Rogue

by Gina Damico

  Driggs looked more than disturbed by that last part, but he turned to Lex, mouthed “Love you,” and was gone.

  They rode the rest of the way down in silence, Lex wondering the whole time how it could possibly get worse than this, but knowing with certainty that it would.

  ***

  When four minutes and fifty-five seconds had elapsed, Boulder reached out and pressed a few buttons. The elevator screeched to a halt.

  “What are you doing?” Lex asked.

  “The citizens will be expecting us to get out at ground level. They’ll mob us,” Boulder said. “This is the second floor, so we can hopefully get the jump on them. It’ll give us enough time to explain what happened.”

  The door opened into a space that looked like a hotel corridor. Boulder exited the elevator and crossed to a large painting, which he removed from the wall to reveal a door.

  Uncle Mort raised an eyebrow. “Backways?”

  Boulder nodded. “Skyla isn’t as slick as she thinks she is.”

  Elysia helped Ferbus up from the floor while Lex grabbed Bang by the elbows and pulled. She arose without a struggle, but her hair still covered her face. What little amount of skin Lex could see was wet with tears.

  They walked through the door—Boulder barely fit—and pounded down one last set of stairs. “Hang on. I remember this hall,” Elysia said as they walked. She pointed. “There, that’s where—”

  Driggs and I had a lovely discussion about how he murdered his parents, Lex silently filled in. She missed him already.

  Then she frowned. If this was the same hallway, then that door Boulder was now opening led to . . .

  “Oh, no,” she said. “Not again.”

  The smoky, suffocating air of the Hole wafted out into the hallway, turning Lex’s stomach. “We’ll go fast this time,” Uncle Mort promised when he saw her face. “Come on.”

  And so for the second time in two days they marched right back into hell on earth. Lex plugged her ears, not wanting to hear a peep out of those tormented souls, but she couldn’t drown out the guy who was still going on about sitting in solemn silence on a dull, dark dock.

  “I’m going to throw up,” Lex said to herself, or Elysia, or maybe no one at all. The room was even worse than before. The screaming girl they’d heard the first time was getting louder, more desperate. Lex thought about closing her eyes, but falling into the Hole was absolutely the last thing she wanted to do. So she stared at her sneakers instead, causing her to bump into Elysia.

  “What are you doing?” Lex screeched, her voice veering into hysterics. “Why’d you stop?”

  She could barely be heard over the screaming girl, who seemed to be very close. Extremely close.

  In the Hole Elysia had paused to stare into.

  “Norwood said he had other business in coming here,” Elysia said. “That’s what he said, that he was transporting a prisoner.”

  At the word “prisoner,” Lex’s mind flew back to the battle at Grave. There had been someone standing off to the side wearing an executioner’s hood. Was that who Norwood was talking about?

  Lex looked down and squinted hard as the smoke cleared.

  The screaming girl—the prisoner—was Sofi.

  In the space of only a few days she’d already lost a ton of weight. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair wild and strawlike. The unbearable wails kept coming out of her cracked, chapped lips, her always perfectly manicured nails ripped and torn from clawing at the sides of the Hole.

  Now Lex really did think she was going to throw up. Sofi had betrayed her and all of Croak, had helped Zara kill Driggs, and had generally been a jealous asshat ever since Lex met her . . . but she didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this.

  “Keep moving, girls,” Boulder called from up ahead. “Come on, we’re almost out!”

  “There’s nothing we can do,” Lex whispered, pulling on Elysia’s arm, yet unable to tear her eyes away.

  Elysia pressed her lips together, resolute. “Yes, there is.” In one swift movement she drew Skyla’s scythe out of her pocket, dropped it to the floor, and, with a twitch of her foot, kicked it into the Hole.

  The noise of it clattering down the stone sides faded as Elysia grabbed Lex’s hand, taking off again. They rushed toward the door that Boulder was holding open for them and burst out into the brightly lit hallway.

  “What did you do that for?” Lex asked her as they ran. “Uncle Mort never gave Sofi the Loophole—she can’t Crash!”

  “I know,” Elysia said, her jaw set. “It wasn’t for Crashing.”

  ***

  The lobby of Necropolis was pure chaos.

  Word had spread that President Knell had been killed, but the citizens seemed to be wildly confused about who had done it and whether they were still on the loose. Some had gathered at the windows, craning their necks to get a glimpse of the office, while others stood in aimless clusters, looking around for any more danger that might be lurking—

  And fully unaware that the danger was marching right through the lobby. “Someone’s going to recognize us,” Lex said to Uncle Mort without looking at him or moving her lips.

  “No, they’re not,” he said, staring forward, keeping the same straight face. “The guards aren’t even watching.”

  He was right. What few guards were left in the lobby were scattered, disorganized. They shouted for the citizens to remain calm, all the while sounding fairly panicked themselves. No one knew what had happened, as the only witnesses were now casually strolling toward the front door without a single eye looking their way.

  Until the receptionist let out a shriek. “There they are!”

  Uncle Mort let out a huff of defeat. “Mar-lene,” he whined. “I thought we were cool.”

  “So much for the Wink of Trust,” Lex said.

  The citizens surrounded them, forming a tight circle with the Croakers at its center. “Where do you think you’re going?” one man shouted.

  “They’re the ones!” said another woman. “The fugitives from Croak!”

  “What happened up there? What did you do to her?”

  “They’re saying the president was killed!”

  “She was,” Boulder boomed above all of them. Jaws dropped. “But not by these folks. By Norwood.”

  The new mayor of Croak must have made quite a good name for himself in the greater Grimsphere since taking office, because the hushed whispers that spread through the crowd were laced with the sting of betrayal. “So, uh,” continued Boulder, whose training clearly did not include a unit on how to make eloquent, historical speeches, “we have a new president now—”

  Lex almost forgot! She turned to Uncle Mort, but he was inching closer to Pandora. “You ready?” he quietly asked her.

  Dora grinned. “Have been for years.”

  Boulder grandly gestured to the people in the lobby. “All yours, Madam President.”

  Elysia and Lex gasped in perfect harmony. Even the half-unconscious Ferbus gurgled something.

  “Thanks, kid.” Pandora took a big step out in front of everyone and assumed the air of a grizzled five-star general. “Now then. For years this place has stunk to high heaven,” she said in a voice that was much louder than her tiny frame should have been able to produce. It filled the lobby. “Run by a bunch of knuckleheads who couldn’t recognize disaster when they saw it right in front of their faces. Or worse, chose not to. Well, all that’s going to change.”

  Lex had been so out of it, she’d barely noticed that when Dora took her shirt off in the elevator, she continued to change her whole outfit: she was now wearing a black hoodie, cargo pants, and boots instead of whatever it was that old women wear. She looked imposing, staunch, like a drill sergeant. Scary.

  “Odds are,” she continued, “you’re not going to like these changes. They will upheave your way of life, and they’re not going to be easy to accept. You might protest against them, and that’s certainly your right, but believe me, these changes are for the better. Furthermore,
let it be known that my full support is behind this brave band of yahoos standing behind me, and anyone who tries to interfere with their objectives will henceforth be prosecuted to the full extent of the Terms of Execution.”

  She clapped her hands together. “That’s all! Any questions, the door to my office is always open. Er—once I get a door. Heck, once I get an office.”

  At that, the crowd dissolved into frenzied murmurs, but the tone was calmer than the panic they’d been swept up in just moments before. “That oughta hold ’em,” Pandora said, dusting her hands off. “You kids ready to go?”

  “Not yet,” said Uncle Mort, reaching into his bag. “Here.” He handed her the perforator. “Just remember to brace yourself. It’s got a kick to it.”

  Then, to the Juniors’ surprise, he swept her up in a hug. Lex couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other; she was still too busy trying to process what was happening. The only thing she caught, as Dora patted him on the back, was her telling him, “You’ll do just fine.”

  She turned to the Juniors and gave them a warm smile. “Good luck, kids. And stay out of my kitchen!” she said, wagging her gnarled finger. “That deep fryer’ll singe your eyebrows clean off!”

  The Juniors were still too stunned to speak. They just watched as President Pandora strode off to greet her new citizens, head held high and hunch straightened out, looking taller than she ever had before.

  ***

  Though no one tried to stop them as they exited the building, Uncle Mort and his crew still ran as fast as they could, giddy to be free from that tower of nightmares.

  They booked it out the door, past the geographic center monument and the abandoned Stiff, and into an adjacent field. Lex looked back at Necropolis. Through the windows she spotted guards running up and down the elevators, but they were getting hard to see; the smoggy layer around the surface was growing darker, as if every soul in the Afterlife was arriving to watch what happened next.

  “We have to get to a hospital,” Elysia said, straining under the weight of Ferbus. “We’re losing him.”

  “Your FACE is losing him,” Ferbus confirmed.

  “No hospitals,” Uncle Mort said. “They’ll ask for IDs, and we don’t have any. We’re short on time, too.”

  “Then where are we going?” Lex asked.

  “To our ‘in case of emergency.’” He dug around in his bag, shoving aside Pip’s glowing Spark with a wince. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to resort to this, but—” He pulled out a picture and showed it to them. “This is a house outside of Baltimore, Maryland. We’ll have to Crash—which for the record I am not thrilled about, but we are officially out of options.”

  Lex frowned. She’d never seen that house before, nor did she know anyone who lived in Baltimore.

  “Everyone got it?” Uncle Mort held it up to each of them one more time. “Bang? Come on Bang, look.” She still wasn’t showing her face, but she briefly swept her hair aside to look at the photo, then gave a slight nod.

  He did a quick head count, his mouth sagging at the reminder of their dwindling numbers. “Okay, see you there. Ready—”

  He was cut off by a sudden rumbling in the ground. They glanced back at Necropolis.

  The glass was beginning to tremble. It was making a strange vibrating noise, too, as if the whole building had been pricked like a tuning fork. The cloud of souls outside shimmered, then became blurry. There was nothing the Croakers could do but watch—

  As the president’s office exploded.

  Every inch of the glass cone’s tip shattered, bursting into a billion tiny stars that glittered as they mushroomed away from the building. With the exception of the heavy stone desk, all the furniture soared off into space as well, followed by the president’s singed corpse. Even the vault door flew away, hurtling into the distance like a Frisbee.

  All at once the thick layer of souls surrounding the building disappeared.

  “She did it!” said Elysia. “Skyla closed the portal!”

  Uncle Mort didn’t even seem to hear her. He tore his scythe through the air, his eyes never leaving the blunt, newly leveled surface of Necropolis.

  17

  The house was a crack den. It had to be. One whole side of it was covered with graffiti, a couple of windows were broken, and the overgrown grass reached the top of the mailbox—which was also broken.

  But Lex’s mind was still back in Kansas. “What happened?” she said to Uncle Mort as they ducked behind some hedges. “That was a really big explosion—is that what you were expecting? You think Skyla’s okay?”

  “Yes, that’s what we were expecting. Yes, I’m sure Skyla is fine—” He counted heads again, then frowned. “Where’s Elysia?”

  Lex looked around. “She didn’t Crash through?”

  “She was right next to me,” Ferbus said, struggling to remain conscious. “She scythed at the same time we did!”

  “Okay, calm down.” Uncle Mort raised his scythe again. “I’ll go back and look for her. Don’t move.”

  Ferbus lay down as Uncle Mort Crashed out. “As if this could have gotten any worse,” he muttered.

  Lex stared at the pulpy dregs at the end of his arm. How could she ever make this up to him? She could try to fix Driggs, she could apologize every day for the rest of her life, but sorrys didn’t put hands back on wrists. And now, Elysia—

  Was kneeling right in front of them, clinging to Uncle Mort.

  Ferbus tried to grab her but was too weak, so Lex jumped in instead. “What happened?” she asked, hugging her.

  “I have no idea!” Elysia’s eyes were gigantic, though for some reason she was also half laughing. “I scythed along with the rest of you, but it didn’t work! I couldn’t Crash!”

  “I had to pull her through,” Uncle Mort said with a frown. “Lys, try it again.”

  Elysia tore her scythe through the air, but nothing happened. It didn’t rip the air or expose even the smallest sliver of ether.

  Uncle Mort rubbed his chin. “Strange.”

  “I know, right?” she exclaimed, unable to keep the smile off her face.

  Ferbus gave her an odd look. “What’s with you, Chuckles?”

  “Nothing! Just happy everyone made it!”

  Uncle Mort raised an eyebrow, then stood up from their hiding place. “Come on.” He motioned for them to follow him to the front stoop, where he reached for the doorbell. “Now, don’t scream, any of you. When the door opens, don’t scream, don’t gasp. Don’t react in any way. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “Ayjay!” Elysia shrieked, obliterating the rules Uncle Mort had set forth for them. “What are you—”

  Uncle Mort cut her off with a nudge and elbowed his way into the house. Lex and the others followed while a confused Ayjay held the door open, his good eye darting around the room. He didn’t recognize any of them. “Who are you people?”

  “Are you alone?” Uncle Mort asked.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Close the door.”

  Ayjay finally came to his senses. “No.” His bulging muscles—which Lex noticed had grown even bulgier than the last time she’d seen him—flexed menacingly. “Get out or I’ll call the police.”

  Uncle Mort snickered. “No, you won’t.” He helped lay Ferbus down on a couch that Lex was sure housed several colonies of insects.

  “Whoa!” Ayjay finally noticed Ferbus’s wounds. “Hey, I don’t want any trouble, all right?”

  “Ayjay—”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I was your social worker,” Uncle Mort said. “After your accident, when you were in the hospital. I know you don’t remember me—”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “—but I remember you. And I know that you’re a good kid. And you’re going to help me fix this other good kid, because you’re not the type to just sit around and watch while somebody else suffers. That’s why you’re pre-med, right?”

  Lex bristled at this new piece of inf
ormation. Ayjay, going to med school? But Kloo was the one who’d always wanted to be a doctor; Ayjay had dreamed of opening a gym. A quick glance around the room confirmed it, though. A pile of organic chemistry textbooks sat atop the end table along with a few dog-eared pages of notes.

  Ayjay was thinking. “I don’t know how to suture,” he said. “I haven’t even gotten into school yet.”

  “Look, we’re not cops,” said Uncle Mort. “I know what you do here. And if there’s at least one thing you know how to do, it’s stitch people up.”

  When Ayjay opened his mouth to protest, Uncle Mort moved in closer and cranked up the badass. “Don’t lie to me. I know all about you. I’m not here to get you in trouble, I just want your services. Now, are you going to help, or are you going to let this kid bleed out all over your couch?”

  Ayjay resisted a moment more, then exhaled hard through his nose, his nostrils flaring. “Be right back.”

  As soon as he pounded up the stairs, Lex exploded. “Okay, what? What?”

  Uncle Mort sat on the couch and gently rolled up Ferbus’s sleeve. “After Ayjay left Croak, he fell in with a gang of drug dealers,” he said matter-of-factly. “At first he was just their muscle, but as time went on, it became obvious that he was a little more gifted than the rest. As a weightlifter, he knew a lot about the human body, plus a fair bit of Kloo’s medical knowledge had rubbed off on him, so—”

  “So—what, he became a mob doctor?”

  “Yeah. Sort of.”

  “So when gang members get into their little shooting matches—”

  “Turf wars,” Elysia interjected. They both turned to stare at her. “What?” she said innocently. “I do watch television, you know.”

  “When they get shot,” Lex asked her uncle, “he fixes them up?”

  “Better than going to a hospital or getting caught.”

  Lex let out a puff of disbelief. She looked around the house, its den the very definition of filthy. A couple of pizza boxes littered the floor, and there were traces of some substance on the table that she was fairly positive she didn’t want to know about. There were also piles of clothes, a couple of duffel bags, and, disturbingly, a box full of toys.