Twisted Fate

by Kate L. Mary

  “Looks like they tried to get into the tunnel but couldn’t.” Jim nodded to the keypad next to the door.

  The wall was nicked up and a big chuck had been taken out of the wood molding, but the steel door was as pristine as ever.

  “Here too,” Angus muttered, nodding to the same marks surrounding the other door.

  I’d only been in the basement twice. Once to get more booze to take upstairs, and a second time when we’d fled the city in the middle of the night. I only knew that Dragon’s apartment was behind that door because Glitter had told me the first time I’d come down here. Of course, that didn’t prepare me for what it looked like when he typed in the code and the door popped open.

  “Holy shit,” Al muttered as we walked through the now open doorway. “It’s like going back in time.”

  It must have been, because I’d never seen a place this nice before, with the exception of Jackson’s house, which was so grandiose it had always felt unreal to me. Only in a totally different way than this place did. Dragon’s apartment felt cozy and comfortable. The way a family home should have felt.

  “Get settled in,” Dragon growled. “We have a couple hours yet.”

  We did as we were told, spreading out between the living and dining room while Dragon and Helen disappeared into what I could only assume was a bedroom. I was used to it because they’d done the same thing at the bar, always sneaking off to the office so they could be alone, and I also couldn’t blame them. We were about to head into a situation that could be the end for any one of us, so it made sense that they’d want to be alone right now.

  Conversation was sparse thanks to the tense atmosphere. It felt like all of us were counting down the minutes until we could head out. A heaviness had fallen over me that became more and more intense the closer the time came, but there was also a restless need to get the whole thing over with. To get into the CDC and see with my own eyes that my sister was there, that my dad was okay. To watch them leave and know that they were no longer in Star’s grasp. That they were safe.

  Then there was the knowledge that getting through the CDC was going to be tricky no matter how many distractions we created in the streets. I barely knew Jackson’s father, but I knew that man was an obsessive workaholic. That he sometimes spent twelve or more hours a day in his office. That it hadn’t been unusual for him to stay there for days at a time.

  An indiscernible amount of time passed before Dragon and Helen reappeared and announced that it was time to leave. I noticed that Jim and Jada were already up, and that they looked as antsy as I felt.

  Upstairs, the bar was just as trashed as the basement had been. Every piece of glass behind the counter had been shattered, and not a single drop of booze was left as far as I could tell. Tables had been turned over and chairs smashed. It didn’t look like a single item in the room had been left in usable condition.

  Dragon glowered as Helen patted his arm.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “We knew this would happen.”

  He nodded, but didn’t seem the least bit comforted.

  We stepped out onto the street to find the city dark but not silent. The entertainment district wasn’t completely deserted, but it wasn’t as busy as it usually was this time of night. Music still floated from the open doors of a few buildings and two people who where clearly intoxicated argued in an alley, but otherwise it seemed that most of the population was off at the festival. It sounded that way, too. Music rang through the air, rising between the buildings and filling the sky with its pulsating rhythm. Cheers and chants joined the beat, making it nearly impossible to talk as we headed down the street.

  We stuck to the shadows as we walked, pausing at the end of each street so we could make sure the coast was clear. We passed a handful of bums and addicts, but thanks to the recent flu a lot of the people who usually skulked in the shadows were now gone. I hated thinking like that, hated thanking a bug for killing people needlessly, but right now I had to. The fewer people we ran into, the better off we would be.

  The closer we got to the CDC, the louder the festival became. My Uncle Angus was in front of me, and he seemed incapable of going more than a minute without shaking his head in disgust. It was probably a pretty big thing to wrap your brain around, people celebrating in the streets because you’d supposedly died twenty years ago. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how he felt.

  We stopped when we were still a block away from the CDC and hunkered down in a dark alley. Donaghy was at my side, and even though he hadn’t complained once, I could feel his body trembling. It terrified me, thinking that he may not make it through the CDC, that he may be forced to flee with Margot and Dad. If that happened, I wouldn’t be able to get him the vaccine right away. Depending on how long it took us to get out of the city, the injection could be delayed by hours. Did he have hours? The transfusion had helped, but I could tell that the virus was once again winning the war raging inside him.

  I wrapped my hand around his. “Hang in there.”

  He only nodded.

  The explosion was our cue to get ready. It rocked through the air, seeming to shake the buildings around us even though we were so far away that I was sure it was only my imagination. A fire blast followed only a few seconds later, lighting up the sky. Screams rose up from the festival but the music didn’t stop. I wondered how the High Priestess would explain it. Would she say it was Angus knocking the walls of New Atlanta down? It would keep people calm, but if the crowds didn’t flee they would end up as sitting ducks for the horde that would soon be heading their way.

  It was only a matter of minutes before more screams broke through the air. Gunshots followed and we knew the zombies had found the partygoers. I cringed but tried to tell myself we’d had to do it. People were dying, but if we could get into the CDC, everyone who survived today would be saved.

  “Let’s go!” Jim hissed over the chaos that was spreading through the city.

  We moved as a group. Donaghy and I were somewhere in the middle and I stuck close to him, knowing that he might need help if the virus suddenly took hold of him the way it had earlier. It took us less than five minutes to reach the door, but we were all panting when we stopped outside. Helen knocked twice while I looked from Donaghy to the people around me, and then the street at our backs, half-expecting to see someone or something chasing after us. There was no one though, and a second later the door was ripped open.

  “It’s clear,” the man in front of us said, waving for us to come in. “Let’s move.”

  I got a good enough look at him before he turned and ran to determine that he was in his late forties, with a bushy mustache and salt and pepper hair. That was the biggest impression he made, but it didn’t really matter once we were inside and running down the bright, sterile halls of the CDC, because my focus switched from the man who had let us in to what we were about to face.

  We’d only been in the building for two minutes tops when guards turned the corner in front of us. Shots rang out, echoing in my ears and head before I’d even had time to register that there was trouble. Jim was in the lead, with Jada and Angus running at his side, and I wasn’t sure who had fired, but it didn’t matter because the men blocking our way went down in a burst of red and then Jim was yelling for us to keep running.

  When we reached the bodies we had to hop over their motionless forms to keep from tripping, and even though I did my best not to look them directly in the eye, I couldn’t help myself. I knew their blank stares would haunt me forever.

  The building was a maze, the halls twisting and turning, looking exactly the same no matter how many times we turned a corner. White walls, white floors, bright lights, and dark labs. I was in the middle, holding onto Donaghy’s arm as I ran, and I was thankful that the others were leading the way. Before we’d left I’d spent time studying the map just like everyone else had, but never had I pictured every hall and room looking exactly the same. It all blurred together as we passed doorway after doorway until I coul
dn’t keep track of how many turns we’d made or how long we’d been in the building.

  Thank God Helen was with us.

  By the time we finally reached the end of the line, I was having a difficult time catching my breath. The group screeched to a halt outside a closed door and Donaghy practically collapsed against the wall. His forehead was beaded with sweat, but he was shivering and his skin seemed three shades paler than it had when we’d left Dragon’s apartment. I pressed my hands to his cheeks while in front of me Helen got to work on the keypad, punching in numbers so fast that the beeps blended together. His face was on fire.

  “You okay?” I asked. “Are you going to make it?”

  “I’m okay.” He shook his head like he was trying to clear it and I couldn’t help wondering if he was delirious yet. If he wasn’t now, he would be soon.

  “We’re in!” Helen called.

  The door was pulled open and we all rushed to get through the door at once. I was pushed through a few people ahead of Donaghy, but for the first time I didn’t care because he wasn’t my focus now.

  The hallway that stretched out in front of us was as white and clean as the rest of the building had been, but the scent of death hung heavy in the air. Just like every other hall we’d run through, windows and doors lined each side in perfect rows, only these were all accompanied by a keypad.

  I moved forward, pushing past Jada and Jim and stumbling deeper into the hall. The first window I came to looked into a room that was as white and sterile as a doctor’s office. It held a bed and a couch, a table and a couple chairs, and even though it was empty of people, the sight of it made my heart pound faster.

  Behind me someone gasped, and I spun around. The face in front of me was so familiar that I could have drawn it with my eyes closed. He was right on the other side of the glass, banged up and bruised, but alive and staring back at us with a shocked expression on his face.

  “Dad,” I stammered, stumbling forward just as Mom gasped, “Axl.”

  Helen was already typing in the code, the beeps echoing through the hall in tune with my pounding heart. Then the door to the cell clicked open, and the sound was so loud that it sounded like chains falling away.

  Dad yanked the door open wider and stumbled into the hall, reaching out for Mom before doing the same with me. She didn’t hug him so much as run her hands over his bare chest and up to his face, as if desperate to feel every inch of him. He put one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close while doing the same to me with his other arm, and the three of us stood like that for a few seconds, clinging to each other and to this moment.

  When he pulled back, it was only enough that he was able to look us over. “Never thought I’d see you again,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

  I took a moment to get a good look at him, taking stock of what Jackson had done in his rage. One of my dad’s eyes was so swollen that it was sealed shut, but the other was alert and filled with tears of happiness. He had a cut on his lower lip, just above the scar on his chin, and the entire left side of his face was purple and swollen, but he was in one piece. He was alert and standing and obviously healthy enough that they’d sent him back to his cell. Thank God.

  “Here!” Helen called from behind us, breaking through our reunion.

  All three of us turned at the same time to find her standing outside another open door, waving for us to hurry.

  “We need to move. Now!”

  “Margot,” Mom gasped.

  She pulled away from Dad and hurried down the hall. I turned to follow, but just as I was about to step away, Dad leaned against the wall like standing was too much for him. He didn’t fall to the floor, but he acted like he might if he wasn’t careful, and I found myself reaching for him, holding him up the way I had with Donaghy as we’d rushed through the CDC only moments before.

  “Are you okay?”

  Dad nodded, but the wince of pain that passed over his damaged face told a different story. “I’ll be alright. We’re all gonna be okay now.”

  “Help your momma,” Angus said from behind me. “I got him.”

  Dad looked up at the sound of his brother’s voice, and the recognition that flickered in his gray eye was filled with both awe and pain. His mouth dropped open as he reached out, his hands grabbing at Angus’s shirt like he was trying to find something to hold onto. Dad’s lips moved, but no words came out, and he couldn’t stop shaking his head.

  “It’s me,” Angus said, taking my place at his brother’s side. “You ain’t seein’ things.”

  “Angus,” Dad finally managed to get out.

  This time when he slumped forward, his head dropped to the side.

  “What happened?” Mom asked, coming up behind us.

  She had Margot, who was wrapped in a sheet and trembling. I hadn’t seen my sister in nine years, but I’d recognize her anywhere. Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, were exact replicas of Mom’s. Brown and soft and so beautiful it made me want to cry.

  “Margot,” I gasped just as my uncle said, “Passed out. It’s probably the head injury. We gotta get him outta here.”

  My sister looked at me and blinked. She didn’t seem to know what was happening or who any of us were, but she didn’t fight Mom or protest. In fact, she didn’t say anything. What had they done to her? It made me ache to think about it, and I found myself hoping that she was simply out of it from something they had her on. Once it had worked its way out of her system, she would remember us. She had to.

  “You need to go. Now,” Helen called.

  Angus tried to haul his brother—my father—toward the door, but we all knew he couldn’t leave. We needed him here with us because he was the one who knew about the failsafe and where the code was.

  When Dragon stepped up beside him and took Axl’s arm, Helen frowned. “He’s going to need help,” Dragon told her.

  Helen pressed her lips together, but it only took a moment for her to nod. “Fine,” she snapped, and then turned to the guard who had let us in. “Lead them back the way we came and make sure they get out of here safely.”

  The guard nodded and headed for the door.

  Mom took one step after him before stopping and turning to face me. Her eyes swam with worry and pain and so many other emotions I couldn’t name them all, but she looked more like herself. Like the strong woman who had raised me.

  “Be careful.” She had one arm around Margot and my sister was leaning on her like she couldn’t stand, but Mom used the other one to give me a half hug.

  I swallowed and pushed the images of my sister being tortured and writhing in pain from my mind. “I will.”

  Mom squeezed me so hard that it felt like my ribs would snap. “I love you, Megan.”

  “I love you,” I replied.

  I stepped back when she released me, but not before grabbing my sister’s hand and giving it a squeeze. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing and instead allowed Mom to pull her away.

  Next to me Dragon and Helen were saying their own goodbyes, but when I stopped at my boss’s side it was my unconscious father I was focused on.

  “Hang in there, Daddy,” I whispered as I kissed his temple. I hadn’t called him Daddy in probably fifteen years, but at that moment I felt overwhelmed by the memories of my childhood. By the images of this man playing with me, tickling me, making me laugh.

  “Be careful,” Dragon said to Helen.

  “I will,” she replied.

  The kiss she gave him was quick but full of feeling, and then he was off, supporting Dad as he followed the rest of my family down the hall and hopefully to safety.

  Seventeen

  Meg

  Before the others had even disappeared from view, Angus charged into the room we’d just freed Dad from. Through the window the rest of us watched in tense silence as he rummaged through an old bookshelf. It only took seconds for him to find what he needed, and when he came back into the hall he was holding a book of crossword puzzles. He frowned as he f
lipped through it; his gaze so focused on the book that he seemed to forget anyone else was around. He turned page after page until he was near the back of the book, and then he froze as if mesmerized by whatever was written there.

  He snapped out of it fast though, and then he was heading back into the cell with his thumb stuck between the pages, muttering, “Need a pen.”

  “Angus,” Jada called. “We need to hurry.”

  “I’m doin’ what I can,” he responded.

  When he sat down at the table, the tattooed woman let out a huff and went into the room. I did too, feeling suddenly compelled to find out what was happening. He was flipping through the pages again, stopping every now and then so he could jot a number down on his arm. When I leaned forward and got a better look at the pages, I saw that most of the puzzles were filled in, but not with answers. With names. Axl. Vivian. Emily. Hadley. Jon. Rambo. Megan. Jane. Baby. Father. Daughter. It looked like the ranting of a mad man, but to Angus there seemed to be a pattern.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked when he jotted the number five down on his arm, and then flipped the page again. It was the seventh number, and he was still searching.

  “See here—” He pointed to eight down where the word Jane had been filled in. “Every time I wrote her name it’s a number in the code. I just gotta find ‘em all.”

  “It’s genius,” I said, marveling at the way he was able to hide something so important in a book that looked like nothing but nonsense.

  “I knew I wouldn’t be able to remember it forever, so I hid it.” Angus nodded twice and flipped to the last puzzle in the book. There the name Jane was written in three across.

  He shut the book after he’d scribbled the final number on his arm, and then got to his feet, but he didn’t leave it behind. Instead, he folded the book in half and shoved it in his back pocket. I couldn’t believe he wanted to keep it. It must have held some horrible memories, years and years of sitting here as a prisoner, of living a hopeless and miserable existence. Why would he want to remember that?