The Burning City (11 page)

“You okay?” Trina asked.

“I just… I need a minute.” She told herself she would not throw up. Keeping a meal down was a nice change of pace. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t know how.”

June rocked on the step. “I don’t want Sam to see me like this.”

“I think he would understand.”

“Maybe I don’t want him to.”

Trina looked out at the parking lot. “I’ll go wait in the car. Take a minute, whatever you need. I’ll tell him you needed to clear your head.”

Trina continued down the steps.

June was cold, though the air was hot. Her interior had frozen, deep down under her skin, where the sun couldn’t reach. Freedom was not the glorious thing she’d hoped it would be. People she cared about were still suffering, some of them still trapped. She remained helpless and defenseless; two things she’d gotten used to but had sincerely hoped she would finally be able to shed.

She wiped at her leaking eyes, sniffing. People passed by and glanced at her, but no one stopped. Perhaps they were used to people crying in front of the hospital.

A few minutes later, Sam crossed the lot toward her.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself; still, when he sat down beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder, she fell apart.

She slumped against his side, sobs wrenching out of her, the ones that had been threatening to break free in Micha’s room. She tucked her head against his shoulder, hands over her face, and he wrapped an arm around her. He was taking a risk, sitting with her out in public, and she was drawing even more attention to them.

He stroked her hair and didn’t say a word until her sobs tapered off.

“I take it he’s not doing well?” No sarcasm in his voice.

She wiped her face. Her cheeks were soaked with tears, her nose running. “He doesn’t deserve this,” she choked out.

“No, he doesn’t.”

Sam could predict the future, or else he knew what a crybaby she’d turned into. Like the night before when she saw her mother, he was ready with a wad of tissues. She took them and drew back, mopping her face.

Sam rubbed her shoulder.

“We shouldn’t be sitting here,” she said. “If someone realizes who we are, they might put two and two together and realize Micha is here.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame? Then these doctors and scientists would have to put up with the press hounding them too.”

She still felt queasy, but not like throwing up, thankfully.

“He looks awful.” She propped her fists under her chin, hands full of tissues. “He looks like a corpse. He’s lost so much weight.”

“Eric’s noble work.”

“He keeps talking like he’s going to die. He doesn’t believe they’ll be able to make him better. He’s so pessimistic. All this talk about how he’s making the ultimate sacrifice for us.”

Sam huffed. “Quite full of himself, isn’t he? He’s starting to sound like me.”

She stared dully across the lot. Sunlight glinted on the cars. Her eyes hurt. They were swollen, her nose burning.

“He thinks he deserved this,” she said. “That all his presumptions led to this. I kept telling him it’s not his fault. He was a lab rat, like so many of us were.”

“What if he
is
dying? Will you be able to make peace with that?”

“Are you making peace with the fact I’m dying?”

Sam didn’t reply.

“Trina is going to save us both.” June rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyelids. “She’s smart.”

“It’s very big of her to even try after what we did to her.”

“We seem to make friends in the worst ways, don’t we?”

They fell silent, June breathing slowly, eyes closed, hands cradling her head. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she saw Micha’s gray face, his half-lidded dull gaze, all the blue gone from his eyes.

She lifted her head. “I’m sorry about Anthony. I know you’re trying to find a way. It’s probably the best chance we have, all things considered.”

“No, you’re right.” He sounded grim. “Trusting him blindly is the dumbest thing I could do, considering who he is. Considering all the people I’ve trusted who stabbed me in the back.”

“Maybe we could watch him. Make sure he’s not reporting back to Robbie. Maybe we should dig deeper into his background.”

“That’s a good idea.”

She squinted at him. Concern filled his eyes. Once upon a time, she’d enjoyed needling him. Now, she felt guilty for every shitty thing she’d ever said to him. She felt guilty for doubting him.

“We can trust very few people,” he said. “I need you to be the voice of caution and reason in my life.”

“I’m not very good at either of those things.”

“If this whole mess has taught you anything, it’s not to trust people. I’ve gotten much too lax about that.”

“So this hardened me up but made you softer? I’m not sure what that says about either of us.”

“It says nothing about us. It says the world is vicious and wants to eat us.”

Her side ached—a reminder of the past that she would carry forever, even when she was long free of this.

If she was ever free of this.

“I told him what Occam’s done,” she said. “I didn’t tell him what’s going on with me, not completely. I didn’t want him to worry. He needs to focus on getting better right now.” She sniffed. “He says you and I look good together, that we make a cute couple.”

Sam squinted.

She shrugged. “I think we’re very different. I’m not sure where he sees us matching up exactly, but I guess we do. A politician and a tattooed punk girl? Yeah, that works.” She tried to make it sound light and teasing, not like she was filled with teenage angst.

“Trust me, I couldn’t date someone like me.”

“I don’t think I could date someone like me, either.”

“Then he’s right. We fit together.”

He leaned over and kissed her temple. She was getting sweaty. Such a contrast from when she first got to Chicago and was freezing her ass off. She hadn’t visited the lake since. Maybe it was nicer when it wasn’t frozen over.

“Come on.” He patted her back and got to his feet. “We should probably stop testing our luck out here. Someone is going to recognize us.”

She got to her feet as well. She was unsteady, but he took her arm, holding her up like he had for months.

“I want to come visit him again, soon,” she said as they walked to the car. “They’re keeping him holed up in there with no company, being all anal about anyone touching him. It’s not humane.”

“Is he allowed to receive calls? Maybe they’d be more relaxed about that.”

“I don’t know. The FBI is uptight. We can’t compromise the case and all that.”

“I think it’s prudent that we don’t. The Institute might be closed, but they’re not closed forever, not yet. And I very much want to see that happen.”

He was right, but she hated to think of Micha wasting away in that bed without a friendly face or voice.

She glanced back at the hospital as they reached the car. Which window was Micha’s? Could he even get out of bed and look out? She waved, just in case.

On the drive back, she sat slumped against Sam’s side in the backseat. The air conditioning was blissful. No one spoke.

When they reached Sam’s house, she and Sam ducked down again. At the gate, one of the guards approached Trina’s open window.

“Let us in,” Sam told the man. “Before they come swarming over here.” He was referring to the onlookers across the street.

The gate opened immediately. They passed through.

“Eventually I’m going to have to go out and speak to the gawkers.” Sam sat up. “Give them their sound bites. It’ll be good for my campaign.”

“When’s the election?” June asked.

“February.”

“This coming February?”

“Yes.”

She frowned. “That’s only, like, six months away. Can you even jump in this late in the game? Don’t you have to get on the ballot with a petition?” Her high school government class had been a long time ago.

“I’d like to see them try to stop me, after all I’ve been through. It would be outrageous. And don’t worry. I’ll get on there.”

They climbed out of the car, but Trina had to leave, so she remained inside. June leaned in the window.

“Thank you,” June said softly. “It was good to see him, despite everything.”

Trina smiled faintly. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“It’s okay; I forgive you.”

“I’ll try to arrange another visit sometime soon, if you want. I think he needs the company.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll keep you updated. I’m sure there are things I won’t be allowed to tell you, things we discover, but whatever I can tell you, I will.”

“Please do.” June paused. “I guess… I’ll see you soon? I’m going to come in so you can examine me, and we can work out some way to stop this thing inside me.”

“I already have some ideas.” She squeezed June’s hand on the door. “Come by after this weekend, after your little shindig at the beach. Just call to let me know when you’re going to stop by and I’ll clear my schedule. In the meantime, keep taking those vitamins. Are they helping at all?”

“I guess. I don’t really know. I didn’t throw up today, so that’s a plus.”

“Maybe it’s a good sign.” She put the car in gear. “I’ll talk to you soon, June.”

June stepped back. “Thanks again.” She waved.

Sam was already in the house, laptop open, phone in hand.

“I’m going to see what public records I can find on Anthony.” He kissed her forehead. “And find out when and why he joined the Paranormal Alliance. You should take a nap. You look tired.”

She was indeed tired, all the energy sapped out of her from crying, the angst of the day hanging heavy on her shoulders, pulling her down.

“I think I will.” She forced a little smile. “Thanks for coming along. And thanks for…being cool about it.”

“I know you’re not going back to him. You wouldn’t give up this fine specimen of a man. You’re a smart girl.”

“I’d miss the sex.” She drifted toward the stairs. “Not really the attitude.”

“Which is bigger, my ego or my cock?”

She didn’t answer that, waving to him over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. Dipity followed her.

June awoke to late afternoon sunlight filtering through the gauzy curtains over Sam’s bedroom windows. She rolled onto her side, groggy and heavy. She wasn’t nauseated for a change. She was actually hungry.

Were vitamins going to save her after all? Had they not had them back in Occam’s day?

Waking up was painful for other reasons, though. Thoughts of everything wrong flooded in—Diego and Jason, worry for her mother, Micha. She’d been dreaming about Micha lying in that bed. She was anxious and unable to do anything for him, unable to get him out of the hospital, no matter how much she begged him to move. He kept saying it was the end, and it didn’t matter because he was dying.

Dipity was curled in a fuzzy ball next to her. The cat opened her eyes and gazed at June.

“Sam is going to kill you,” June whispered. “Sleeping in his bed.”

Dipity closed her eyes again.

Voices drifted from downstairs. The house was probably full of people. She didn’t want to face anybody.

She’d almost dozed off again when a rustling brought her back. She snapped her eyes open.

She swore it was the same sound she’d heard in Sam’s bedroom the day before. Dipity’s head shot up and she stared at the doorway. It wasn’t June’s imagination.

June propped herself up on her elbow. Dipity leaped to her feet. The fur on her back stood up, her tail puffed. The doorway was empty.

“I think it’s just mice,” June said. “Maybe you can take care of—”

The cat jumped off the bed and shot into the bathroom. June blinked.

Now June’s hackles were raised as well. She looked at the doorway again, an uneasy sensation prickling across her skin.

“Rose?” she said warily. “Are you creeping around out there, you scary bitch?”

No response. Nothing moved. June sat up fully. Maybe Sam’s house was haunted. Or maybe it was just a mouse, and Dipity was spooked being in a new, unfamiliar place.

June crawled out of bed and walked to the bathroom. Dipity cowered in the corner behind the toilet.

“You’re a scaredy cat,” June informed her. “You can stow away in a bag and save my life, but a sound spooks you?”

June was spooked, too, and once she had herself looking marginally decent for all the people who were probably downstairs, she left the room with haste. Dipity followed.

Indeed, Sam had visitors. Natalie and Cindy were there, and several men. They congregated in the dining room, laptops and papers scattered across the table.

Cindy joined June in the kitchen and picked up Dipity. “How’s my little baby taking to her new home?” She spoke in baby talk. “Mommy misses her, yes she does!”

“She’s sticking by my side,” June said. “I think she’s freaked out, being in a new place.”

“Poor thing.” Cindy scratched Dipity’s head. “I’m glad she’s with you, though.” She glanced at June. “I heard you saw Micha today.”

June opened the fridge. “Yeah. He’s not doing so well. But Trina will figure something out. Hell, just giving me vitamins seems to be helping. She’s smart.”

“I feel really bad for him.” Cindy placed Dipity on the floor. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

June pulled out ingredients to make a salad. “No, he doesn’t. But at least what’s been done to him will bring the Institute down, and I think that gives him some comfort. He feels like he’s helping us.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes. Tell Sam to send him flowers. Something big and obnoxious.”

Cindy returned to the dining room, and June chopped vegetables for a salad. She might even try some meat on it, and the tiniest hint of dressing, something bland and easy to digest. Her stomach growled. Dipity wound around her ankles.

Sam walked into the kitchen, holding a newspaper.

“I have something cute to show you.” He tossed the paper on the counter in front of her.

“Cute?” She peered at the paper. “Oh, Christ.”

He’d brought her the front page of the Paranormal section of the
Tribune
. Now that Ethan Roberts wasn’t the lead reporter, the stories were a lot less lurid, but they stuck close to his tabloid-like style.