

  “Wrigley Field,” said Jenny.

  “My dad used to bring me here,” said Zeke. “My real dad. I saw the Cubs play the Marlins here. Everyone thought they were going to the World Series, but days before it happened I saw that accountant deflect that pop foul. It was the first time my dad let me drink beer in front of him. It was warm and disgusting and it was the best day of my life. This used to be my favorite place. Then the thumpers bombed it. And it wasn't a happy place anymore. They took that away from me.”

  “If you hate them so much, why do you stay?” said Jenny.

  “I'm not in this for personal enlightenment,” said Zeke. “I plan on surviving this.”

  “You think this is just all going to eventually blow over?” said Jenny with a laugh.

  “No,” said Zeke. “But I know it's going to change. That's all we can hope for. I know you don't like that word.”

  “Hope?” said Jenny. “I just think it's a waste of time.”

  “That's ironic,” said Zeke. “Because before all this is over, you're going to be it.”

  “Going to be what?” said Jenny.

  “Hope.”

  “Zeke,” said Abel.

  “I know why you're here,” said Zeke, turning to him. “It has to happen. I've seen every possible outcome. The only logical way is straight through.”

  “Straight through what?” said Jenny.

  Zeke looked down at his cup. It was almost empty and had stopped steaming. “I can tell you where your brother is.”

  “Why didn't you say so?” said Jenny. “Where is he?”

  “You have to go,” Zeke said. “You have to try to save him.”

  “What do you mean try?” said Jenny. “Is he okay?”

  “He's fine for now,” said Zeke, still not looking up from his cup. “You'll find him where it all began.”

  “Can you be more specific?” said Jenny. “Or is this like a fortuneteller riddle?”

  “I wasn't finished,” said Zeke. “Where this all began was in her lab. The first one. The one she kept.”

  “You mean my mother?”

  Zeke nodded stiffly.

  “She didn't have a lab in Chicago,” said Jenny. “It was just an office.”

  “Why would a scientist just rent an office in another city?” said Zeke. “There's a lab. Your brother just didn't know to look for it.”

  “Where is it?” said Jenny.

  “It doesn't work that way,” said Zeke. “I don't see in addresses and maps. Just images. But I know it's in the city.”

  “How am I supposed to find him?” said Jenny. “Casey was the one who found the office. And he's the one we're looking for.”

  “You'll find a way,” said Zeke. “Trust me.”

  Jenny nodded. “Okay.” She frowned. “I trust you.”

  “Just like that, huh?” said Abel.

  Jenny ignored him. “I won't forget this,” she said to Zeke. “Thank you.”

  “I'd rather you forgot,” said Zeke. “But you never will. I'm sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” said Jenny.

  “You'll see,” said Zeke.

  Jenny stood up and Abel did the same.

  “Thanks, brother,” said Abel. Zeke looked up at Abel's face and frowned.

  “I've enjoyed our talks,” said Zeke. “I'll miss them.” Abel stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

  “Me too, Zeke.”

  Jenny started to walk away, but turned back to look at Zeke.

  “What happens to him? To Declan?” she said. “Am I going to kill him?”

  “I really shouldn't tell you that,” said Zeke. He still wouldn't meet her eyes.

  “Look at me,” she said in a low voice. Zeke did. There was sadness in his eyes. “Am I going to kill Declan?”

  “No,” he said. Jenny closed her eyes with relief. “You're going to be the one who saves him.”

  Jenny's eyes shot open. “Saves him? From what?”

  “I'm not sure yet. It's still foggy. I'm not omniscient.”

  Zeke stood up slowly, like an old man stiff from the cold. Only it wasn't cold, and Zeke couldn't have been older than twenty-five. But he moved like someone with the weight of the world crushing down on him.

  “It was nice meeting you, Jenny,” he said. “We'll see each other again soon.” The two bodyguards scurried behind him as he walked away. Jenny turned and joined Abel. They walked in silence across the field.

  “Maybe he's wrong,” Jenny said.

  Abel didn't answer for a long time. When he did, his voice was so
ft.

  “He's never wrong.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Jenny parked the car outside the museum. Abel touched her arm and she looked at him, surprised.

  “Zeke was right, you know,” he said.

  “About what?”

  “You can't push him away.”

  Jenny raised an eyebrow. “In case you hadn't noticed, I'm dead. Declan's alive. He shouldn't even be here.”

  “So you think he should just run off and get over you?”

  “Yes,” said Jenny. “That's what you do when someone dies.”

  “But you're still here.”

  “I'm going to kill him, Abel. I won't be able to stop myself.”

  “You skewered your own arm to stop yourself from hurting him,” said Abel. “When I was new, I never had that kind of control. You're not going to hurt him. It's just an excuse.”

  “Excuse for what?” said Jenny.

  “You're scared. I understand. But do you really think that guy is ever going to be able to live without you? You were dead to everyone and he found you. He doesn't care that you don't have a pulse, he tags along in a den of monsters just to be near you.”

  “And I guess you're the picture of mental health to be giving me all this relationship advice,” said Jenny.

  Abel looked away. He was quiet for a long moment. “I had someone too,” he said. “I wonder what would have happened if I would have told him I wasn't dead. At least not completely dead. But I was so afraid of what he would think of me. I couldn't stand the thought of him looking at me that way. The way he must see me. So I stayed away. I like to think he's happy somewhere now, but that's a lie. No one's happy. And you're never really the same when someone you love is taken away from you.”

  “You know, you're a really shitty spy,” said Jenny.

  “A spy?” he said. “Is that what I am?”

  “A bad one,” said Jenny. “Giving me love advice and telling me about your past. Kind of kills the mystery.”

  “Maybe I'm just trying to gain your trust,” said Abel.

  “Well, you have it,” said Jenny.

  “Because of what Zeke said?”

  Jenny frowned. “He's the real thing, isn't he? I didn't think it was possible.”

  “I didn't either,” said Abel. “The first time I met him. But he knows everything. It must be such a burden.”

  “What did he tell you to convince you?” said Jenny.

  Abel's face darkened. “He told me where to find your mom.” His body suddenly stiffened and he looked toward the museum. “Do you feel that?” he said.

  “What?”

  “Living.”

  “It's just Declan. He's probably still asleep.” Jenny did feel it now, and despite her words, she knew it wasn't just Declan.

  “No,” said Abel. “He's not alone.”

  They heard the voices arguing before they'd even gotten in the hall. Declan and a woman's voice. Lucy. As Jenny crept down the hall, she heard a lower male voice that sounded like Beacon. she pulled out her knife and looked at Abel.

  “Don't kill them,” she whispered.

  “No promises,” he breathed.

  They paused outside the doorway to what had become the living area.

  “You have to go,” Jenny heard Declan say. “I won't say it again.”

  “Because your dead girlfriend is around here somewhere?” said Lucy. “Come on, Munro. Even you have to admit you've gone off the deep end.”

  “Munro, just come back with us,” said another, deeper female voice. Veronica. Jenny closed her eyes. The gang was all here. She fought down an intense pang of hunger. There were too many people here. Jenny wasn't sure if she could control herself. Maybe it would be better if Declan went with Lucy. She thought about what Zeke said, about how she was going to save him. She didn't know what Zeke meant, but what if she did the wrong thing? What if she let Declan go and wasn't around to help him? What if letting him go was what she was supposed to do in order to save him? The possibilities made her head throb.

  “What are you doing?” Abel mouthed to her.

  “Just wait,” Jenny whispered.

  “Munro, no one's saying you haven't had a mother of a bad stretch,” Beacon was saying. “And no one blames you for going a little batshit when she died. You never got to say goodbye. I get it. And it is a fucking horrible thing that happened to her. She was a great girl. But you have to let us help you, man. Just come with us and we'll figure it out. You can't live like this.”

  “Say her name,” Declan said, his voice low and dangerous.

  “What?” said Beacon.

  “You talk about her like she isn't real,” said Declan. “Like she's a pet who died and needs to be forgotten. You haven't said her name once since you got here. Say her fucking name.”

  “Jenny,” said Beacon. “Okay? I said it. Her name was Jenny.”

  “Is,” corrected Declan. “She's still here.”

  “Jesus fuck, Munro,” said Veronica. “Fucking listen to yourself. You're holed up in this weird-ass ruin of a museum, there's a bunch of dead goats downstairs, the bodies of two dudes over there in the lab – which happens to be covered in blood – and there's a dead Asian girl in one of these creepy rooms off that way. I'm not judging, but if it was back in the day, I'd have you committed.”

  “I'm not crazy!” Declan screamed. There was a crash like he'd kicked a chair or thrown something into the wall. “I didn't kill these people. And even if I did, I wouldn't go with you. My place is with Jenny.”

  “Jenny is dead, Munro,” Lucy said heatedly. “Just fucking get past it.”

  “If you didn't kill these people, who did?” said Beacon.

  “Sully,” said Declan. “He might have had help. I don't know.”

  “Sully?” said Veronica incredulously. “You mean the old guy who runs the Expo booth?”

  “Yes,” said Declan, his voice sounding weaker. “I know how it sounds. But he's a killer. He kidnapped Jenny's brother. That's probably where Jenny is right now.”

  “Jenny's brother is alive?” said Lucy.

  “Yeah,” said Declan. “Well, sort of. He's dead, but he's, you know, like us. Walking and talking and thinking. And that girl isn't dead, she's like them too. They tested some kind of paralyzing drug on her, so she just seems dead. She'll snap out of it anytime now. Her name is Trix.”

  “So they're rotters,” said Lucy.

  “No, not rotters,” said Declan. “There were these experiments...”

  Jenny looked at Abel, who shrugged. She didn't know how people would react to them. It could start a whole new kind of witch hunt if the living knew that they were technically dead. You can't tell a mob that you're a really nice person and that you might be some kind of key to curing the world. They'd have a blade in her brain before she could get a single word out. It was one thing to tell fairy tales about The Thirteen, but another to actually see the horror of what they really were.

  Abel rolled his eyes and, shaking off her hand grasping at his arm, stepped out of the hall and into the room. Everyone went silent.

  “Who the hell are you?” said Lucy.

  “Abel,” said Declan sounding relieved. “You have to tell them Jenny's real.”

  “Of course she's real,” said Abel. “She's hiding in the hall.”

  Jenny gritted her teeth. She pulled out her sunglasses and put them on to hide her eyes. Then she stepped out of the hall. Eyes widened, jaws dropped, Beacon even gasped a little at the sight of her.

  “Jesus Christ,” said Veronica.

  Jenny looked at Declan. “You should go with them.”

  Declan stood up from where he had slumped into a chair. His back straightened and for a moment he was the old Declan. The man in charge, the one everyone was afraid of. He shook his head. “No.”

  “You're going to get hurt,” said Jenny. “Or killed. Worse maybe. What I stopped myself from doing, I don't know how I can keep doing that. I can't stab myself every time I...every time.”


  Declan strode across the room and stood in front of her. He looked down at her. He had always towered over her. Jenny saw that he had a few white strands in the scruff on his face. He had aged ten years in...how long had it been? A week? Two? But still, Jenny couldn't help but stare into his face. She had loved that face. But she couldn't let herself feel anything for him. Not anymore. Loving him was ludicrous. She was dead. She had no right to love him.

  Declan reached out and touched her cheek. He didn't shrink away at the coldness of it, and there was no look of revulsion. He narrowed his eyes at her. “I. Don't. Care,” he said.

  “And there you have it,” said Abel. “Time for you all to go home now, living people. Nothing to see here.”

  “What the fuck is going on?” said Lucy. Jenny looked past Declan to see her staring at them. There was something just short of hatred on her face. “You can't be here. You're dead. How are you here? No one survives a rotter bite.”

  Jenny looked at Beacon and Veronica's faces. They wore masks of pure shock. With resignation, Jenny looked back to Lucy.

  “I didn't survive,” she said. She took off her sunglasses.

  Lucy didn't seem to be able to look away from her eyes. She was shaking her head and backing away, but she stayed locked onto Jenny's eyes. “What?” she said, her voice sounding far away.

  “Maybe you'd better sit down,” said Declan.

  “No,” said Lucy. “No. No, no, no, no. This isn't what happens.”

  “Jen,” said Beacon. “What is this?”

  “This,” said Abel, “is what happens when your mother is Anna Fucking Hawkins.”

  “Hawkins?” said Veronica. “The scientist? The mother of the plague?”

  “The very same,” said Abel. “Your friend Jenny spent the last years of her childhood in a lab, trapped with her mother, her sadistic granddaddy, and, apparently, a serial killer who was obsessed with her.”

  “What are you doing?” Jenny said to Abel.

  “Rallying the troops,” he said. He turned back to the others. “Her brother was there too. And eleven other children, including me.”

  “The Thirteen?” said Beacon. “They're real?”