Eat the Ones You Love (The Thirteen Book 2) (23 page)

Jenny looked over at the room on her right. A little girl, lost in the pile of blankets, lay on her side, facing the door. She mouthed two words and a tear slid down her perfect cheek.
 

Help me,
she had said.

Jenny looked to her left and a boy was lying with his exposed back to her. The stitches were still fresh where they had cut him open. Klein was suddenly in her face, adjusting his tiny glasses.

“Jenny. Please don’t make these men hurt you. If you want to see Faron, you’re going to have to stop this nonsense.”

“Kill Faron,” Jenny said.

“What?”

“You said I could kill him, right?”

“I said it could be arranged. You’ll have to cooperate a little more before you can start making demands.”

“Cooperate how?”

“We can discuss it soon. For now I’m just going to let you see that we have Mr. Faron, do you understand?”

“More than you know,” said Jenny. She felt a flare of anger as she clenched her teeth and smiled at the same time. She released the brake.

The wheelchair started moving again. Down hall after hall, each room containing a child.

“Where’s Rafi?” said Jenny.

“Not here,” said Klein. “Upstairs. We have him secured. Your friends are safe.”

“I want to see them.”

“Later, perhaps. I don’t have the authorization to approve that.”

“Where is Sarah?”

“She is receiving medical treatment. She was injured in the extraction.”

“Kidnapping,” said Jenny. “Where’s Trix?”

“Who?”

“The zombie girl. Asian. Scary. Where is she?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“She’s being questioned.”

“Tortured.”

“You do not seem very cooperative, Jenny,” said Klein. “These words you’re using, they’re aggressive. We’re trying to help you, but if you keep fighting us, you’re going to make it hard on everyone. Especially Ezekiel.”

Jenny caught her breath.

“Zeke,” she said.

“He has suffered so much,” said Klein, sounding satisfied with himself. They came to a large double door. Klein walked around her and passed a card over a reader set next to the door. They walked into a distinctly different ward, one with no doctors and nurses. There was no buzz of activity here. The lights were dimmer and the air was closer. Set into each wall was a row of windows through which, Jenny saw, was a person. Some were terribly scarred, others sleeping on a bare mattress, a few pacing. Adults. People Jenny’s age or older. A woman with flaming red hair slammed two bloody hands against the glass as they went by, her eyes crazed. Jenny saw that she chewed at her wrists. She saw her blood was black.

“What the fuck is this?” she said.

Klein answered by stopping in front of one of the windows. A small figure was hunched over himself in the bare white room, his hands grasped over his mop of blond hair.

“Faron?” Jenny said.
 

Klein held up a key and nodded to the gunmen. In the blink of an eye she had a muzzle against each temple as Klein unlocked first her hands, then her feet. Jenny stood and the guns pressed harder into the sides of her head.
 

“One wrong move and they shoot,” said Klein.

Jenny ignored him and peered through the window. Faron rocked back and forth on his heels.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” she said, her voice low.

“Does it not please you?” said Klein. “I was sure you would like it.”

Faron stopped rocking and slowly turned, his hands still cradling his head.
 

“Faron?” Jenny said.

Slowly, so slowly, he stood on shaky legs. He was in nothing but boxers and was so pale he looked like a ghost. Jenny put her hand to the glass.

“Jenny?” he said, his voice hoarse. “Is that you, Jenny?” He smiled and looked more manic than Jenny had ever seen him. He lowered his arms and walked like a drunk man over to the glass. He stared through the glass for a moment. He put his hand up to hers.

“You’re late,” he said, still smiling. “I’ve been waiting for ages.”

“Why? So you can kill me?”

The smile was replaced by a frown. “No. So we can fight. Together. They put something…something in my head.” He twitched, as if something caused him pain, his head twisting violently. He banged on his skull with the heel of his hand before being still again. “It’s in my brain.”

“Declan’s dead,” Jenny said, meeting his eyes. She felt cold as she said it. “He's dead, Faron. Because of you.”

“Declan?” he said. “The big guy?”

“Yes.”

“How did he die?”

Jenny swallowed. She felt hot tears running down her cold face. She took her hand from the glass. “He rotted from the inside out. Remember? You shot his insides out. You did this, Faron. He shoved a knife through his brain because he couldn’t walk, he couldn’t run, he couldn’t fight. Because of you.”

Faron wrinkled his forehead as he listened.

“He died? From that?”

“He wasn’t like us, you stupid asshole!” Jenny hit the glass and Faron jumped. The guns pressed harder against her head.
 

“Careful, Miss Hawkins,” said Klein.

“Why didn’t you heal him?” said Faron.

“What?” said Jenny. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“But why didn’t you fix him?” said Faron, looking confused.

“I COULDN’T GODDAMN FIX HIM!” Jenny said, her face now cold and wet from crying. “Why couldn’t you just kill me, Faron? Burn me, blow me up, cut my fucking head off. Why him?”

“I don’t want to kill you,” he said. “I wanted you to come with me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I wanted to get you here. To help me. They didn’t want me to bring you back. Because they know. They know, Jenny.”

“Know what?”

He smiled again. “That we can take them down. We’re the strongest, Jenny. You and me.”

“You killed him, Faron.”

“Why didn’t you fix him?”

“
Stop saying that
.”

“Did you feed him? Why didn’t you feed him?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That’s enough,” said Klein. “No more talking.”

“You feed him and he gets better,” said Faron. “Not for good, just for a little while.”

“Feed him what?”

“Put her back in the chair,” said Klein. “Now.”

The guns pressed into Jenny, but she ignored them.

“Meat,” said Faron. “Meat from you. Tainted with teeny creepy crawly things. Metal things with a metal spine. And then he gets better.”

Jenny felt herself being shoved back down into the chair.
 

Faron pressed his face against the glass, staring at her madly.

“I didn’t know he would die, Jenny! I thought you knew!”

Jenny stared at him, her mouth open in a sob that wouldn’t come, her eyes trying to bulge and her lungs locking up.

“I’m sorry, Jenny!” Faron screamed as they pushed her away.

She could have saved him.

Declan didn’t have to die.

“Jenny, I’m sorry!”

She put on the brake, barely knowing what she was doing.

She pulled on her left hand, the cuff looser than the right. Her gunman had been afraid of hurting her. She pulled hard on her thumb feeling the bone snap. She felt it then, but it was a comfort to feel something other than a cold hollowness. Her eyes felt dead as she pulled her hand out of the cuff, her right hand holding tight to the handbrake.
 

“Jenny, I’m not going to warn you again,” said Klein. The guns were at her temples again.

“If you kill me,” said Jenny, easing her hand the rest of the way out of the cuff, “I’m going to come back.”

“I’m aware of that,” said Klein.

“But you won’t,” said Jenny.

“What?”

With her broken hand she grasped the left gunman’s weapon, muzzle-first. He tried to shoot, but his finger slid off the trigger as she twisted. The gun was in her hand and she flipped it towards Klein and pulled the trigger.

Her head exploded a split second after his.

THIRTY

In the darkness, Jenny felt herself surrounded. She took a step in one direction and a man came into view, crucified on a wall. Grayson, black blood running from the knife that secured him there, opened his pale eyes and looked at Jenny.

“You could have stopped it.”

Jenny backed away and felt something with her foot. Lucy was lying there, where Declan had shot her. Blood dripped from Lucy’s long, thick dreadlocks.

“You could have stopped it,” she said.

“I didn’t want to. You deserved what you got.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Jenny turned and walked into the darkness, away from Lucy. She tripped over something soft and landed hard on her hands and knees. She looked behind her to see Fisher, staring straight at her, goat blood still on his chin, a small chunk of raw meat still in his teeth. He blinked.

“Jenny.” He reached for her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I brought Sully here. I’m sorry, Fisher. You tried to help me.”

“You could have stopped it.”

“Don’t say that,” said Jenny.
 

She crab walked back on her hands, to get away from Fisher, to keep his eyes from hurting her anymore. She stopped when she sensed a presence looming above her.
 

Two figures. One was short and thin, the other wide and busty. There was something wrong with them. They stepped toward her. She covered her mouth with her hand when she saw them. Veronica and Beacon, carrying their own heads, gore dripping from their necks.

“You could have stopped it,” said Beacon’s head.

“You could have stopped it,” said V’s head.

“I didn’t know,” Jenny whispered from behind her hand.

“You didn’t even try,” said V. “He loved you.”

“Jenny,” said a voice, so familiar. Jenny stood and turned. They were walking towards her now, all but one. Casey stood in front of her now.

“Don’t say it,” Jenny said. “Please.”

“You didn’t know,” he said.

“I didn’t know,” she repeated. But it came out false. “I didn’t try.”

“Would he have let you?” said Casey.
 

“Yes,” said Jenny. “He would have done anything for me. Even…”

“Even died?” said Casey. “Died for you like he killed for you?”

Jenny didn’t answer. She looked over at the figure standing alone. The others crowded around her. She couldn’t feel their touch but she saw them reaching for her.

“I could have stopped it,” she said, the words feeling like glass in her throat. “But I didn’t.”

All the shapes disappeared but one. The lonely silhouette standing by himself. She walked towards him and as he came into view she gasped, her heart in her throat, her legs turned to jelly. Declan stood tall, looking at her, his guts black with rot, his spine exposed and glowing white. Black blood gushed from the wound under his jaw. He looked down at her.
 

“I could have stopped it,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Declan.”

“You didn’t know,” he said, his voice gurgling with blood.
 

“I should have tried.”

“Let it go,” he said. “It wasn’t me.”

“Yes, it was,” said Jenny. “It was you and it was my fault.”

“You lost me the moment Sully bit me,” he said. “I was gone when I came back, Jen. It wasn’t your imagination. We played at being human for a while, but it was pretend. You know it was.”

“We didn’t pretend,” said Jenny.

“You don’t even sound like you believe yourself,” said Declan.

“Stop it,” she said. “Why do you sound that way? You’re so cold.”

“I am cold. I’m dead. And you’re free now.”

“
I’m not free,
” she said, her voice suddenly full of emotion. “I am the opposite of free. I am gasping for air, Declan. I can’t breathe for all the guilt and hate and grief. Because I didn’t save you.”

“You’re free now,” he repeated. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“Pretend what? Pretend to be human?” she said.
 

“Yes.”

“If I’m not human, then what am I?” she said. “I really need to know.” She stepped close to him and looked up at his face, his beautiful face that was so cold and so dead now. No more pretend. “What am I, Declan?” she whispered.

“A monster,” he said. He smiled brilliantly, his face cruel and joyful.

And she felt something shift inside her. She felt the pain being overwhelmed by another feeling. Something cold and dark and hungry. Then she remembered.

“I don’t need to breathe if I’m dead,” she said.

“You have to be Jenny Undead if you want to win.”

Jenny gasped for air as her eyes shot open. She was lying on a couch in a dim room. Candles flickered on a desk, casting their shadows onto the ceiling. Metal was pressing into her head. The barrel of a gun.

“Did you know,” said an old woman’s voice from across the room, “that it’s far cheaper to kill you than to sedate you?”

“What the fuck is happening?” Jenny said, her head swimming.

“You are in my office,” said the woman’s voice. “I am Dr. Warnken. So nice to see you, Jenny.”

“Fuck you.” Jenny spat blood on the thick green carpet. The muzzle pressed harder into her head.

“I knew your mother, Jenny. I was so very sorry to hear of her passing.”

“Didn’t you watch it happen?” said Jenny. “Didn’t you pop some popcorn and watch my sister kill my mom?”

“Bring her over here,” said the woman. “I hate yelling across the room.”

Strong hands grabbed her by the arms and lifted her.

“Oh come on, she’s 120 pounds. Stop being such a pussy about it,” said the woman, her white hair sparkling and reflecting the tiny candle flames.

“She killed Dr. Klein,” said a man’s voice in her ear. “She killed him like it was nothing.”

“Well, no one liked Klein. Not really,” said the woman. Her voice was familiar. “Just bring her over. Sit her down.”

The man half-carried her to a purple overstuffed chair in front of the desk. She sank into it and closed her eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

“Your body is repairing your brain,” said the woman. “It takes time. Tell me, how do you feel?”

“Fuck off,” said Jenny, looking up. The candles were flickering, making her eyes focus on them. She blinked and the person behind the desk came into focus. A woman, tall with a masculine face etched with age. She had her hands laced together on the desk.