Twisted World: A Broken World Novel (18 page)

T
he apartment was
dark and silent when I got home, and I did my best not to make a sound when I shut the door. My head was still spinning from all the new information I’d gotten today—and from that kiss. The last thing I needed right now were Mom’s conspiracy theories clouding the facts. Especially because at this point, I might actually believe everything she spouted off.

But I’d only taken one step down the hall when the sound of Mom’s mattress groaning broke through the silence. “Megan?” Her voice was muffled from sleep, but something in her tone made me pause. “Is that you?”

“It’s me.”

I headed down the hall, dread growing in my stomach with each step I took. Dread because Mom sounded like
Mom
. There was no paranoia in her voice or panic or anguish. It was like time had been reversed and she was the woman I’d grown up with. Only I didn’t believe a switch could be flipped that quickly, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I didn’t want to believe that she had pulled herself out of this only so I could step into the room and be greeted by the same wide, terrified eyes as before.

The lights were off and I could just make out her silhouette in the darkness. She sat up when I stopped in the doorway, and a second later the lamp on the bedside table clicked on. Light flooded the room and Mom squinted, but even as she waited for her eyes to adjust, I could tell something was different.

“Where have you been?” She held her hand at the side of her face to block out the light from the lamp, and her eyes moved over me. Slow and alert. “What time is it?”

“It’s late.” I ventured further into the room, my heart pounding harder with each step I took.

Mom blinked and her gaze moved over me again, this time the corners of her mouth turned down. The hair on my arms stood up, and my scalp prickled the way it had when I was little and I knew she was about to catch me in a lie. I crossed my arms, trying to cover myself. Until now, I’d forgotten all about my skimpy dress.

“What are you wearing?” Mom asked as she put her feet on the floor.

Every move she made seemed to be slow. Muddled. Like she was waking up for the first time in weeks. That was how it felt to me, too. This was the most coherent she’d been since the early days of Dad’s disappearance. Back when we had finally accepted that he wasn’t going to come home ever again.

I tugged on my skirt, trying to make it longer, but gave up when all it did was expose more of my cleavage. “I got a job in the entertainment district. It was that or lose the apartment.”

She pressed her lips together and my back stiffened while I waited for her response. My whole life my parents had worked hard to protect me from the darkness in this world. I’d grown up surrounded by death, but there had always been safety and security in this house. I knew my parents would be here for me. Never doubted that they’d die just to protect me from the horrors of this world. Now, I was knee-deep in it. The entertainment district was the epitome of everything dirty in this world. It was where people went when there was no hope left.

After a few seconds, Mom let out a deep sigh and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been very helpful. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t seem to control…
anything
.” She put her hand to her head like it hurt. “Nothing seems real anymore.”

“Are you okay?” I stepped farther into the room and reached out, half-expecting her to lash out at me. To scream about how none of us were okay as long as
they
are in charge. Whoever
they
were. I didn’t think even she knew who she was talking about.

“My head is pounding—” Mom’s fingers rubbed her temples. “—and my throat is so dry it feels like I’ve been walking through the desert for days.”

“Let me get you a drink.”

I swiped a glass off the bedside table and hurried to the bathroom. My hands were shaking when I held it under the faucet.

Mom was back.

I’d almost given up hope of ever seeing her again, but she was back. I didn’t know how or why, but I did know that with her here, I had a better chance of making it. Of finding out what had happened to Dad.

But…

Maybe telling her about the note wasn’t a good idea. At least not until she’d had a chance to pull herself out of this funk. If I told her everything that was going on, it might send her right back to her obsessive paranoia. I could lose her again.

“I need to wait,” I whispered to my own reflection.

In the dim light of the bathroom, my green eyes were huge. So big and round that they seemed to take up half of my face. They reminded me of Mom. Of how she’d looked in full-on paranoia mode. Odd considering we weren’t biologically related.

I went back into the bedroom to find Mom sitting in the same place. When I held the glass out she took it, but confusion clouded her vision. Only it was different than it had been before. She didn’t take a drink. She just stared at the glass like she was trying to remember something.

“Are you okay?” I lowered myself onto the bed at her side and the old mattress groaned under my weight.

Mom nodded as she gulped the water down, and in less than thirty seconds the glass was empty. She still didn’t look away from it, though.

“The last few weeks are hazy. It almost feels like a dream.” She shook her head and her brown eyes filled with tears. “I’ve experienced more than my fair share of loss, but this is different. This is more than the usual ache of losing someone. That’s still here—” Her free hand went to her chest. “—but there’s something else too. Something...”

“What?” I leaned closer.

“I can’t even describe it.” Mom let out a sigh, and when she looked my way her gaze moved over me from head to toe, making every hair on my body stand on end. “Where did you get a job?”

I pulled at my skirt and looked away. “Dragon’s Lair.”

“I don’t know that place. Is it a strip club?”

“No!” The word popped out with so much force that I was surprised it hadn’t knocked her over. “I’m just serving drinks between fights.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t helped.” Her fingers tightened around the glass in her hand. “How long has it been since I went to work?”

“I’m not sure.” I tugged harder on my skirt. “At least two weeks.”

“Hopefully, I still have a job I can go to.”

“You’re not disappointed in me?” I stole a glance her way, not brave enough to meet her gaze completely.

“About the job?” When I nodded, she put her free hand on my knee, the glass still in her other hand like she couldn’t seem to part with it. “No. Even before zombies took over the world I believed in doing whatever it took to survive. In fact, I was a stripper.”

I turned my whole body toward her. “What?”

“I was. After I left California.”

A laugh forced its way out of me. I couldn’t believe my mom had ever worked as a stripper. It seemed so far-fetched, thinking about who she was—or had been before Dad disappeared, anyway. Strong. Tough. Determined. I’d always thought that no matter what came her way, my mom would be able to bend the circumstances to fit her will with little to no effort. It had always seemed like that to me growing up, anyway.

Mom exhaled and stared back down at the glass in her hand. “I had the weirdest dream.”

“What was it?” I asked, only half paying attention to her. My mind was still too wrapped around the idea of her being a stripper, and I found myself wondering what else I didn’t know about my mom.

“Angus was here.”

I turned to face her again.
That
had my full attention. “He was?”

“It’s weird, because I haven’t dreamt about him in years. When he first died I did, of course. He’d been a major part of my life for so long that it almost felt like something was missing. But over the years the dreams became less and less frequent, and eventually they stopped altogether. And this was different. So
vivid
.”

I didn’t know why, but a buzzing had started in my stomach. Low and soft, but constant. “Did he say anything to you? In the dream, I mean?”

Mom’s mouth scrunched up and it caused a pang to shoot through me that only made the buzzing more insistent. Dad always did that when he was thinking. Puckered his lips. Damn. There wasn’t anything as painful as the ache of a lost loved one. Not even a zombie bite could rival it.

“Angus was older,” Mom finally said. “Thinner than he’d been the last time I saw him. And he had a beard. It was gray, and so was his hair. It’s weird. People don’t usually age in dreams, do they?”

She looked up, her eyes searching mine like she was begging for answers. Answers to what, I didn’t know. Maybe she just wanted some reassurance that she hadn’t lost it completely.

“I’m the last person to ask,” I said, putting my hand on top of hers.

“Yeah.” Mom nodded a few times. “He helped me sit up.” A smile curled up her lips and it almost made me burst into tears. I never thought I’d see her smile again. “He called me Blondie and told me to get my shit together. Angus always had a knack for getting under my skin, but he had a soft side too. It would come out at the most random moments, taking you by surprise.”

The sad smile on her face made my throat tighten. “Maybe it was just your subconscious trying to get you to snap out of it?”

“Yeah…”

Mom’s smile faded and she looked down at the glass in her hand. When she shook her head, she acted like she wasn’t sure. Which was crazy. Angus died years ago. There was no way he’d popped up here tonight. It had been a dream. Nothing else.

“Where did you get this water?” she asked after a few seconds.

“The bathroom.”

“I can’t remember…” Her voice trailed off. “Was there something wrong with the water? Did you tell me something was wrong?”

Years ago we couldn’t drink the water, but it had been awhile now. Five years at least. Back then, the government told us not to drink anything that we hadn’t boiled. Even from the faucets. People who had extra credits could buy pre-boiled water, but most couldn’t. Or chose not to. Mom and Dad never would buy it even though they made enough credits. The government fixed the problem by creating filters. You just screwed one onto the faucet and the water ran through it. It sure as hell made getting clean water easier. Mom must have still been confused.

“The water is okay now,” I said gently. “Remember?”

“Yeah…” Mom’s voice trailed off again, her eyes still focused on the glass.

I exhaled and my shoulders slumped, and it suddenly hit me how exhausted I was. But the thought of leaving Mom now that she was finally coherent caused an ache to move through me. Still, if I didn’t get some sleep, I’d be exhausted tomorrow.

“I need to get to bed,” I said through a yawn.

Mom blinked a couple times and shook her head. Her gaze moved to the bed and she finally put the glass down. “I’m tired too. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am.”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling like I was five years old all over again. Back then I’d gone through a phase where I was scared of the dark and the idea of going to sleep in my own bed had been terrifying. That’s how I felt right now, scared out of my mind at the idea of going into the other room and sleeping in the dark all by myself.

“Can I sleep with you?” I asked, almost embarrassed to say the words out loud. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course.”

Mom held her arms out and I fell against her. When she pulled me close, I almost burst into tears.

“I’ve missed you,” I said against her chest, feeling younger than ever. “I’ve felt so alone.”

“I’m so sorry, Megan.” Her lips moved against the top of my head as she rubbed my back. “I’ll do better. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m going to fight this thing. I’ll be here for you. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to work and things will get better. You have my word.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to hold onto the promise. It was hard to believe, though, especially after everything that had happened.

T
he room was still
dark when I opened my eyes, but the light breaking through the curtains told me it was almost time to get up. I wasn’t quite ready, so I twisted my body away from the window, hoping to block out the sun’s rays.