In the End (Starbounders) (6 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Someone shakes me awake and I dart up, my legs dangling off the side of the top bunk. Jacks is looking up at me, his arm resting on the bed, not quite touching my leg. Light streams in through the tiny window.

“Is it morning?” I ask.

“Afternoon. It’s been almost two days.”

“What?” I rub my hands over my face. “Two days?” How could I have let myself sleep for so long?

I move to get down from the bed, but my muscles ache from disuse. I didn’t know I was this exhausted, but it makes sense. I hadn’t slept for days before setting out on my twenty-mile trek to Fort Black. How often had I even stopped to rest?

Jacks tilts his head. I can see the tattoo of the snake, where it peeks out from under his collar and winds around his neck. “You were having nightmares. Whimpering in your sleep. I was almost afraid to leave you when I went to work yesterday, but Doc said that your body needed rest. That’s why you shut down.” He hands me a fork and a can of baked beans. “I thought you should eat.”

“Thanks.”

I’m ravenous. I pull the can tab, my mouth watering at the sweet, tangy smell, and begin to shovel the beans into my mouth. Every bite is delicious.

Jacks takes a step back and sits at the small table. The room looks a little less messy today. Although the walls are still covered with sketches, the floor has been cleared up.

I pause midbite. “Where’s my pack?”

“Here.” He retrieves it from under the bed and tosses it up to me. “I didn’t look in it or anything.”

I put down the can and quickly check. Nothing missing. The emitter is safe. Its battery is dead, so I switch it off and quickly close the bag. I’ll have to remember to charge it. It’s solar-powered, so I’ll just need to place it in the window during the day.

I go back to my beans and begin to eat, more slowly this time. “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to accuse you or anything. I see you’ve cleaned up.”

“Yeah, it’s good you slept so long. It took me awhile.”

I think of Baby again, my stomach turning. I hate myself for wasting so much time.

“Well,” I say, “I’ve got to get out there. Ken’s not coming to me.”

“Wait.” His tone surprises me—almost nervous. I glance up, and we lock eyes for a moment. “I got you something.”

Jacks picks up a large book from the table and hands it to me.

I touch the smooth, worn cover. “
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
,” I mumble
.
I open it and thumb through the pages, stopping at one of my father’s favorite plays,
The Tempest.
My eyes catch a line that gives me chills.
“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

I close the book and stare at the cover, desperately trying not to cry.

“Thanks,” I manage, shaken by my conflicting emotions of happiness and fear. Love and heartache. “Where did you find this?”

“The prison library. Well, it’s not the library anymore—people live in there—but all the books are just stacked against the wall. You sounded really sad when you told me that line. I didn’t know it, so I asked the old dude who used to be the librarian. He showed me the book and which pages to read.”

“You read
Macbeth
?”

“Well, I do know how to
read
,” he tells me with a hint of a smirk. I look over, thinking I might have hurt his feelings, but he’s impossible to decipher. “Anyway, I thought it would remind you of your dad. I know”—he pauses and looks out the window—“it’s good to have reminders. That’s all.”

I stare at the cover again. “I love it. Thank you.”

“No problem. I should probably admit that I read that part about courage, but then I gave up. It’s kind of hard to understand.”

I nod. I’m anxious to go start looking for Ken, but I know that I owe Jacks. “It really isn’t that difficult if you concentrate. I’ll show you.”

His eyes slide toward me and I think he’s going to say something light. But then he gets up and climbs next to me on the bed. He’s so close to me that for a moment I’m paralyzed. After being alone for so long, it’s nice to have someone close to me, someone who isn’t trying to hurt me. I’d forgotten how good that can feel. His arm brushes mine and my skin burns under my synth-suit. After a few long seconds I adjust my position and move away. If there’s one thing I can’t afford right now, it’s to get close to someone else.

I start to read aloud, and for a tiny moment I forget where I am. I forget New Hope and the Ward. I forget about finding Ken and being in Fort Black. I allow myself to forget everything . . . everything but Baby.

I could never forget Baby.

After a few minutes I stop and Jacks gets off the bed.

“We should continue this later,” he says. “I need to go to work and you should rest some more.”

I’ve been sleeping for two days. What I need now is a plan of action. “No more resting. I’m going to look for Ken.”

“Sorry, you’ll need to stay here, in the cell,” Jacks says apologetically. “Just for a while. I can’t take you with me to work and if I don’t do my hours, I lose this palace you’ve been lounging in . . . no matter whose nephew I am.”

I stare at him. “I’m not actually a prisoner. I can leave if I want.”

“It’s not safe for you to walk around without me. Not until word gets out that you’re with me.”

I nod. I understand, but I hate that he’s locking me up again, even if I have a key. I know I can’t go out in Fort Black without him. I don’t even want to risk it. He clanks the door shut apologetically and disappears.

Before he leaves, he pauses in the entryway. “I left something for you . . . on the table,” he tells me, staring at the floor. “You should know what you’re up against.”

I rush to the table, thinking he has info on Baby or Ken, but the file is about one person: Ellis Lawson. Tank. Deflated, I open it and look at the first page; there’s no mistaking that hard face staring back at me from his mug shot with a creepy, crooked smirk.

I skim through the pages, then start back at the beginning and read through each page one by one.

The second page is an information sheet on his crimes. Sentenced to sixty years to life for the disappearances of two teenaged girls, one seventeen, one fifteen, both of whose bodies were never found.

Next is a court transcript. Testimonial, Daniel Nahon, ten years old:

I threw the Frisbee far, past the trees, and Cordy went to grab it. She was taking a long time, so I followed and saw a big man pulling her by the neck into a green car. I ran at them and shouted, but the man just looked at me. He put his hand to his neck and pulled it across, like he was going to cut off my head if I didn’t shut up. But he had Cordy, so I yelled louder and ran after the car as he drove away. Then I found a policeman in the park and told him what had happened.

I close my eyes, sickened. What a thing for a little boy to witness. A kid just a few years older than Baby. The girl just a few years younger than myself. What happened to her? The body wasn’t found. No coroner’s report to read.

Then there’s a newspaper article in with the papers, dated the year I started high school.

Ellis Lawson was convicted today of the murders of Cordelia Embry and Jasmine Norman. Though their bodies were not found, there was eyewitness testimony, and DNA evidence was found in Lawson’s house. Lawson is suspected of abducting three other girls, but the district attorney did not have sufficient evidence to charge Lawson with those crimes. The families of the girls have pleaded with Lawson to reveal the location of the bodies, but Lawson asserts his innocence. There will be a memorial service for Cordelia Embry at Harrison’s Funeral Home on Tuesday at two p.m.

So Tank was caught, seen snatching one girl, and convicted of murdering her and another, but he was smart enough to hide the bodies. How many other missing girls was he responsible for, ones that the cops didn’t know about? Tank isn’t just a dumb brute; he’s a serial killer.

A bit of handwritten ink catches my eye.
Lacking almost any moral fiber, can be used for a vast array of tasks.
I fold up the papers with a shudder and shove them under my pillow.

In the After, even a serial killer can get a job.

I pace the cell, anxious for Jacks to get back. Even though I know why I should stay here, I just can’t. I grab the drawing of the man I believe is Ken, pull out my key, and head toward the door.

Just as I’m about to open the lock and let myself out, I hear a voice. “Hey!” I look up to find a petite, slim woman staring at me through the cell door. “Do you know when Jacks will be back?”

“Soon, hopefully. He’s at work.”

“Oh.” She reaches for a crossbar and leans against the cell door, revealing a tattoo running up her forearm that reads
MAD MIKE’S
in purple graffiti letters. “I wanted to talk to him about getting my man another tat, as a present.”

I step closer. She’s in her early forties, at least, her shoulder-length hair a mixture of black and gray. “I can let him know you stopped by.”

“Sure. Mike and I are right next door.” She motions with her head to the cell to the left. “I’m Pam.” She holds her hand through the cell bars and I shake it gingerly. My hands aren’t massive, but hers feel like a child’s. “To be honest, I’ve been dying to find out about you. . . . Word got out pretty quickly that Jacks claimed a girl full of hellfire.”

She grins at me.

“Um, thanks.”

“Jacks is a good man. You’ve got quite a catch there.”

I laugh uncomfortably. The idea of me “belonging” to a man is weird enough, but me “catching” one is just ridiculous. The only other guy I’ve ever had feelings for is Rice. Of course, with him, things were tricky. He lied to me, for one thing. Even if it was for my own protection.

And then there was that kiss.

“. . . Jacks,” Pam is saying.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I was just saying you’re lucky to have Jacks.”

“And what makes him such a good protector?” I ask.

“Well, the boy can fight like the devil. But really, he’s got the connections. Everyone knows Jacks. The Warden takes care of him. Doc takes care of him.” She laughs lightly.

“Also, people don’t want to mess with the only tattoo artist in all of Fort Black. If anyone got into it with Jacks, he’d have half of the population of Fort Black on them. Everyone here loves their tats.”

“What they lack in common decency, they make up for with a love of tattoos,” I say, meaning for it to be a joke but sounding cold. Pam’s face drops. “Sorry,” I say. “Except for Jacks, people haven’t been exactly welcoming.”

“It’s okay. It’s hard here. I heard you just found Fort Black. You were out there for so long, poor thing.” She backs away. “Just tell Jacks to find me. I’m going to deliver some sewing now, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Hey, can I come with you?” I feel I’ll be safe with this woman. She seems like a veteran. Besides, if I befriend her, I can find out more about Fort Black.

“Sure.” She nods. “I’d like that.”

I grab my Guardian gun from under my pillow and place it in its holster, then check that my knives are in place—one on each thigh. I throw on one of Jacks’s T-shirts and a pair of his shorts. I’m sure I look strange, like I’m wearing black gloves and tights under my clothes, but I don’t care. I need all the protection I can get in this place.

I unlock the cell door with the key Jacks gave me and step out into the hall. Pam walks to her cell and grabs a basket of clothing, locking her door with a giant padlock.

“Is that how you make a living?” I ask, locking my door and walking toward the stairs, past the other cells. “Sewing?”

“Yeah, Mike is a guard. A Florae sniper, mainly, up on the wall. That gets us our accommodation. The sewing just brings in a bit extra.”

“Was he a guard here Before?”

“Nope, a convict. Armed robbery.” She tells me this casually. “I was his defense attorney.”

“And you got together . . . how?” I ask, trying not to sound shocked.

She smiles. “Oh, he was always flirting with me. He swore up and down that he wasn’t guilty, told me I was beautiful and amazing and was sure to get him out. It didn’t go anywhere, of course. How could it? It was a different world then and I was his attorney, not to mention married. Plus I knew enough to be wary of cons.
All
of them are innocent, I reminded myself, and every one of them thinks any woman they see in here is beautiful and amazing. If they’re lucky enough to see any at all!” She laughs boisterously at her own joke, the lively sound bouncing through the cellblock.

The loudness makes me uncomfortable. I glance back down the walkway and spot a figure lingering by my cell door. It’s not big enough to be Tank, but a surge of alarm runs through me. Could it be Ken? Maybe Kay was able to contact him and tell him I was here. I take a step back toward the cell, but Pam puts her hand on my arm to stop me.

The figure approaches us and I shrink at the man’s leer. He’s not Ken. He’s just another creepy man. He’s so dirty, I can’t tell the color of his skin. He brushes past us a little too closely. Pam steps aside, pushing me against the railing. My skin tingles as he sweeps by, my muscles tensed and ready. He doesn’t do anything but look, though, and is soon gone.

Pam leans in. “Sometimes it’s better just to get out of their way,” she tells me. “Some men are just plain mean.” She takes in my apprehension and adds, “But not all. Not my Mike. Not Jacks. You’ll learn how it is here.” She resumes her walk and motions for me to follow.

“You’ve been here the whole time,” I ask, catching up.

“I was here when the infection broke out,” she says, “meeting another client. The prison went on lockdown and by the time the guards told me I could leave, the news was so grim. I couldn’t get ahold of my husband, so it was obvious that he—well. So I decided to stay.” She shifts her load onto her other hip.

“When they let the prisoners out, Mike came and found me. He protected me from a lot of bad things that could have happened.” She looks at me, a soft expression on her face. “I love him for that.”