“But I can cook,” Damon shook his head. “Years of practice making something out of nothing. Come on,” he motioned me forward. “Let’s get you settled. You can have a shower while I wash the mutt and get her stitched up. I’m good with animals.”
A swab was taped to the crook of his elbow, like he’d given blood or just been injected. It was too precise to be anything but clinical. There was something bugging me. Something about all the closed doors and the smell of alcohol so fresh it made my eyes burn. “What do you do here?”
Kenya stopped walking, then slowly turned. There was a second where a secret passed from one to the other. A second where all eyes turned toward me. I felt the weight of that scrutiny, as though I was being weighed and measured to see if I was deemed worthy, until Kenya spoke.
“We’re saving the world.”
6
There was no air. No rush to my lungs, no bitter tang on my lips. I waited, while those words settled deep.
“Breathe, kid,” Chuck sniggered and gave me a soft whack on the shoulder and then winced and stared at his fingers.
Air rushed in, quenching the fire in my chest as I wheezed. “What do you mean?”
There was no stopping now, not the smile on her face or the secret bursting to get to the surface. “We’re creating a vaccine. One that will end this goddamn plague for good. It won’t stop the acid rain, or the storms, those’re out of our control. But we can end the disease—that’s the plan, anyway.”
Pieces started to slip into place. The lab, the smell. The injections. I glanced at Chuck. His arm was taped the same, and I was betting that underneath the long sleeves of her jacket, I’d find a taped swab over Kenya’s vein. I looked over my shoulder to the closed doors. “You’re creating a cure…here?”
Chuck nodded. “That’s the plan, well, as soon as Kris figures it all out. We’ve come up with a name for it, you want to hear?”
“No one cares about your stupid name, Chester,” came a sharp snarl behind us. I turned. His dark eyes cut toward me. He was tall and thin, dressed in a white lab coat that was perfect and crisp. There wasn’t a thing out of place on him. He was a step back in time, before the end of the world—before everything. Dark, beady eyes narrowed. Like a hawk moving in for the kill. Thin, bloodless lips curled into a sneer. “Who the Hell are you?”
I flinched from the acid in his tone.
“This is…this is…” Kenya started.
“Harlow,” I muttered and held out my hand. “My name’s Harlow.”
“Looks like trouble,” the cold bastard snarled, glanced at my hand and then lifted his head to Kenya. “Did you get what I wanted?”
Her eyes lit up as she delved into her pack, and wrenched out a book. “Yeah, but it cost me.”
He stepped forward, yanked the thin, hardcover book from her hands and turned away. He never asked what it cost her…and didn’t seem to care. The shine in her eyes dulled. There was a twitch of confusion, until it was smothered by resignation.
Chuck took a step, eyes blazing with fire.
But the cold-hearted bastard never seemed to notice. “I’ll take my dinner in the lab,” Kris stalked away, staring at the book in his hands. “This time, not too much salt.”
“Sonofabitch,” Chuck hissed when the cold-hearted bastard was out of earshot.
“Don’t let it worry you,” Kenya muttered as she turned away. “I don’t, not anymore.” But her shoulders sagged with the words.
“He’s just lucky we need him,” Damon snapped. “Or I’d leave him out for the vultures in a goddamn heartbeat…if I could get outside, that is.”
I glanced over my shoulder to stare at the empty hall. “Why do you need him?”
“Cause he’s the one that’s creating the cure,” Damon muttered. “The bastard’s smarter than all of us put together.”
“He knows it, too,” Kenya spat.
I felt the sting of their anger, and saw the hurt-filled resignation in their eyes, but I was captured by the moment—filled to the brim with purpose.
The Calling raged, filling the empty cavern I held inside.
This was the reason I was here—God brought me to this place and these people. They were creating a cure, one that would save the world, and, somehow, they needed me.
“What were you doing there, anyway?”
I lifted my head at the words and met Kenya’s gaze.
“At the church,” one brow rose as she looked to my companion. “You don’t live around here, or I would’ve seen you before.”
“No, I don’t live around here, I’m over on the east side,” I muttered while my mind raced.
Keep the food safe, keep the water hidden. Don’t tell anyone where you sleep. Survive.
“Okay,” she said with a shrug. “No biggie. Let me show you to the shower room. Chuck, here, would pitch a damn fit if you sat for dinner like that. You’re gonna love it. No hot water of course, but we’ve tapped into the hospital’s main water supply, so you get all the water you need, and we have a proper washing machine.”
“I made the soap myself,” Damon bent down to scratch Pitt’s ears, “and this one looks like she could do with some loving care. So, you go on now, enjoy your shower, while I get her all fixed up.”
He ran a gentle touch along her side, lingering at the cut on her shoulder. “Looks like someone beat you real good, didn’t they, sweetheart?”
Footsteps sounded as Kenya moved. I took one last look at my new four-legged friend. Animals had an innate sense about people, didn’t they? That’s what I’d been led to believe.
If a dog liked you, then you were a good person, and the way Pitt looked at Damon must mean he was a saint as he delved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a tiny piece of dried meat.
Her greedy tongue lapped his fingers, the morsel was gone in a heartbeat.
“You like that, dontcha, girl? It’s deer, dried it myself, and there’s more where that came from. Come on now,” he rose and gently patted the side of his thigh, and she followed.
I watched her limp after him before I turned to follow in Kenya’s wake. The sights and the smells hit me like a blow, first bitter and sharp, then rich and gamy. The smell of thick steaks on the grill. Memories flooded my mind as Kenya turned left at the end of the hallway and punched through a set of double doors.
“We sleep in here, everyone except Kris, that is. He sleeps in the lab…thank God. Here,” she grasped a small pile of clothes. Pale gray sweat pants and a faded yellow t-shirt. “These will fit while we run your stuff through the washer. This way, if you decide to leave, you know where the all-night laundromat is.”
A rumble tore through the room. Something small rattled on the desk. I stilled, and punched my hands out, steady…
“Aftershock. It’s okay.”
I tried to nod, but deep down I knew the real reason, and it had nothing to do with shifting tectonic plates, The real reason was me. I grasped the book and wrenched it close. “It’s my fault.”
The quake eased.
“What did you say?”
I flinched at the edge to her voice, but I was too far gone, falling down a rabbit hole of guilt. “I did this…I caused the earthquake.”