Damage (7 page)

“There’s nothing here,” she whispers, scanning the deserted street with its rows of abandoned, concrete-block houses.

We’re farther south than I guessed, but the bar I’m thinking about isn’t far. Good thing. There isn’t much else near this part of the freeway. Just a locked-up gas station with bars on the windows and those gray buildings that used to be part of a muffler factory, if you believe the faded black sign creaking in the wind. Whatever they used to be, they’re empty now. Or filled with people as scary as the thing that’s coming for us.

Visions of sharp claws and fangs dripping with blood flash behind my eyes. The memory of how close Dani and I came to being dead makes me shudder.

Okay, so no homeless man or crackhead could be that scary, but it’s pointless to go looking for food in a drug den. And we need to call … someone. Trent worked the night shift last night and is probably sacked out snoring in the living room, and Traci slept somewhere else. She does that a lot after her “girls’ nights,” and I know for a fact she didn’t take her cell phone. I saw it on the kitchen table next to the overflowing ashtray and the newspapers that never get taken to the curb. But even if she had her phone, she wouldn’t appreciate a call to come pick my ass up at a bar when I’m supposed to be at school and out of her hair.

But maybe Dani has someone. A girl like her, she probably has a lot of someones.

“Come on, this way.” I start across the street, sort of wishing there were cars to look out for. I don’t like this place. It’s too empty and isolated. It makes it even easier to believe that Dani and I are the only people left in a world gone crazy.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“There’s this biker bar a few blocks up,” I say. “I’ve been there before with my foster dad. Some of the guys look scary, but they’re cool. They’ll let us in and give you something to eat or drink or whatever.”

“Will it be open this early in the morning?”

“It’s always open. The night shift guys go there when they get off, start drinking at five in the morning and go home and pass out after lunch. And they’ve got a pay phone, so … ”

“Okay, sounds good,” she says, surprising me.

I expected more resistance at the idea of going into a bar. Dani has good girl written all over her, from her shiny, streak-free hair to her almost makeup-free face, to her choice of school uniform, a combo so modest she might as well be a nun or something.

But her modest clothes can’t hide the fact that she’s built like a supermodel, tall and slim and graceful. If I didn’t know she was a dancer, I’d still guess it. Just the way she walks down the street is like a dance; the way she sways into me as we hurry down the cracked sidewalk makes me feel like I’m dancing with her.

I’ve never danced in my life. Never. Not by myself, not with a girl, not even in my dreams. But for a second I wonder what it would be like to dance with Dani, to hold her close at one of those stupid school balls.

“I have to call my dad as soon as we get there. A lot of his friends work at the hospital. I bet he’s heard about the wreck,” she says, reminding me that she’s out of my league. Way out. Her dad’s a rich, important doctor and will probably be about as thrilled about his daughter hanging out with a foster kid with an arrest record as he will be about picking that daughter up at a sleazy bar.

Besides, I don’t do dances, or relationships. Every time I’ve tried, it’s been a pain in the ass. Girls are never satisfied with a physical connection, even if they’re the only one you’re getting physical with. They always want to paw around in your feelings, get their hands on your secrets. My feelings and secrets aren’t anything I want to share.

For the first time since the accident, the man in the glasses with his fistful of money crosses my mind. He paid me to get Dani on that bus. That’s definitely a secret I don’t want Dani to know, but is there a chance it could be something more? What if the accident wasn’t an accident? It doesn’t seem very likely, but still …

Still …

“So he might actually answer my phone call today,” Dani says. I glance down at her, study the perfect slopes and curves of her profile. She’s the poster girl for the happy, All American life. I’m insane to think someone is trying to hurt her.

But I saw the fear in her, both before and after the wreck. That kind of fear doesn’t come from a happy childhood full of sticky Popsicles and summers by the lake. And that guy was a creep. I should tell her about him, just in case. I should tell her now, confess my sin and get it over with.

“If not, I can call my stepmom. She’ll come for sure,” she says, fingers curling into my arm. “She always answers on the first ring.”

It’s already too late. I don’t want her to know the truth. I don’t want to lose those fingers.

“Your stepmom’s the blonde who picks you up after school?”

She looks up at me. For the first time in the past half hour, her brown eyes are more curious than frightened. “Yeah. Her name’s Penny. She’s cool. She’ll take us both to the hospital if you want. Unless you—”

“Maybe she could just drop me at my house. It’s not far from the bar.”

“You lost a lot of blood. And your leg could be broken or need stitches.” She walks in silence for a moment, scanning the empty parking lots on both sides of the road as if on the lookout for snipers. She definitely saw something in that tree that has her spooked. Could it have been the Thing? Is there a chance someone else has
finally
seen it? “And you don’t want to get an infection.”

“Yeah … I guess.” I pick up the pace as the bar comes into view. The
Open
sign is lit and half a dozen cars and about that many bikes are scattered outside the cinder-block building. Just the thought of all those people makes me feel better, even if the Thing has proved it doesn’t give a damn if people are watching anymore.

“I really think you should go. Just let them check and make sure you’re okay.”

“I hate hospitals.”

“Me too.” She sighs, a tired sound, but doesn’t falter in her swift steps. She actually seems to be getting better instead of worse. It’s weird, since she said she needed something to eat or she’d get sick, but I’m not about to question her recovery. I’m just glad I’m not carrying her into the bar passed out and twitching like she was after the wreck. “I spent too many years in them when I was little. With the diabetes stuff.”

“Me too.” Maybe that’s our connection, the reason Dani is like me. “Not diabetes. It was some kind of kid cancer or something. It went away after a year or so, but I was in the hospital for most of fourth grade.”

“Really? But you seem so healthy.”

“I am now.”

“I’m not. I thought I was better, or under control, but … ” She trails off as we cross the parking lot.

“It’s okay. We’ll get you juice or something. They have food, too,” I say, though I have a feeling she isn’t talking about her blood sugar.

We reach the heavy wooden door and I tug it open, holding it for her. She passes under my arm, nose wrinkling slightly at the sour smell of decades’ old split beer, but she doesn’t hesitate. She walks right up to the bar, claims a stool, and asks the bartender with the braided, gray beard for a Coke before turning to me with an expectant look.

“I’ll just have a water.” I nod to the man, grateful that it’s too dark in here for him to see that Dani and I have blood and mud on our clothes.

He isn’t the bartender I’ve met before, but he obviously doesn’t care if there are underage kids in the bar. If we ordered a real drink it might be different, but maybe not. The group of guys nursing a pitcher of pale yellow beer in the crowded booth across the room—skinny kids with patchy facial hair thinner than mine was in ninth grade—can’t all be twenty-one.

“Do you have any quarters?” Dani asks.

“No.”

“That’s okay. Penny will accept a collect call. I’ll call her after I drink some of the Coke. She’ll bring money to pay for whatever we get. So if you want something, it’s no—”

“I don’t want anything,” I snap. I don’t let people buy me things, not even at Christmas when Trent and Traci have their annual burst of holiday-inspired generosity. I don’t want to owe anyone and I already owe Dani too much. Sure, I probably saved her life by pulling her from the bus, but what about the man in the tracksuit? I could have been responsible for Dani ending up in some pervert’s basement for all I know. I should never have taken his money.

“Okay.” She nods, a blank look on her face that I can tell is hiding some other emotion. “Sorry.”

Before I can apologize for making
her
apologize, the bartender plunks down our Coke and water and asks if we want a breakfast menu. I shake my head and he disappears, clearly not interested in small talk. Dani reaches for her Coke and claims the straw, slipping it between her lips and sucking down half the drink without pausing for a breath.

“Good way to get a brain freeze,” I say, then feel like an idiot. We both have bigger things to worry about than a brain freeze from drinking cold Coke too fast.

Dani proves it a second later. Her eyes grow round and her lips part in a silent “O” of terror. When she speaks, her voice is so soft I have to strain to hear. “Do you see her? Down at the end of the bar?” Her fingers dig into my arm. “No! Don’t turn your head. Just look. Slowly. She’s wearing a brown dress, sitting on the counter by the beer taps. Can you see her? The little girl?”

With a careful shift of my chin, I slide the end of the bar into my peripheral vision. I can see the beer taps now—Bud and Coors and something from Ireland that Trent likes for chasing whiskey—but the counter next to them is empty. There’s nothing there. Nothing I can see anyway …

The suspicion hits me hard, equal parts excitement and fear. What if I’m not the only one? What if Dani didn’t see a dragon in that tree, but something else? What if Dani is more like me than I ever imagined? What if she has her own—

“We have to get out of here.” Dani jumps off her stool, grabs my arm, and pulls me toward the door. “Hurry!”

“Hey! You gotta pay for—” The bartender’s shout is silenced by the shattering of glass as the liquor bottles stacked against the wall behind him fly into the air, hurling themselves across the room and smashing against the dark, wooden wall inches from Dani’s head.

She screams and crouches down, covering her head with her hands as she makes a run for the door. I follow, dodging bottles of whiskey and gin and vodka, just barely making it out the door as something explodes near my shoulder.

“Run! She could follow us! Run!” Dani snatches my hand and takes off down the street. I have no choice but to follow.

There’s no way I can abandon her now, even if I wanted to.

Dani

I run north, back in the general direction of home, not knowing where else to go. No place is safe. I’ll never be safe again. Rachel is so much stronger than she was when I was a kid. Back then, there was no way she could have thrown things across the room like that, especially not so soon after knocking that tree limb onto Jesse’s legs.

I’d assumed the branch was rotten and about to fall anyway and that’s how she was able to knock it down. But what if that isn’t true? What if she’s strong enough to rip giant trees apart with her bare hands? She just hurled dozens of bottles across the room with the speed and precision of a major league baseball player. She certainly wasn’t able to do anything like that before. Spilling coffee, carrying a needle clenched in her fist, pushing buttons on the machines that kept me alive—in the old days, those were the worst of her tricks.

But not now. Not now. Not—

“Dani, slow down. You’re going to hurt yourself,” Jesse calls from behind me.

“I’m fine, we have to keep going,” I shout over my shoulder, so grateful that he’s followed me. It would be better for him if he ran in the opposite direction and never looked back, but I feel so much safer with him around. And it isn’t because of his size or his strength or his bad-boy reputation. It’s because he’s different. Like me. I’ve never felt so close to someone so quickly, never imagined this morning that I would be craving Jesse’s touch as much as I’ve been repelled by physical contact with almost every person I’ve ever met.

“If you don’t slow down … ” He groans, reminding me of his bloodied leg. “Seriously, Dani. I can’t keep up much longer.”