The Complete Makanza Series: Books 0-4

by Krista Street

  “Do you know what you want?” Amy asked.

  “Um, I’ll get a burger and fries.” It was the cheapest thing on the menu.

  “Are you at least going to add cheese and all the fixings? I know they still have tomatoes and onions. Not sure about lettuce, though.”

  “Um, a plain burger is fine, really.”

  When Rachael returned, Amy intercepted before I could order. “We’ll both have cheeseburgers with fries and all the fixings, and ketchup if you have it.”

  “We’ve got tomato sauce. We ran out of ketchup last week, and the next shipment won’t be in till next month.” Rachael took the menus from our outstretched hands. “And we’re out of lettuce, but we still have tomatoes, onions, and pickles.”

  Amy shrugged. “That works.”

  After Rachael was out of earshot, I avoided the urge to run a hand through my hair. There are so many people in here!

  Of course, Amy was oblivious to the anxiety that strummed through me like disjointed music chords. She leaned forward and clasped her hands on the table. “So, tell me what’s going on with Davin. We’ve all been wondering.”

  Her straight forward question help dampen the anxiety that wanted to consume me. I debated sounding optimistic and diplomatic, telling her everything was fine, but the bigger part of me wanted to say exactly how bad it was going. It would be such a relief to get it off my chest.

  “Well . . . it’s . . .” I tried to smile but failed. “Honestly, it’s going terribly.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “He hasn’t said one word to me all week, except for that second day, and that’s all I got. One word.”

  Amy’s mouth dropped. “But the first day went so well.”

  I shrugged helplessly. “Maybe I caught him by surprise.”

  “Is that the real reason you’re not going in his cell? Because it’s going so bad?”

  “No, I wasn’t lying earlier. It completely contradicts what Compounds 10 and 11 discovered to enter his cell uninvited. I firmly believe that.”

  “So tell me what’s going on.”

  I told her.

  Everything.

  How I’d started waking up so early and had arrived at the Compound all week before everyone else. How all of my free time was spent reading about psychology and PTSD and ways to encourage Davin to open up. How I’d spent an hour of every morning in the watch room with absolutely nothing to show for it.

  “He won’t even look at me now. If anything, I’ve made it all worse. He makes a point to keep his back to me.”

  “I didn’t realize it was going that bad.” Amy leaned back, frowning. “Okay, so you obviously need to change tactics. What you’re doing isn’t working.” She leaned forward again, a keen light in her eyes. “Maybe it’s something as simple as he’s not a morning person, so you need to talk with him at a different time.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, I know. It’s probably not that. If the guy chooses to wake up at six every morning, he’s obviously a morning person.”

  “I need to get through to him somehow, though, make him want to talk to me.”

  “Right.” Amy pursed her lips.

  Our drinks arrived a minute later. I took a sip. The water was icy cold, but the warm fire still roared against my back.

  “So what else could you do . . .” Amy said, more to herself than me. She drummed her fingers on the table. “Bargain? Barter? Blackmail?”

  I sputtered. “Are you stuck on the letter B?”

  She laughed. “I’m brainstorming out loud. I could move on to C. Con? Conspire? Cultivate?”

  I laughed again. “I’ve been trying to cultivate a relationship all week. It’s not working.”

  “Okay, so I suppose you could continue doing what you’re doing and hope that he eventually talks to you.”

  “I can’t. I’m on a time limit. Dr. Roberts gave me one month, and if Davin hasn’t given any samples by then, he’s sending you in.”

  “A month?” Amy’s eyes widened. “That means you only have three weeks left.”

  “I know.”

  “So what we need to do is think up an incentive. Something that would persuade Davin to talk to you, or at least, listen to you.”

  “I suppose I could pump Sergeant Rose for more information on Davin, find out more about his interests, maybe find something that’s important . . .”

  Something that’s important to him.

  My words caught in my throat. I already knew what was important to him. I’d known for weeks.

  Amy continued talking, oblivious to my epiphany. I thought about mentioning my idea but decided against it. If I were to pursue something like that, it was very much against MRI policy, but it was the only thing I could see working in the short time I had.

  Our burgers arrived a minute later.

  Amy chewed a french fry, not seeming to notice my silence. “What if we get Dr. Roberts to approve you giving Davin something from the outside? New shoes maybe? Or some kind of clothing?”

  “Hmm,” I mumbled, taking a bite of my burger. I’d definitely be bringing him something from the outside, but it wouldn’t be a pair of shoes.

  AMY DROPPED ME back at my apartment an hour later. I stepped out and leaned down, talking to her through the open door. “Thanks for the burger and for stopping by.”

  “No problem, and don’t worry about Davin. We’ll think of something. I still think you’re the best person to work with him.”

  I tried to smile but felt like I was lying to the one friend I had, besides Jeremy, but I couldn’t tell her my plan. She’d get in trouble, just by knowing it if I ever got caught.

  “Yeah, I’m sure we will.” I waved goodbye and watched her drive off.

  As soon as she rounded the corner, I sprinted toward my building. It was almost two in the afternoon. If I wanted to make it to Rapid City before curfew, I had to leave, now. It was at least a five-hour drive going at top speed. That didn’t leave much room to spare. With a trip like this, I couldn’t claim Compound business so I couldn’t be out after curfew. It was too risky. If it got back to Dr. Roberts what I was doing, I’d be fired.

  An old suitcase was buried somewhere in my closet, and I cursed when it took me five minutes to dig it out. Once it was on my bed, I packed a set of clothes, a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and some soap and shampoo.

  I almost closed it but then hurried to my dresser. I threw in an extra set of clothes, just in case I needed to add layers. With any luck, I’d find accommodation somewhere near Rapid City. If not, I’d have to sleep in the car. Either way, it was best to be prepared.

  Realizing that, I also pulled the comforter and pillow off my bed. I’d never slept in my car before, but I supposed there was nothing like trying it for the first time when it dropped close to freezing at night.

  After packing some food from the kitchen, a few water bottles and a hat, I was almost ready. The last thing I needed was her address.

  I pulled up the internet and searched for Sharon Kinder and Rapid City. It took a while to find her. I cursed the entire time. There was so much data to scroll through, all pre-First Wave stuff that never got cleared from servers.

  Luckily, I finally found her. With suitcase in one hand, and my bedding awkwardly stuffed under the other, I carefully walked down the back stairs to the parking lot. Thankfully, the battery in my car was new, so a 350-mile trip wouldn’t be a problem. I just hoped there would be a station to recharge it when I arrived.

  I briefly contemplated how smart this entire plan was as I packed my car. I’d never done anything impulsive like this before. Let alone something impulsive, against my job’s rules, and at such late notice with curfew coming.

  Perhaps I wasn’t nearly as smart as everyone thought I was.

  Fearing I’d changed my mind if I thought any more about it, I pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the interstate. I-90 connected the cities, so there was no worry of getting lost.

  W
hen I turned onto the interstate junction, I accelerated down the ramp to I-90 west. A tentative smile crossed my face as the speedometer climbed. I’d never gone west on the interstate before. Only east.

  Open land sailed past me as I cranked the speed up to seventy. It was a bumpy ride. Road maintenance was the bottom of the list for our state’s funding, but the hard jostles and dips didn’t stop the euphoria that coursed through me. It felt like I was on an adventure, even if that adventure could lead to the end of my career.

  16 – TRIP

  Rolls of hills covered the land, like gentle waves in the ocean. The land stayed consistent for the first couple hundred miles. Empty, barren fields as far as the eye could see. Nobody lived out here. The small towns that once dotted the interstate were now ghost towns, except for the odd few.

  Rough bumps and uneven patches on the road made it hard to keep a consistent speed. Large cracks also appeared. Luckily, none of them were big enough to cause problems.

  By the time the sun blazed red and the Badlands appeared, I’d only encountered two other vehicles during my long drive. It was an uncomfortably isolating feeling. The Badlands didn’t help. Their small peaks of striated stone jutted up against the land like shark fins cutting through water. They were beautiful but in a harsh, deathly sort of way.

  The clock on my dashboard glowed 7:01 p.m when a sign appeared stating Rapid City was twenty miles away. Anxiety strummed through me like ocean waves crashing on the shore. The sun was close to setting. Curfew was coming.

  I’d never been out past curfew. If I didn’t find a place to stay, I’d have to look for a residential street to park on and hope any patrol that passed didn’t look into my car. Once again, I couldn’t believe how impulsive I’d been. A well-planned out trip within the state could have gone well if it had been just that.

  Planned.

  The sunset faded with each mile. Lights from the city glowed faintly in the distance. I kept my eyes peeled for any accommodation. My heart leaped when I saw the first hotel, but as I got closer, it sank. It appeared all of the hotels entering the city were closed, no longer in business for who knew how long. Shingles were blown off roofs. Debris, caught in neglected landscaping, fluttered in the breeze. So much for beginner traveler’s luck, but at least I made it to Rapid.

  I sped up as I approached the town. 7:19 p.m. I didn’t have much time, and my battery was low. Lights glowed in some buildings, but so far, all of the hotels were dark. I chewed my lip as I scanned for any sign of life in the skeletal structures. 7:24 p.m. Curfew was currently at 7:30 p.m.

  Just as I began scouting for a place to pull over and spend the night, a sign appeared. Motel 6. The ‘vacancy’ sign blazed bright and promising.

  It was 7:28 p.m. when I pulled in front of the motel. They also had battery charging stations in their parking lot. Someone was definitely watching over me. I looked up at the sky when I stepped out of my car and mouthed a silent thank you to the only person I’d ever count as my guardian angel.

  A GIRL, YOUNGER than me, manned the check-in desk. Gum snapped in her mouth as she leafed through an old paperback. She blinked when I approached, obviously surprised to see someone.

  “Can I get a room for the night?” I pulled my wallet from my purse.

  “Did you make a reservation?”

  “No, but the sign said vacancy.”

  “Oh yeah, we’ve got tons of rooms. It’s just that nobody’s come in for a while without a res, especially just before curfew.”

  The clock behind her read 7:34 pm. If she denied me a room, I’d be spending the night in my car. In the parking lot.

  The check-in girl leafed through her paper forms. “Smoking or non?”

  “Non-smoking.”

  “King or queen bed?”

  “Whichever’s cheapest.”

  She lifted a sheet. “I’ve got a queen bed at ground level for $439 tonight.”

  $439! “That’ll be fine.”

  She gave me the key and instructions on how to find the room. Before I turned, I asked her if she knew where Franklin Street was.

  She pulled out a paper map from behind the desk. “Twenty bucks for one of these.”

  I grudgingly bought that as well.

  Since I had everything I needed from my car and had already plugged the battery in to charge, I didn’t need to go outside again. While I probably could have gotten away with sneaking out to grab a forgotten bag, even if a patrol drove by, I didn’t want to chance it. I was in an unknown city, with unfamiliar law enforcement. I was playing it safe from here on out.

  It didn’t take long to find my room. The drab décor left a lot to be desired. The bedspread was thin, the carpet threadbare, and the furniture looked at least thirty years old. That said, it was warm, safe, and most important, legal.

  I SET THE bedside alarm for seven the next day. Surprisingly, I didn’t wake once during the night. Perhaps the long drive and anxiety had left me too exhausted to do anything other than sleep.

  Once I rolled out of bed, I didn’t waste any time. After dressing, brushing my teeth, and tidying my hair, I was ready to go.

  A different person was at the front desk when I checked out. He barely looked up from his book when he took my key. That suited me just fine. Small talk was not something I could muster right now.

  It was silent when I stepped outside. Even though curfew lifted at six in the morning, there were no cars on the interstate. It was oddly quiet, even for this time of day.

  Slipping into my vehicle, I pulled a water bottle and energy bar from the backseat while I let the heater run. The energy bar was homemade, by me. In other words, it tasted like bark and smelled a bit like it too. However, it was packed with calories and nutrients, which at the end of the day, was all that mattered.

  Since I’d memorized the map I’d bought last night, I didn’t need to pull it out as I drove.

  When I pulled onto Franklin Street, towering trees lined the boulevards and covered the single level houses like large umbrellas. The houses were similar. Old, a bit rundown, but cared for as best as possible. Most of them had peeling paint and decaying looking porches, but the homes appeared occupied.

  Bits of cheer were evident. A wreath on a door. Pots of artistically displayed evergreen branches on a porch. If this was where Davin had grown up, it had been a simple yet loved neighborhood. I felt a little better knowing that, considering what his life was like now.

  Sharon’s house was a small bungalow that sat midway down the street. Blue shakes and shutters, that had probably once been white, stared back at me when I parked. It was still early, not even eight. Cutting the motor, I stayed in the car.

  I didn’t see a light on in any of the windows, so I decided to wait until signs of life appeared. If she was home at all. It could be a long wait, but if she was sleeping, I didn’t want to wake her just yet. I’d give her till nine.

  It felt a bit weird, munching on another energy bar while staring at a stranger’s home. The word stalker came to mind. Is that what I’m doing? My stomach twisted.

  It was definitely weird that I’d packed up in the middle of the afternoon yesterday, drove as fast as my small car could manage on a pot-holed filled interstate, and woke first thing the next morning to track down Davin’s mother. Is it a testament to how much I want to help Davin, or is my interest in him going too far?

  I pictured his fierce blue eyes and aloof demeanor. My stomach flipped at just the thought of him. I shook myself. Perhaps it was best I didn’t put any more thought into that department.

  Taking another bite from the energy bar, I started to wonder if anyone was home, but just as I took another drink of icy cold water, Sharon’s porch light turned on.

  I almost choked.

  The front door opened. A woman’s head appeared around it. She bent over and picked something up. It took me a minute to understand what it was.

  A newspaper.

  She was picking up a newspaper.

  It had been so long sin
ce I’d seen anyone do that, it took me a second to process it. Some long-ago, distant memory stirred. Sitting around the kitchen table at home, legs dangling from the chair, eating Cheerios with Jeremy while our father sat beside us reading the local newspaper he’d collected from the front porch.

  Sioux Falls didn’t deliver newspapers anymore. That had stopped years ago. Now, they were only available for purchase at the South Dakota Food Distribution Center. Apparently, Rapid City refused to give up the tradition of delivering papers.

  The woman retreated inside. I hastily wiped any crumbs from my mouth and took one last drink.

  It was now or never.

  I tried to shut my car door quietly, but the bang seemed to echo down the street. I glanced over my shoulder several times as I hurried across the road and cut through Sharon’s lawn. Against all logic, I half-expected someone to stop me, grab me by the shoulder, and demand to know what I was doing. Funny how when you were doing something wrong, you assumed everyone else knew too.

  Of course, there was no one around to even care.

  Once on Sharon’s small porch, I took a deep breath and knocked. Will she even answer? Maybe the woman I’d seen wasn’t Sharon. Maybe this wasn’t her house. Maybe the search I’d done on the internet was wrong. For all I knew, Davin’s mother was working, or had moved, or had never lived here in the first place. I balled my hands into fists in my pockets. I was still wondering if anything good would come from this trip when the door opened.

  “Yes?” The woman I’d seen earlier peered through the door. She only cracked the door a few inches. I could barely see her face in the shadows.

  “Sharon Kinder?”

  “Yes?” she repeated.

  I sighed in relief. “My name’s Dr. Meghan Forester. I work at Compound 26 in Sioux Falls, with your son, Davin. May I come in?” I’d never used my full title before, but I hoped it would make me sound more legitimate.