The Longest Night

by Lindsey Pogue

  DECEMBER 8

  7

  Alex

  December 8

  I stared at my math homework sprawled out on the counter, knowing I wasn’t going to get very far with the screaming headache settling into the base of my skull. It’d only gotten worse since I’d woken up, so it should’ve been a relief that class was cancelled again due to Mrs. Gunderson’s kids being sick, but for the first time in my life, I was disappointed to have a day off school; being cooped up in the apartment with Jimmy was much worse.

  Leaning my elbows on the table, I glanced at the math book sitting next to me and thought about Sophie. I hadn’t really stopped thinking about her, actually. When she’d tried to explain why she needed the pregnancy test, I didn’t care to listen, but the more I thought about the guy who should’ve been standing there with her instead of me, the more it pissed me off that he wasn’t.

  I wouldn’t want my own kid sister to have to go through that alone, even if I feared she likely would. The truth was, I didn’t know anything about her anymore, and I wanted her to know how incredibly sorry I was for that, and for what I’d done. Even if we were only related by marriage, she was my sister, and I was supposed to protect her, and whatever she might’ve thought about me, I hadn’t forgotten about her. I’d even asked my grandma to help me find her, but she got too sick before she could. I would tell Kayla on my own though, when I was eighteen, after I found her myself.

  I scrubbed my hands over my short hair and straightened on the rickety stool. Why was I worried about Sophie when I should’ve been worrying about the virus? It was starting to freak me out, and now that I felt half dead, I decided on taking the news warnings a bit more seriously.

  At first, the outbreak coverage just added salacious bits in the news reports, something other than downed power lines and illegal poaching in the backcountry. Now that more and more people in this tiny town were getting sick, it actually felt real—like I was trapped in a damn fish bowl—and sleeping on a shitty couch didn’t help the ache in my bones and neck.

  At least the growing panic got Jimmy out of the house to take care of a quick job for the mayor, which he couldn’t put off any longer. It was probably the only way I’d get to squeeze in some more sleep on the couch before he came back and took over the living room again.

  Closing my math book, I rose to my feet. I was thirsty, but too tired to clean a dirty glass. Even if the worn leather couch had cushions so deflated I could feel the frame beneath me, it practically beckoned me to curl up for a quick nap.

  Jimmy would be pissed I hadn’t cleaned the apartment by the time he returned, but his wrath was nothing compared to the monster headache I needed to sleep away.

  The leather creaked as I sat down with a satisfied groan, and I yanked my folded sleeping bag off the back of the couch and pulled it over me, hoping it would stave off the chill in the air.

  When the McDonald’s commercial ended and the news came back on, I unmuted the TV. “—spreading panic, the CDC seems to be more quiet than expected,” the woman anchor said. “There’s been a lot of vague talk, but hopefully we’ll know more after their official statement tomorrow in Atlanta. Meanwhile, the number of patients reported in Wales yesterday was staggeringly high as well, though the CDC isn’t sure it’s the same disease.”

  As much as I felt the need to listen to what they had to report, warmth seeped in around me, and as I let out a deep breath, the tension in my body began to ease. The exhaustion was suddenly overwhelming and sleep was so close, my thoughts became inconsequential as my mind began to blur.

  I was on the cusp of blissful sleep when the door crashed open.

  “Sleeping?” Jimmy growled, more ferocious than usual. He slammed the door behind him. “You’re fucking sleeping? This place is a dump.” He hit my feet off the couch, and I sat up with a lurch.

  “Hey—it’s not even my mess!” I shouted back, wishing he would crawl back into whatever hole he was born in and leave me the hell alone.

  “I give you a place to sleep, and you help out around here. That was the damn deal.” He dropped his tool bag onto the ground with a thud. His scowl was deeper than I’d seen before, and the shadows around his eyes were dark, like he hadn’t slept in days, even if I knew that wasn’t true.

  “You said I could have a room,” I reminded him. “I get a shitty old couch that smells like Cheetos—”

  Jimmy growled, picked up a half-empty beer can, and sent it sailing across the room, hitting the far wall. It was a warning shot, I imagined. He was clearly pissed, even if he had no right to be. I wasn’t his maid, and I cleaned up after myself all the time. He was the barbarian, not me. Sweat glistened on his forehead and beaded on his temples, and the veins in his eyes were so red I thought they might pop. “Seriously, man. You look like hell. Are you—”

  “You ungrateful piece of shit.” Jimmy hurled one of his discarded boots at me, and it hit me in the face like a ten-pound brick.

  I jumped to my feet. “What the fuck, man?” My surprise turned to fury, and then pain. It all sped through my veins as I brought my fingers to my bloody lips. Jimmy was a mean-looking guy with a semi-permanent snarl carved on his face, and he was definitely a bully and a dick, but this was the first time he’d been violent.

  I balled my hands into fists. “Never do that again,” I warned. My voice was so low, I wasn’t sure I’d even said it. My chest heaved with a vehemence like nothing I’d ever felt before, and my head pounded with an overpowering exhaustion I couldn’t shake.

  “This building is infested with sickness,” Jimmy spat. “For all I know, you’re sick and you’ve been touching everything.” He stomped to the fridge to grab a beer. “Dirty, mangy kid—you’re the reason my sister’s dead! You’re lucky I let you stay here at all.” His words hurt a thousand times more than the shoe, and my vision began to blur. I clenched my teeth so tight, a pain shot through my jaw.

  “I want this place cleaned up before I get out of the shower. You fucking hear me, you little shit?” He pointed a crooked index finger at me.

  I needed to get out of the apartment before things got out of my control.

  “Ungrateful prick,” he muttered again, and he disappeared into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “Fuck you,” I uttered, and grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair, then my beanie from the coffee table, and strode to the door. “It’s your shit. You clean it up,” I grumbled. I would not be his punching bag, especially not when it felt like I’d already been hit by a steamroller.

  I slammed the front door shut behind me and stepped out into the hallway. Screw this guy and this place. I didn’t need to deal with Jimmy. He could get his check, and I would sleep in the damn gym for four months if I had to. Anything was better than dealing with him.

  Pulling my beanie over my head, I headed for the elevator and stopped short.

  Sophie stood just outside the doors as they slid closed, long hair piled on top of her head. Her blue eyes were wide and fixed on me. “Is everything okay?” she asked, shoving her cell phone back into her pocket. “You look . . . angry.”

  “I’m fine.” I walked past her to press the down button. I didn’t want to be rude, but I wasn’t in the mood to chitchat either. The doors dinged back open, and I stepped inside.

  “Hey, wait—” Sophie stepped into the elevator beside me, and I pressed the button for the lobby. “You’re bleeding,” she whispered, reaching for me. Her fingers brushed my cheek as she angled my face toward the halogen light above.

  “I’m fine,” I repeated, and my eyes shifted to hers, but I didn’t pull away. Her fingers were warm and soft, and the scent of sunshine and clean linen wafted off her, which was strangely comforting.

  “What happened?” She eyed my busted lip.

  “I fell. Don’t worry about it.” I was not going to tell her Jimmy threw a shoe at me. There was enough pity in her eyes already. A shoe, of all things, was almost humiliating.

  Sophie’s hand
dropped to her side. “I am worried about it,” she said, more adamant than I’d expected.

  “Trust me, it could’ve been worse.” But that statement didn’t help matters any. The creases in her brow intensified, and she looked almost angry.

  “Hey,” I said more softly as the elevator shook, descending to the lobby. The last thing I needed was to see a girl’s face crumple because she was worried about me. “It’s fine—I’m fine. It was a stupid thing.”

  Sophie’s gaze shifted over my face, and I could tell she was anxious for me. Through the exhaustion and frustration, her concern resonated in a way that made my chest ache a little. No one had ever looked at me like that, and oddly, unlike when strangers regarded me with pitying and judgmental stares after they learned anything remotely true about me, I liked that Sophie cared, even if I knew I wasn’t worth a second thought. I liked her being so close I could smell the scent of her clean clothes and feel the heat coursing off her, warming the air around me.

  I stared into the blue and yellow flecks of her eyes, and at the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose and dappling her cheeks. She was more than pretty. I felt a pull to her I’d never experienced with someone before. It was like there was a physical tether between us, shortening by the second.

  I averted my gaze, and Sophie cleared her throat and took a step back. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I just need some sleep. That couch is shit.”

  “You can sleep on my couch,” she offered. “My mom won’t mind if you need a place—”

  “No,” I told her. I was not a charity case. “Thanks though.” Sophie had no idea who I was, neither did her mom. And if Sophie knew half of the shit I’d done, she wouldn’t be offering or looking at me with so much concern.

  “Seriously, Alex, I owe you—Oh! Here’s the money for the tests—”

  I brushed her proffered hand away, the pity in her eyes and in the strain of her voice making me feel even sicker. “Don’t worry about it.”

  The door opened on the lower level, and my feet wouldn’t move fast enough as I stepped into the lobby. I didn’t want Sophie seeing me with a busted up lip anyway, and I needed space—I needed air. Besides, I was pond scum compared to her—the preppy, mayor’s daughter who lived in the closest thing this town had to an ivory tower.

  “Fine,” she said softly. The hurt in Sophie’s voice was unmissable though, and I remembered the fear I’d seen in her eyes only yesterday. Despite my irritation and exhaustion, I knew she wasn’t a pretty pink princess like I wanted to believe, and she didn’t deserve the cold shoulder.

  Feeling like an ass, I turned around, about to ask her about the pregnancy test, when the elevator door closed again and she was gone.

  “Damn.” I closed my eyes and inhaled in a deep, calming breath. I’d worry about Sophie’s feelings after I found a dark corner in class to pass out in. For now, my face was throbbing, though the taste of blood was less noticeable. I just needed some real, uninterrupted sleep and I would be fine.

  I rubbed the back of my neck and wished I could telepathically transport myself down the hall. Somehow that tiny wink of sleep had pulled me in so much I couldn’t shake it, like with just the promise of it, my body required more.

  As I headed down the hall toward the connection tunnel, the door to the clinic flew open and I stumbled back. A police officer stepped out. “You can’t be down here,” he said, knocking past me.

  I bit back the acerbic words on my tongue as the officer hurried through the mayor’s door, two offices down. The door to the clinic squeaked shut, but not all the way, and I could see crimson spattering the floor. I leaned forward in alarm, unable to resist, and another officer covered up a pair of sock-covered feet hanging over an exam table.

  Blood. And vomit. A lot of it. All over the floor. I didn’t do blood or vomit. The sneaking memories of my past billowed to mind, and I swallowed thickly, trying to keep the cereal I ate for breakfast down as I took an unsteady step backward. What the hell had happened? Was it the virus?

  The other police officer stepped out next, his eyebrows drawn together and his lips pursed. “You can’t be here, son—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled and turned to leave. “I’m going.” Shoving my hands in my pockets, I headed for the lobby, uncertain where the hell I was going if I couldn’t go to the school.

  As I walked in front of the entry door, it swung open and a woman shoved into me, nearly knocking me on my ass. “What’s with everyone?” I shouted. “Don’t you see I’m walking here?” I bit back a few other superlatives, even if the woman was barely fazed.

  She glanced at me, her green eyes wild with alarm, but I didn’t think it was because of me. Her long, brunette hair was disheveled and hanging in her face, and she looked pale, but then so did a lot of people in Alaska. It’s why people like me stood out so much. Was she sick or just rude and oblivious?

  “Excuse you—”

  “They were here yesterday,” she spat into the phone, then switched it to the right side, and I noticed a crown tattooed behind her left ear. “I had them do what you told me to—just like you’d said—now something’s not right,” she said, frantic. “I’m not right. Why is this happening—what’s wrong with me?”

  I registered the blood around her nose as she looked at me again, not really even seeing me, before she continued toward the elevator.

  Another woman with burgundy hair hurried past me with a walkie-talkie gripped in her hand. The high pitch of radio static pierced the empty lobby, before the speaker clicked on. “It’s coming into port now,” a male voice said. “They don’t care if we have the provisions or not.”

  “God damn it,” she whispered, bringing the receiver to her mouth. She was about to speak when she noticed me watching her, dumb and a little fuzzy.

  “You shouldn’t be down here,” she told me, and the scent of clean linen and oranges wafted off of her. I saw Sophie’s slope nose in her features and the blue-and-yellow flecked eyes, and immediately knew she was Sophie’s mom, the mayor. “There’s about to be a horde of people in here. Go home—now.”

  “Fine,” I said, throwing my hands up. I shoved the door open. I wasn’t going home and apparently I wasn’t staying in the lobby either. “Freeze to death it is,” I barked out, and I nearly stumbled down the steps into the biting cold air of the afternoon. It felt like shards of ice pierced my flesh, but it was better than the worsening pain in the back of my head, the incessant throbbing, and the heat that flourished behind my ears and down into my throat.

  The mountains surrounding Whitely were covered in white and were menacingly jagged against the gray afternoon sky. I wasn’t sure where my feet were taking me, just that I had to keep moving and find somewhere to sleep before I passed out in the snow where I stood.

  Blowing heat into my cupped hands, I eyed a boat graveyard and shrugged. I’d slept in worse. I forced my eyes to stay open and followed the road past the kayak center, but the longer I walked the fuzzier my mind became and the heavier my limbs felt against the cold wind.

  As I shut my eyes against an abrasive gust, I almost forgot to open them again, and it was all I could do to keep upright and let my feet carry me wherever they would take me.

  8

  Sophie

  December 8

  As the elevator opened on the eighth floor again, I breathed a little easier knowing the pregnancy test had been taken out with the trash, but I wondered if Alex would be okay. I didn’t know Jimmy very well, just that he always smelled like stale beer and aftershave and he wasn’t very good at his job—or so my mom always said. It was hard enough to think of him as an adult, let alone a parental figure, but I hoped he wasn’t violent. I had a feeling Alex didn’t just fall; he didn’t strike me as a clumsy guy.

  I eyed Jimmy’s apartment door as I walked past, expecting to hear the snarl of a rabid dog inside—but I heard a crash instead, then another one, like he was upturning furniture—and I hurrie
d more quickly down the hall. At least I knew Alex wasn’t inside.

  Forcing myself to focus, I blew out a fortifying breath and made my way toward Jesse’s apartment three doors down. Sweat beaded my brow the entire way. I wasn’t sure why I was so apprehensive to see Jesse, so much so that I’d lingered on the fourth floor, staring longingly at Bailey’s place for nearly an hour, like magically she’d walk out and say hello. I still hadn’t heard back from her either.

  When I arrived at apartment 808, I stood in front of the door for a few heartbeats, wondering how sick Jesse actually was. He still hadn’t texted me back, but his mom had answered when I’d called their main line this morning. While Mrs. Phillips didn’t seem particularly happy I was bothering her, at least I knew Jesse was alive—sick and in bed, but alive. Even if I couldn’t see him, at least he’d know I came by.

  I knocked on the door and listened for footsteps on the other side. I could hear the low chatter of what sounded like the television, but there were no rustling sounds or creaking floors inside. I was about to knock again when I heard a cough. A spring squeaked, and finally, the door cracked open. Air wafted through the opening, so acerbic I swallowed involuntarily. Then Mrs. Phillips’s bloodshot eyes and green-tinted skin came into view.

  She opened the door further, and I took a step back. Her blonde and gray-streaked hair was oily and matted to her round cheeks, and her blue eyes looked almost like they were fogged over—fogged over and narrowed on me, holding no kindness.

  “What is it, Sophie?” Her voice rattled with phlegm like it was suspended in her throat.

  I swallowed thickly, unable to resist, and forced myself to breathe. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Phillips. I thought I would see if Jesse—”

  “I told you, Jesse is sick.”

  “But—I mean, can I bring you guys anything?”