Inhuman (26 page)

“I thought you were risking arrest,” I said, “but you can go back anytime you want.”

“What does that matter?”

It mattered because he could break the law — cross the quarantine line — and no one would ever threaten to execute him. “This
is
just a field trip for you. This is Rafe’s life….” I didn’t know what my point was. I just felt stupid — really stupid — and … what? Betrayed?

“Last I checked, you grew up safe and sound in the West too,” he said tightly.

“Not in a germ-free penthouse, surrounded by tutors and bodyguards.”

“Actually, it was in one of the old Titan labyrinths and it was a great time, let me tell you.”

“Don’t.” I backed away from him. “Don’t try to make me feel sorry for you. Cosmo was locked in a zoo.”

“Is that my fault?”

“It’s your mother’s.”

He flinched like I’d hauled off and hit him, and then looked away. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

I took a breath. I used to think people were over the top in their hatred for Ilsa Prejean. Especially my father. But now that I’d met Cosmo and spent time in this ruined world …

“I get it,” I said softly. “You’re here to try to make up for what she did. But I’m going to bed now because …” I lifted and dropped my hand. “Just because.” I couldn’t explain my sudden overwhelming sadness and exhaustion. I just knew that if I didn’t go upstairs right now, I’d end up on the floor, curled in a ball.

I heard Rafe come through the front door as I climbed the stairs. “Hey, where are you going?” he called.

I didn’t glance back. “To bed.”

“What’d you do?” he asked Everson accusingly.

“I was born,” Everson replied, sounding tired.

I shouldn’t have hurt him, but I ached too much to go back down now. I just wanted to be alone. I crawled onto the queen bed. Let the guys fight over the top bunk. Finally, in the dark, I let loose my tears. I cried for the children like Cosmo, trying to survive on their own in the Feral Zone. And for the “scary people” living in cages in a zoo. People who had been human and had lost everything — families and lives, and finally their minds — to a virus that shouldn’t exist.

My father should have been doing more than bringing crates of medicine to Moline. He should have pushed farther into the zone and come more often. And he should have told me about this place so that I could have been helping too.

The bats swarmed around me, but I couldn’t get away because I was chained to a radiator in the middle of a meadow. And then there was my green silk gown that was so tight fitting, I couldn’t move my legs to take even a step. But suddenly I remembered the switchblade hidden in my sleeve. Nudging it out, I tried to slash at the bats but there were too many. They tore at my gown with sharp teeth and claws and dive-bombed my chest. Screaming, I tried to stab them but only ended up cutting myself as the swarming creatures tore my flesh off in strips.

I lurched awake with a cry, my hands pressed over my heart as I tried to keep my skin in place. Slowly, my senses kicked in and I began to separate fact from fantasy.
Just a nightmare
, I told myself,
that’s all
. A dream couldn’t hurt me.

“Lane, are you all right?” Everson asked from the doorway.

Wearily, I nodded and rolled to my side. I didn’t want to talk about it. Or anything else. The nightmare had left me feeling raw and vulnerable, and now embarrassment was kicking in. And the bed smelled like mice, even though I’d changed the sheets and blanket. Or maybe the whole room reeked of rodents. I could hear them too. Small rustlings in the box springs. I sat up, jammed my pants into my socks, and curled up under the blanket. The mattress dipped as Everson sat down next to me and propped a pillow behind him.

I scrunched myself into a ball and pressed my face to the cool sheet. What was he doing? I’d been wretched to him. But when he slid his arm under me, I was too surprised to protest.

“Come here.” His voice was heavy and rich.

I rolled to face him. “I’m sorry I was so mean about your mother,” I whispered.

“I’ve heard meaner.” A shaft of moonlight streamed through the shuttered window and fell across his face. He didn’t look mad at all. “Bad dream?”

“Awful.”

“Put your head down,” he coaxed.

I’d never laid this close to a boy before — let alone in a bed. This was a bad idea. “Just for a minute,” he said.

He smelled like smoke from the fireplace — a cozy, comforting smell. It would be nice to let someone else keep an eye on the window. I let my head sink onto his shoulder and heard the soft cadence of his heart.

I’ll just lie here for a minute
, I told myself and closed my eyes.
Only a minute.

I was dreaming again — but this dream was of a very different sort. In some part of my mind, I was aware that the morning had broken, but I wasn’t ready to open my eyes and get up. I felt cozy and safe with my Great Dane stretched out on the bed beside me. My eyes tore open. That wasn’t my dog’s warm body so close to mine. It was
Everson’s
. Thank goodness, he was still asleep; his steady breathing told me so.

Blades of sunlight streamed in through cracks in the shutters. Without moving, I tried to remember how we’d ended up this way. Nothing had happened last night; I was sure of it. I was still in my clothes and Everson was touching me only lightly, his hand on my hip. But somehow I felt different. I smiled. Almost laughed. Maybe it was just the high of realizing I was
alive
. I hadn’t gotten paralyzed by a chimpacabra or eaten by weevlings. I was on my way to Chicago; I would do the fetch and my father would be fine. Or maybe this buzzing feeling inside of me was from something else entirely. All I knew was that I wanted to snuggle back into Everson and savor it. The thought sent ripples of heat through me. Actually, what I really wanted was to turn in his arms and kiss him. But I wanted him to stay asleep while I did it. Was that asking for too much?

Yes
, I told myself firmly. Kissing a sleeping boy would be crossing the line, and I’d done more than enough line crossing these past few days. I sighed and lay still, enjoying the way his breath tickled the back of my neck — until the sounds of someone moving downstairs startled me right out of the bed. The last thing I wanted was to give Rafe anything else to tease me about. He was already obnoxious enough about Everson. With real ammunition, Rafe would humiliate me. So, before the boy on the bed so much as cracked an eyelid, I bolted from the room.

The wide pine planks of the living room floor creaked as I crossed them to peer through the sliver of space between the shutters into the backyard. Outside, red and gold leaves dappled the ground. I used to love mornings like this, cold and sunny. I put my fingers on the chilled window, overcome with a memory of my father. I was six, and we’d been having a picnic in a freshly mowed public park. That grass smell was in the air, and my dad had tossed me up into it. Flinging me to the sky and laughing as he caught me with both hands. I remembered screaming with joy at each drop — the scariest moments. Now I avoided that breathless, out-of-control feeling. When had that started?

I found Cosmo in the kitchen sharpening a knife, which sent a crawly feeling up the back of my neck. Rafe entered and dropped other sharp objects on the counter — a screwdriver, a nail file, a letter opener. “Sleep well?” he asked me.

His expression was bland but I didn’t miss the insinuation in his voice. “Nothing happened.”

“Course not,” he said with a smirk. “Two silkies together … Kinda hard to get any friction going.”

I rolled my eyes but wasn’t going to get drawn into that topic. “Not that I care what you do,” Rafe went on as he lazed against the counter. “You being who you are, I have taken myself out of this triangle.”

“What triangle?”

“Come on. One girl, two guys. Oh, he’s so smart and strong,” Rafe said in a falsetto while pressing his clasped hands to his cheek. “But
he’s
so hot. Anguish, anguish.”

I crossed my arms. “And which one of those is you?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I fit both. Point is, crush on the stiff all you want. Doesn’t concern me.” He held out his hand and Cosmo offered up the knife he’d been working on. “Though you do know Mack hates line guards, right?” Rafe swiped the knife along the back of his wrist. “He thinks they’re evil drones.”

“Killer robots, actually,” I corrected.

“Same thing.” The blade shaved off a patch of the golden hair on Rafe’s arm with the precision of a razor. “Not bad,” he pronounced and then glanced at me. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell on you.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” I headed for the stack of canned fruit.

“Uh huh.” He tucked the knife into his ankle sheath, which had been empty ever since the line guards arrested him in Moline. “When you’re done with those,” he told Cosmo with a nod at the pile, “put ’em in my knapsack.”

I stopped sorting through the cans. “Why are you bossing him around?”

“He likes it.” Rafe turned to Cosmo. “You’re fine, right?”

Cosmo bobbed his head enthusiastically. “A-okay.”

“See?” Rafe said to me. “He wants to make himself useful. Because he knows that if he doesn’t” — Rafe sent him a pointed look — “he can’t come with us.”

“He’s
not
coming,” I burst out, only to see the little manimal’s face crumple. “Cosmo, you told me that the king locks manimals in cages. Why would you want to chance getting caught again?”

His lower lip curled out. “I want to see my mom.”

“He wants to see his mom,” Rafe repeated, in case I didn’t feel bad enough already.

“What’s in it for you?” I asked him. “You’re not doing this to be nice.”

“He’ll come in handy. He’s strong.”

“He’s
eight
.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to him.” Rafe tuned to Cosmo. “Show her.”

Cosmo curled back his lips and bared his teeth. He reminded me of a puppy, playing tough.

“Scary, huh?” Rafe said and then hunkered near Cosmo like a coach. “Now, gimme some ugly.” Cosmo hunched and lowered his brows. “Growl.” Cosmo did and Rafe stood triumphantly. “Would you look at that? That is the best get-back face I have ever seen. Do that when we’re in Chicago and no one’s gonna mess with us.” He pointed at me. “Lemme see your get-back face.”

“I don’t have one,” I said and selected a can of pineapple chunks.

“Everyone should have one. What if you need to scare off some freak?” he scolded. “You use your get-back face. You gotta work on it. Perfect it.”

“I’ll get on that.” I headed for the table. “He’s
not
coming with us,” I whispered as I passed Rafe.

While I devoured the pineapple chunks, I practiced holding the letter opener like a weapon. What I really wanted was my dad’s machete, but it was in my messenger bag, which I’d left by the lake.

Rafe made a face at my lame attempt at a jab. “Didn’t Mack show you how to use a knife?”

“Yeah, for self-defense,” I admitted. “But I never practiced.”

Rafe settled on the counter with a can of Dinty Moore beef stew. “He tried to teach me manners,” he said, then poured the stew into his mouth straight out of the can.