Edge of Mercy (Young Adult Dystopian)(Volume 1) (The Mercy Series) (12 page)

He loomed over me. “Oh, that’s nothing. Dr. Graham’ll kiss it and put a piece of cotton over it.”

I propped myself on my elbows and glared. Was it just a little while ago, I thought I might feel something for Zeke? Right now, the only thing I felt was a need to kick him—hard. “A kiss? Cotton over it? Is that what happened to you? Is that why you’re so ugly? You didn’t heal right?”

“Ah, but my dad told me I was purty.”

I winced as I worked myself to a standing position. “Well, he lied. How’s your head?”

He reached a hand up and rubbed the knot rising where my rock hit true. “I’ve got a little headache. Nice aim. I’m glad you didn’t connect with all your throws. You’d probably have to drag me to the tower.”

“Nah, I’d just leave you to be some lucky Draghoul’s meal.”

At that moment, a chorus of keening cries struck up outside the wall, quickly putting an end to our banter.

Zeke started toward the third tower as he spoke, “Go on to Thomas. I’ve still got to throw the third switch. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

“Ugh! You haven’t thrown the third switch? You’ll never make it in time.”

“We’ll see.”

I yelled after him, “Serves you right for playing around.”

I limped as quickly as the pain in my knee would allow to the fourth tower. I was out of breath by the time I reached the ladder, but I began to climb, favoring my un-injured knee.

As I reached the top, Thomas dragged me the rest of the way into the tower. “What was that? Are you okay?”

My knee throbbed in pain, and I could feel my pant leg sticking to my shin, more than likely from the blood trickling from my wound, but I didn’t want Thomas to think I was completely helpless. “It’s nothing. I got scraped up.”

His almost-black eyes stared in confusion. “What were you running from? Zeke?”

“He stepped out from behind the tower, and in the shadows, I thought he looked like a Draghoul. I just got scared. That’s all.”

“That idiot! The minute he gets here, I’m going to knock some sense into him.” I’d never seen Thomas so tense or emotional. He was usually so reserved, but at the moment, he looked like he was ready to chew a hole through the side of the tower. His muscles bunched under his sweatshirt as he paced back and forth in the small space.

“You can’t say anything to him.”

“Oh, yes, I can. He’s going to know not to mess with you.”

“But he’ll wonder why. He’ll wonder what’s so special about me. You said you’d act normal around everyone else.”

He lifted his hands to each side of his head and scrubbed through his hair. A frustrated sound rose from his chest. “You’re right, but I hate that you’re right. He deserves a fist upside his head.”

“Who deserves a fist upside his head?” Zeke stood in the doorway of the tower.

“Who do you think, Zeke?”

“What’d I do?” His gaze met mine briefly before swinging back toward Thomas. “It was just a joke.”

Despite the fact I thought we’d both agreed he wouldn’t react, Thomas crossed the space and pushed Zeke up against the side of the tower, his arm across his neck.

“You shouldn’t be fooling around on nightwatch. Charlie got hurt.”

I pulled at Thomas’s arm to try to free it from Zeke’s windpipe, but it didn’t budge.

Zeke’s voice sounded like it was bubbling out of his throat, “I…did…too.”

With a groan, Thomas released him, and Zeke sucked in deep breaths to fill his empty lungs.

“What’s the big deal? I was just joking. You’re too serious.” Zeke’s voice sounded rough and scratchy as he stomped to the metal, hinged door that stood wide open to the side of the hole we needed to scramble through right now. “Can’t even have a little fun. Charlie’s fine, aren’t you?”

I gave a slow nod. Far from fine, I just wanted the tension to ease.

“See! I don’t think you’d know how to have a little fun, if it were strictly written in the Council’s rulebook. Get over yourself.”

He disappeared down the ladder to the tunnels below.

“One of these days, he’s going to have to grow up, do something unselfish for once.” He ran a hand down his face in a weary gesture. “I hope he does it before he gets someone killed.”

He threw the fourth and final switch, arming the shockwall that surrounded our building. Immediately, the sound of several creatures frying on the razor wire fence drew our attention outside. Through the windows, thanks to Zeke’s prank, I saw just how close the Draghoul had come to breaching our security. Thomas might be right. Zeke’s fun had put the whole community at risk. If he didn’t take things more seriously, someone would die.

“Come on. Let’s get below in case one got through.”

Chapter 8

I know now why Jonas is so happy to throw his wife to the Draghoul. I don’t really know how to feel about the fact that I have an older brother, one who thinks Jonas is his father, but the truth is, we have the same father. Melanie, Jonas’s wife, came to see my mother, to beg to be able to tell Peter about us. She wanted him to know who his real father was. I wasn’t supposed to be in the room, but I stood just outside the door, listening. Apparently, before my mother and father were together, even when Melanie was married to Jonas, my father and she had a relationship, an affair. Peter was the result. I sat there, my mouth wide open, unsure what I should do. Or, even how I should feel.

No wonder Jonas hated his wife. But now she worried what would happen to Peter once she was gone. Jonas refused to let him go with Melanie. Who would take care of him? Who would protect him from Jonas’s hatred?

Of course, my mother thought it was for the best to keep it quiet for now. With all the big to-do surrounding the women’s looming expulsion, she thought it might upset things further. Instead, she assured Melanie that my father would approach Peter after we were gone, and finally tell him the truth. But, from the way my mother and Melanie spoke, I’m not even sure my father knows he’s Peter’s real dad. Is that even possible?

I closed the book unable to comprehend what I’d read. Did Peter know the truth? Had his real father explained everything to him? Nothing in his behavior suggested he thought anyone else other than Jonas was his father. And where was this other man? He should be with Victor, but Victor was all alone. It was too much for my brain to puzzle out, but the more I read, the more I learned the community was as much a battlefield as the Dead Forest at night, and I wasn’t sure I was any safer on the inside of the wall.

A week later, I was relieved to be free of nightwatch and anxious to read more of the journal every chance I got. The ins and outs of this community were more drama-filled than any television show I used to watch. How I missed television! And chocolate. What I wouldn’t give for a giant bag of Hershey Kisses right about now.

Zeke moped for a couple days after our race, but he stopped pouting eventually and acted like the whole pretending-to-be-a-Draghoul thing never happened. I was still shaken up, and my knee was healing slowly. And most irritating of all, I couldn’t shake the sensation I was in imminent danger.

True to his word, Thomas met me every evening under the stairs. We found a room not too far away where we could close the door and not worry about anyone coming along, asking questions I didn’t have answers for.

Turned out, I was not the best student when it came to self-defense. We were on the fourth night of me attempting to punch and “put my hips into it,” whatever that meant. It was all I could do to keep up with Thomas’s pace, especially with my freshly stitched gash on my knee.

We only met for a short amount of time, so he felt like he had to fill it up with as much as he could. From the minute I walked through the door, I was kicking over and over with my good leg and punching until my arms ached. We always ended each session with me attempting to fend off an attack by Thomas. Needless to say, I never got more than one punch or kick in before he had me completely restrained, one arm behind my back, the other wrapped around the front of my body. At this rate, I might as well lay down and give up at the first sign of a fight.

Tonight, I was determined to at least get in a few more blows before he demonstrated just how weak I was by twisting me into a loopy vine and pinning me tightly to the ground. If only I could catch him unaware.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for tonight. Now…”

I didn’t give him the chance to prepare for me. I jumped onto his back and threw punch after punch into his sides until my knuckles began to protest in pain. He wrapped his arms over my shoulders in an attempt to flip me over his head, but I clamped my legs around his waist and dug my heels into his upper thighs.

Uncomfortable grunts and groans poured from his mouth, and with great effort, I got my arm around his neck and began to squeeze. It was the last chance I had to bring him down.

My back hit the concrete wall, and all of his weight fell on me. Dazed, my grip loosened enough that he twisted around and pushed me into the wall, his face warped in a sneer, his hands wrapped in my shirt. For a moment, I doubted the smartitude of my actions. Maybe a sneak attack hadn’t been the best course to take.

Then his mouth slid into a grin. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Finally, you show some life.”

“You’re not mad I jumped you when you weren’t ready?”

“No, but you’re still holding back. Use any means necessary to keep the upper hand in an attack. Gouge eyes, crush windpipes, and if a man is hurting you, hit below the belt.”

“Below the belt? Like his knee?”

He shook his head and stepped back. “Between a man’s legs is highly sensitive. It can put him on the floor in a heartbeat.”

“Huh. I never knew. Can I practice on you?”

“Hell, no! That’s one I’ll ask you to hold back on.”

A sudden sharp pain in my leg made me drop my gaze. Through my sewn pant leg, I could see a spot darkening right where my wound was.

“You’ve torn open your stitches. Come on, let’s get it fixed.”

He opened the door and peeked out carefully. With a wave of his hand he stepped out and I followed, limping slightly. Yet, when I expected him to turn and head for the stairs and in the direction of Dr. Graham, he passed them instead and turned toward the hallway where the Council gathering room was.

“Where are we going?”

“To the closest doctor.”

“Dr. Graham is down here?”

He shook his head sharply and put his finger over his lips before they came upon the guards standing in the hallway ahead of them.

As they passed, Thomas nodded in their direction but didn’t stop to talk. Confused, I continued to follow.

When we turned down a certain hallway, I knew where he was taking me. “Why are we going to Quillen’s room?”

“I told you we’re going to the closest doctor.”

I stopped in the middle of the corridor, disoriented and even more confused. Thomas finally slowed and looked back at me. “He doesn’t practice anymore since he trained Dr. Graham to take his place.”

He waved me forward again, and I eased toward him. “Dr. Graham isn’t a real doctor?”

“Quillen came to the community a couple years ago. He said he was from some city outside the Dead Forest and was searching for something in particular. He offered his services as an educated doctor and said he’d train an apprentice to take his place when he moved on, in exchange for access to the communities’ residents.”

“Access? What kind of access?” We passed the final guards and glided through the door into the council living quarters.

We stopped outside Quillen’s room. Thomas grasped and twisted the doorknob and whispered, “Our blood.”

He walked inside, but I stood in the hallway, finally understanding a term my mother had used when I was younger—flabbergasted.

After a minute, Thomas appeared in the doorframe again and pulled me inside, closing the door behind me. Dazed, I made my way to a chair on the other side of the room. My sister crawled over to me, a huge smile brightened by her two bottom front teeth. They were recent and had caused a few fussy days, but completely normal according to Quillen. His assurances of normal development and behavior took on a whole new meaning now that I knew he was an actual physician.

I picked her up and held her on my lap a few moments before she reached for her toys on the floor and wiggled until I set her down beside them. Less than two hours ago, I’d taken her to eat with me and kept her while I did laundry. Seeing me again, she probably expected to leave the room.

“Charlie’s torn open Dr. Graham’s stitches. Needs a fix.”

“You’ll have to remove your pants, so I can get to your injury.”

I looked up into the kind eyes of Quillen, sure my confusion was etched on my face.

“Do you trust me to stitch your knee?”

“Thomas said you were an educated doctor. Are you?”

“Yes. I attended years of school and practiced medicine in a family practice for most of my middle years. I can assure you, I’m a doctor.”

Something still didn’t make sense to me. “Then why does everyone go to Dr. Graham, or Mr. Graham, or whoever he is?”

“I never planned to stay here, and the community would continue to need medical attention. Dr. Graham was an EMT or emergency medical technician before the infection and acted as the medic here before I arrived. No reason to upset an established, workable system. I began training an apprentice to take either one of our places, just in case, but he chose another path instead.” He paused and looked across the room at Thomas. Something passed between them, but neither said anything. Quillen swung his gaze back to me and continued, “Besides, Dr. Graham is great at what he does.”

“Why do you call him a doctor though? He didn’t earn the title the way you did.”

“It just makes everyone feel better to call him doctor. Now, let’s see about those stitches.”

My cheeks heated as I looked at Thomas. “Dr. Graham…” It still felt awkward calling him a doctor now that I knew the truth. “Dr. Graham just stitched it through the hole in my pant leg. Can’t we just do that?”

Quillen was busy opening packs of medical supplies, so I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me or not, but then he turned toward me and smiled, “We all know your secret here. No reason to be shy.”