I followed her into the kitchen and grabbed the towel from the counter. “What is it you search for?”
“Other than the necessities? Fuel, medical supplies, drugs, stuff like that. Chuck’s a medical practitioner, and he needs everything he can get his hands on. Scalpels, sutures, antibiotics of every kind. So I go through the hospitals, doctors’ and vets’ clinics, and any drug stores I can find, even the looted ones. The hard drugs might be gone, but you never know what’s left.”
“And tomorrow?”
She wiped her hands on a spare towel and looked me in the eye. “Tomorrow I see the Lost Boys. They got a problem with one of their crew, so I’m taking the drugs to him. If it’s something that needs hands on, they come here. Otherwise, I go to them. You won’t be harmed, not from them—not while you’re with me.”
My thoughts were slow, and sluggish as I gave a nod. “Okay.”
Kenya gave a nod, and turned away. A drop of blood fell as she moved and smacked her forearm. She looked down at the mess as it soaked into the sleeve of her jacket. “Oh, shit…sorry.”
I couldn’t turn away as she fumbled for her pocket. The ripped fabric was stained and stiff from dried blood.
“That happen often?”
Kenya jerked her head high, fingers pinching her nose as she waved her pinkie. Her eyes widened, a nerve twitched before she answered. “You mean this? Sometimes. Part of the perks Chuck tells me, the clouds, the acid rain. It’s in our system. We’ll be okay. It’ll pass...”
Her mouth moved, words spilled. But I didn’t believe a damn word. And by the desperation in her gaze, she didn’t believe it either.
“How long?”
Her lips trembled as they parted. A darting glance toward the doorway behind me said more than her lies ever could. “I dunno, a few days…a week maybe.”
A week, all of a sudden in a week they were sick? “And you’ve been looking for a cure since the beginning?”
She gave a nod. Three years. Three long years to search and search. I couldn’t begin to understand the battle they fought, basic chemistry at school gave me little to go on.
But I could imagine the fight, the daily grind, day after day…I could imagine the hope, and the need. My hand went for my face, fingers skimmed the underside of my nose. Her damn smile was pathetic, curling and crimping full lips, but it was the yellow tinge to her cocoa skin that squeezed my chest. She was sick. Just like Damon was sick…red, bloodshot eyes, all three were jaundiced. I glanced at the doorway. I hadn’t been able to get a good look at Kris. Beady, dark eyes and a cruel sneer filled my mind. I was betting he looked just the same.
The disease I carried was a heart-pain, a soul-pain. There was no cure for that kind of loneliness, no end to that eternal war. But I wasn’t jaundiced, I wasn’t sick…not like them. How do you know? When’s the last time you had a good look in the mirror? “Three years.”
“Three years, what?” Kenya asked.
“Since I looked at myself in the mirror,” I stepped close. “Three years since I even thought about that at all.”
She sniffed, pulled the bloody cloth away and stared at the mess. “Kinda puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? Manicures, nights out with the girls. God, I can still taste the damn mojitos. We should do that, you know, have a girls’ night—you, me, and the damn dog. Kris is going to win, you know…you just watch. He’s tireless, and he’s a—”
“—genius, yeah, I know.”
She gave a nod, dropped her hand from her nose. Blood coated the tips of her fingers. And there was that haunted look again, the one that whispered, please don’t go…don’t leave me…Her lips quivered, hand dancing across her mouth as she smothered a yawn. She took a step past me, heading for the door. “Right now, I need sleep. Come on, let’s get you settled.”
“The locks?”
“Are automatic, but Chuck will still check every one. Don’t worry. He’s obsessive, and they’re damn strong. Nothing’s getting in here, and, even if they did, they wouldn’t get past the glass doors to the lab. You’re safe, Harlow. Safe as any place in this goddamn world.”
And wasn’t that the truth. No matter how strong the welds, no matter how greased the hinges. No matter how many bullets in the chamber, or how savage your companion was—there was no place safe. I followed her into the bunkroom, with its beds hugging the walls, and slowed at my stuff.
“You can have one of my blankets, it gets extra cool here at night,” she bent and grasped the plush folded covering from the foot of the bunk. “If you plan on staying longer, I can hunt down some more pillows. They have a room stuffed with them, you know? And clothes, Damon’s organized the Hell out of them, first it was sizes, and then colors and sizes…I gave up watching him after that.”
The question wore at me like a pebble in my shoe. I glanced at the open door, keeping my words low. “And Kris, what’s up with him?”
She stiffened with the question, and turned to glance over her shoulder. “He’s a genius. There’s no doubt about that…but the guy’s a little prickly. Best stay away.”
Oh, I planned on it. There was no arguing there.
Kenya stepped close, throwing out a blanket on top of the sheets. New people, new place, new clothes.
My heart thundered in my ears. I could feel the shudder in my chest…racing…racing... Everything was changing. So. Damn. Fast. I couldn’t keep up—not with the world—not with myself. This wasn’t me, this…wanderer, and yet, here I was, ready to risk my own damn life for what? For a feeling in the pit of my stomach, one that pulled me toward this place and these people.
The faint click…click…click of nails on the floor rang out. Pitt limped, gravitating toward me as I held out my hand. Her cold, wet nose hit my palm, and a tired lick followed before she crumpled to the ground at the foot of my bed with a hard moan.
Two seconds later the room was filled with the sound of her snores. I slid under the sheets and listened to her breaths. The place was quiet, too damn quiet. I missed the groan of my building as it settled for the night. I missed the faint calls of owls in the distance and the wolves out hunting…living. I missed the reminder that I was living too. But in here, in the closed, controlled environment, I felt like a fish in a bowl, swimming, swimming, unable to get out.
“Night, Harlow,” Kenya murmured. “I’m glad we found each other.”
“Night,” I answered as silence filled the room.
The night settled hard around me. I wanted to stay awake. I wanted to curl my hand around the gun under the edge of my pillow and stare into this unknown darkness. But my belly was full, and the smile still lingered from dinner and, as the emptiness rushed toward me, so did the dream.
You’ve already lost.
The words drifted to the surface. His words. That rider astride a pale horse. My thought conjured him, and shadows and pale reflections filled my mind. I could almost see him. Pestilence. His name filled me like an aftershock, and the tremor raced.
Harlow?
I clenched my eyes tight and shifted my hips. There was a sigh in the room as bedsprings howled, and then silence.