Sanctuary (3 page)

She was holding my hand with both of hers now, brushing the petals against her lips. Her eyes were far away. Our bodies had gotten closer somehow.

“You loved me while you were dating Hannah Walker?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“You
can’t
tell me this now,” she said, suddenly sad. And maybe angry? “Not
now
.”

“I know. But I had to. And I know this is the conversation girls dread,” I grinned, “where the awkward friend confesses his love.”

“You’re Chase Jackson,” she breathed, and she lowered her forehead to rest on my chest. “No girl would dread this conversation.”

“But awkward or not, I had to say it out loud. To you. At least once.”

“Why?” she groaned. “Why now?”

“You can’t love me back. I know. But that doesn’t change anything.”

“I can’t think,” she said. The flowers dropped to rest on the tops of our feet. Her fingers were interlaced with mine and she was squeezing. “Stop talking so I can concentrate.”

“I love you because you’re perfect,” I said, speaking into her soft brown hair. “And that doesn’t change if you don’t love me back. I love you unconditionally.”

“Chase,” she said and she pushed away from me. Misery and fury and tears were in her eyes. “I’m being interviewed again tomorrow, for the news, at the hospital. Half of Los Angeles is watching me, waiting for Tank to wake up.”

“I know. I’m not asking you to break up with him. I just needed to say it.”

“What am I supposed to do? I have no idea what to do.” Her eyes were closed and her head was back and she was raking her nails through her hair. “Beautiful, sweet, perfect Chase. Oh my gosh. What a mess.”

“You look super good when you play with your hair like that.” I was trying not to ogle. “But this doesn’t need to be a mess. You already kinda knew, right? A little bit?”

“You’re so perfect and so stupid,” she sighed and opened her eyes, a simple movement, yet so hot and steamy I nearly melted. “I will remember this moment the rest of my life.”

“I wish I’d worn different clothes, then,” I said, examining my jacket with distaste.

“It’s July. What’ve you been doing? Why are you wearing a jacket?”

“Because of my…I mean, I was just talking with…err, I was in the…I…um…well…” I stammered, finding no suitable words.

“I need you to leave,” she said, staring me down and taking a deep breath. “Before something…bad happens.”

“Okay, yeah sure. I understand.”

“No. You understand nothing, sweetie.”

Ouch.

Then she said, “But I need you to do something. Just…because.”

“For you Katie, anything.”

She paused, a curious frown creasing her forehead, like she remembered something, and then said, “Write it down.”

“Write it down?”

“I want to know why. Write down your reasons why.”

“Why I love you?”

“Why you love me,” she nodded. “I just need to know. To torture myself.”

“That’ll be easy to write.”

“Good.”

“How you look in those tiny pajamas,” I said. “I’ll be writing
that
down.”

“Chase,” she said, and she raised her finger and shook it at me. “I warned you. You’re in dangerous territory.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

But she was really close to me and we were touching… Then her mother burst into the room, the door crashing.

“Catalina!” she cried. Katie and I both jumped and stepped away from each other. “Su novio!”

“Mamá? Que? What?” she asked, throwing her hands up.

“Tank! The boy! He is awake!”

The next two weeks passed in a fog. I practiced football and hung out with my friends, Cory and Lee. That was it. That’s all I did. Except for checking the news. I did that a lot too, to keep tabs on Compton and Tank. Stupid Tank.

“Shoulda killed him when we had the chance,” Samantha Gear said. She showed up unannounced tonight. We were perched on the roof of my townhouse, a haunt we visited monthly. It was close to midnight. My neighborhood, in the suburbs of Glendale and close enough downtown that we could see the towers and lights, was hushed.

“Try not to be so morbid, Gear,” I said.

“This is
Tank
we’re talking about. I can be morbid.”

“I don’t blame the city for celebrating Tank,” I said. “Completely understandable. Los Angeles has taken a lot of punches and him reviving is the first real
win
in a long time. Plus, he completely fooled…well, everyone. He suckered the entire planet, except for us. So the city thinks he’s a great guy.”

PuckDaddy said into our earpieces, “I still think I should blackout his press conference tomorrow.”

“I concur.”

I growled, “You two aren’t thinking. That’ll just make Tank mad, and it’ll alert both him and the Chemist and everyone else that the infamous PuckDaddy is working with us.”

“I wish I knew what that dumb-ass was going to say,” Puck said. I could hear keyboard clicks through his mic. “I searched his texts. No help. What the heck does he need a press conference for?”

Samantha shook her head and said, “What was Carter thinking, keeping Tank alive and comatose so long? His brain is probably past the danger zone now. He’ll live forever.”

Tank was sick, same as me, and our bodies were just emerging from an extremely sensitive and dangerous growth spurt, where aneurysms were a daily threat. My headaches had largely subsided, and Tank’s probably had too.

“Tank’s got the most wicked vitals you’ve ever seen,” Puck commented. “I monitored them. He’s like Adonis, even in his sleep.”

“Carter usually hires new Infected immediately,” Samantha said. “He plants them somewhere in the world, pays them, and gives them an identity. He does that for his benefit and for the benefit of the newbie. But that won’t work with Tank. He’s too powerful. And rich. And well-known.”

Puck said, “Carter’s planning on using Tank’s strength against the Chemist.”

“Didn’t work last time,” I said. “The Chemist just toyed with Tank.”

Samantha said, “Because Tank was alone. He won’t be, next time.”

I shook my head. “That idiot will never work with me. Or Carter. No chance. He’s too stubborn, too proud, too stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“And speaking of pride,” I said, “You need to stop kicking record-setting field goals in practice, Gear.”

“Uuuuuugh,” she groaned, and she hit the roof with her fist, creating a slight indention. “Why are we still playing football with high school kids?? I’m so bored!”

“You don’t have to play! Go do other stuff. This is my life, not yours.”

“No,” she snapped. “The Chemist is obsessed with the Outlaw. He knows you’re still alive. I’m not leaving you alone until we deal with him.”

“He doesn’t know who the Outlaw is,” I pointed out. “He can’t identify Chase Jackson.”

Puck remarked, “But he’s looking, stupid. I filter a lot of the data coming out of Compton. He’s looking.”

“Whatever,” I sighed. “I’m going to bed.”

“Katie still hasn’t texted you,” Puck observed.

“Thanks, Puck!” I shouted in annoyance. “Thanks for the reminder!”

“You shouldn’t have told her how you feel.”

“You
told
me to tell her!
Many
times!”

He said, “Don’t shout at PuckDaddy.”

“She’s just busy. With the whole Tank circus. I’m still glad I told her. I’d do it again.”

Samantha stood up and brushed herself off. I frowned and said, “Gear, out of curiosity, where do you live?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you, but whatever. I have a place in Atlanta and another in Germany.”

“No, I mean around here. You’ve been in LA for seven months.”

“Here and there,” she said casually. Too casually.

“What does that mean? Puck, do you know where Samantha lives?”

He chirped, “PuckDaddy is forbidden to comment.”

“What the heck?” I said. “Where do you freaking live?”

She glared at me. “I’ve already answered that question. Twice.”

“Be more specific.”

“No.”

“Why not?? I won’t come visit.”

Puck shouted in our ears, “She lives in her truck!”

A long silence. In her truck?? She rolled her eyes. For the first time all night, I heard no keyboard clicks from Puck.

“
What
?” she said finally. “Who cares? I like it.”

“You live out of your truck?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“How?”

She scoffed. “What do you mean
how
? Don’t be an idiot.”

“All your clothes? Do you have a pillow? Where do you shower? Don’t you get lonely?”

“Puck. I hate you.”

“Why do you live out of your truck?” I persisted.

She shouted, “Why not??”

“Because that means you’re homeless.”

She snorted and said, “I’m not homeless, Chase. I just told you. I have
two
homes. And my truck. Which I love.”

“Why don’t you rent a place?”

She shrugged and said, “Cheaper this way. Plus, I want to be near you in case of an emergency.”

“Then sleep in our guest bedroom,” I suggested.

“Hah! No way.”

“Why not?”

She said, exasperated, “Because of a thousand reasons.”

“Name one.”

“Chase. Just drop it.”

“No,” I said and I stood up too. “You’re going to live with me and dad. None of my friends are homeless while I have a guest bedroom.”

“Infected do not like living together,” she said. “The virus makes us mean and suspicious.”

“Are you suspicious of me?”

“….no. But still.”

“Come on,” I said, and I climbed back into my bedroom through the window. “Get your stuff from the truck. I’ll show you your room.”

“No.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll go get your stuff.”

PuckDaddy hooted, “This is so cool. Infected never live together.”

“No, Chase, wait,” she said, almost pleading. She came into the bedroom too. “This is too weird.”

“No it’s not.”

“PuckDaddy is jealous,” he said. “PuckDaddy wants to live there too.”

“Puck, you should!” I cried. “How cool would that be??”

“PuckDaddy cannot,” he said and the clicking resumed.

“Let’s go, Gear,” I said. “Get your stuff. You’re living here now. We’ll work on Puck after you’ve settled in.”

“Chase.”

“
What
?”

“I’m bad at this,” she said. She hadn’t moved. Her arms hung limply by her side.

“Bad at what?”

“I’m bad at people. My family didn’t like me, and I don’t blame them. I was kicked out for a reason. I’m grouchy and I don’t like people, and this just won’t work.” She was staring at the floor, clenching and unclenching her fists.

“We’ll hardly ever be here, anyway.”

“Infected are loners. This is not how we do things,” she said.

“It is now.”

“It’s not a good idea to care about people, Chase. This is making me like you. I don’t want to like you. And I don’t want to like your father either. We could have gotten the Chemist if Katie hadn’t been in Compton that night. But we care about her. Emotional ties aren’t good. They get us into trouble.”

“Maybe PuckDaddy and I will get bunkbeds!” I cried. “And Cory and Lee can come sleepover!”

The clicking stopped. “PuckDaddy never had a sleepover.”

“I’m so pumped!”

“Chase,” Samantha Gear sighed and threw her hands up. “You’re as bad as Carter.”

I intercepted Dad at breakfast early the following morning. The sun wasn’t up, and Samantha hadn’t emerged from her room yet.

“Dad,” I whispered urgently. “Just so you know, there’s a girl upstairs.”

Dad’s blue mug of coffee paused at his mouth. He stared hard over the rim.

“Soooo…” I continued. “Just…act cool.”

He said, “Repeat that?”

“Ugh. Dad, come on. There’s this girl,” I began.

“I got that part.”

“And she doesn’t have a place to stay.”

“Uh huh,” he said and he finally lowered the mug.

“So I told her she could spend the night.”

“Uh huh.”

“In the guest bedroom,” I finished lamely.

My dad’s a big guy. He has thick fingers, and eyes that can drill a hole through concrete. After a long stint off the police force due to a back injury, he had returned to his job in a part-time role. Soon he’d be a full-time detective again.

He took a deep breath and said, “Chase-”

“Dad. No. Just…shhh. She’s coming down soon.”

“I realize you’re eighteen…”

“No, shush!”

“And we’ve never really talked about girls…”

“Oh my goooooooosh,” I said and I collapsed into the wooden chair opposite him. “Dad, it’s not like that. Please stop.”

“But we should talk before you have…sleepovers. With girls.”

I lowered my head and started banging it on the table. “Dad. Nothing. Happened. She. Is just. A friend. I. Want. To. Die.”

Samantha Gear opened the front door and strode into the kitchen. Samantha is strong and striking. She was wearing jogging clothes and earbuds, and she was sweating freely. She’d been out running already?? Dad stood up.

“I’m Samantha,” she panted and she stuck out her hand for Dad to shake. “I’m on the football team with Chase, and I slept in your guest bed. Thanks for having me. I’m going out for breakfast. Anyone want doughnuts?”

“Chocolate. With chocolate sprinkles. Many of them,” I groaned, face down on the table. This wasn’t going according to plan.

“I’m fine, thank you. Nice to meet you, Samantha,” Dad said.

The door closed again, and I raised my head up from the table. Dad’s eyes were boring holes into me.

“
That
girl was in the guest bed and you stayed in
yours
?” he asked.

“Yes,” I groaned.

“The
football
team.”

“I promise she’s on the team.” And then I clarified, “The kicker.”

“That girl is not your age.”

“She….she’s in my grade,” I said as truthfully as I could.

“If she’s under twenty then I’m the Outlaw,” he pronounced gruffly and walked out of the room.

Cory and Lee came over after morning's football practice ended. We played Call-of-Duty on my Xbox for several hours. The virus I’d been infected with had done something to my frontal cortex, or so Carter told me. The video game moved much slower than it once had. I was traditionally awful at first-person shooter games, but now I won more than I lost, which I pointed out often to my confused and frustrated compatriots.