Special Dead (18 page)

Devon’s strength of character, her sense of self,
had been unshakable. Even when her life as a psycho plastic jock bitch fell
into decay and ruin, Devon had always known who she was, what she was, and why
she was going to conquer whatever situation life put her in.

Ani patted her hand, then grabbed Mike’s. “Hey.
Christmas is Sunday. Want to call your dad?”

“Holy shit,” Sam said in the background. “I
totally forgot.”

Mike shook his head. “No. Not Dad. I don’t want to
talk to Dad.” He took his hands from his face and looked at them, back and
forth. “I don’t know what to feel, here.” He reeled, then stumbled toward the
door.

Ani moved to follow, but Devon pulled her back. “He
wants to be alone.”

Ani didn’t know what to say, so she sat back down.

*  
*   *

Mike didn’t come back. At 10:30 pm, her mom came
into the lounge, where she sat on the couch, alone.

“Hey, sweetie. It’s past bath time.”

Ani didn’t reply, except to pat the couch next to
her.

Her mom sat and hugged her, one-armed. “What’s up?”

“Mike’s regaining his memory.” Ani wasn’t worried
about the security cameras. The research staff and soldiers—enough of them,
anyway—already knew the truth of what happened at prom. She didn’t think the conversation
would warrant scrutiny. Apparently her mom agreed.

“And?”
“And he might tell, Mom. Don’t be dense.”

“I’m not dense.”

“Then don’t be an asshole.”

Instead of scolding, she hugged Ani tighter. “So
what do you want me to do about it?”

“Is there any way you can keep him away from
everyone? Out of school for a few days or something?”

Her mom kissed her on the temple. “That’s a
terribly cynical plot, sweetie.”

Ani kissed her on the cheek. “I learn from the
best, Mom.”

They sat in silence for a while. The clock struck
eleven, and her mom rubbed her shoulder. “Bath time, sweetie.”

“Okay.” She got up, and they meandered back toward
the apartment. “But what about Mike?”

“I think he’s scheduled for some tissue tests
tomorrow. Very important. Can’t wait.”

Ani leaned her head on her shoulder. “Thanks, Mom.”

*  
*   *

The next day flashed by in a blur. Her math test
came back an A, and Mr. Cummings assigned a paper due in three weeks, but other
than that everything seemed too normal. The realization that drooling, stupid,
happy Mike had no impact on her daily life shocked her. She’d always equated
Mike with love, even when she and Joe had started to get serious, and the
sudden disconnect disturbed her.

She tried not to dwell on what that might mean and
instead obsessed over it.
What kind of monster am I?
A dozen worried
thoughts later and she got off the bus, shuffling out into the blinding sun.

Mike leaned against the lab door, flannel shirt
unbuttoned in defiance of the late December air. It might have been cold—Ani
couldn’t tell anymore. Mr. Benson’s breath frosted when he got off the bus,
which was confirmation enough.

Mike stared at Ani as they approached, his face
the same calculated neutral expression he used when talking about his dad
before prom.

“I think Mike wants to talk to you,” Lydia said,
cringing away from her gaze. “Sorry.”

Ani put her arm around Lydia’s shoulders and
squeezed. “Don’t be so sorry all the time. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“Sorry.”

Ani chuckled, and broke away from the group when
Mike stepped up to her. “Hi.”

He didn’t smile. “Hi. Want to go for a walk?”

No, almost definitely not.
“Yeah, sure.”

She wheeled around and they paced along the
perimeter of the compound, a healthy ten feet between them and the electrified
fence. He didn’t say anything, and she let the silence play out. They made a
complete circuit, no more than two thousand paces, and passed the lab entrance
before he spoke.

“I remember.”

Her throat closed. She cleared it, tried to speak,
and tried again. “Remember what?”

“Everything. Devon. You. Dylan.” He held up his
hand and wiggled the stub of his missing finger. “Losing this.” He stopped,
forcing her to do so, and they locked eyes. “Prom.”

She opened her mouth to protest, to explain, to
apologize, to beg forgiveness. He kissed her. She froze in shock, then yielded
to it. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, compressing her ribcage,
all the while keeping his mouth on hers. She felt more weirdness than passion,
at least on her part.

At last he pulled back, grinning. “You didn’t try
to eat me.”

She shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

He grabbed her hand and walked, forcing her to do
the same. “Do they know?”

She shook her head again. “Know what?”

He sighed. “You’re too smart to play dumb well,
Ani. Do they know that you’re...‘Patient X’ or whatever? That you and I started
this whole thing?”

“You and I?”

Do you think Dylan infected us?

He shrugged. “Okay, then, you.” He leaned down to
kiss her temple. “I was trying to be nice.” His lips felt warm, but that could
be psychological.
Lips are supposed to be warm.

“You can’t tell them.”

He grunted. “I have to. Devon, at least. I owe her
that.”

“What about me?” She hated to ask it of him, after
everything she’d taken from him, but she had to.

They walked a full section of the wall before he
replied. “I don’t know what I owe you, Ani. I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“Did you know?”

She stopped and dragged him to a halt. She brushed
a strand of stringy hair out of his face, still handsome despite the pale, waxy
quality. “I didn’t. I was dead, and I was lonely, and I had never wanted
anything so much as for you to love me as much as I loved you.” Her voice
cracked. “But I didn’t know that would happen, what I would do.”

He hugged her, and she wrapped her arms around his
neck. He shuddered, and she marveled at the wet tears that ran from his cheeks
to hers.

“I’m so sorry, Mike. For you and for the dead and
for everyone back at the lab. This is my fault, all my fault, and I didn’t mean
any of it.” The weight of twenty-six deaths, not counting the Special Dead,
Mrs. Weller, and Mr. Cummings, crashed through her as if it were brand new. She’d
come to terms with it long ago, but Mike’s raw grief brought hers back to where
it started. But she couldn’t cry.

He recovered after a few minutes and pulled away,
his face torn with sorrow. She held his hand as he backed up, but even that
contact broke.

“I have to tell them,” he said. She shook her head.
“Have to.”

She looked in his eyes for a reason, and saw flat,
lifeless orbs, devoid of hope or pity. “Why?”

“Because they deserve to know. I love you, but I...I
deserved to know, too. You owed me that much.”

“And more, but—”

He put a finger to her lips. “No ‘buts’. There’s
something special about you. Infected, but not.” He raised his eyebrows. “Right?”

Instead of answering, she stepped in and hugged
him again. “We thought I wasn’t contagious. Test after test after test showed I
wasn’t. There shouldn’t have been any danger. You shouldn’t have turned.”

He snorted, but at least his arms wrapped her.

“What?”

He held her a while before replying. “So if I hadn’t
turned, I’d be dead on the ground. You killed me, broke my neck and shattered
my skull. That had nothing to do with contagion.”

Her head bobbed against his chest. “I know. I
thought about it a lot. That wasn’t supposed to happen, either. I had it under
control. Thought I did, anyway.”

“For how long?”

“The whole time.”

He laughed. “How long was that?”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Two years, near enough.”

He didn’t say anything, but the stillness went
beyond that. He didn’t breathe, or shift, or move his arms. She rubbed his
back, trying to provoke a human response.

At last he spoke. “You went emo—”

“—because I didn’t want to burn.”

“And your mother?”

“In on it the whole time. I still don’t know how
she figured it out or how she subdued me. She’d been ready for it my whole
life.”

Cars passed in the distance, no more than four
military-controlled blocks away, commuting home in the chilly December twilight.
“Your whole life.”

“Yes.” The time for secrets had gone. “I was born
in LA. I’ve always been special. A carrier. Mom hid me from the people who
would kill me or make me a lab rat.”

“Banerjee.”

“And others. But him most of all.”

He stepped back and walked along the fence, not
taking her hand. “I feel like I just met him, but I’m afraid of him.”

“You should be. We’re nothing to him. Just
experiments.”

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s more than that. We’re
his ambition. His drive. He needs us, but he hates us.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” He scratched his arms. “I really do.”

“Did he hurt you?” Ani wasn’t sure what she meant
by the question. Maybe Mike would.

“I don’t think so. So much is fuzzy. But Banerjee
doesn’t want what’s best for us. He wants us to die.”

“Then why would he—”

“Don’t know. But I know.”

“Huh. Fair enough.” It wasn’t fair enough, but she
couldn’t make him remember any more than she could make him forget.

They passed the lab entrance again but kept
walking. As the sky faded to halogen-orange, snow fell. Ani admired the beauty
but couldn’t appreciate it.

“You can’t tell,” she said.

They kept walking.

“Mike?”

He stopped. “I have to, Ani. I’m sorry.”

“But—”

“But we’ll deal with it. Together. There’s nothing
these people can do to hurt you that we can’t get through. I forgive you, Ani.
I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The words didn’t hold the power
they used to. They weren’t magic. Now they were just true.

“So you understand.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t understand. What good
will telling them do?”

“What good does lying to them do?”

“It keeps me safe.”

Mike raised his arms to the guards. “You’re the
safest human being on the planet. What could they possibly do to you?” His
chest rose and fell of its own accord.

She grabbed his face and kissed him, hard. Holding
him there, forehead to forehead, she looked in his eyes. “You don’t know Devon.
You never have. We’re friends now, sort of, but she’s vicious. Dangerous.”

He tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him. “No,”
he protested. “She’s stubborn and spiky and jealous, but not vicious. She’d
never hurt anybody.”

Ani thought of the concrete powdering under Devon’s
fist in lieu of Kyle’s face. “You’re wrong. Remember the Hearts on Fire dance?”

“That was Leah and—”

“That was Devon. They followed Devon, hated me
because she wanted them to.” She took no satisfaction in their deaths at prom
but felt little remorse.

He shrugged. “It’s my decision.”

“Please. Don’t do this.”

He closed his eyes, kissed the tip of her nose,
and pulled back. “I have to.” Instead of finishing the circuit, he broke off
and walked back to the lab on his own. Ani watched him go, then followed his
tracks through the dusting of white.

*  
*   *

The next morning, Mike sat in his usual spot on
the bus, but in passing by he tossed a folded piece of paper into Ani’s lap.
Ani waited for the bus to roll, then opened it.

Mike’s too-neat, almost girlish handwriting
covered the page.

*  
*   *

Dear Devon,

I don’t know how to tell you
this, so I’m just going to say it. The time we had was special, and even though
I knew then that it wouldn’t work out, I couldn’t bring myself to let you go.
You’re special to me and you always will be, and not just for what we’ve shared.
I love you, I’ve loved you since tenth grade, and no matter what happens nobody
can take that from us. But we can’t be together. We’re too different. But I do
love you and I owe you the truth.

When I walked into prom, I knew
what I was doing, but I couldn’t help it, and for that I’m so, so sorry. I
think you understand now how the craving works. That was worse. It was
everything. I saw you and I knew it was you and it didn’t matter I didn’t care,
and for that I can never, ever forgive myself.