“I’m going to change,” Cass announced, and she slid her shirt off over her head and tossed it on to her bed.
Lucy put her bag down on the floor and walked to the glass wall in front of her. She could see Cass’s reflection to her side, slipping out of her pants and going through a small dresser for suitable replacements. She pulled out black sweats and a black hoodie, and laughed. Lucy turned.
Cass held the clothing out and dangled them. An emblem was stitched on the right thigh. It had intertwining circles and with ivy growing them and in big block letters across the top: Kymberlin.
“We’ve been issued matching sweatpants?” Lucy asked incredulously and she started to walk toward Cass, to inspect the clothes closer, but she stopped. Visible across Cass’s right side was a dark, purple bruise. Even against her already dark skin, the discoloration was striking. Across her abdomen and up her arms were deep scratches: four long lines etched from her breasts to her stomach.
Cass followed Lucy’s gaze and bit her lip. “Don’t—”
“You never showed me.”
“He cracked a rib. Punched me so many times in the side...like he knew it would hurt the most. Hunter did.” She said his name forcefully. “Hunter,” she said again as if she wanted to lay claim to it. “The other one scratched me...touched me...”
“The other one?” Lucy paused. Hunter’s name had been the only one that ever came up—Cass had never mentioned a second attacker.
“No,” Cass said and she put her hand up. “He knows he was spared. His friend paid the cost for their actions...I couldn’t...”
“Cass!” Lucy rushed forward and hugged her friend with a spontaneous burst of emotion. “I’m so sorry.” She stepped back and tried not to cry.
Cass squeezed her friend’s shoulder and then blew her a kiss with her free hand. “Thank you, but I am fine. Really. I mean…I’ll be fine…it will all be fine.”
“Why did they do it?” Lucy asked. “Why did they hurt you?”
It took a long time for Cass to reply. But when she did, her voice was smooth and calm. “Because they could not hurt the people they were truly mad at,” Cass noted with a nod. She tugged the sweatshirt on over her body and pulled the pants up over her legs; emblem-clad and comfortable, she leaned backward on her bed and stared upward at the ceiling. “All of this, all of it...it’s beautiful.”
Lucy stayed quiet. She looked out the window again, the ocean slipped into the darkness of the evening—the area outside the window nothing more than a black abyss.
“You don’t agree?” Cass asked.
And Lucy sat down on the edge of the bed next to her friend. “It’s beautiful,” she agreed. “It’s a beautiful disaster.”
Lucy left Cass alone in her new apartment and traveled back down the hallway, up the stairwell, across the sky bridge, and back into the welcome party. The effects of her drinking had already started to wane and her head pounded with the threat of a full-scale headache. She scanned the circles of people but did not recognize anyone from her family. A raucous group toward the main elevator to the helipad attempted to cajole her participation in a getting-to-know-your-neighbors game, but Lucy declined and scooted her way to a table against the wall where a woman whose nametag read Miao sat under a sign that read “Ask me about your new home!”
“Good evening,” Miao said. “May I help you find your apartment?” She nodded toward a binder.
“I’m Lucy King,” Lucy said. “I think my family might have already left...”
“Of course, Lucy.” Miao smiled. She didn’t even glance down at her binder. “You are in the executive suites. Sky Bridge 2, landing 4. You’ll find your family’s nameplate on the western side. Would you like me to page a guide?” She put her hand on the table near a small walkie-talkie.
Lucy shook her head, mumbled a thank you, and ducked through the crowd again. She followed Miao’s instructions—floating along Sky Bridge 2, venturing down the steps to the fourth landing—and then scanning the nameplates, she found her family’s new home. The hallway looked identical to Cass’s, but when Lucy knocked on the door and was let in by a sulking Galen, she realized that all apartments on Kymberlin were not created equal.
Theirs was a three-story collection of rooms, with open metal winding staircases leading from one area to another. Like the other apartments, the far wall was all glass and looked out over the ocean. However, they were further up, above sea level, the water licking below them and disappearing out of sight.
From the second story, Lucy could hear Ethan’s voice gaining momentum and intensity. She looked to Galen who mouthed fighting before he slipped down the metal staircase to the lower level. Angling her body just below the exposed loft of their third floor, Lucy tried to listen, but she couldn’t hear everything. So, instead, she walked steadily up the stairs, until she could see her mother, father, and Ethan huddled in an open area. Their voices carried down to her, and she listened to every word.
“Mom, you’re wrong about this. Dead wrong. And I’m not fighting with you. He belongs with me and that’s final. If you’re unwilling to go to battle for me and Teddy, then I’m done.” Ethan paced along the room. He looked at the floor, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
“This is not up for debate,” Scott told his son. “If you think we have any power here, you are wrong. Blair has Teddy. And that’s final.”
“That child belongs with me,” Ethan snapped. “How could you just let him go to her without a fight? How could you just hand him over like he was someone’s lost dog? That child is mine. And he will be mine. Or...”
“Or what?” Scott asked, exasperated. “I’ve used every last token of goodwill and favors.”
“Furthermore,” Maxine interjected, “you have no more claim to him than Blair. Let’s not split hairs here, Ethan. That child is an orphan and if Blair can offer him a warm home...”
“Teddy is my responsibility.”
“Well, Ethan,” Maxine replied, “that’s great that you’ve decided to suddenly step-up and assume some sort of misguided quest for fatherhood, but where were you when Teddy was having night terrors or wetting the bed? Where were you when he wanted you and you wouldn’t say a damn word? I’m sorry, son, but we don’t think Teddy is best with you. You’re just a kid yourself—”
“This is ridiculous...Blair isn’t even here! She’s hired a nanny to watch Teddy. She’s calling him Theo. Can’t you even see? Can’t you even understand?”
“Could you stop? Remember what you’re up against. Huck will win this battle, and you would be wise to let him,” his father added.
Ethan stopped pacing. He hung his head. Lucy rested against the railing.
When he finally straightened up to look at his parents, Lucy could see the defiance in his shoulders and the heavy rise and fall of anger rolling up and down his back. Under his breath, he hissed out an angry expletive and turned toward the staircase. He walked out of the loft and to the stairs and worked his way down the spiral steps: his good leg, his prosthetic leg, his good leg, his prosthetic leg. When he saw Lucy, his nostrils flared and he pushed his mouth tight.
“Move,” he demanded.
“What can I do?” Lucy asked. Her mouth was dry and her words caught in her throat. “I’m sorry. I’ll do anything.”
Ethan scoffed. “Maybe that’s the one thing you should stop. Just stop trying to do anything to help. Because if you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re not helping anybody.” His words stung, and Lucy bit her lip to hold back the tears. He slid past her and stormed out of the house, and slammed the door behind him.
Lucy looked up and saw her parents staring at her with interest.
“Taking up eavesdropping as one of your party tricks?” Maxine asked with disdain.
“Stop, Maxine,” Scott chastised. He looked down at Lucy softly. “We were worried you wouldn’t find your way.”
Moving up another rung, Lucy wiped her eyes. “Where do I sleep?” she asked in a quiet voice. She
was grateful for her father’s tenderness.
Maxine pointed to her left. Lucy followed her mother’s directions and walked the rest of the way up the stairs. Off of the loft, there was a small bedroom with a twin bed and a chest of drawers. She was certain if she opened the drawers she would find her own pair of Kymberlin-issued sweatpants, but she was too tired and logy to see for herself. She collapsed onto her bed and sat there for a long time pondering her brother’s words. Then she shut the door to block out her parents, who were still speaking in hushed tones. Achy and weepy, Lucy’s hand went to her neck and she felt around for Salem’s cross. When she found her neck bare, she realized with a mixture of sadness and relief that Grant had the necklace around his own neck now. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what he was doing back at the System without her. All of the inhabitants, except for those bound for Copia, had left. It must be strange underground with the empty halls, the barren apartments, she thought.
Then she groaned and slapped her palm against her forehead.
Her bag.
She had left it at Cass’s apartment.
Her letter from Grant—the one she was supposed to read her first night away from him—was stranded in a different apartment. She put her sandals back on and walked back out into the loft, past her parents.
“Where do you think you’re going?” her mother asked, moving between Lucy and the staircase.
“To Cass’s. I left my stuff there.”
“Get it in the morning,” Maxine told her and she pointed back toward Lucy’s new room.
“No,” Lucy said. Her voice shook and she was worried that she would burst into tears at any moment. “Grant gave me a letter to read my first night. I have to read it. I can’t leave it until the morning. I promised I would read it.”
Her mother rolled her eyes, but she stepped to the side. “Goodness, Lucy Larkspur. Please be quick.”
“Curfew is at eleven,” Scott told her.
“Curfew?” Lucy stopped with her hand on the railing. “There’s a curfew?”
“Yes, the lights will dim to conserve energy. A patrol will bring you home. So, hurry,” Scott said and he motioned her along.
Lucy trotted down the stairs and out into the hall. She walked up the stairs and back through the sky bridge, and down the other sky bridge; it was a laborious jaunt—nothing seemed easily accessible from anything else. It hadn’t felt like such a long walk before, but now she realized it had to be nearly a half a mile away. Feeling tired and sluggish, Lucy opened the sea level door to Cass’s hallway, but then she froze. Her hand still on the knob, the door ajar, Lucy watched as her brother walked down the same hall with his back to her. Lucy slipped into the hallway and shut the door soundlessly, and she ducked into the first alcove and watched him as he knocked twice on Cass’s door.
Had he looked in her direction, surely he would have seen her peeking out beyond the doorframe of the first apartment on the floor, but he didn’t look. Her heart beat wildly. Why hadn’t she just called out to him? Why was she hiding? But what was he doing down here?
Cass opened her door and Ethan mumbled a hello.
“Well, well,” she said.
“Nice sweatpants,” Ethan answered, a smile in his voice.
“What?” Cass smiled. “You didn’t get your own pair?”
Ethan leaned against her doorframe. “My parents are ridiculous. They actually think Teddy and Blair is a good idea. They essentially told me to back off...”
“We knew that would happen,” Cass cooed in a sympathetic voice. “I’m sorry though. I am.”
“I owe it to Teddy to fight for him. Darla wouldn’t want this…I know that. He deserves better than this,” Ethan lamented. “And it’s not like I don’t know that it will be hard to get him away from Blair...it’s just...how could they possibly think that he’s better with her than with me? With my mom? My mom’s a child whisperer, you know. She could raise a million Teddys.”
“Shhhh,” Cass shushed him. “Nothing can be solved tonight.”
“I’ll kidnap him,” Ethan proclaimed. “Right?”
“Kidnapping someone in an enclosed building?” Cass laughed. “Ethan...”
Lucy stuck her head out further. She could still only see Ethan; Cass was hidden in her own doorway. Her friend mumbled something incoherent and Ethan muttered a reply. He was now leaning with one arm against the frame.
“I’m not going back there tonight,” he said.
“I don’t have a spare room,” Cass replied, but her tone was warm.
“I’ll sleep on your floor.”
“But what will my neighbors think?” Cass teased. “First day on Kymberlin and the you’ll be the first to have a walk of shame...”
“I won’t be the first,” Ethan replied. “You saw the champagne flowing freely at the welcome party...”
“Well.” Cass leaned out of her door, shortening the distance between them. “You’d be my first overnight visitor in a long time...”
Lucy shook her head, reeling. The intimacy, the flirting; their voices carrying all the way down to her—she was sick as she followed the conversation.
Ethan laughed. It was the first time Lucy had heard him laugh since he was brought back from Oregon. She thought of him a few minutes ago glaring at her on the stairs, spewing forth his accusations with such disgust. And now, he laughed.
“Oh really?” Ethan replied. “Look, Cassandra, here’s the deal. My last girlfriend is dead. And the last girl I thought I could love ended up shot and burned to a crisp inside of my own house. But you knew all that.”
Lucy’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand to avoid from gasping audibly. She slumped back against the door. Her breathing became ragged and quick. What had he said? Burned up in their house? She reeled and tried to understand. Burned? The last girl he thought he could love? Who? And what? Confusion flooded her.
“So,” Ethan continued, “maybe I’m not really the best guy in the world to align yourself with right now. My track record with women is pretty poor.”
Cass laughed her trademark laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, Ethan King,” she replied. “Now come sleep on my floor so we can make everyone think you’re much more charming than you actually are.”
She helped him inside and shut her door.
The hallway was silent.
Lucy stumbled out into the vacant hall and let out all her breath in a hot gush. The hallway spun and she put her hands on the wall to steady herself. Their house had burned? And there had been a girl. There had been a fire. Someone had been shot. But you knew all that, he had said to Cass. She knew all that?
She knew all that.
Lucy’s face burned and her stomach knotted as she realized the worst betrayal of all: Cass and Ethan were friends. And they had kept it a secret from her.
They were conspiring together, sharing plans, telling stories, and they had excluded her completely.
Chapter Seventeen
The visitors came back to the house along the river on two other occasions. The second time there was an argument with raised voices and determined shouts before the car sped away with a peal of squealing tires. Still, their identities and stories were a mystery that Lou and his family kept closely guarded. Beyond the walls of the Hales’ fortified shelter was a thriving community of survivors. And deep in the dark belly of the basement, they hid a great secret: three humans kept against their will who held secrets of their own.
Lindsey had talked to them once more about an escape. But her ideas were ever-evolving, hindered by unknown entities. She kept their hope afloat by sending small promises as she passed them their meals or took them to the bathroom. Tiny nuggets of hope; shards of promises carried in the darkness.
Darla was done.
Done hoping that they could slip out into the night.
Done waiting for Lindsey to come up with a plan.
Done being pushed around.
Done feeling useless and trapped.
Ant
i-Stockholm Syndrome had reared its ugly head. She looked on Lindsey with disgust and rage as she realized that Lou’s daughter’s desire to align herself with the captives had cost them precious days. She had let a waifish girl with big eyes and choppy hair convince her that the best plan was waiting for the right time to escape. That had been a poor decision; regret settled in her gut like a rock. She couldn’t think for too long about the time they had wasted or the guilt was unbearable. She wanted to blame the drugs and the fear, but she knew there was no excuse that would get her to Nebraska faster.
Darla was done. And Darla was leaving.
She plotted their escape by the light of their camping lantern, closing her eyes and imagining a series of events that would end their torture.
But she hadn’t prepared for them to take Ainsley.
As she slept, curled up against the carpet without a blanket or discarded shirt to cover her, she didn’t hear the door creak open. It wasn’t until she heard Ainsley’s terrified screams—her feet kicking wildly, catching the rocking horse and knocking it to the ground, its springs squeaking—that Darla sprang upward and propelled herself after the girl.
“Darla!” Ainsley yelled, her voice a pure scream, her words pouring out in a solid shriek. “Darla!” But it was too late. As Darla neared the door, it slammed shut, and the locks slid into place. Ainsley’s cries carried throughout the house and grew dimmer and harder to hear. After five or ten or twenty minutes (Darla couldn’t tell), the cries and shouts disappeared.
She heard slow, steady footsteps on the stairs and she pounded on the door with her fist.
“What did you do to her?” she screamed through the wood.
A flashlight beam scanned under the door. Darla pounded at the base of the door and then slid backward and kicked as hard as she could. It shook, but didn’t budge.
“We’ve decided to talk to you separately,” Lou’s voice said, barely above a whisper. Darla pushed her ear against the wood to hear. “Ainsley first,” he said. “We’ll let her rest...and see what she has to say when she gets up. A good meal. Some cold water. When the girl realizes that we mean her no harm…she’ll tell us what we need to know.”
The Virulent Chronicles Box Set Page 90