“I know the ones. She actually had help. There were two men with her, but she was the one who did all the planning. So, I got to go. Watch over her and remember if she starts screaming, get in there fast. She sometimes has nightmares so if she says she saw something, that’s what it is.”
She left before Amy could start in again, perhaps listing Jillybean’s top ten explosions. It was still raining when she left the building. Phil was standing beneath the overhang, smoking a cigarette. “It’s gonna be one of them lingering rains,” he remarked. He took a long drag and as he blew out a cloud, he said, “I hate those.”
Sadie hated it even more. Phil at least had on a slicker and rubber boots. Sadie had on blue jeans that clung to her thighs and a sweater that smelled too much like wet dog. “Can I borrow one of these bikes?” she asked.
There were five in a rack, standing like hobbled horses. Phil said she could use the red one. “It’s mine. You’ll like it. I keep it in perfect condition. You know what? I oiled it just yesterday. It’s pretty fast so careful on the turns.” He gave Sadie a strangely large smile, which narrowed her eyes. Her first thought was that the governor was using him to get close to her so that he could spy on her. Then, almost too late, she realized he was talking up his bicycle, trying to impress her.
“Oh, it’s, uh, very nice. Thank you, Phil. Is that short for Phillip? Right, no duh, of course it is. Thanks for the bike. I won’t hurt it, I promise.” She paused wanting to go on, wanting to use him and not wanting to use him in equal measures.
“Would you like my coat?” he asked.
She let out a pent-up breath. “Oh, yes please. I’ll give it back I promise, it’s just I’m not used to the rain and I’m already cold and…”
“It’s okay,” he said. His smile said a lot more. His smile said I would give you my underwear if you asked for it. And that was okay with Sadie because he wasn’t lying. Whether weird or not, Sadie appreciated the honesty. Men were different, she understood that. Even in a zombie apocalypse, they had a drive that was different than a woman’s—and that was okay. Inexplicable but okay.
“Should I return it here?”
There was a second of hesitation and then he answered with a smile: “Sure.”
She knew what that ‘sure’ meant: the station is far out of my way, maybe even miles out of my way, but I’d gladly wait. Normally, she would never take advantage of a man like that, but she didn’t have time for niceties. Jillybean could snap at any moment, Grey could be dead or captured or injured, and Neil was probably daring the cupola, high above the Stanley, watching for their imminent return. He had sent his two daughters into harm’s way and probably hadn’t had a good night’s rest in the last three weeks.
“Give me three hours,” she said. “I’ll be back, I promise.”
“I’ll be here.”
And he was. It was four hours and twenty minutes later when she parked the red bicycle back in its rack, and Phil was there, cigarette cupped against the rain, his shirt still mis-buttoned.
Sadie had traveled seemingly endless miles, tracking all over the island, visiting farms and ranchers and fishermen, all of whom told her the same thing: Bainbridge was a wonderful place. The weather could be a bit gnarly and the slavers on the mainland were a pain and sometimes picked off a scavenger or two, but overall, they liked their life. It was better than any they had heard of since the apocalypse.
While she traveled from one end of the island to the other, she surveyed the defenses they had erected. They weren’t great, consisting of miles of concertina wire and towers with search lights situated every hundred yards. For the most part, they counted on the waters of the sound to protect them. It was a weak strategy in Sadie’s opinion. Jillybean could crack those defenses with her eyes closed, and yes, she was special, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others out there who were equally special.
Still, her skepticism was all very perfunctory. She had liked the vibe of island from the first moment she had seen it across the chill waters of the sound. The search lights were brazen. They made a statement that were backed up by the towers and the wire. She liked the friendly people and the confident smile of the governor. It was a place they could fit into. It felt like home.
The only thing she didn’t care for was the lack of pharmacies. As she went from one shore to the next, talking to people, she asked about clinics and hospitals and drug stores. There were only six pharmacies on the island and each seemed smaller than the last and each had been ransacked ages before.
At each the story was the same: she would pick her way through the mess in front, crawling over downed shelves and crunching the pills scattered about on the floor to get to the back where the “real” drugs were kept. If she had wanted contraceptives she could be baby free for the next twenty years, and there was enough Rogaine to grow a forest of hair that could cover every square mile of the island, and enough Prozac to put a smile on every face.
But there wasn’t a single bottle of Zyprexa anywhere. “She still has almost a full bottle in the Camry and we can get some more in Seattle,” Sadie told herself. It was a big city. “And there are always crazy people in the city.” There were slavers in the city, but she wasn’t all that worried. From what Todd had told her, there were only a few hundred of them. They couldn’t be everywhere.
Once she had given up her search for Jillybean’s medicine, she had to turn to more mundane matters, the first of which was a change of clothes. Not only was her outfit still uncomfortably wet, she felt like someone’s mom in the high-waisted jeans and the ugly green sweater.
It took some searching but Sadie was able to outfit herself in her customary black. She was even able to find a near matching outfit for Jillybean. With the rain still coming down, she packed up her new clothes and headed for the police station. It was well after two in the afternoon when she got back. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face sagging from exhaustion. She wanted to go straight into the drunk tank and throw herself onto the dubious looking mattress, however the governor was waiting for her.
“So? What do you think? The island is almost picture-perfect, right?”
“It’s good. I like it. I think it’ll be a good fit for us.”
The governor beamed. “Excellent. I’ve arranged a dinner in your honor. There are a lot of people interested in meeting you.”
“Me? Who would want to meet me? It’s not exactly as if I’m a household name or any…” A thought stopped her. “It’s Jillybean that people want to meet, isn’t it? Really, that may not be such a good idea. She’s actually really shy.”
Rowe laughed, an easy sound like champagne bubbles popping. “That little chatterbox, shy? I heard her going on and on about the different types of sutures. Buried mattress versus the lock suture versus the interrupted, and all that. Please, she’s a girl, she likes to talk, believe me. It’ll be fine.”
Sadie began to shake her head. Governor Rowe stepped closer, putting a hand on Sadie’s damp shoulder. There were only maybe eight years separating them, but just then Rowe seemed so much older and wiser. “Listen, Sadie, this is important. Jillybean is a sweet and wonderful girl and I just adore her. But maybe not everyone will. She has baggage, after all. She’s done some questionable things and if she isn’t presented in the right light, there may be some people who might think she’s not right for our group.”
“They might at first,” Sadie said, “but I’m not worried. She has a way of wheedling her way into a person’s heart.”
“Not if they have preconceived notions,” the governor said. Her usual smile faded. “We have people from your valley here. Some fled when the first gas attacks happened and they, uh, aren’t big supporters of Jillybean. Their stories were very damaging to her reputation, which wasn’t the best to begin with.”
As always, Sadie wore her feelings on her sleeve. She glared at the governor. “Who are these cowards? Were they some of Fred Trigg’s disciples? If so, I know how to shut their mouths.”
“I
can understand your anger,” Rowe said, soothingly, “but anger and revenge may not be the best way to quell this sort of talk. Jillybean is a treasure. She should be presented in that light. With me by her side, people will begin to associate her with my steady leadership. There is an art to these sorts of things. The people need their message massaged or they are apt to draw incorrect conclusions.”
Sadie’s eyes went hard. “Is there really talk or is it just you? Really, Governor, I expected more from you. I thought you were a real leader.”
Rowe’s muddy eyes went just as hard. “I am. Do you think I got where I am by my looks? I told Jillybean that it took smarts and it does. You have to be smart enough to know people inside and out. You have to know how fickle they are, how they are apt to change their minds at the drop of a hat. And you have to know, not only that you have to play them, but also how to play them. You can pretend otherwise but its truth. It’s a sucky truth, but denying it won’t make it any less so.”
There was a power to the governor that was beyond her smarts or her determination or in how she played people. It smote Sadie and almost against her will, she wanted to step back. She held her ground but had to keep her hands from shaking. “We still can’t stay. I really appreciate it, but we can’t stay. I’m sorry.”
“I see. And how do you plan on getting off the island? Please tell me the bridge.” Sadie thought she was keeping her face neutral, but Rowe rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to try the sound, again? Please, that’s just…I don’t like to use the word stupid, so I will say foolish instead.”
“It’s not stupid. I picked up a couple of wetsuits at a store in town and some flippers. We can be across in half an hour.” That was a bit of a lie since Jillybean would never make it in thirty minutes. They’d be lucky to do it in an hour, but since they had wetsuits, they would be at least warm. “Besides, we need to cross the sound. Our car is across the sound and up a few miles.”
The smile the governor gave her was chilling. “Do you think you can just help yourself to anything on the island? Do you think everything here is up for grabs? Wrong. Sorry, Sadie. What’s on the island belongs to the people of the island. Unless you get permission, that is. But I won’t be giving it one way or another. No, don’t get mad. I have a better way. We don’t have real boats, but we have kayaks. They aren’t the best, but they’ll get you across the sound without getting wet. You just have to do this one little thing for me.”
It sounded great. A good meal, Jillybean being talked up, something that would help her self-esteem tremendously, and finally a safe and dry kayak ride across the sound. There was just one major problem: Sadie couldn’t trust that Jillybean wouldn’t suddenly freak out in the middle of a bite of chicken. A single lapse would ruin things for the little girl as well as for Sadie. She would rather take a longer route and a longer swim than let that happen.
“I wish I could, but the answer has to be no.”
Chapter 30
Sadie Martin
“Sorry,” Sadie said. “We can’t. I wish I could explain, but it’s sort of personal. I hope you understand.”
“What I understand,” the governor said, the words tinged with frost, “and what you should as well, is that nothing on an island as small as this remains a secret. Nothing. Especially from me. If you are trying to hide something, then it would be best for everyone if you spill it, now.”
Although the governor hadn’t moved closer or had been threatening in any way, Sadie leaned back. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just that we have to get back as fast as possible. We have to find out if Captain Grey is alright. So please don’t be mad, but we have to leave right at sunset.”
The governor had been wearing a grim look, but, like a light switch being flicked, her smile brightened. “Then we’re all good. We’ll make the dinner for five instead of six. What’s an hour, right? I’ll have Phil take you. I know he has a thing for you, Sadie, but you could do better. He’s a good guy, but there are plenty of others. Men more your age, I mean. I’ll see you in a few hours and I won’t take no for an answer.”
She breezed out of the waiting room and when she left, Sadie felt as if she had taken something with her. A little light, maybe. Some oxygen, perhaps, but there was definitely something missing. “Shit,” she whispered. She had been worked into a corner and now they had to go to the dinner. If they didn’t, there could be trouble when they came back and she didn’t want Neil to have to deal with her mistakes.
“But this could be a worse mistake,” she said to herself, picturing Jillybean flipping out and making a scene. “Maybe, I could slip her some Prozac, or some of that Trazidone.” Veronica, one of the ex-whores who had escaped from the Colonel used to swear by Trazidone to help her sleep. “But do I want a groggy Jillybean trying to cross the sound on a kayak? She’ll fall out of the fricking boat. Shit.” The curse word hung in the air with a note of expectation as if waiting for Jillybean to admonish her. It made her growl in annoyance.
She wasn’t mad at Jillybean. She was in desperate need of sleep more than anything. It had been thirty or forty hours since she had a wink. The drunk tank was calling to her, but she first had to pay her respects to Phil, who had been very kind to her. She gave him a quick smile and thanked him for the slicker and the bike. He wanted to extend the conversation, but her eyes were red and dripping tears and she begged off.
“I can’t stay, Phil. I’m asleep on my feet.” She could see the disappointment in his eyes and she told herself that she would give him time when she got back from Colorado.
“Sleep now,” she mumbled as she headed deeper into the station.
The drunk tank had a distant whiff of beer vomit about it which didn’t stop Sadie from dropping down onto the shady-looking mattress. Her eyes were a fraction of inch from closing when a thought struck her: How are we going to find the Camry again?
They had been turned around in the dark and everything had looked tree-ish and, well suburban. All of the houses were just so similar. Every lawn had been perfect rectangles of over-grown grass and there had been so much tope and beige. Sadie knew she’d never find the car. “But Jillybean can.”
She had such perfect trust in the little girl’s powers that she settled down again and was on the verge of sleep once more when a map of the United States presented itself to her imagination. “How do we get home?”
Instead of sleeping, she began working out the details on how to get home. Since there had been little but trees and the occasional squirrel all through Wyoming, she had a good chunk of the way back already planned out. And other than Seattle itself and the trouble in Idaho where they had been ambushed, and the cow town of Butte Montana, which had seemed the height of scary, there really weren’t too many places along the way to worry about.
She was just thinking that a detour north on the road towards the Canadian border would cut off most of the problems when she realized that she had been mostly asleep. She tried to settle down, turning towards the wall of the drunk tank where messages were scrawled: I’m sorry, Helen—For a good time, don’t call my wife, that bitch.—Jimmy was here!—So was Jimmy’s mom!
As she was reading the wall, her eyes gradually closed but then her left arm jerked up as if she were swatting a fly. She had been asleep again and that was good so why on earth was she fighting it?
“Jillybean,” she whispered the answer. What if she were in trouble right at that moment? The drunk tank was solid steel and basically soundproof—Jillybean could be crying out right then. What if she were locked into a nightmare and couldn’t get out of it? What if she was seeing something in the closet, something horrible?
Sadie sat up, tottered for a moment and went to the door to listen. All she heard was some of the men talking from down the hall. A sigh escaped her and she turned back to the bed, considered it for a moment and knew that she would never get to sleep on it, shut away from her sister. With a sigh, she grabbed the thin mattress and the skanky pillow and headed to the office where
she had left Jillybean.
Amy was dozing, lying with her head across Jason’s thighs. He gazed up at her with sleepy eyes. “You good?” he asked in a whisper. “Can we go? I’m just beat to shit.”
Sadie gave him a guilty smile. She had actually forgotten all about Amy. I must be more exhausted than I realized, she said to herself. “Yeah, thanks so much. I got it from here.” Where they were staying, she didn’t know and, at the moment, she didn’t care; she didn’t even know where Spot was and not for a second did she consider going to find him.
“No, later,” she whispered as she laid the mattress down next to Jillybean and crawled under the single blanket. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was dead asleep. It didn’t last.
She woke a half an hour later to whispering. “Go away. You’re not real. No. I won’t hurt her. I love Sadie.”
Jillybean’s words sent a cold shiver right down Sadie’s spine, but other than a little twitch, she remained motionless, straining to hear the slightest noise, the rustle of covers or the snick of Jillybean’s pocketknife. Seconds turned into minutes and these clicked slowly past as Sadie lay, unmoving. It wasn’t until she heard Jillybean’s light breathing that she even dared to roll over.
It was another thirty-three minutes before she fell back to sleep and twenty-six more before a knock at the door woke her again. Her eyes flicked to Jillybean’s face and as expected, the little girl was wide awake, but unmoving. Undoubtedly, Jillybean’s body was lying like a coiled spring under the blanket, ready to go in any direction.
A woman’s voice came from beyond the door, “Excuse me? Miss Sadie? Miss, uh, Bean? I’m with the governor’s office.”
“Come in,” Sadie answered.
Other than Granny Annie, this was the oldest person Sadie had seen since Neil used a shotgun to blow the head off the false prophet, Abraham—when she closed her eyes, she could still see the silver-haired head bouncing down the steps of the sacrificial pyramid, leaving insane Rorschach imprints on each. She could also still feel the pain of the flames eating her feet.
The Undead World (Book 10): The Apocalypse Sacrifice Page 31