Ballistic: Icarus Series, Book Two (29 page)

“Hey.” A guy in khakis and a plaid button-down shirt glanced at us over his clipboard, unimpressed, and went back to what he was doing. He clutched the clipboard between his thighs and leaned over a luggage cart full of bottled water. “I am not here to take orders, I don’t pour icy-cold beverages, and I can guaran-goddamn-tee you I won’t be cooking. You want to know exactly how many bags of Doritos we have or who ate the last pack of M&Ms I’m your man. Otherwise, piss off.”

“Like I said,” Tessa shot Keith a look. “Bucket of sunshine, this one.”

“They have coffee
and
Doritos, Liv,” Riley whispered, clutching my arm. “Pinch me.”

“Picking up strays again, huh, Tessa?” A young woman with curly brown hair smiled at us over a stack of wooden crates. The containers were piled in front of one side of the luggage belt.

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” Tessa returned the grin. “Kids, this is Rhiannon, our resident master chef, slash barber.”

“Master chef is a bit of a stretch,” Rhiannon smiled and shook her head, “but I make a pretty mean grilled cheese and I have yet to start any fires, so that’s something. And for the fiftieth time, I’m not a barber I’m a stylist.”

“Same difference,” Tessa shrugged. “I am going to head over to check on Ballard and have Collin give everyone a quick once-over. Do me a favor and throw together a quick snack for these kids. I’m guessing they haven’t had anything substantial to eat in a few days. Oh, and throw on a pot of coffee for this one.” She elbowed Riley, who clapped her hands excitedly.

“Sure thing,” Rhiannon said. “I just put out the buddy burners from lunch, but they should still have enough in them to manage a snack. I’m sure I can scrounge something together. Any special requests?”

“Anything but granola or potato chips would be amazing,” Zander said, squeezing my hip playfully.

“I can work with that,” Rhiannon smiled at him, and then raised a knowing brow at me. I liked this girl. “Tessa, if you see Tamsen, can you send her back? I know lunch duty is over, but I could really use her help. Besides, coffee is not really my department.”

“Sure thing,” Tessa saluted.

With a quick nod, Rhiannon disappeared behind the tall stack of crates. She moved slowly as though she had been injured. Keith rounded the stacks, clipboard in hand, and followed at her heels muttering to himself about
constant supervision
and
keeping a rolling inventory
.

“It’s not exactly a T.G.I. Friday’s, but it gets the job done,” Tessa said. “Squints came up with most of this stuff. Having a gypsy in the ranks has its advantages.”

“Gypsy?” Christa whispered to Eli. “Isn’t that just a fancy way of saying homeless?”

The “kitchen” they had set up was actually quite impressive, given the conditions. Makeshift counter tops lined the circumference of the luggage carousel creating ample workspace for meal preparation. Most of them were composed of a combination of folding tables, crates, and sheets of plywood and fiberboard.

Large, wooden crates like the ones we had seen in the boiler room were stacked in a meticulous brick-pattern along the side of the carousel closest to the escalators. Behind them were rows and rows of metal luggage carts. The structure they created completely blocked the second emergency exit that rested in the corner. The food carts rested along the inside of the crate wall, each labeled with a paper sign designating its contents.

Rhiannon and Keith stood in front of them with their backs to us, arguing quietly as she pulled items out and put them into the plastic shopping basket that rested on her hip. Keith was tapping furiously on his clipboard and then glared at us before turning back to Rhiannon. Our arrival had thrown a wrench into his earlier calculations, and he was clearly not happy about it.

“What’s a buddy burner?” Christa asked.

“Come on over here and I will show you,” Tessa put her arm around Christa and led her toward the opposite side of the kitchen. The rest of us followed, equally curious. Tessa clicked on her flashlight and pointed the beam at a pile of bricks and wire mesh stacked on the left side of the kitchen area. “This is a buddy burner. Granted, it isn’t much to look at, but we are able to cook simple, hot meals with them. It’s a hell of a lot better than living off of vending machine garbage, right?”

“Definitely,” Falisha groaned, moving in to take a closer look at the contraption. “How does it work?”

“It’s actually pretty cool,” Tessa smiled and handed the light to Falisha. “Check this out.”

The bricks were stacked two-high in a triangle with a small gap between two of the edges. A mangled piece of wire caging lay across the top of the pavers. Inside the little hut sat a small tuna can, half-filled with a black liquid and what looked to be floating bits of paper.

Tessa hopped over a dip in the counter and dug through a bin beneath it until she found a small, metal saucepan. She set the pan on the counter next to the ramshackle cooking device and emptied a plastic water bottle into it. Then, she reached her hand through the gap in the bricks and pulled out the tuna can. She placed it on the table in front of us, and we crowded in like a kindergarten class on a field trip.

“This is the coolest part.” She stuck her finger into the muck inside the can, scraped out a small channel with her fingernail, then held out her hand. “Anyone have a lighter handy?”

Zander reached into his pocket and dropped a yellow Bic into her palm. That lighter had fed the flames that devoured his childhood home, less than three days ago. I ignored the searing pain in my ribs and squeezed him tight to my side. His jaw unclenched slightly, but I could tell his mind had gone there, too.

Tessa flicked the flint on the lighter and held it to the contents of the small can. On the third try, it lit, and the can flared to life. Blue and green flames engulfed the shredded material inside the small tin. She carefully slid the burning can back inside the brick triangle, centered the wire grate, and placed the pan on top. The flames were just high enough to lick the bottom of the metal pan.

“Cool right?” Tessa clapped her hands together.

“Is it safe to burn this indoors without proper ventilation?” Jake asked bending at the waist to look at the can while it burned. “What is that fuel? It smells like…like—?”

“Is that pumpkin pie?” Ty asked.

“It’s wax,” Tessa said smiling broadly. “It’s nothing more than bits of old candles and broken crayons, melted down onto coils of corrugated cardboard. They don’t last forever, and I wouldn’t trade my old six burner gas stove for a million of these things, but they do well enough for cooking, boiling water, or sterilization purposes. Hell, Rhiannon even managed to fry up some powdered eggs in a cast-iron skillet, yesterday.”

“You taking notes?” Falisha elbowed Jake, who nodded and tapped his temple with a smirk.

“Cool,” Christa said sounding oddly like her brother. “Who knew you could cook food with crayons?”

“That’s what I said,” Tessa laughed. She shouted over to Rhiannon as she hopped back over to our side of the counter. “One pot going, hun. I’ll leave the rest to you.”

Rhiannon threw a thumbs up over her head but didn’t turn to face us. The basket on her hip was almost full. I couldn’t tell what was in it, but it hardly mattered. We had been living on sugar and salty snacks for the last few days and my stomach was more than ready for something new. It grumbled loudly in anticipation.

Tessa led us down the long corridor and back toward the hatch. We passed a tall stack of suitcases that ran down the middle of two rows of chairs. It was piled high with rows of folded laundry, blankets, and shoes in every size and color imaginable. I eyed a stack of tank tops and made a mental note to stock up on as many non-pink racer-backs as I could get Tessa to part with.

“Those doors lead to the restrooms,” Tessa gestured to the double corridor openings just past a broken down water fountain mounted on the wall. “The plumbing down here is gravity-fed, so you can use the toilets as long as you dump a bit of water in after you do your business. You know the drill, though. We have to conserve as much as we can, so don’t be flushing willy-nilly. If it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown—”

“Flush it down,” Christa sneered. “We got it. So gross.”

“Actually, I was going to say if you have to do
that
, use the unisex bathroom,” Tessa said, pointing to the large handicap accessible stall just past the bathrooms. “There are wash basins in both the men’s and ladies’ facilities for washing up and such. You are welcome to use them after Collin checks you over.”

“Please, tell me you have shampoo,” Christa said, clasping her fingers together in front of her face. “I swear to you, I would kill to wash my hair.”

“No need for violence, Princess,” Tessa patted her shoulder. “I’m sure we can rustle something up for you. First, things first, okay?”

Christa nodded and picked up the pace, following closely at Tessa’s heels as she led us to the last row of chairs. Tamsen, who looked much less anxious than the last time we had seen her, was knelt over Ballard, holding his hand. The young guard had a bandage wrapped tightly around his head and his forearm. A wide strip of gauze dissected his abdomen. An older man with silvery-gray hair was on a knee at the young man’s side, listening to his heartbeat. Ballard’s bloodied uniform shirt lay on the floor next to him.

A scruffy looking guy with muddy-blond hair scooped the shirt up from the floor and tossed it into a nearby garbage bin. He sprayed the bloody floor with a bottle of cleanser and scrubbed at the stain with a grimy towel. I stared at him, fascinated. His eyes moved constantly, taking everything in, but they never connected with anyone else’s. Even when spoken to, his eyes shifted nervously between his task, the person speaking, and our approaching feet.

“Devon, why don’t you and Tamsen go and see if Rhiannon needs any help in the kitchen, okay?” Tessa said. Tamsen nodded and patted Ballard’s hand before walking off toward the kitchen area.

“’Kay. I guh-guh-guh.” Devon stammered like a catch in an old record. A quick tap on his chest with the heel of his hand seemed to knock the needle back into place. “I g-got it.”

“Thanks, Dev,” Tessa smiled and patted his shoulder as he slunk past. She turned to the older man hunched over Ballard. “How’s my guy doing, Collin?”

“Just a few stitches. He got his bell rung, for sure, but it looks much worse than it is, right Vic?” The man said with a thick, almost comical Bostonian accent. He patted Ballard’s leg and rose to his feet looping his battered, gray stethoscope around his neck. His worn out leather Oxfords squeaked against the floor as he turned to throw Tessa a smile. “We’ll have him up and about in a couple of hours, I’d say.”

“And his eyes?” Tessa whispered, worrying at her bottom lip.

“Clear,” Collin said quietly, his gaze drifting over Tessa’s shoulder to where we stood. He pulled a towel from his back pocket and wiped at the sweat on his brow. “Are you going to introduce me to your new friends, Tess?”

“Right, sorry,” Tessa sighed, visibly relaxing. “This is…um—.”

“Liv,” I waved and pointed to my friends. “This is Zander and Riley. Jake, Ty, and Falisha. The grumpy little blonde over there is Jake’s sister Christa, and that’s Eli.”

“I was hoping you could have a quick look at them, Collin,” Tessa said nudging me gently. “The lurkers knocked us around a bit, and I may have made a less than gracious first impression.”

“There was duct tape,” I smirked.

“Sounds about right,” Collin laughed and shook his head. He smiled at Tessa affectionately. “It’s always kick ass first, ask questions later with this one.”

“Remind you of anyone?” Zander whispered to me.

“Hush,” I muttered, smiling reluctantly at him.

“It’s settled then,” Tessa put her hands on her hips. “Collin will patch you up, we’ll grab you a fresh change of clothes, and then you can stop by the washrooms. After that, we’ll head over and see what Rhiannon has whipped up for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, cradling my ribs. “We don’t have much to trade, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Honey, the only thing you have that I want is information,” Tessa said, her eyes on Zander’s tape-bound arm. “You answer a few questions for me, and we can call it square. Deal?”

“Fair enough,” I said.

“Perfect,” Tessa smiled. “Doc will get you all fixed up, then. But first, there’s someone I’d like you all to meet.”

She walked to the end of the bank of chairs and knelt on the ground next to a long stack of suitcases. The luggage had been laid in a neat row, two wide, and two high, and draped in blankets. I shook my head in confusion and stepped closer to Tessa. The pile of blankets moaned and a slender leg slipped out from beneath it.

Tessa knelt down next to the suitcases and gently patted the small foot, then lifted it gingerly back up onto the makeshift cot. With a sad smile, she carefully rearranged and smoothed out the blankets, then folded the top back revealing the pale face of the girl beneath the mass of airline-issue gray linens.

She had the kind of stick-straight sandy blond hair that I would have killed for. The wispy strands were plastered to her scalp with sweat. Her features were tight as if she were in pain. Her lips were dry and cracked, and her skin hung loosely on her bones. A mass of winding black tendrils crept its way up the left side of her neck and across her gaunt jaw-line.

“Guys,” Tessa said looking up at us. “I’d like to introduce you all to my granddaughter, Megan.”

Chapter 26

The Ring

“Hey, Megs,” Tessa cooed, turning her back to us and smoothing the girl’s hair from her face. Devotion and worry poured from her eyes in equal measure as she stared down into her granddaughter’s pallid face. “I’m back, sweetie. Don’t worry; Grandma’s going to make sure you are as good as new.”