The Undesirable (Undesirable Series) (17 page)

“Put the body down for a second.” I hear a thud. The first officer sighs. “Why should we do a sweep?”

“Instinct.”

I can’t stop the shakes that cover my body. Cold dread wraps around me. I pray these men don’t come back my way. The first officer surveys the street and the field.

“Nah. I think he came here alone,” he asserts after a few seconds. “If he had a big group, they would make themselves known.” He shrugs. “We’ll find them anyway, if they’re here. Come on. Back to the barracks. The sun will set soon anyway.”

“I guess,” the second officer says.

A few minutes pass. They do something I can’t quite make out. I concentrate on my breath and work every cell in my body to keep it even. I press my body so hard that the wood splinters in my hands and arms. Even though they hurt, I don’t allow myself to move.

“I still think we should find her,” the second officer says once again. “She’s here. I know it.”

“How do you know?” replies the first officer. I think he’s skeptical, but I can’t be sure.

“Instinct.”

“Like you have any instinct.” The first officer sighs. “You’re not going to get off this, huh?”

“No. Not with all that money at stake, the reward for her capture.”

“Plus you said the other day she seemed pretty hot for a fugitive,” says the first officer. I hear the sound of a zipper. I flush bright red; I don’t need a mirror to know. The thought of one of them, with me, is disgusting. No, it revolts me.

“Okay. Let’s search for her. Which way?”

“That way, we’ll head down the street, past these houses.” I can’t tell which way he points.

“Alright. We’ll hunt for her a little bit and then come back for the body.”

I sneak a glance at my watch.

6:15.

Within a few moments, I hear the crunch of their boots as they start their search. In shock, I tell from the sound they move right toward me.

One step. Two. Three.

They walk right around the corner from me. I can almost smell them. Beads of sweat fall from my forehead to the grass. Then, they stop.

“I don’t think she’s down this way,” the first officer says to the second one. “These people in the SSR don’t travel in pairs when we’re around. They split up.”

“What if they didn’t split up?”

“It would be weird if they didn’t,” the first officer insists. “Everything I’ve read says they do.” I think he grows more annoyed. “Hey, let’s look back over there. Come on. I want to check it out.”

“Ugh, fine,” grunts the second officer. “Whatever you say.” 

They turn around and go the other way. I wait until I can’t hear them any more before I slide down the wall. The dry dandelions and weeds crunch under my boots. 

Once again, I’m all alone.

It’s a dead body and me. Glenn’s dead body. I steal a look at him lying in a heap. One leg juts up and makes a triangle with the grass. His blood on the grass turns it purple. Supplies from his backpack cover the ground next to him. This grows more dangerous every minute.

Ten minutes pass before I cry.

The pain comforts me in a way I don’t expect as I lean against the old paint and tattered wood. I make sure I stifle my sniffles, and I only allow myself to cry for a few minutes. Through the emotion, I focus on what to do next and will myself to pull together. Now is not the time to break down. This is the time to be strong. Time passes fast. I can’t stay behind the garages because it’s too risky. I have to move. I need to move soon. I must find Fostino.

6:45.

The factory will close soon, so I rule it out. I don’t know if people work there anymore, anyway. I think about it for a few seconds. I consider all my options and decide I’ll head to the apartment.

I focus over my shoulder on the field where Glenn died. The field makes up the straightest path to the elementary school — a wide building that gives me the most cover possible until I reach the corner of Metamora and Main. From there, it’s another trip up two alleys before I hit the apartment complex. I recoil a little. If I take this route, I’ll go right past his body. The thought of leaving him almost makes me sick, again. I stare at his body and know there is no safe way out here.

He would want me to do this. He would want me to escape. He would want me to get away.

6:50.

Soon, I will run out of time. I want to get to the apartment before dark. I want to see Fostino Sanchez as soon as I can. Demons have taken over my hometown, and I want to hide. I suck in one long breath before I adjust the straps on my backpack. My gun remains at my hip. If I need to, I’ll use it.

Even if it means using it on myself.

Five, four, three, two, one.

I don’t have any choice about the field. I need to cross it, too. My left hand balls into a tight fist. I bite down on my lip and step out from behind the garage. I peek to my left, then my right.

No one’s there.

I take five quick steps. Fifteen. I shut my eyes and pass Glenn’s body. Thirty steps. Forty. Sixty. I press my back against the jutted brick of the school until it hides me again. The rough clay and brick comforts me, and I exhale the breath I sucked in minutes before. It’s like I’ve passed a huge test. After a few more long breaths, I force my heart to stop its breakneck pace. I must move. I must move.

I must move now.

7:00.

My feet carry me to the far end of the school’s back wall. My ears catch every sound with sharpness, my mouth has dried out, my eyes clear and widen. I even smell my fear.

At the corner of the school, I examine my next route. The path turns here and leads me down a residential street before a turn onto Main. I estimate the apartment complex sits 20 houses down, a few feet from another turn that would put me face to face with the Sanchez’s convenience store.

It’s a short walk and an epic one all at the same time. I close my eyes and steel my nerves once more as my head presses against the brick. Twenty garages, a few trees, five rusted ancient children’s play sets, two blocks, and a few minutes, stand between Fostino and me.

I can do this. I must do this.

I will do this.

My stomach constricts as I take the first tentative steps.

I duck behind one garage. Then another. My body slides up to the third one. I take cover in the fourth yard behind a large oak tree. Once I hit the safety of one, I scan my surroundings and allow myself a few minutes to breathe. With each move, I wonder when my luck will give out.

Each yard backs up to the open alleyway. A crumbled gravel road leads me through what’s left of my hometown. As I pass the vacant and dilapidated properties, I don’t even know if the people who own them are still alive. The thought depresses me.

I round the corner and duck behind the last garage, one that allows me to see the back door of the apartment complex and the side door of the convenience store. Forty feet or so separates me from what has become the apartment.

God, I’m so close.

I adjust my backpack of supplies and will my stomach to settle down. With a quick survey, I take in the clues I see. First, someone has busted all the windows of the convenience store. Shattered glass litters gravel like broken eggshells. Next, no lights are on in the store, and twisted metal shelves once for food and supplies lie scattered between the inside and the outside. No one has been at the store for at least a few days.

My eyes study the apartment complex. Broken and busted windows stand out against the old brick. Wooden shutters hang off their hinges and swing at the slightest breeze. Someone has been on a rampage through here, too. Fear runs down my spine like a bullet train.

But, I don’t care. Suicide mission or not, I
will
see this through.

I bite down one more time on my lip, stand up straight, and sprint to the open back door of the apartment complex once I see the area around the apartment is clear. After a second, I shuffle through the hallway of the building. This is it: the moment I’ve worked so hard for is upon me. In seconds, I’ll enter the apartment.

Will he be there? Is he still alive? What will I find?

I reach the door. I throw the key in the lock, and then see I don’t need it. Someone has busted the door lock since I left. The wooden door doesn’t close any more. Once I glance down the hallway, it’s easy to see the other doors don’t close, either. All the muscles in my body tense. I shake my head. I try to shut out my bad thoughts and push open the door to home. The stress even manifests in my feet; the bones in my toes clench and tighten like screws on a board. The door creaks as I force it to open, the one sound in the whole building. It’s as if I’ve entered some sort of time and sound vacuum.

Nothing else exists but this moment, this second. 

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

A half second after I make my entrance, I shut the door as far as it can go and turn on a small flashlight I pulled from my backpack.

Only the bed remains in the room. Light filters in through the cracks of the boarded up windows. No one who walked in here would imagine someone lived here at all. It’s hard for me to imagine myself. The backpack falls off my weary shoulders and drops to my feet. I don’t know if I have enough strength left to find Fostino. I stand in the middle of the room, next the box, and bury my head in my hands.

I’ve come so far, dealt with so much. Too much.

Fostino Sanchez’s face blots out the rest of my thoughts. After a few minutes, I sit down in the center of the room. I don’t care if someone finds me. I only think about Fostino. I have no idea where he might or what happened to him. He might be hurt, in a camp, or dead. The unknown overwhelms me.

I should have told him I loved him. I should have told him I loved him. I should have told him I loved him.

I stay on the floor for ten minutes. Only my memories keep me company. My thoughts pound through my head and punish me for leaving Fostino.

You should never have left him. You should never have left him. You should never have left him.

Soon, exhaustion overtakes my body. My back softens, my legs relax, and my arms give up their protest. What’s left of my soul doesn’t want to move any more. I give in to the pain and the tiredness; it’s time to lie down.

“Damn it,” I mutter to myself. I will never find him. I look down at my Hologram Watch as despair fills every part of my body.

I use the padded side of the backpack as a pillow. I lay my head on it, pull my legs out onto the wooden floor, and face the bed. My heavy eyes fall over the metal frame of the Murphy bed and white lace of the bare mattress. From here, I’ve got a clear view of the dust bunnies and splintered floor under the headboard of the bed. That’s when I remember something and can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.

My eyes run over the trap door to the shelter as I muster my last strength to stand. I pull up the Murphy bed and take another deep breath. Nothing about the wood says anything is out of place or anyone might be down there, but it doesn’t matter to me. I reach down, hook my fingers under the door and lift up. The wood breaks free from the floor with a groan and the blue light from the flashlight falls into the shelter.

I blink a few times and almost scream.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

“Are you kidding? Fostino!”

Fostino blinks in the blue light and then his eyebrows knit together in a frown. I make out his face in the darkness of the shelter. My heart pounds fast. I can’t believe he’s been here the whole time.

“Charlotte?” he says after a long while. “That you?”

“Yeah.” I balance between the wooden trap door and the hole below. The flashlight swings free from its strap around my wrist and illuminates the small shelter. A sweep of the light shows Fostino has hidden here for a while.

“I can’t believe it!” My voice sounds loud, but I don’t care. I rush down the steps of the shelter to him. My arms ache to have him around me; my heart overflows from the joy. Adrenaline courses through my body with a force. I want to touch him one more time.

Fostino peers back at me as I come closer. I stop once his breath brushes my face. He’s made no move to reach out to me.  In fact, he appears stiff and scared. Even darker circles rim his already dark eyes. He squeezes his gun with his left hand.

Wait a minute... I’m not the enemy... 

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I came to save you. I came to— I came to help you get away, to warn you.”

“To warn me?” He crosses his arms across his chest. “We’re past the point of warning.” I strain to hear his words, and his voice sounds strange. Then he shakes his head and his matted dark hair. “You’re supposed to be dead. I thought you were dead. Everyone’s dead.”

“I thought
you
died, Fostino.” Then his last sentence hits me like a punch in the face. “Wait.” I stare at him for a moment. “Everyone’s dead?”

“Everyone.”

I don’t know what to do, so I make a small move to him. He takes a step back and buries himself further into the shelter. One movement creates an invisible wall between us. He holds his body rigid.