Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1)

by Ann M. Noser

  A lump forms in my throat. “And, here, I thought we were friends.” I gaze down at the streets below. “But we’re not. You’re just like one of them.”

  Liam’s voice hardens. “All my life I’ve wanted to be someone important. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get there.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I push myself away from the window, my heart hard and cold. Thick carpet muffles my steps back to the entrance door. “I sure hope you don’t lose yourself in your pursuit to become someone else because I liked you better before the race. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  I let the door slam shut behind me.

  ride up the elevator alone. Loud music welcomes me back to the party, muffling the overhead robotic announcement that I’ve reached the top floor. I scan the crowd for Mom, hoping I can convince her to leave early. Parties are supposed to be fun. This is more like torture.

  I skirt around the dance floor which opened up in my absence. A small orchestra plays an upbeat tune that I might appreciate if I wasn’t in such a hurry to escape. It takes three sweeps of the giant, open room to find Mom. She’s deep in conversation with an older gentleman wearing glasses and carrying a cane. She waves when I catch her eye but doesn’t invite me to join her. And so I wait, leaning on the nearest wall.

  The room spins and swirls with busy activity. Only I am as unmoving as stone. Once I realize Mom has no intention of ending her conversation any time soon, I search for food. But the buffet tables have all been removed, save for one, which has been picked over. As I gaze in disappointment, several white-coated servers come and remove the serving trays.

  I sigh. My feet ache. My stomach growls. And my head and heart are sore. I’m pretty sure none of the Harmans like me now. Franco only feels sorry for me. Linda has always hated me, and, now, it seems Liam’s decided to join her in that opinion.

  But who cares? I don’t need them anyway. I don’t need anybody but myself. And food. Food would be nice here.

  “Hey, Silvia, I saved you a plate.” Franco startles me with a tap on the shoulder.

  I swing around. A gorgeous man in a black tux hands me a heaping plate of cinnamon rolls and fruit. I swear I can feel my stomach smile. I grab the plate out of his waiting hands.

  “Oh, my gosh, I love you.” I flush. “I mean—thanks. This looks great.”

  He laughs. “I figured you might be hungry.”

  “You’re right.” I don’t even have the patience to not talk with my mouth full. “I’m starving.”

  “Plus, I figured you are one of the few people I think deserve this level of extravagance.” He waves an arm around the room.

  “Yeah, isn’t this place crazy?” I lick frosting off my fingers.

  “Yes. Feast your eyes on another government-run, so-called-non-profit organization. Or, as they say, see how the other half lives.”

  I shrug. “Well, if they only do this celebration every five to ten years, I guess it doesn’t bother me.”

  “Oh, no, my innocent little Silvia.”

  I cringe, suddenly feeling like a four-year-old at a big kid’s birthday party.

  He scowls. “They eat like this all the time.”

  I stop chewing for a moment, swallow, and then speak. “They couldn’t. It’s so wasteful.”

  “But they do.” He cocks his head. “I’ve been talking with the servers. They work at shindigs just like this at least once, if not twice, a week.”

  “While the rest of us are on rations?”

  “Now, you’re catching up. Don’t you know that the real motto of the New Order is ‘Liberty and Justice for None, and Thievery and Gluttony by a Few?’“

  I lower my voice. “How can you talk like that so openly in here?”

  He gestures toward the orchestra. “Who’s going to hear me over that mambo? And you’re the only one I want to talk to here, anyway.”

  “What about Liam?”

  His face tenses. “I’m not sure I trust him anymore.”

  “Really? Then I’m not the only one who thinks he’s changed.”

  He frowns. “I’m afraid not.” In a flash, the dark mood covering his face vanishes. “Are you done eating?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s dance.” He takes my hand, leads me to the dance floor, and puts his arms around me.

  I’m too stunned to object. And, sure enough, it’s a slow dance. He holds me close. I can feel the heat from his body radiate into mine. I try not to hold on too tight. I don’t want him to know how much I care about him. There’s no point.

  He whispers in my ear. “I wanted to ask you: what happened today? Why’d you freak out on the course? What made you stop just before the finish line?”

  I consider what to say and decide to be brief, blunt, and honest.

  “I thought I saw my father,” I whisper back. And that’s the truth. Let’s see how he likes it. “Along with some other dead people.”

  “I suppose that’s a job hazard for you.” He holds me tighter.

  I tense. I can’t do this. Not if he thinks of me as a kid. Not if he pities me. Not when my entire being urges me to kiss him. I can’t stand this close and still be so far away.

  I take a step back, releasing his hold on me. “Franco… I—”

  The orchestra goes silent.

  “Quiet everyone!” Representative Waters-Royce demands over the orchestra microphone. “I have an announcement to make.”

  A drumroll begins. The titan-haired politician gestures into the crowd, and Liam steps up on the small raised platform.

  She holds his hand up in the air, her chin raised proudly. “Liam Harman has just accepted a high level position in Argos, our fair sister city to the south!”

  The room erupts in applause. Except for Franco. His face pales.

  I whisper into his ear. “I knew I hated her for good reason.”

  He leans on me as if he’s lost all strength to stand on his own. “Silvia, you’re the only one here who makes any sense. Please, take me home. I can’t watch any more of this charade.”

  I wave my mother over. She rushes up, takes one look at Franco’s face, and helps me escort him into the elevator. I try to calm my racing pulse as I hold Franco upright, his body held tight against mine. At the bottom, we shuffle out of the building and to his home, his shoulders slumped and his head hung down.

  “You should be happy for Liam,” encourages Mom. “This sounds like a great opportunity for him.”

  Franco rubs his face with his hands. “Linda’s going to kill me.”

  “But why?” Mom pats him on the shoulder. “Surely she’d be proud of what he’s accomplished.”

  “You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “Linda will go nuts, losing her husband and now her son. I don’t know how to tell her he’s leaving.”

  “Then let Liam tell her instead.” I place a tentative hand on his shoulder. Even if he only pities me, all I want is for his sadness to end.

  Franco sighs. “No. I have to prepare her before he gets home. She won’t want him to know how she really feels.”

  Mom frowns. “I see. You better head over there right now, then, so you get there first.”

  “I know.” He groans. “I tried to stop him from racing, but even that bike accident hardly slowed him down.” He covers his face with his hands. “Oh, man, how am I going to tell her? She’s going to blame me. I know she will.”

  “Tell her to blame me, instead,” I suggest. “Why not? She hates me anyway.”

  We’ve reached Liam’s building. Franco gazes up to their apartment window, and releases a deep sigh. “She doesn’t hate you,” he says.

  “Yes, she does.”

  Franco turns to stare at me a long moment before wrapping me in an unexpected hug.

  My heart almost stops beating and I find it impossible to breathe. I don’t dare glance over at my mother. I can’t handle what I expect to find in her eyes—disapproval.

  He releases his grip. “Thanks, but it won’t make any difference. T
he result is the same. Liam will move to another city, and Linda may never see him again. Just like all the others Chosen before him. Goodnight, both of you, and thank you.”

  Franco half-heartedly waves as he heads inside, leaving us hovering under the street city lights.

  Mom turns away before I do. “I wonder if you’ll ever see him again.”

  I don’t ask if she means Franco or Liam.

  I don’t want to know.

  he following two weeks crawl by. Liam leaves town in a hurry. I never even get a chance to say goodbye, but maybe that was his choice. He made it clear at the party that he was disappointed in me. And that goes both ways.

  Any worries I might have had about never seeing Franco again have vanished. Ever since the race, he’s popped into Mortuary Sciences on a daily basis, the same question on his lips every time.

  “Have you heard anything from Liam?” Franco asks, a hopeful light in his face that I don’t wish to crush.

  But I must.

  “No. Sorry.” I shake my head. I’m sure Liam would never contact me before his family, but I don’t tell Franco that.

  “Linda’s getting worried.” He frowns. “It’s been five days, and not one word from him. We were told that, although transportation between cities is treacherous, once a person gets there safely, communications are still good.”

  Gus zips up another body bag. “I’m so sorry, Franco. This must be hard for your family.”

  Franco turns away, either unwilling or unable to talk. His shoulders sag, and he wanders from the morgue like he just lost his best friend—which I suppose he did.

  Gus and I share a long look. I’m not sure what he will think when I rush after Franco, but he doesn’t say a thing as I dash out the sliding glass door.

  “Franco, wait!” I catch him at the base of the stairs.

  He turns to face me, his gaze on the floor. “I’m sorry to keep bothering you.”

  “Don’t be silly.” I reach out to touch him arm and pause, my hand held in mid-air. “It’s no bother. I’m worried, too.”

  His eyes water. “What happened to him?” he whispers, finally raising his teary gaze to mine.

  I drop my hand to my side, my stomach sinking. “I don’t know, but I’m sure he’s fine.” If he’s fine, though, why does my voice catch?

  He gives me a slight smile. “You’re sure? Could I get a guarantee with that?”

  I swallow. “I don’t know. I want him to be all right, so that’s what I’m going to believe.” I know why he doesn’t contact me, but I’ve no idea why he’d hold out on his mom and sisters, too.

  Franco sighs. “Well, he’s mad at me, so I’m not shocked he hasn’t messaged me, but you’re his friend. He’ll write you eventually. Maybe he’s just gotten lazy.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” Maybe not.

  He chuckles, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I’m sure you think all we did was fight, but I miss him.”

  “I know you do.”

  “Anyway… thanks for listening.” He turns as if to go then spins back, grabbing me into another hug. And this time, my mother isn’t watching.

  My heart is in my throat. His arms are gripped so tightly around me. It takes me half a second to respond, then I tentatively encircle my own arms around him, my hands resting on the back of his jean jacket. Within my arms, he tenses and shudders then relaxes. My heart hammers and breaks at the same time. He’s in so much pain, and I’d give anything to take it away.

  We stand in silence except for the sound of our breaths in the cool air. The door at the top of the stairs slides open, the wind whooshing through it.

  Franco stirs. “Will you check at the gym again tonight?” he murmurs into my hair.

  “Yeah, of course.” I nod.

  And then he’s gone, taking any shred of happiness I had left with him.

  After work, I head toward the 37th Street Gym for yoga class. I haven’t run since Liam left town. I tell myself I’m taking rest days, but it’s more than that. I glance between the tall buildings lining the streets. The sun doesn’t even seem to shine right anymore.

  I hurry inside the gym and get stopped at the check-in desk.

  “Silvia Wood?” a male attendant inquires. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

  “Yep.”

  “You have two messages.” He turns the electronic reader so I can read them.

  Message #1: Keep running. I’ll be back for the next race.—Liam Harman

  Message #2: You have an appointment tomorrow at 6 a.m. at Citizen Family Planning Services.

  I groan. “Not again.”

  The next morning, I perch on the edge of one of Family Planning’s chairs, ready to leave as soon as they’re done with me. The nurse scans my arm then hands me a cup.

  I stare at it. “Is this another pregnancy test?”

  She smiles. “Yes. Just taking normal precautions.”

  “Fine.” I go to the bathroom and pee in the cup, just like they want me to. It’s not worth the effort to fight it, but this is getting ridiculous.

  Thirty long minutes later, a different nurse enters the room, a puzzled look on her face. “You’re negative.”

  I stand, grabbing my gym bag. “I could’ve told you that when I walked in here.”

  “But…” She pauses.

  “Can I go now?” I gesture toward the door. “I really need to get to work. I didn’t even have a chance to warn my boss I would be late.”

  The nurse doesn’t answer. She taps her fingers on the test result sheet.

  “Do you need anything more from me?” I ask. I really don’t want to pee in a cup again, especially not twice in one day.

  “No… unfortunately. You can go.”

  I rush to work, excited I finally have something to say to Franco when he asks if I’ve heard from Liam. He’ll be happy. He might even smile again—which would be wonderful.

  Now, I’m the one who pities him instead of the other way around.

  There’s a back up in Mortuary Sciences when I arrive.

  “Sorry, Gus.” I set my gym bag on the floor and grab a coat. “I had a last minute appointment.”

  “You’re having a lot of those lately.” Gus’s hair sticks up all over the place. It’s even messier than usual. He hurries around the room, checking bags and tags. “We’ve got to get everything ready for the Incinerator tomorrow.”

  “I can stay as late as you want. I don’t have anything waiting, and Mom has extra practice for Orchestra.”

  “That would really help me out. Thanks, Silvia.”

  Hours later, we’re all caught up. Gus leans back in his chair, drinking a juice, and I’m scanning a computer article about ankle reconstruction.

  “Got another body for you,” announces a Handler, rolling in a cart.

  Gus sighs as the Handler parks the dead body and leaves. “I’m plain worn out today. I’m getting too old for all this, but don’t tell Edwina Wang that.”

  “Don’t worry.” I jump up out of my chair. “I’ve got this one.”

  I cross the room and search for the chart. It’s not attached to the cart, not tucked under the body bag. I dart out in the hall to see if it fell down when they made that last turn. Nothing.

  I head back into Mortuary Sciences. “Gus, there’s no chart.”

  He groans but doesn’t get out of the chair. “Those Handlers are getting really slack sometimes. I’ll call upstairs for it.”

  “Okay. I’ll get started.” I unzip the bag, starting at the feet. The toes have running calluses.

  That’s strange. The Citizen Race was two weeks ago. I unzip further. Blond hair covers well-muscled lower legs. Ones I’ve seen before.

  I start to tremble. Slowly pull the zipper to the top. My hesitant gaze follows the long incision that runs from the waist up to the chin. To the blue eyes I’d seen almost every day for weeks before the banquet that took him away.

  I back away from the cart, bile flooding my stomach. I cling to the table behind me, my legs useless benea
th me, my breath in gasps.

  Liam. Dead.

  He’s not in Argos. He’s here on my cart.

  Maybe the city of Argos doesn’t even exist.

  All I know is that Liam no longer exists.

  No wonder the sun doesn’t want to shine anymore.

  “No!” My scream echoes, hitting off every metallic surface.

  “No!” I grab everything I can find and fling it across the room. Charts, surgical instruments, and chairs smash into the walls.

  Gus narrowly misses a flying scalpel as he rushes to my side. He grabs my arms and pins them down. “Keep it together, Silvia,” he whispers in my ear. “They’re always watching. Always.”

  The doors slide open behind us.

  I spin around, expecting the Handlers. Or maybe the Suits. At least this time I might have a weapon or two I can use.

  But it’s worse than that.

  It’s Franco.

  My heart tears in two as tears slide down my cheeks.

  “Hey, have you heard from—hey, what’s wrong?” His face blanches as he glances behind us.

  Franco glides to the gurney like a ghost, reaching out a shaking hand to brush back the hair above Liam’s ear. He tries to close the eyelids but can’t. Liam’s eyes remain hauntingly open, revealing a blank, empty death stare.

  Franco’s face crumbles.

  I reach out to him. “I didn’t want you to see this.”

  He backs away. “Don’t touch me. Not now. I want to kill somebody, and I might hurt you.”

  “Franco, you’d better think hard before you do anything rash,” Gus warns. “Or Linda will be left with nobody.”

  Franco glares at Gus. “Give me scissors.”

  “What for?” I ask.

  “Just do it,” he growls.

  I place one in his quivering hand. He snips a curl from Liam’s head, shoves it in his pocket, and turns away. The scissors clatter to the floor as he sweeps out of the room.

  I rush after him. “Where are you going?”

  “I’d say Hell, but I’m already there, aren’t I?” Franco’s voice cracks, and he pauses on the bottom stair. “Take care of yourself, Silvia. I’ll probably never see you again.” He sprints up the stairs, away from me.