Twisted World: A Broken World Novel (8 page)

I
t had practically killed
my pride to accept that asshole’s offer, but half asleep and lying in a bed softer than the fur of a damn cat, I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit. I could have stayed here forever.

The sound of someone knocking on the door jerked me awake and I grabbed the pillow—a fucking feather pillow of all things—and pulled it over my head. It had to be early afternoon by now, but I didn’t plan on getting my ass out of this bed until I had to be at Dragon’s. Maybe if I ignored whoever was at the door, they would get the point and go away.

A minute went by and my body started to relax, but I was once again jerked from sleep when the asshole on the other side of the door knocked again. This time louder.

“Shit,” I muttered, shoving myself off the mattress and practically falling out of bed.

The hardwood floor was cold under my bare feet as I made my way across the room. The curtains were drawn over the windows, blocking out ninety percent of the light, but a few rays had managed to break their way through the cracks. They were bright, confirming my earlier suspicion about how late it was. I hadn’t slept this long since before the apocalypse, and back then I had been a dumbass kid who hadn’t appreciated it.

I ripped the door open and the light in the hallway was so bright that it nearly blinded me. I squinted and shielded my eyes with my hand, trying to force the world to come into view. When my gaze focused on Jackson’s face, I had to fight back a growl. I’d expected my guards, not this asshole.

“What?” I barked, my eyes still half-closed.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed as they swept over me. “Do you want me to give you a minute to get dressed?”

“I’m fine,” I grumbled. “What do you want?”

“I’d be more comfortable if you put something on.” The prick pressed his lips together and waited like he was expecting me to jump at his command.

“I’m fine.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the frame. In DC you couldn’t go for more than twenty minutes without seeing somebody butt ass naked, or a whole day without somebody seeing you. Last thing I was going to worry about was this asshole’s penis envy.

Jackson cleared his throat, and what flashed in his eyes had nothing to do with discomfort. Penis envy, maybe, but I wasn’t sure.

“Fine,” he said coolly, his gaze moving to my forehead. He wouldn’t look down, but he was too good to look me in the eye. “I wanted to thank you again for last night, and make sure you had everything you needed.”

I blinked. “Everything I needed?” Was this guy for real? If I had a roof over my head and a few cups of water, I considered it a good day.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Yeah,” I repeated. “I have everything.”

His gaze met mine, and I did everything I could to stare him down, but he didn’t waver. I was bigger than him, but he had a chip on his shoulder that was bigger than this damn house. There was something else, too. Something in his eyes that made me uneasy, and right now, the only thing I really needed was for him to get the hell out of here. First, because the bed was calling my name, but also because he gave me the creeps like no one ever had before.

“Good.” Jackson took a step back. “We just finished with brunch and I told the cook to save the leftovers. There should be a plate in the kitchen for you.”

He’s throwing you his scraps like you’re a dog.
The muscles in my arms tightened when I clenched my hands into fists. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” Everything about him looked smug as he took a step back. His eyes flickered down and his lips twitched. “Have a good fight.”

I watched him from the doorway as he headed down the stairs, and when he finally disappeared from sight, I pushed myself off the wall and headed back inside my temporary room.

What a disturbing prick. I’ve met some scary ass people in my life—DC was crawling with them—but this guy was king of the creeps. I hadn’t liked him last night, but it had more to do with his position than anything he’d done. Sure he’d only offered me a room to impress the girl, but that was normal. Now, after just a couple minutes of interacting with the dude, I could tell I was spot on in my dislike. He was as much of an ass as every other person who had a position of importance these days, maybe more so—I couldn’t forget that his dad was the Regulator of New Atlanta, and that dude ran this sorry excuse of a country. Even more than all that other stuff combined, though, was the feeling gnawing at the back of my mind that told me Jackson had a seriously disturbing side to him.

I pulled on a pair of pants before venturing out into the hall. My guards dragged themselves up off the floor, grumbling as they did it. I knew that they saw a piece of scum when they looked at me, and that they thought it was a total waste to allow me any sort of luxury. Not that they should be complaining. Jackson giving me a room got them in the big house, too.

The place was a damn palace. I’d been too dead tired last night to really appreciate it, but as I headed down the stairs, I couldn’t help admiring it now. Marble floors and pillars, a huge curved staircase. The double front doors at to be at least nine feet tall and the most elaborate things I’d ever seen. Outside these walls people were living in filth, barely surviving, and here this house sat. Lavish. Air Conditioned. Clean. Worst of all, so empty that my footsteps echoed through the rooms.

I found the kitchen easy enough, and when I pushed the door open the greasy scent of bacon still clung to the air, making my stomach rumble loudly.

The room was thick with darkness, and I paused just inside the door so I could wait for my eyes to adjust. The second they did, though, the light flickered on and I had to squeeze them shut.

“We got electricity, dumbass,” one of my guards said from behind me.

“Not used to it,” I mumbled.

The other guard snorted, and when footsteps crossed the room, my eyes were still shut tight. “The animals in DC don’t get lights. Remember?”

The familiar sound of silverware clinking against a plate forced my eyes open, but I was still squinting when my guards came into view. They were leaning over a plate like vultures picking apart a rotting carcass. My plate.

“Shit,” the one said through the mouthful of food that was meant for
me
. “I haven’t had bacon in twenty years.”

“I ain’t never had bacon,” the younger of the two said.

“That’s mine,” I growled when my eyes had finally adjusted to the light.

The older one looked up. One hand was still digging through the food on the plate while the other moved to the gun on his hip. “What you gonna do ‘bout it?”

Break your neck.

That’s what I thought, and it’s what I wanted to say and do, but I stepped back before my temper got the better of me.

“Nothing,” was the only word that made it out of my mouth.

They went back to shoveling the eggs and bacon into their mouths, the younger one not even bothering with a fork. And they called me an animal. These two were so filthy you’d think they had just crawled out of a gutter. The older one’s beard hung to the center of his chest, and the thing was riddle with specks of dirt and food—none of which came from the plate in front of him. The younger guy’s dreadlocks were probably crawling with bugs, and the dirt under his nails was so thick it had most likely been there for years.

I turned my back on them and dropped to the floor, channeling all the hate and rage in my body into my pushups. The muscles in my arms tightened when I pushed myself up and down, moving faster with each pass. A fork scraped against the plate as I propelled myself up, the sound of lips smacking together rang in my ears on the way down.

“The streets are crawling with them.” The booming voice of a man penetrated the door at my side, and I slowed, but didn’t stop. “Scum. We get more and more of them every week.”

“We’re going to have to do something about the population,” a second man said, his voice softer and slightly nasal. “It’s getting out of hand again.”

“When was the last flu?” the first one asked.

“Going on five years now.”

There was a pause before the man with the deep voice responded. “It’s not too soon?”

“Never too soon to take out the trash.”

The two men chuckled and I realized I’d frozen mid-pushup. My gaze darted to the left, but my guards were too busy stuffing their faces with the rest of my food to notice the conversation going on in the other room. I went back to my pushups, slower this time so I could hear. Keeping my eyes on the guards and my ears focused on the other room.

When the laughter had died down, the first man asked, “Any change in our test subject? I was in the lab late last night and didn’t have a chance to check on him.”

“No, but we both know we can’t keep him this way for long.” The other man’s nasally voice was farther away now, and I had to strain to hear him. “We’re going to have to do something more permanent soon.”

“Go ahead and take him out of the coma. He’s not going anywhere.”

“I’ll let his doctors know.” The man with nasal voice cleared his throat. “And the rest of the family? We can’t keep dragging this out.”

“I’m in a sticky situation and you know it.” The first man snapped. “We have plans for the girl and Jackson assures me it’s going well.”

“You’re really going to let your son’s sex life risk everything we’re trying to accomplish?” This time, the nasal tone was accompanied by annoyance. “No one but the brothers has had this kind of immunity, not even the girls. You know this guy’s blood could be the key to everything we’ve been trying to accomplish. He very well could be the only chance we have. All our other efforts went nowhere. Your son, on the other hand, can find someone else to screw.”

“Don’t push me.” The man with the deep voice growled, and the sound of feet scuffling against the floor made me freeze again. “Understand? And this has nothing to do with Jackson’s sex life. We’ve had this plan in place for years, and I’m not about to throw it away because it’s taking longer than we expected. We need the name this girl brings with her. Otherwise, I’d take care of the whole thing in one day. I’ll do what needs to be done when I’m sure there’s no other option.”

“Fine.” The other man huffed, not sounding very put off by his friend’s anger. “You just let me know when you decide to take the next step.”

They kept talking, but their voices got fainter and I was only able to catch a word or two of the conversation, until finally the voices faded away completely.

I pumped my arms up, and stopped, holding the position while I tried to figure out what I had just heard. Talk about a flu, and then some man who was immune. Jackson and a girl. I had to assume they were talking about Meg, but why? And what the hell did her name have to do with it?

“Get up,” one of my guards growled.

A boot banged against my side and my arms gave out. Somehow, I managed to brace myself before I slammed face-first into the tile floor. I rolled onto my back and found both guards standing over me, licking their disgusting fingers like the animals they were.

“We’re supposed to get you to Dragon’s soon,” the older of the two said.

“It’s still early,” I mumbled from my place on the floor.

I could jump up and snap their necks. Make a run for it. There was no way they were stronger than me, and they were too stupid to have their weapons ready. But then what? If the stories about security in New Atlanta were true, I wouldn’t make it far. Maybe to the wall, but all the way over? No. They’d catch me and shoot me on sight. Then I’d never make it back to Patty.

“Don’t give a shit what time it is,” the older guard said. His beard was dotted with little yellow specks of scrambled egg. “Dragon told us to bring you over, so that’s what we’re gonna do. Get up.”

I rolled back to my stomach, then hoisted myself up. The kick to my side hadn’t been hard enough to leave a bruise, but it still ached when my muscles tensed. Thanks a lot, asshole. It wasn’t like I had to fight zombies tonight or anything.

I walked ahead of the guards, out through the kitchen door and into the dining room. It was empty, just like I knew it would be.

“We drop this dude off, then maybe we can squeeze in a few free hours,” the younger guard said. “Find us some tail.”

“Forget that.” The old guy let out a belch that sounded wet. “I wanna get wasted.”

My gaze moved up and down the halls as we headed toward the stairs so I could get dressed. Whoever I’d heard talking was gone now, and the house once again felt empty.

All the people living on the streets, and this was how the Regulator was living. He was an asshole. Must have been where his son got it.

T
he trek
up the stairs was twice as torturous after a six hour shift. Last night I’d had to hold on to the railing so I wouldn’t fall on my ass, I’d been that tired, but today it felt like I was climbing a mountain after running from a horde of zombies.

Six hours on the maintenance crew was draining on its own, but add to that the worries constantly swimming around inside my head, and by the time I had finished my shift I felt like could curl up in bed and sleep for days. Between Mom and Dad, the bills that had to be paid, and my upcoming night in Dragon’s Lair, my brain didn’t have a moment to rest all day long.

Reaching the third floor gave me a second wind, but I didn’t feel any perkier than I had any other day in recent weeks. Al was most likely between shifts, which meant I’d be able to talk to him about the note. Hopefully, once I spilled my guts to my uncle, he could help shoulder some of the burden and I wouldn’t feel so weighed down.

I paused outside Al and Lila’s long enough to shoot a quick look toward my own apartment. The hall was silent, but I could almost hear Mom’s nervous chatter and constant pacing from where I stood. It could have been my imagination, but I doubted it.

When I rapped my knuckles against the door, the sound echoed through the hall. I shot another look toward our apartment when my heart beat faster. If Mom heard, she could look through the peephole and see me standing here. The last thing I needed right now was a confrontation.

My aunt and uncle’s door opened and I let out a sigh of relief at the sight of my Uncle Al.

“Megan?” He looked over my shoulder like he expected someone to be with me. Who, I didn’t know. I was pretty much alone in this world right now. “What’s going on?”

“Can I come in?” I slipped my hand into my pocket and fingered the paper. It felt like a piece of cloth, but seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. “I have something I need to talk to you about.”

Al pulled the door open wider and stepped aside so I could enter. The note was out of my pocket before the door had even clicked shut behind me, and I held it out when I turned to face him.

My uncle’s gaze moved to the paper in my hand, amusement in his dark eyes. Of all the people I knew, he was one of the few who didn’t seem to struggle to laugh in this world. Everyone else had baggage so heavy it seemed to weigh their souls down until they were practically hunched over from the pressure of it all.

“What’s this?” Al took the note, his mouth twitching like expected it to contain a joke.

He balanced the piece of paper against his stump as he unfolded it with the hand he did have. The sword he wore while at work was off, which was normal when he was at home. I was used to seeing the stump, but as I waited for him to read the note I couldn’t stop from thinking about that missing arm and what it must have been like when he’d lost it. I’d heard the story, both from my parents and from Lila, and I knew how terrible that day had been for them all. They’ve seen the world change so much in their lives, and it must have been hard for them to keep hoping it would get better when nothing ever seemed to.

It had been pretty early in the apocalypse when Al was bitten, and my family found themselves faced with a horrible choice: try to save him by cutting off his arm, or let him die. They didn’t even know for sure if it would make a difference, but Joshua did it anyway at the insistence of Al, who’d only been seventeen at the time. Thankfully, it stopped the spread of the virus and he made it through.

In front of me, the expression on my uncle’s face changed slowly. His smile grew stiff, then melted away as his gaze moved over the words. He must have read the note six or seven times while we stood there in silence, and with each passing second, the frown on his face grew deeper until the man who stood in front of me looked nothing like my fun-loving Uncle Al. The person who looked up had troubled eyes, and a face that was etched with lines so deep it gave off the impression he was on the brink of dying from old age.

“Someone gave this to me yesterday,” I said by way of explanation. “On the streets, right after my confrontation with that woman.”

Al’s hand was shaking so hard that if the paper hadn’t been so worn, I probably would have been able to hear it crinkle in the silence of the apartment.

“Who?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Some old man. How he knows anything about Dad is beyond me, but after all Mom’s ranting, I can’t help wondering if there’s some truth in this.” I nodded toward the note in my uncle’s hand. “What if Dad is alive? What if he’s immune?”

Al’s eyes darted around and his hand shook harder, making my heart speed up. He knew something. He wouldn’t be acting this way if he didn’t.

When my uncle looked back at me he was smiling, but it was nothing like his normal smile. It was forced and it didn’t reach his eyes. It looked drawn on, and the lines on his face hadn’t disappeared.

“You can’t trust a crazy man on the streets.” The laugh that popped out of his mouth wouldn’t fool the dumbest person alive. Al balled up the paper and shoved it in his pocket. “I know it’s hard to accept, we all miss your dad, but he’s not alive. There’s no conspiracy here.”

Every inch of my uncle was tense, which was nothing like him. It felt like I was standing in front of a stranger. He was lying. Even worse, he was nervous. Almost like he thought someone might be listening to us. He reminded me of Mom…

“Al?” A million questions flipped through my head, but every one of them could be deadly if someone actually
was
listening to us right now.

My uncle laughed again, which wasn’t only forced but inappropriate considering we were talking about my father who was missing and presumed dead.

“We can’t feed into your mom’s fears.” Al’s voice was firm, and he shoved his hand in his pocket like he was guarding the note. Like he was afraid I would grab it and run from this room, waving it above my head as I tore through the streets of New Atlanta. “Let’s just keep this between the two of us. Okay?”

I didn’t move right away, but neither did Al. His eyes held mine as his lips twitched, making it look like he was struggling to keep the smile on his face. The pleading in his gaze spoke volumes, though. He was begging me to listen to him. To walk away and not ask any more questions. At least not here.

“Yeah,” I said, backing toward the door on shaky legs, unable to stop myself from scanning the room. Was someone watching us right now? Was I in trouble? “You’re right. This is nuts, and we can’t let Mom know about it. We’ll just keep it between the two of us.”

Al let out a sigh as he nodded, but he was still tense. “Good.”

“I have to go.” I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Good then.” My uncle nodded. “So do I, in fact. More work. Have to keep busy.” His lips twitched again, and I finally turned away so he didn’t have to keep the smile on his face.

“Thanks, Al.”

I couldn’t breathe until I was in the hallway and the door was firmly shut. The worries that had been swirling through my head all day long had only grown, and with the way things were going, they weren’t likely to get better any time soon.

“I’ll have to think about it later,” I said, pushing myself off the door and heading toward my own apartment.

As much as I’d love to sit around and mull over the mystery that had become my life, I had a new job to get to, and I had to get ready. Which meant taking a shower and squeezing myself into the little black dress I’d bought today. Glitter had given me the name of a place to go—I’d never had the need for a slutty dress before—and buying the thing had meant using up the last of my credits. But with any luck it would just take a few hours at Dragon’s and I’d come out ahead.

T
he entertainment district
of New Atlanta had been restricted to two streets, but they were both packed to the brim. Bars, clubs, strip joints, and pool halls lined the road, just waiting for the good people of the city to come in. The signs were mostly hand painted, but a few places had actually managed to scavenge electric ones. Their flash was enticing when it was dark. Like a promise that within those walls you’d be transported to the past, taken to a time when zombies didn’t rule the world and people didn’t die of starvation on a regular basis.
Come in
, they seemed to say,
we can make you forget that you live in this hell.
They couldn’t, but that was the trick. These days, people would do anything to feel like things were normal, even spending credits that should have gone toward food or clothes or healthcare. Whatever it took to forget the zombies for just a few hours.

It was early evening, so the electric signs hanging in windows were off as I headed down the street, but the area was still bursting with life. Laughter and music flowed from open doors as I passed them, and usually the sound of clinking glasses or balls slamming into one another on a pool table. The sickly sweet smell of trash hung in the air, but it was the scent of ammonia that burned my nostrils when I passed an alley. Black bags, teeming with garbage, lined the sidewalks, baking under the hot sun as they waited for trash day. The city’s garbage got collected once a month, and then taken outside the walls to be disposed of. Where, I didn’t know, but I had no doubt I’d find out soon thanks to my new job on the maintenance crew. Trash week was coming up very soon.

Angry words cut through the air and a second later a man stumbled out of a bar in front of me, his lips flapping as he screamed over his shoulder, “Didn’t want your ale anyway! Tastes like piss.”

He stumbled over his own feet or the cracks in the sidewalk or possibly even the trash lying around, and I dodged him just before he slammed into me. The man kept walking, not even noticing me as he mumbled to himself about how he just needed a drink so he could sleep. Just one more drink.

I walked faster, wrapping my arms around my stomach and keeping my eyes down as I passed men and women who were leaning against walls, smoking bootleg cigarettes. Some whistled my way while others asked if I was looking for a lay or a job. A few said nothing as their gaze followed my progress down the sidewalk.

At the end of the street, nestled between a strip club whose music seemed to make the entire building vibrate and a stack of smashed cars that helped make up this part of the wall surrounding New Atlanta, sat Dragon’s Lair. The brick building was black and windowless, and above the red door an elaborate mural of a dragon had been painted. The creature was midflight, it’s green scales radiant against the blue sky as it breathed fire into the air.

I took a deep breath, working to calm my pounding heart as I stared up at the picture. Whether it had been here before the apocalypse or after, I didn’t know, but I did know that once the sun went down no one would be able to see it. There were no working lampposts in the entertainment district and no light was mounted above the door. Last night when Jackson, Charlie, and I had arrived, it had been so dark that the mural had been invisible.

After a few minutes of staring at the image, my heart hadn’t slowed, but I knew I couldn’t put this thing off anymore. The longer I stayed outside, the more my shirt stuck to my body, so I pushed the door open and went in.

Three men sat at the bar, all of them leaning over half-empty glasses that seemed to have an almost hypnotic effect on them. None of them looked up when the door shut behind me, and other than the drunken men at the bar, the place felt deserted. Between fights the crowds must have been minimal, but I knew that in just a few hours the place would be brimming with activity. Dragon’s Lair was the only bar in the district that had a ring.

Even nearly empty the atmosphere was stifling. The Georgia humidity had seeped inside the cement walls and mixed with the remnants from last night’s crowd until the air was thick and difficult to swallow. I sucked in a deep breath, hoping to fill my lungs, and it nearly choked me. The foul odor of death had mixed with the coppery scent of blood and the stink of dozens of unwashed bodies, eliminating what little bit of refreshment the humidity hadn’t already stolen from the air.