by Ty Drago
“Cool,” Katie replied.
“What about us?” Helene asked. “Will and me. The trainees?”
I didn’t like Katie’s answer. “Don’t worry. You’re in. We need the bodies. Helene, you’re on Team One. Will, you’re on Team Two. Rooftops.”
Helene glanced at me, an oddly satisfied look on her face. “Okay,” she said.
“Okay,” I echoed—muttered really.
Because it wasn’t okay. Not at all.
“Good,” the acting Boss Angel said. “Now, the governor won’t get into town for another seven hours. Tom wants everyone in this room to rest up and get themselves fed. Let’s all grab some sleep, guys. I think most of us need it. By the time we’re up again, mission maps will be drawn up and ready. Let’s go.”
The meeting ended with everyone talking animatedly—all except me and Helene. We just stood there, three chairs apart, eyeing each other. After a moment, Katie excused herself between us and followed the rest of the crew out of the rec room.
We were alone.
Helene looked at me.
I looked at her.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She eyed me. “What for?”
“Freezing you out before…during Tom’s demonstration.”
“Uh-huh,” she said. Her eyes blazed. I hated it when her eyes did that. But I kind of liked it too. I wasn’t sure why. “And before that, back in the funeral parlor?”
I didn’t say anything.
“I had her, Will! She wanted that cadaver bad, and she was coming for me, and I’d have nailed her between the eyes with my pistol! But you had to throw yourself in the way and almost got Dave killed in the process!”
“I—I know…” I stammered. “I just…um…”
“You just…um…what?”
I shrugged miserably. “I was afraid…”
Her eyes stopped flashing, like throwing a switch. “Afraid of what?”
“I didn’t want Cavanaugh to…you know…”
“Hurt me?” she finished.
“I guess so.”
She stared at me like I’d just changed colors. And from the warmth in my cheeks, maybe I had. For most of a minute, neither one of us spoke.
Then, quietly, she said, “This is ’cause of what happened at the prison, right?”
“I guess so.”
“So…what?” she demanded, and just that quick, her eyes were flashing again. “You saved my life and now you’re responsible for me or something?”
“No!” I exclaimed. “It’s nothing like that! It was just…you know…” My mouth inexplicably filled up with cotton, like a magic trick.
“No, Will. I don’t know. What’s up with you?”
I swallowed repeatedly, but the cotton stayed right where it was.
“You almost…died.” I replied.
“I know. I was there. But you saved me. So?”
And then, wishing I was facing a hundred Deaders instead of having this conversation, I blurted, “The way it made me feel…you almost dying.” I felt like an idiot. “I…don’t ever want to feel like that again.”
Helene blinked. A moment passed—painfully long. Then another.
Finally, with a very slight smile, she said, “Well, that’s about ten percent kind of nice.”
“Helene…”
“And the other ninety percent pisses me off!” she added.
“Oh,” I said.
“Will, you’re pretty good in a fight.”
I frowned. “Um…thanks.”
She nodded. “But you also know I can still kick your sorry butt from one end of Haven to the other, right?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. We both knew it was true.
Then Helene did a funny thing, a thing that was terrible and awesome at the same time. She took my hand. Her skin felt warm. No, more than warm. It felt hot, almost as hot as my face.
“Get this straight,” she said. Her words were hard, but her tone was soft. “I’m nobody’s damsel in distress. What we do is dangerous…and no matter what happens, I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine. But I’m not your responsibility, and you’re not my knight in shining armor.”
“This isn’t stupid crap like that,” I snapped.
“Then what kind of stupid crap is it?” she pressed. Her anger had morphed into patience, which was somehow worse. “Did you feel this way about Dave last night when the Queen grabbed him?”
“No.”
“You figure he’s better in a fight than I am?”
I flashed back on the way the Burgermeister had snapped Cavanaugh’s neck like a pretzel stick. At the time, Helene had been sprawled across the wet floor with a fallen cadaver.
But I answered, “No.”
“Do you worry about any of the others? Chuck, Burton, or Zack?
“No.”
“How about the girls. Katie? Tina?”
“No,” I repeated, this time a little defensively.
“So what’s different about me?”
My face felt like it was on fire. I looked sheepishly at Helene, who stood there—so close—her face calm, her hazel eyes bright and intense. Suddenly, the cotton in my mouth felt like cement.
“Do I gotta say it?” I muttered miserably.
For about an hour—or maybe it was a few seconds—she didn’t answer. Then she did. “No, you don’t. Just…knock it off.”
Then she walked purposefully out of the rec room, leaving me alone.
My knees went wobbly, and I sank into the nearest chair. It was cold in the rec room. Heck, it was cold everywhere in Haven. But I was sweating anyway, beads of it burning on my forehead. I tried to make some sense of what had just happened and whatever it was that I felt about what had just happened.
Finally, because I couldn’t think of a better thing to do, I went to my room. The Burgermeister wasn’t there. With a sigh, I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on my cot. It was cold, so I pulled up the blanket and—as I sometimes did—closed my eyes and pretended I was home.
Even though I knew I wasn’t.
I didn’t think I’d sleep, not with everything that was churning around in my head, but I did. I slept long and hard. If I had dreams, I don’t remember them—which, in Haven, is usually just as well.
This time, it wasn’t Dave who woke me. It was a ringing phone.
I almost jumped out of my skin, leaping off the cot as if it were on fire. I didn’t have a cell phone. No Undertaker did. They were too easily traced. But then the stupid thing rang again, and there was no doubt it was coming from me. I ran my hands all over my clothes, kind of a self pat down until I found it and fished it out of my pants pocket.
It was Cavanaugh’s phone—one of the clamshell kind, black and shiny and expensive, but no iPhone. Probably paid for by the city. I wondered how often the Queen had used it.
It rang a third time.
Weirdly, I sniffed it, half-expecting it to smell of death. But instead, it smelled of sweat. Mine. It had been a long night.
I didn’t dare answer it, of course. That was against the rules and regs because doing so might give the Corpses a chance to—what was the word Steve used?—“triangulate” the signal. The smart thing would be to turn it over to the Hackers or the Brain Factory. Somebody in one of those crews could analyze it, maybe get some good intel. That was why I’d taken it in the first place, only to forget all about it in the midst of the chaos since.
I popped open the phone and almost hit the “Ignore” button. Then I saw the caller ID and stopped cold.
I knew the number. Of course I did.
But that’s crazy!
Without consciously deciding to do so, I pressed “Answer” and put the phone to my ear. “Mom?”
> A voice spoke and the sound of it—the implications of it—scared me worse than I’d ever been scared in my life. And that’s saying something.
“Your mother can’t come to the phone, William.”
Oh, God.
Chapter 32
Will’s New Mission
I ran through the corridors of Haven even faster than I had when Sharyn was crashing and I’d gone looking for Alex Bobson. Kids stared at me as I went by, most wearing tired, blank expressions. Nobody threw a joke or snide remark at my back. Maybe they were getting used to seeing me tear down these dank, narrow halls.
Or maybe, like me, they were just tired of all the misery.
By the time I reached the infirmary, my heart pounded and my stomach felt as if I’d swallowed a chunk of glacial ice.
“Tom!”
He looked up from Sharyn’s bedside, his face haggard. There were bags under his eyes. Elsewhere in the otherwise empty room, Ian and Amy moved to and fro, doing things I could only guess at. They looked exhausted, and I suddenly felt a little guilty for getting some sleep.
“Hey, bro,” the Chief said. “You just missed Dave. He was in here for a long time, keepin’ us company. You know, sometimes I don’t think I spend enough time with that dude.” He gazed down at his sister. “She’s hangin’ in there. Tough as nails.”
Then, after a pause, he added, “Thanks for what you did before, getting Alex and taking care of all that for me. I’m not big on leaning on folks…but right now…”
I marched up to him and held up the cell phone. “I took this from Cavanaugh last night at the funeral parlor,” I said. “I forgot all about until just now…when it rang. It was her…Cavanaugh…and she was calling from my mom’s mobile number!”
From Tom’s expression, I knew he didn’t need more explanation than that. “Will…” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
But I wasn’t interested in sympathy. “I shouldn’t have answered it. I know the rules and regs. But when I saw my mom’s number on the caller ID, I just couldn’t help it. Cavanaugh said one line to me…just one…before I hung up. She said that my mom wasn’t available to answer the phone. Then she laughed.”
Tom nodded slowly. “It was smart to hang up. But…that means you don’t know what exactly—”
I showed him the display. “A few seconds later…she texted me.”
The Chief read the words. I already knew them. It was pretty long, as text messages went, but I’d somehow memorized it anyway.
I have your mother and sister. To keep them alive, all the Undertakers have to do is nothing, absolutely nothing, for the next 24 hours. But if one of my people even smells you before then, well, your mother would make a very capable host for me. And the little girl, Emily, would be delicious!
All the words spelled out. All the punctuation there. Capital letters in all the right places. It was an adult’s style of texting—and apparently, a Corpse’s.
Tom swore. It wasn’t something he did much, and the fact he was doing it now seemed oddly comforting. It meant he understood the situation despite his preoccupation with Sharyn.
It meant he was still my Chief.
“Get Katie in here,” he ordered. “Tell her I said to stand down. Nobody leaves Haven until this time tomorrow.”
“And the governor dies,” I said. Then, steeling myself, I added, “We can’t do that.”
“Will, I’m not going to have your mother and your sister’s deaths on my conscience. You’ve already lost your dad.”
“And if we let the Queen get away with this,” I told him, “she’ll just do it again the next time she wants us out of the way. Heck, she could just start taking hostages and demanding that we give ourselves up to save them.” That block of ice I’d swallowed kept getting bigger with every word.
Was I really willing to sacrifice Mom and Emily for the “greater good”? Or was I just playing the tough soldier and hoping Tom would talk me out of it?
I’m pretty sure it was the second one.
Tom said, “No way, bro. We’re out. We can cut Ramirez loose. He can go warn the governor.”
“You said that wouldn’t work!” I protested.
He shrugged. “It’s all we got now.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said. “We can do what we do. We can rescue my family.”
He studied me. “You know where they are?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I can tell you where they’re not. They’re not in Cavanaugh’s office in City Hall. No way is she keeping them there for a full day without somebody finding out about it.”
Tom nodded. “And she can’t have them arrested neither. Your sister’d have to go to family services, and your mom would immediately demand for a lawyer. Too easy for the whole thing to blow up in the Queen’s face.”
“My house maybe? Under guard?”
“I doubt it,” he replied. “Too many neighbors. Somebody might come calling. How about Cavanaugh’s house? You know…like Booth did when he took Helene.”
I said, “Nope. Booth lived out in the burbs. Cavanaugh’s got a condo off Rittenhouse Square. Same as my house. Too many neighbors too close by. Somebody might see something. Hear something.”
“Then where?” the Chief asked.
“The same place she put her last prisoner,” I told him. I took a deep, steadying breath. This was a crapshoot, and the stakes were very high. “Eastern State Penitentiary.”
Tom considered. “Maybe. It’s quiet and easy to guard.”
“It might be why the Corpses took over the prison in the first place,” I added. “They need a place to put…well…political prisoners, I guess. People they can’t just risk locking up in one of the city jails.”
“It’s solid thinking,” the Chief said. “But if you’re right, then the Queen’s expectin’ a rescue attempt. In fact, she’s probably countin’ on it because it would keep us busy and away from Penn’s Landing.”
That was something I hadn’t considered.
“Then let Katie keep her three teams and her plan. I’ll go in and get my sister.”
Tom raised his eyebrows. “By yourself?”
“No,” I said. “Me, Helene, and the Burgermeister.”
“So two rookie Angels and a totally untrained Monkey against who knows how many Deaders?”
“We went up against four at the funeral parlor last night,” I said. “Including the Queen. And Sharyn’s been giving Dave private lessons.”
Tom’s eyes strayed to his sister, who lay atop the gurney between us, her eyes closed. She wore the same shirt she’d had on when she got hurt. Ian probably hadn’t felt comfortable enough to try to change her: a black shirt turned gray by lots of washing, with the words Mopey Teenage Bears scrawled across it in big letters.
I’d seen her wear it at least fifty times; wardrobes in Haven didn’t tend to be very big.
The Mopey Teenage Bears—a German band.
The same band as on the poster in my room.
Dave’s poster.
“I’m gonna have to have a word with him,” Tom said to himself.
“Huh?”
“Never mind, bro. You got bigger stuff to do. Get your team together and get ready to hit the prison. You got maybe four hours before dawn, so make it quick. Take whatever stuff you need. And swing by the Brain Factory. Ask Steve ’bout his newest project. Tell him I said you could have it.”
“Thanks, Tom.”
“Don’t thank me, Will. I wish I could go with you. I probably should go with you. I owe your dad…and you…at least that much. But I can’t leave Sharyn, and maybe more importantly, I can’t leave Haven. I’ve been dropping the ball lately, Chief-wise.”
“It’s cool,” I said quickly. “We all get it.”
“That ain’t the point. I’m the Chief o
f the Undertakers first and Sharyn’s brother second. These last couple of days, I let that slide. No more. I need to talk to Katie, and you got your own stuff to do. Let’s both get to work.”
“Yeah.”
“But, Will,” he said, “be careful. I don’t mean your usual ‘careful’ but serious careful. I still might lose Sharyn. I don’t know what it’d do to me if I lost you too.”
I had no idea what to say to that. Finally, the best I could manage was a hasty “You won’t.” But by the time I got it out, Tom’s eyes had already strayed back to his sister’s gurney.
I left him to his thoughts.
After all, I had my own sister to think about. And my mom.
It was time to go to work.
Chapter 33
Haven’s Librarian
The Brain Factory occupied a wide, blind hallway between the infirmary and the Monkey Barrel. Steve Moscova, the Brain Boss, called it a “gallery.” It was maybe twelve feet wide and thirty feet deep, with lights strung along the ceiling. A lot of lights. Actually, the Brain Factory was probably the best lit place in all of Haven.
They needed it.
Here was where the chemicals got mixed, the blueprints drawn up, and the gizmos perfected. When the Angels went out into the field to face an army of the walking dead, they did so—we did so—with weapons forged right here.
These dudes totally needed to see what they were doing.
There were maybe a half-dozen Brains, and Steve lorded over them, as Sharyn had once put it, “with an iron pocket protector.” He had gotten the Sight later than most, almost a year later than his younger brother, Burt. It was a subject he was sensitive about. He thought it made him sound nerdish.
But nerd or not, Steve was a genius.
The genius himself stood at a lab table against the gallery’s back wall with Agent Ramirez. Steve seemed to be showing off an assortment of Undertakers gadgetry to the FBI guy: a plastic water pistol, a Super Soaker, a wrist radio. That kind of stuff.
I ran up to them, drawing stares from the other Brains. “Steve!”
They both turned.
“Have you been to the infirmary?” Steve asked. “How’s Sharyn?”