Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1)

by Ann M. Noser

  he next morning, Mortuary Sciences is swamped because we’ve taken on another hospital’s deceased as well as our own. The other facility is having “technical difficulties,” whatever that means. I’m actually grateful for the extra load. There are a million questions racing around my mind, but there’s only one person I want to discuss them with—Franco. And I’ve no idea when I’ll see him again.

  Gus throws me concerned glances all day, but I pretend not to notice. I’m thorough in my work, concise in my answers to his questions, and perform the clean up routine with perhaps more vigor than usual. I feel slightly dirty, or tainted, and I don’t know why. But I mean to find out.

  On the way to the gym, I try to convince myself that it’s silly to hope to see Franco today. After all, he can’t bike with us until Liam gets permission, and who knows how long that will take? I idly wonder what would happen if we went out there and ran without permission. Would helicopters fly down at us from the sky like I saw in one of Gus’ old movies once? Would the Suits haul us away like they did with that poor, pregnant red-haired girl?

  Maybe I don’t want to know what would happen.

  Squelching one last silent plea for Franco to make an unexpected appearance, I reach the 37th Northwest Street Gym and race up the steps to the glass doors. Again, Liam is waiting for me, a sheepish look on his face.

  He grimaces. “You’re not really going to make me take this yoga class, are you?”

  “You promised you wouldn’t weenie out on me. Come on. We need to strengthen our core muscles just as much as we need to log miles.”

  He groans.

  “Plus, it decreases our chances of getting injured.” I start to bluff. “And, last night, I read an article about someone who won this race once, and she did yoga three times a week.”

  Liam’s eyes widen. “Really?”

  “Um. No. Actually, the woman came in mid-pack, but—”

  Liam puts his palms together to beg. “Please don’t make me do this. It’s all girls in there.”

  “Yeah, girls wearing tight tank tops and clingy shorts.” I put my hand on my hip. “But I thought you’d like that.”

  Liam grins. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. Now, I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Promise you won’t embarrass me in there.”

  He winks, and I hurry off to the locker room then pick up two yoga mats before hunting for him in the hallway. After passing the classroom twice, I duck my head in to find him chatting up the lithe, petite instructor. I roll my eyes, but at least it should be easier to get him in here next time.

  Liam knows nothing about yoga, and this is a moderately advanced strength class. He teeters in tree stance. He wobbles in warrior. He falls down doing a backbend, causing a smattering of stifled giggles across the classroom. The instructor smiles and gives encouragement. She circles the room, assisting everyone, but pays particular attention to Liam, the golden-boy.

  By the end of the class, Liam shows his exhaustion. He remains in Savasana—the corpse pose—long after most students have left the room. A slow, grinding noise emits from his throat.

  “Are you actually snoring?” I poke him. “I can’t believe you! How could you fall asleep in a room full of people?”

  He doesn’t move. But he opens one blue eye and moans. “You failed to mention how hard this was going to be.”

  I laugh. “You wouldn’t have believed me if I told you.”

  “That’s probably true.” He slowly sits up. “And you profess to find this a relaxing stress-reliever?”

  I smile. “Yes, I do.”

  “That’s because nobody laughs at you.”

  “It was your first time.” I hide a smirk. “Cut yourself some slack. Besides, it’s so obvious all those females thought you were adorable.”

  He grins. “Told you I’m irresistible.”

  “Okay, Mr. Popular. Now all you have to do is win with this race, and you’ll have a ton more fans.”

  “And what about you?” He stands and rolls up his yoga mat.

  I do the same. “I just want to make my mom happy. Plus, I love running outside. I don’t know what I’ll do once we’re stuck back on the treadmills.”

  “That will suck,” Liam agrees. “Let’s see if our permission to run out in the boonies came through, yet.”

  We approach a perky woman working the front desk.

  “Liam, I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Here’s your permission slip. It says that since those roads are mainly commuter tracks anyway, your training team can train on them between the hours of four and seven p.m. each day.”

  “That’s excellent news.” Liam flashes a winning smile. “Thank you.”

  “When can we start?” My heart races. Despite my growling stomach, I’m ready to go right now if it means I can see Franco.

  “Tomorrow,” Liam answers. “I’ll meet you out front here. We’ll take the monorail out, and Franco can bike back to meet us. Okay?”

  “I can’t wait.” And, boy, do I mean that.

  When I get home, there’s no warm meal waiting for me. Just a leftover spaghetti dish—not a good sign. A crack of light shines around Mom’s bedroom door. I peek through to watch her tuning her violin. When she starts to play, the mournful melody that pours from her soul through the strings stabs my heart.

  This is probably my fault.

  I back away from the door, careful not to make any noise with my feet. If I’m going to dig more in the past, I’ll keep it a secret. She’s been hurt enough as it is.

  At work the next day, I barrel through a mountain of paperwork. Gus is too busy and distracted to send any more questioning looks my way, which is a relief. My limbs overflow with nervous energy. Every single part of me, starting with my brain, wants to see Franco. I need to get him alone to explain what happened with his uncle. I don’t want to do this in front of Liam. I don’t want to hurt him like I hurt my mother.

  Work can’t end fast enough. I rush to the gym, change, then use the steps outside the front door to help stretch out my calves.

  “Why are you so hyper today?” Liam approaches from the street, squinting into the sunshine.

  “I’ve just got energy to burn.”

  “Well, the workout I’ve planned should take care of that. I’ve already discussed it with Franco. He’ll time us with his watch. We’ll warm up for twenty minutes running easy then do ten minutes on, ten minutes off up-tempo run. That sound okay?”

  I’m barely listening. “Fine. I’ll run whatever you want.”

  We catch the next monorail out. It’s standing room only, which is okay, but it makes it a little hard to stretch my quads and hamstrings. The car empties with each passing stop. Once we reach the end, the overhead robotic female voice announces: “Last stop of the line. All citizens must exit on the left side.” We exit the train car. I do a few lunges, but Liam’s eager to dash off.

  “Didn’t that yoga class teach you anything?” I tease.

  “The earlier we start running, the sooner we get to Franco, and the faster we can get started on the pick-ups.”

  “Let’s go.” With the mention of his cousin, my interest in active stretching wanes.

  We start slow to warm up. I glance over at Liam. “What does your family think about you doing this race—besides Franco, I mean?”

  Liam smiles. “They’re into it. My sisters are making race day posters. They’ve plotted out points in town where they’re going to cheer me on.”

  “That’s sweet.” It occurs to me that I haven’t even asked my mom if she’s going to watch the race or not.

  “How about your mom?” he asks.

  “She’s pleased I’m getting involved in activities, but I think she’d be happiest if I didn’t work in Mortuary Sciences.” I tighten my slipping ponytail. “How about your mom?”

  “She’s been cooking up a storm. And even though Franco doesn’t approve, he’s pitching in his rations again, so he’s eating over most nights, and the dude never misses a chanc
e to tell me I’m crazy for signing up for this race.” Liam points at a speck far down the road. “Speak of the devil, I think that’s him. That dot out there.”

  It’s him all right. My heart rate climbs much higher than it should for the easy warm-up we’re doing.

  Franco reaches us and stops his bike. “Greetings, running freaks.”

  No jean jacket in all this heat. Just a T-shirt. The better to see your muscles, my dear. I flush at my own thoughts.

  “Let me set my watch, and we’ll get started,” Franco continues. “And, thanks to Liam’s instructions, I now look like a weirdo with four water bottles taped to my bike.”

  Liam jogs in place. “We’re ready for the first up-tempo.”

  “I’m game if you are,” I profess, but my heart’s racing way too fast as it is.

  “Okay, give me a minute to get situated here.” Franco starts biking alongside us. “And it’s five, four, three, two, one—go!”

  Liam takes off, and, after a moment of confusion, I race after him. Heart hammering in my chest, I pull up alongside. We huff and puff, throwing glances at each other as we dash down the street. After a while, I wonder why we didn’t start with five minute pick-ups instead of ten, but I don’t give up. I match Liam, pace for pace, until Franco calls out, “Okay, stop!”

  We slow to a crawl, breathing hard, and run easy for another ten as Franco hands us each a water bottle. Now, we’re passing greenhouses on the left. The sun warms my hair, and I tighten my ponytail which loosened again during the run. The air smells different out here. Despite the greenhouses, it doesn’t smell like plants. More like… ash. Something that burned a long time ago. Must be the Incinerator. No wonder Franco doesn’t like it.

  Long before I’m fully rested, I hand back the water, and it’s on for ten again. I barely have a chance to throw longing glances at Franco, but the thought of him kissing me makes me push my legs a little bit harder. Can’t think about that right now. Got to focus on these potholes, so I don’t wipe out and hurt myself. During the next ten minute slow down, I peek at Franco, wondering what he’ll say about his uncle. But then we’re on again. And all my questions are thrown to the wind.

  On. Off. On. Off. Exhausting and exhilarating at the same time. Halfway through, we turn around and head back toward the monorail station. Then it’s on and off again for another five sets.

  “That’s the last one.” Franco pedals alongside us. “Now, it’s time for a cool down.”

  Liam puffs. “I want to keep going.” He pulls ahead.

  Franco turns to me, narrowly missing a pothole. “How about you?”

  “Not me. I’m good right here.” I need to get him alone. I’ve got so many questions.

  “I’m sticking with Silvia!” Franco calls out.

  Liam waves back.

  Franco hands me a water bottle. “Now, what do you want to do?”

  “Run a slow ten to fifteen minutes. And then walk the rest of the cool down.”

  “Okay, gotcha.” Franco eases his pace.

  “Thanks.” I take a deep breath. It’s now or never. “Actually, I’m glad I have you alone.”

  “You are?” He smirks, and the way he raises one eyebrow tugs at my heart.

  “I want to ask more about your uncle,” I explain. “And I didn’t want to do it in front of Liam.”

  Franco averts his eyes. “Okay, then. Shoot.”

  “My mom says that your uncle was Dad’s replacement that night.” Despite the slow pace, my heart races while my voice remains even. “That the reason Dad didn’t come home on time for my birthday was that your uncle called in sick. But then he was there after all. How he could both be out sick and there at the same time? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Franco clenches his hands. “That’s a fair question.”

  “And?”

  “He wasn’t sick. I was there that night at Uncle Jack’s apartment, so I know what happened.”

  My gut clenches, and I feel queasy. “Then why did he call in?”

  Franco sighs. “Jack and Linda—that’s Liam’s mom—were fighting about the kids, or cleaning, or something stupid like that. Linda didn’t want him to go in to work, so he made up an excuse. Then he felt bad and went in after all.”

  “That’s it?” What a simple answer to a complicated question.

  He nods. “That’s it.”

  I frown. I want to say, “My Dad would be alive if Jack had gone in on time like he was supposed to.” But that’s too harsh to speak out loud. It’s not like I’m the only one who suffered. Franco lost his uncle and Liam his father, too.

  “Poor Linda,” I say, finally. “I’ll bet she wishes she’d kept fighting. Then maybe Jack would be alive.”

  We carry on in silence for a while. Franco opens and shuts his mouth a few times, but he never says a thing. I don’t trust what I’d say out loud at this point, so I concentrate on my cool down. Eventually, I can’t take the emptiness between us, and I grasp for a safe topic.

  “Liam took his first yoga class yesterday.”

  Franco laughs so hard that he has to stop biking.

  I run in place, turning to face him. “Is it really that funny? It’s a good thing to do.”

  “Okay. I’ll try to control myself.” He wipes his eyes. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’ve just given me hours of enjoyment. I’m going to torture him forever. You’ll have to forgive me.”

  “Yoga isn’t just for girls.” I frown. For a grown man, sometimes he acts awfully immature. Is that normal?

  “Of course not. But Liam swore to me, years ago, he wouldn’t be caught dead doing any of those girly classes at the gym. This is priceless, really.”

  “I don’t think I understand the relationship between you two.”

  “It’s simple. We bug each other to death.” Franco glances first at his watch and then down the road ahead of us. “It’s already been ten minutes. Here comes Liam.” He catches my gaze. “And if I could ask you a favor, please don’t talk about Jack around him, okay?”

  “I won’t,” I promise.

  Franco raises his voice as Liam approaches. “And over there’s the hydroponics project. I’ll have to bring you there someday. We didn’t get a chance to go through it last time.”

  “Why’s it so far away from your other projects?” I ask, playing along. “Isn’t that inconvenient?”

  He shrugs. “It was the only greenhouse available when we started. It’s only a hassle during the winter months when travel sucks.”

  Liam stops in front of us. “Don’t tell me I’m going to have to listen to all this scientific crap every time the two of you are together.”

  Franco tosses me a secret smile then dismounts from his bike. “Man, my muscles feel tight. And I wasn’t even running. Hey, Silvia, since you’re the yoga expert, what are some good stretches for biking?”

  “It depends. Where are you stiff?” Oh no. Please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.

  The second we get back on the monorail, Liam collapses on the nearest open seat. The car is mostly vacant since rush hour is over. Franco stands nearby, steadying his bike with one hand. I lean against a support pole and stretch my quads.

  “Oh, man. I’ve never been more tired in my life.” Liam moans and closes his eyes.

  Franco smirks. “I told you running this race was a stupid idea—on so many levels.”

  After checking that the seats behind me are empty, I lunge forward to stretch my hip flexors. Upon rising, I find Franco’s eyes upon me.

  “So, yoga goddess, what’s that pose called?” he asks.

  I flush. “Dragon.”

  “Dragon, huh?” Franco keeps watching me. “Show me another one.”

  Feeling like an idiot, I draw up my foot to my inner thigh then raise my arms in the air, hoping the train doesn’t make a sudden sharp turn and topple me over.

  “That one must be called music box dancer,” guesses Franco.

  “Nope. It’s ‘tree.’” I put my foot back on the
ground.

  “You don’t look much like a tree, and I should know. I work in Plant Production.” Franco kicks at Liam’s foot. “What do you think, Mr. Yoga? I heard from Silvia that you took a class yesterday.”

  Liam opens one eye to glare at me. “Traitor.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with yoga,” I argue.

  “Unless you’re a boy,” interjects Franco.

  “Don’t be so closed-minded. Saying things like that will only make it harder to convince Liam to go with me.”

  “I’ll make you a deal: if you’ve ever been to a yoga class with more male than female students present, I’ll take it back. Now, tell the truth. Has that ever happened?”

  I pause to think. “Okay, you’re right. It’s never happened. There’s only a few guys present, if any.”

  Franco nods. “I told you.”

  I narrow my eyes and point at him. “But, just to play Devil’s Advocate, did you know that there are now twice as many women as men working in Plant Production?”

  A slow smile crawls across his face. “Yes, I did notice that.”

  Liam smirks. “So, how come you still can’t get a girlfriend?”

  Franco glares at his cousin.

  I’m very glad to hear this, but keep talking to hide my joy. “So, by your reasoning if yoga is just for girls, due to female to male ratio, then so are the Botanical Sciences.”

  “I stand corrected.” Franco mock-bows. “But let me assure you that you’ll never get me into any yoga classes.”

  “You’re missing out. And speaking of that, Liam, you should be stretching right now.” I bend over to loosen my hamstrings then keep readjusting my stance because I feel self-conscious about shoving my butt in the air. Before I can really get a good stretch in, I stand to avoid the whole issue altogether. “You’re going to cramp up from the lactic acid plopping down like that after a hard workout.”

  “I’m curious about something, Silvia.” Franco smirks. “How do you seem to know so much about running? Poor Liam here knows absolutely nothing.”