He inclined his head before snapping on his heels and marching from the room.
Scarlett closed her eyes and drifted off almost immediately.
Chapter Six
“Earth to Scarlett.” Hunter waved a hand in front of her face, poking her out of her inattentiveness.
Scarlett blinked and frowned. “What?”
Across the table, Hunter eyed her. “What’s the matter with you this morning?”
Disbelief had her wanting to stab him with her fork. “I was attacked last night, Hunter. I was nearly…” she trailed off, unable to put a name to what nearly happened. “I’m sorry I’m not cheerful enough for you.”
His eyes closed and he grimaced. “Jesus, Red, I’m sorry.”
But that wasn’t enough. “Where were you last night? Why did you leave me?”
He opened his eyes and peered across the table at her. “I’m sorry!”
“That isn’t good enough!” she snapped. “We never leave without telling the other. That’s our deal! You left me!”
“I’m sorry!” he said again, louder, drawing heads in their direction. But neither noticed. Hunter sighed and lowered his voice. “I met someone and stupidly got caught up in the moment. We weren’t supposed to go that far. I got carried away, okay? I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, disappointment and hurt coiling tight inside her. “You have no idea how scared I was. If Rolf hadn’t shown up…”
“I know and I said I was sorry. You know I would never have let that happen to you.”
Scarlett rose from her seat and picked up her tray. “But you did.”
She walked away before he could stop her. She dumped her untouched tray into the disposal hatch and left the refectory to get to work. She was abandoned to the corn fields once more, left to de-weed an entire area by herself. But for once, she was grateful for it. She wasn’t in the mood for company. Instead, she did her job, clocked out, and went back to her quarters.
“Hey, you’re back.”
Hunter rose off the sofa when she entered the suite. He wasn’t in his uniform, but casual cargos and a navy T-shirt. His hair was a mess, like it had seen abuse under anxious hands, and there was desperation in his eyes behind his glasses.
Scarlett frowned. “Why are you home?”
He rubbed both hands down the length of his thighs. “I called in sick,” he said. “I needed to talk to you, Red.”
“I need to shower,” she replied, moving towards the bathroom.
“Please!” He moved to block her path. “Just hear me out.”
Resigned, she nodded. “Fine.”
He slicked a tongue over his lips before speaking. “I screwed up. Royally. I know I did. I don’t blame you for being angry with me, possibly even hating me. I deserve it. But you have to know that I would never have let that happen. I would have killed the bastard. You know I would have. I was just so … out of it. I couldn’t think straight. Everything was happening so fast. I swear it felt like two seconds. I turned and you were gone. I was looking for you when Gray found me and told me what happened. I just … I’m so fucking sorry, Red. I swear to Christ I will never let it happen again.”
There were tears in his eyes as he stared at her, pleading with her to forgive him. But even without the tears, she knew she would. She could never stay angry with him, for one, and for another, she knew firsthand how the drugs affected a person in that place. How could she blame him for something completely out of his control? She knew he would have protected her if he could have. It was just the way their friendship worked. They always had each other’s backs. Always.
“Stop cussing,” she muttered, rolling her eyes and giving him a small grin.
Relief sagged his shoulders. Then his arms were thrown around her and she was crushed into the hard wall of his chest and smothered there.
“I love you, Red!” he breathed into the top of her head.
“I love you, too. Now get off me so I can shower.”
With a hard kiss on the cheek, he released her. “I got paid today,” he said as she made her way towards the bathroom. “Want to celebrate my release from the doghouse by getting ice cream?”
Scarlett paused in the doorway and glanced back. “Deal, but I’m getting a double scoop with walnuts.”
It was a nice fantasy. Mint swirl with walnuts had always been her favorite, until the ice cream shop had run dry. Now they handed out crushed ice in a cup drenched in syrup or artificial coloring. It wasn’t nearly as good as real ice cream, but it was okay.
The refectory was busy with the early supper crew. People were lined up with their trays at the food dispenser. Scarlett and Hunter joined them and waited.
“So, did you get it done?” Scarlett heard a girl at a nearby table ask her friend.
“No!” the other girl said. “They were completely booked. But I signed up to get my booster next week.”
The first girl clicked her tongue, making a sympathetic sound. “My dad got us in right after the assembly.”
“You’re so lucky your dad’s a commanding officer!” the second girl gasped. “I’m sure if my dad was, we’d totally get seen already.”
Scarlett tipped her head ever so slightly to the side, just enough to watch the girls through her peripheral vision. Part of her wondered if that meant Hunter hadn’t gotten his either. She’d forgotten to ask. But a part of her hoped he hadn’t. That he had to wait, too.
“So, how did it feel?” the second girl asked.
The first girl shrugged. “Didn’t hurt. But I felt kind of nauseous right after. Dr. Ora assured me it was normal. That the drug was working. But it still felt totally weird.”
The second girl bobbed her head, riveted by everything her friend was saying. But Scarlett wasn’t listening anymore. She turned to Hunter.
“So you never told me what happened with the boosters,” she asked him as they waited. “Did you get it?”
Hunter shook his head. “They’re only accepting the mentors right now. Novices have to book a time.”
Scarlett frowned. “So did Grams get hers?”
He shrugged. “I think so. We got separated when we got there. They had this weird set up going on. They told her to go in one line and me in another.”
“That is weird…” she mused, brows puckering.
“Nah.” He wrinkled his nose. “Dr. Ora said it was because they wanted to make sure the mentors and staff got theirs first.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Hunter laughed. “Why do the mentors get a second helping of dessert every night? Because life sucks.”
She rolled his eyes at his reference, even if it was true.
“That still doesn’t explain why—”
There was no time for her to finish her train of thought when a loud crash at the other end of the hall caught their attention. All heads swiveled around to face the commotion.
On the other side of the room, a small cluster of people were huddled over a fallen form. Others were rising out of their chairs, ready to leap in if necessary. Scarlett craned her neck to see around the wall of people now blocking her view.
“What’s happening?” Hunter asked, going up on tiptoes.
Scarlett shook her head, bobbing and weaving her head to get a better look. “I can’t see. I think someone fainted.”
Sure enough, Dr. Ora was called in and the person, a woman was carted away on a hover platform. The refectory was abuzz with the news, but it was quickly forgotten as everyone resumed their day.
“That was so weird, huh?” Hunter said as they made their way to the vendor level, cups of crushed ice and syrup in hand.
Scarlett shrugged. “Her blood pressure was probably down or something.”
Hunter pursed his lips. “Yeah, maybe.”
At the bakery, Scarlett pushed open the glass door and slipped inside.
“Grandma?” she called, a frown tangling her brows together.
Something was wrong. It was too quiet. The air
was too still.
“Grandma?” She left Hunter standing at the front and hurried to the back. The lights were all off. A cold itch began between her shoulder blades. “She’s not here,” she said, returning to the front.
“Maybe she went back to the apartment,” Hunter guessed.
Scarlett rubbed the back of her neck, smoothing down the risen hairs. “Yeah, but everything’s off, like she hasn’t been here all day. She never misses work.”
Hunter shrugged. “She probably took the day off, or she forgot.”
She didn’t say it, but that was an impossibility. Her grandmother never forgot the bakery. She never forgot to bake. It was her life.
“Was she at the apartment when you got there?”
Hunter winced. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I arrived maybe ten minutes before you. The place seemed empty so I just sat and waited for you to get off work.”
“You didn’t check to see if Grams was home?”
He jerked his shoulders. “Why would I? She’s usually at work at that time. I knew you were at work. I assumed I was alone.”
It didn’t make sense.
“Come on!” She grabbed Hunter’s hand and pulled him from the shop.
She didn’t let go until they’d left the transporter and were hurrying down the corridors towards their apartment. Scarlett pushed through the door first, stumbling into the sitting area, her heart already plastered in her throat.
“Grams?” she called, hurrying towards the bedrooms.
The bedroom was a black cube. Darkness pressed into every corner, thick and impenetrable. A sort of chill swept from the room, clawing over all exposed flesh. She shuddered. Her arms wound themselves around her midsection, keeping her together.
“Grams?”
In the bowels of the room, something rumbled. The sound was low, guttural, like a dog giving its first warning. It rolled along the walls, dripping from the odd smell hanging from the air. Scarlett couldn’t put a name to it, but it was thick, like opening an airtight container of meat after it had been sitting in the hot sun for an hour. Not quite decay, but sour.
“Hunter…” Her voice was barely audible so she was surprised when he slipped up behind her.
His warmth and presence was what propelled her to reach into the compacted blackness for the light switch. It was impossible to be sure, but she was almost certain she wasn’t expecting the sight in the room once the light had chased away the shadows.
On the bed, tangled in sweat-soaked blankets, her grandmother lay wheezing. Her normally groomed cap was in disarray around her pasty face. The blanket rose, then stuttered all the way down with her uneven breaths.
Scarlett was at her side in a heartbeat. She set her cup of crushed ice down on the end table and grabbed the other woman’s frail, bony hand. “Grams?”
Green eyes haloed with faint, purple rings, opened a slit. They peered up at Scarlett, confusion bright in their murky depths. She opened dry and cracked lips, as if trying to speak. A raspy sound left her chest. Heat rose off her grandmother’s clammy flesh like a campfire. It burned just being too close. Scarlett leaned forward all the same.
“Grams?”
A series of groans escaped the partly gaping mouth.
“Hunter! Get Dr. Ora up here now!” She took her eyes away from her grandmother just long enough to call over her shoulder. She didn’t wait to see if he’d do it. She knew he would. She turned her attention back to the woman on the bed. “It’s okay,” she said, putting a brave smile on her face. “Hunter’s going to get help. Everything will be okay. I promise.”
Grams continued to watch her with emptiness in her eyes. It was a cold sort of blankness. Scarlett had only ever seen it once before, when she’d gone to sickbay right after the riots. She had seen the patients locked behind the sheets of Plexiglass. There had been a sort of vacancy in their expressions as they stared off into space. Some were mumbling to themselves, rocking. Others just stood there, staring, saying nothing. Scarlett shuddered at the memory, at having it forced back on her by her grandmother’s equally jarring stare.
“Grams?” she whispered quietly, squeezing the frail fingers clutched between both of her hands. “Can you say something?”
A puff of air slipped past her cracked lips. The tiny, barely audible sound squeaked in the thick silence. Her mouth moved in what looked like words, but nothing seemed to be filtering through.
“What?” Scarlet brought her ear closer, hoping to catch even a syllable of what her grandmother was trying to say.
The arms came seemingly out of nowhere. They wound around Scarlett with strengths that should have been impossible for an old woman on her sickbed. She was dragged forward, landing in a flailing heap across her grandmother’s thin chest, her arms trapped at her sides. The pillow soaked her scream. A high hiss split the air, amplifying the panic running ice cold through her veins. The top of her knees struck the side of the mattress as she kicked, fighting to be free of the sour tang coating the inside of her mouth with every effected breath.
Pain so blinding, so white-hot, she nearly passed out from it, splintered through her shoulder. Something warm and sticky rushed down her arm. The sickening scent of blood perfumed the air. Scarlett shrieked. By some miracle, she was suddenly free, flying backwards and landing in a dazed heap on the floor beneath the bed. Numbing madness sunk cold fingers into her brain, seemingly freezing the world around her to a syrupy speed. She was only loosely aware of the groan above her, even less aware when the mattress squeaked and sheets rustled. The erratic pounding between her ears had only one focus—escape.
The carpet sliced through the soft tissues of her knees as she crawled to the door. She stumbled through just as another unearthly moan pummeled the chaos drumming within the walls of her skull. She scrambled, half-turning, half-falling onto her back, as she whipped around to see the deformed figure behind her, dressed in her grandmother’s floral nightdress.
Chapter Seven
A high-pitched shrill filled her ears. It seemed to echo from everywhere all at once and took her a moment to realize the scream was coming from her.
The stooped figure standing next to the bed hissed, bearing bloodstained teeth. Bits of fabric and flesh clung to the jagged points. The image was too horrific to actually comprehend that the fabric matched Scarlett’s shirt.
She scuttled back, putting space between her and the monster shuffling after her. Its yellow eyes—which had once been the soft green of crisp celery—watched her pathetic attempts with a sick sort of glee warping its mouth. Little droplets oozed from the inside corners of its bloodshot eyes, crimson tears against its sallow face. Scarlett swallowed the plea on her lips, knowing it would be useless to beg for her life the moment its tongue swept over its chapped lips, collecting the blood it had already drawn from her.
Breathing hard, lungs never really getting enough, she crab-crawled several paces, trying not to notice how her blood glistened down the front of her grandmother’s dress. Her injured arm struck the corner of the end table and the world tilted, nearly dipping into black as pain crimpled her limbs.
Nausea rolled through her. Bile swelled up into her throat, hot and bitter. She tried to shake away the daze climbing over her sense, but she wasn’t quick enough. The creature lunged. Long, claw-like hands fisted around her ankle. A scream burst from her lips even as she struck out with her free leg. The crunch of bones churned her stomach as her heel caught her grandmother in the mouth. Blood gushed, a crimson fountain that burned in all the places it landed on Scarlett’s flesh.
She didn’t wait to see what would happen next. Pain momentarily forgotten, she lunged to her feet and ran from the apartment.
“Help! Help me!” Her screams shot down the empty corridors, bouncing off walls and returned to slap her in the face. Her feet thundered on linoleum, the only other sound in the penetrating silence.
She took a sharp corner at a dead run, all intentions aimed for the transporters beyond the next bend. She th
rew a glance back over her shoulders, half expecting her grandmother to be there, hissing and baring stained teeth. But the hallway remained empty, and she wondered if she’d imagined it. It certainly felt like a nightmare, something too unreal to be true. So, maybe, it was.
But the burn on her shoulder, the crimson paint running down the length of her arm, they were all a sick reminder of just how real it had been. Her grandmother had bitten her.
The memory jacked up the volume on the buzz between her ears, the sound becoming the shriek of a drill pushing into the cavity of her skull. The ground beneath her tipped, shoving her sideways even as she reached to steady her throbbing head. The wall cushioned her weight the way a charging bull cushioned the guy waving the red cape. She slammed into it with her good shoulder. The crash knocked her legs out from under her and she slide gracelessly to the carpet where she remained, dazed and disorientated.
That’s how the others found her.
First it was the pound of several rushing footsteps. Then, raised voices, followed by more running. Hands grabbed her, careful to avoid her injuries.
“Scarlett!” Warm, unsteady hands pushed back her hair, tipped back her face, and touched her cheek. “Scarlett, open your eyes.”
Had she closed them? It explained why everything was so blissfully black.
“Red?” A second pair of hands shook her. “Damn it! Open your eyes!”
The world resurfaced in a murky pool of shimmering white. The corridor lights seemed to pulse and sway as she blinked away film and focused on the large, dark shapes looming over her.
“Rolf?”
“What happened?” Fury colored his next question, “Who did this to you?”
“Christ, Gray! Move!” Hunter shoved the other man aside and took his place. His hands were blocks of ice against Scarlett’s face. She would have hissed if it didn’t feel so good. “Red? Look at me! Jesus … oh God … why is there so much blood? Someone do something!”
“Stop cussing!” Scarlett hadn’t realized she’d spoken until the raspy croak reached her ears.
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