Users

by Andrea M. Alexander

  "That's a naive statement coming from a guy who barely knows her or what she's been through."

  "I need a fucking joint," Cody griped, scratching at the scruff on his jaw.

  "Will you both stop talking about me," Iggy said. "If I wanted a father figure around to decide what's best for me, I would have asked my dad to come with us." She leaned close to Wesley. "I wanted to come along because I thought I would be better protection that a gun. I thought I was the best person to help Cael find his parents. They're my aunt and uncle, after all. I want to do good for people, Wes. I don't wanna spend my whole life hiding."

  "We'll talk about this later, Iggy.”

  Cody chimed in, "I vote you get it all out in the open right now. At the very least, it's entertaining. Sure beats the hell out of listening to myself sing 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall' in my head."

  I perked up and strained to see into the distance. Because it was a clear, sunny day, I spotted the smoke well out from Chattanooga. White plumes became black the closer we got to the city. “Looks like the interstate might be blocked.”

  Wesley dug into the back pack at his feet, produced a pair of small binoculars, and studied the scene. “Looks like we’re stuck in it.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. “Yeah. There’s no way around it.”

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “Damn it! At this rate, we won’t get to Sweetwater before nightfall.” I pressed the brake pedal, joining the line of cars trying to get around the interstate pile-up.

  Cody chuckled, and I glanced back at him. He said, “When the world goes to hell, you can count on half the people going bat-shit crazy and fucking it up for the remaining sane people.”

  “Maybe I should drive on the shoulder like that guy.” I pointed in the rear view mirror at a black SUV flying by everyone.

  That same SUV screeched to halt just past my car and six guys jumped out, pointing weapons at us. “Exit the car and put your hands on top of your heads!”

  Cody said, “Holy shit! Is that the FBI?”

  “Crap,” I breathed, holding up my arms and squinting to see the badge one of them held up.

  Iggy said, “Wesley? What do we do?”

  But the blonde statue didn’t respond. Then I flinched at the sound of gunshots, and the front windshield shattered, pelting me and Wes with glass as we bent over our own laps. Someone shouted and order to get out.

  We sat back up and I yelled, “Okay! We’re coming out! Stop shooting!”

  “No,” Iggy hissed. “Wesley. We can handle this. Let’s do something!”

  But I could see what she couldn’t: Wesley was busy grabbing at a dart sticking out of his left shoulder.

  “I don’t care if they’re the FBI,” she told him. “This isn’t right!”

  “Out of the car! Now!” Someone yelled.

  I plucked the yellow-tipped dart out of Wesley’s body and held it up for Iggy to see.

  “Shit!” She grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

  I said, “He looks like he’s going to sleep.”

  “Wesley!” Iggy sounded more panicked than when I’d pulled her out of the toolbox in Granger’s truck. She shook him again. His eyelids fluttered and then he slumped into his door.

  Gunfire sounded again. People in other cars screamed. Bullets struck metal. We ducked. “Iggy.” I twisted around and met her eyes, our heads low. “We should give ourselves up. It’s the F.B.I., not Jensen or Granger.”

  Iggy lips tightened into a thin line as she glared at me. “No.” The she lifted her head, peering around Wesley’s headrest. She stared into the distance and men started screaming. Bullets shattered the remaining windows in our car. Iggy shut her eyes and covered her head as glass rained down. Two men appeared on the passenger’s side and yanked open Wesley’s door. One of them reached in to grab Wesley, and then Iggy turned her attention to him. He didn’t even get to utter a syllable before his whole body seized, and he crashed to the pavement. The agent behind him pointed a gun at Iggy, and I shouted at him. But he fired a dart instead of a bullet, hitting Iggy in the arm. She yanked the dart out and tossed it onto the floor. Then she dropped the man to the ground.

  Darts pelted the car’s interior. I didn’t think they were even aiming anymore. Needles wedged into the headrests and the back seat. Cody started firing back at them. I shouted, “You can’t shoot at the F.B.I.” Then Wesley tipped over, head out the door, and started moving as if a ghost had hold of him. It took my brain a moment to register the fact that someone on the ground was pulling Wesley out of the car. I couldn’t see the person.

  “No!” Iggy grabbed hold of his shirt.

  I reached over to grab Wes while Cody fired another round of bullets at the government agents. Iggy threw herself halfway into the front after Wesley, and more darts struck the seats. Cody lunged forward and grabbed for Wesley, too. Then bullets pinged into metal and shredded seats, and we ducked for cover again. Wesley’s unconscious body disappeared beneath the door as if an unseen monster was slowly devouring him. Cody had lost his hold on Wesley, and Iggy’s body had gone lax, draped halfway across the front seat where Wesley had been sitting. I knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop anyone else now. And maybe they were government agents, but I couldn’t just sit there and let them take Iggy and Wesley.

  I said, “Cody! Shoot at them!” Then I raised my arm and fired until my magazine was empty. When Cody popped up and fired his weapon, I took that moment to load a new magazine. They weren’t shooting back, so I sat up to see what was happening. The driver was using his car door as cover while Wesley was being hauled into the back of the SUV by an agent.

  “Put down your weapon!” the man ordered.

  I ducked low again, expecting him to fire. When he didn’t, I peered over the dash to see the guy’s partner begin pulling their injured into the vehicle. It was the perfect time to shoot, but I didn’t want to actually hurt anyone. Self-defense was one thing; deliberately targeting an FBI agent was another. But they’d taken Wesley.

  “Let Wesley go, or we’ll shoot!” I threatened. In the seat beside me, Iggy struggled to right herself. Then, without warning, the driver fired. The bullet hit the dashboard in front of me and I ducked. He’d deliberately missed. He could’ve put a hole in my head, but he had chosen not to.

  When I heard tires squealing, I looked up to see the SUV going backwards. Then it spun around on the grassy shoulder and darted forward. I turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened. Steam hissed out around the hood of our car as the government vehicle disappeared alongside the interstate traffic ahead of us. I flung open my door and stumbled out to find every tire was flat and the hood resembled Swiss cheese.

  People in the cars around us began piling out, looking around and eyeing us as if we might shoot them. I could hear people discussing the horrors of 911 not answering as phones pressed to their ears. I looked in the car to find Iggy slumped over, Cody talking to her. I froze. “She wasn’t hit by a bullet, was she?”

  Cody shook his head, giving me a wide-eyed look. I ordered, “Pull her out and let’s find another car.” He scrambled out of the vehicle and yanked Iggy after him. After she was in his arms, I motioned us forward. Beside one of the vehicles in front of us was a man shouting into his phone while staring nervously at me. I pointed my gun at him and said, “We’re taking your minivan.” He screamed, begged me not to kill him, and threw himself to the ground. I ignored my guilt as I stepped over him and peered into his car. It was empty. “Get in!” I shouted at Cody. “Cover me. I’m going to get our supplies.”

  I listened for sirens and worked fast while Cody scanned the area, gun in one hand and Iggy pinned to his side with his other arm. Three trips later, all our stuff was in the minivan and the cops were nowhere to be found. I expected them to be after us so I floored it, flying past people and driving along the shoulder of the road as the black SUV had. At the first exit, I veered off the interstate, constantly glancing behind in expectat
ion. I ran lights and exceeded the speed limit until we were down some road in the middle of nowhere.

  When I was sure no one was following us, I pulled onto the shoulder of the narrow country road and put the minivan into park. I looked over at Iggy, trying to get my adrenaline under control. I asked Cody, “Is she hurt?”

  He shook his head, cradling her against him like a child. “I think it’s the dart. There’s no blood.”

  I slumped forward over the steering wheel in relief, but then I imagined myself in a prison cell and stressed out all over again. I straightened up and yelled to the car’s roof, “Fuck! What the fuck was that!” Cody just stared at me. That made me feel even worse. I slammed my palm against the steering wheel several times. “We shot at FBI agents!” I punched the roof. “Son-of-a-bitch!”

  After my breathing slowed down, I leaned over and peered at Iggy. Her eyes were at half mast, her breathing slow and deep. I reached out and touched her cheek.

  Her eyelids stretched open and she slurred, “I’m really…pissed off now.”

  Chapter 11

  Cael

  After taking back roads to get to Sweetwater, I chose a motel with doors that opened to the outside instead of to a hallway. I had Cody go into the lobby alone since his face hadn’t been all over the news. A few minutes later, he reappeared with a key and we parked right in front of the room. I backed in so that no cops could see the license plate if they drove by. Then I carried Iggy inside, and Cody brought in what was left of our supplies.

  I laid Iggy down on one of the double beds; she didn’t stir. She’d felt cold in my arms, so I folded the other half of the bedspread over and cocooned her. Then I dropped into a chair and leaned my head back against the wall. Cody lay on his back on the other bed and stared at the ceiling. Minutes passed without either of us making a sound.

  “We’re going to go to prison for the rest of our lives, aren’t we?” Cody looked over at me, unusually sober-faced.

  “Yeah. We are.”

  He exhaled loudly. “Funny thing is, I’m more weirded out by what Iggy can do than by the thought of spending time in jail.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t let her hear you say that. She seems kind of defensive about it. But I get what you mean. Life seems more like a movie than reality.” I crossed my feet at the ankles. “I’m sitting here wondering if she’s going to be angry that I took her farther away from Atlanta.”

  “Why?”

  “She probably doesn’t want to help find my parents anymore. She probably wants to go to to get Wesley.”

  “How much can anyone do when it’s the FBI who took him? Especially right now with all that’s happening. She wouldn’t even know where to look for him.”

  I looked over at Iggy, wondering just exactly what she could or would do. Sometimes she seemed every bit as strong willed and impetuous as she was when I knew her as a kid. Other times, she seemed vulnerable and sweet. It hit me that I didn’t know her well enough to predict her actions or choices. And for some reason, that bothered me. But no matter what she wanted, I was here to find my parents, and I was going to do exactly that. Backtracking to take her home would waste time my parents might not have. I assumed their car had been stolen, which meant my parents might not be anywhere near here. They could still be back in New York for all I knew. Or they could be dead. And I was scared I might not ever find out what happened to them.

  I asked Cody, “Have you talked to your parents lately?”

  “A few days ago,” he mumbled.

  “How did it go? Did they want you to come home? Are they worried?”

  Still staring at the ceiling, Cody replied, “You are my family, Cael. I’m closer to your parents than my own. And if you don’t mind, I’ll stay with you.”

  “You’re my brother, Cody. You don’t ever have to wonder if I mind you hanging with me.”

  While Cody ripped into an MRE, I peeked out the window from behind the cheap curtain. I wondered if we should ditch the minivan. I didn’t believe that the cops had time to find someone’s missing vehicle right now, but maybe I was wrong. I switched on the television, hoping to get an idea of law enforcement’s priorities before setting out to steal another car. After watching several different newscasts over a half an hour, I was certain I was right. Policemen in more quiet, rural areas were being recruited to help in metro areas. More businesses were abandoned or looted, a majority of gas stations were either out of gas or had been robbed, trucks were no longer hauling supplies to stores due to hijackings, and people were camping out around churches, claiming it was the end of the world. The National Guard in every state had been mobilized and nationwide curfews had been put in place. Another huge problem was that jails were filling up fast and the wheels of justice hadn’t just been slowed, they’d skidded to a halt. Fire departments and emergency services everywhere had called all employees into full-time active duty, but there still weren’t enough people and equipment to fight all the fires and rescue all the people who were in danger.

  Cody had stopped eating and was staring at the television with lips formed in a round ‘O’. I shut the TV off and sat there trembling. I felt as if I’d just watched the most heinous horror film ever created, and I never wanted to turn the television on again. Apparently, news stations no longer had the privilege of censorship. All the blood, all the inhumanity…you could see it all with the simple press of a button.

  Cael

  Iggy was having a nightmare. I sat up in bed, facing her but unable to see much in the darkness. Beside me, Cody was snoring. I waited for her to stop mumbling and slip back into deeper sleep, but that didn’t happen. The mumbling turned into crying and hushed pleas for the person in her dreams to stop. I sat down beside her on the bed and grasped her shoulders. “Iggy. You’re having a bad dream,” I whispered, shaking gently.

  Her breath caught and her body tensed up. After a moment, she said, “Cael?”

  “Yeah.” She sat up and threw her arms around me. It made me happy to know she trusted me and that I could offer comfort, so I held her tightly. She was trembling, and I thought she might be crying, but I couldn’t tell for sure. The Iggy I’d known in my childhood never cried…even when she’d broken a bone, even when her dog had gotten run over. But then she sniffed and wiped at her face, and I knew I was wrong.

  We stayed that way for a long time, and when she finally seemed calm, I pulled away. She released me but said softly, “Please don’t go.” She sniffed again, and I could feel her breath on my neck as she stared up at me.

  I moved to lie down beside her, and after Iggy fitted herself against my side, I pulled the bedspread over us. She draped an arm across my stomach, her fingers splayed out over my chest, directly above my heart. My shoulder was her pillow.

  She whispered, “I’m scared.”

  I hadn’t expected to hear those words from the girl who’d tormented me in my pre-teen years. I reached out and felt for her face, and then I smoothed back her hair. I opened my mouth to say, “Me too,” but instead of admitting that, I planted a kiss on her forehead.

  Chapter 12

  Cael

  For the second time in my life, I awoke next to Iggy. I liked it. I tightened my arms around her and breathed in the shampoo scent of her hair. Her breathing was deep and even, and our legs were tangled together. I didn’t want to wake her, so I rested my cheek against the back of her head and closed my eyes.

  I heard distant thunder and figured today would bring more rain. I intended to drive into Spring City and look through my parents’ car if I could find it. Thanks to Chris’s connections, I knew exactly where it was, and I figured it would still be there since no one would have the time or inclination to move it. I wanted so much to find out what happened to them, but I didn’t honestly feel as though my search would be helpful. I was struck by a pang of guilt — guilt that I’d take Iggy away from the safety of her home and her parents in a futile attempt to find mine. Because of me, her best friend and protec
tor had been taken from her. Because of me, she’d been taken by Granger’s men. If I had refused to let her come, then none of this would’ve happened. She and Wes would have been riding horses and motorcycles in the safety of their compound.

  I hoped Iggy would feel okay when she woke up. I didn’t know what medicine was in the dart she’d been stuck by, but it had kept her asleep for quite a while. I wondered if Wesley was still out and what was happening to him. What were they doing to him right now? Were they testing him? Iggy had said she’d rather die than be their lab rat. Did Wesley feel the same way? Would he try to kill himself rather than be the victim of Jensen’s plan?

  I was drifting between sleep and consciousness when a crack of thunder told me the storm had moved closer. Iggy’s breathing hitched. She turned so that we faced each other, her head tucked under my chin and her breasts pressed against my stomach. Her hand slid across my side and up my back. Her nails scratched lightly through my shirt, causing goose bumps to rise. I kissed the top of her head while imagining so much more. She whispered, “Good morning.”

  “How do you feel?” I asked, scared to move but wanting so much to touch her. What would she think if I kissed her? Would she be angry? Would she kiss me back?

  “I’ll be good to go after a cup of strong coffee. Think this place has any?”

  “I’ll go to the lobby and see if I can get us some.” It was a good excuse to move away, and when she pulled back her arm, I quickly got to my feet and smoothed out my wrinkled jeans and shirt. I took a moment to look out the window at the parking lot, empty except for our van. Then I grabbed the key card off the kitchenette table and slipped quietly out, not wanting to wake Cody.

  The wind was warmer than expected for a mid-November morning. Black clouds were rolling in quickly and swirling overhead. I smelled pre-rain ozone, and I inhaled deeply while walking to the lobby. Before stepping inside, I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and kept my eyes on the ground. Once inside, the attendant turned his attention away from the TV to greet me, and I asked about coffee. He directed me toward a coffee maker next to a stand of brochures about local attractions and called out a quick set of directions.