The Wilds: The Wilds Book One (2 page)

I watched his expression close enough that I could see his pupils dilate against the light background of his irises. Why would this be good news to him when most were disgusted by this fact and almost all were frightened that contact with me was lethal?

I wondered what any of this had to do with quality control. Did he not realize he’d gone way off script, or did he not care?

“And you’re prone to delusions?” he asked.

Why was he asking this? It was common knowledge that Plaguers had them. We were insane. We spread lies and talked of monsters. Everyone knew it.

“Delusions?” I asked, pretending to have no idea what he was saying. Maybe he
was
with the Dark Walkers. This was more in line with what they would send people out to ask. Normal humans didn’t like to hear what Plaguers said, let alone give it any merit. There was a reason lines like
don’t shoot the messenger
came about. People didn’t like to hear bad things. If they could deny them, more than nine out of ten people would. I know, the math is a little funny there because what’s more than nine out of ten? Yeah, you got it. Pretty much everybody.

He leaned across the expanse of metal table. “Yes. Do you see things like most Plaguers?”

“I don’t know any other Plaguers—anymore. I can’t answer what most see,” I said. My calm was starting to be rattled. I wanted to know who this guy was. Government worker? That was total bull. Spy for the Dark Walkers? No, I still didn’t think so.

His eyes were still dead set on me. “Do you see delusions?”

For some reason I thought he wanted me to say yes. Like it meant a great deal to him. That this was what he had been hunting down. Part of me wanted to speak the truth to him that I denied so often. It wasn’t about making him happy or not. I was tired of pretending. Eighteen years old but I felt like I was a hundred.

We openly stared at each other, sizing the other up. He finally broke the standoff by the slightest softening of his tone as he said, “You want to answer this.”

It felt like something was left hanging off the end of that sentence. I didn’t know what I saw in him, why I felt like he wanted this or why his slight softening undid me, but for some reason, I spoke and gave him what I knew he wanted. “Yes. I see things.”

He leaned back in his chair, and for the first time since he’d walked in the door, he openly showed me a tiny glimpse of who he really was as he smiled like he’d just had a bloody meal of raw meat. There was someone brutal hiding behind this act. Whoever he really was, he was happy that I was a Plaguer who “had delusions.” Who the hell was this?

I wouldn’t get to find out, though. The door to the visiting room opened and I knew who it was immediately. Not only did the Dark Walkers have a cloud that clung to them, but they also had a smell. It was like a sickly sweet perfume that repelled instead of attracted. The woman who just walked in was the worst and also the one in charge.

Ms. Edith, as we were told to address her, walked over to our table. Black suit, white shirt and hair pulled back without a single stray in sight. She was one of them, the dark haze clinging to her. I forced myself to sit still even though my body tensed. I hated being near them, couldn’t breathe through the smell. Luckily there weren’t too many that I came in close contact with. There were others here, but only her and the other nurse came within a few feet of me.

“How are things going over here, Mr. Right? We hadn’t expected a visit,” she said, looking at him and then me. My fingers started knotting into my hair, reflexively going into the crazy act. I hadn’t even thought of the action until Mr. Right’s eyes flickered to my hand in my hair and then back to her.

“Last minute. Sorry for the abrupt arrival.”

Her smell was stronger than normal, and I’d been around her enough times to know it happened when she was irritated. So he wasn’t working for them? I looked up through lowered lashes to watch the interaction now that I knew for sure she hadn’t been aware of this visit. His eyes darted to me a few times and I had the strangest feeling he sensed how much I hated to be around her.

He stood and smiled. “We’re just finishing up.”

“And how did things go?” she asked, her normally shrill voice sweetened unnaturally.

“Splendid. I’ll send this report back to headquarters and I’m sure everyone will be very pleased.”

Boy, this guy was just oozing with lies today. He looked down at his notebook and then back to her and that was when the fun really started. He softened his smile, leaned in closer to her and then offered up his arm to her. He was dialing up the sex appeal until even my inexperienced little heart was doing flip-flops, and I wasn’t even the target. Nothing of the raw brutality I sensed was showing through now, or the earlier awkward act. Seemed my visitor was quite the chameleon.

“If I could get a quick tour, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Whatever Dark Walkers were, which I’d bet my ass wasn’t human, they apparently still liked human men. She smiled back and locked her hand down on him in a way that made me imagine claws hidden under that flesh. “I have a free moment. I can show you around.”

They walked off and he didn’t even glance back at me. I wasn’t sure where I’d gotten the crazy feeling that being truthful with him was going to set something in motion, but I had. Watching him disappear with one of the monsters made me feel a little heavier in my chair, and the adrenaline that had coursed through my veins while I’d been squaring off with him was now receding.

This was turning into one really strange day.

Chapter Three

I was still watching their backs from my metal chair when the nurse, the human one, motioned for me to get up and go to the cafeteria. Lunch was in progress. I caught what would probably be my last glimpse of him and then moved on with the business of surviving.

The cafeteria was in full swing as I made my way over to where they distributed the meals. A lady in a white outfit and hair net handed me my special fare over the food counter and I headed toward the table where the handful of other girls I considered friends sat at.

There had been a point in my life where I’d never thought I’d have friends. I had this crazy idea that the only reason any of them had come around me in the first place was in part due to their own suicidal tendencies. This place could do that to the best of people, and well, looking around, I wasn’t sure any of us fell into the upper echelon of the human race.

Not that I was in a place to cast judgment, though. At the time, it was just nice to have a human being to talk to, clinically depressed or not, I hadn’t been too choosy. I’d tried to counsel them to the best of my abilities for my own selfish reasons, hoping they would hold on for a bit. Surprisingly, some of them did. Three of them had become the glue that kept what was left of me together.

Looking over at the plates of my co-survivors, no one had a gourmet meal in front of them, but they were still more appealing than my own Plaguer fare of broth and bread. They had yellow stuff and a round meat-type thing. The only similarity was the roll.

I watched as Margo ripped open hers and then placed a piece of mystery meat inside it before laying it back on her tray.

“Check for clearance,” she said. On cue, Margo, Patty Cindy and myself all searched out our particular corners and the guards who stood at them. When we all gave the okay, her roll was swapped with the one on my tray.

These three girls had made life bearable here. They alternated who gave up part of their meal for me every day. They listened to me when I had no one else to talk to. They were my sanity and my motivation. I wouldn’t get out of here just for myself but for them, because if I didn’t get out, no one would. I was the best shot we had. It wasn’t because I was the strongest or smartest, but because I was the only one fearless enough to grab the opening if it came.

“I swear, I think they mean to starve us out sometimes,” Patty said, her dark hair sticking up every which way after we’d gotten hold of a pair of scissors last week. She’d wanted a pixie cut. It wasn’t like any of us had pretended to have a clue on how to cut hair. Luckily there weren’t any mirrors in this place. We were each other’s mirrors, so Patty currently thought she looked smoking hot.

“Or at least starve Dahlia,” Margo, who still had a normal head of brown hair, said.

“Who was the visitor?” Cindy, the only blonde among us, asked.

We’d all been in for a while and none of us got visitors anymore. It was always a big deal when someone came. I got more than anyone and it was never somebody I wanted to see. For the others, the last visit had been for Margo about five years ago, before her mother eventually stopped coming.

None of these girls were Plaguers, but that was the least common ticket into this place. In truth, there were lots of ways to be deemed criminally insane. Like in Margo’s case, when she claimed her father was molesting her. Margo’s father was a government employee. You didn’t say bad things about government employees, even if you were their daughter. You either took what they dished out and ate it up with a smile or this was where you ended.

“Said he was government quality control, but he sure didn’t look like he worked for any government we know,” I said between a large bite of bread and meat.

Margo’s head tilted downward. “I was really hoping maybe… I knew it was a long shot, but a visitor? I just figured…”

I knew who she had hoped it was; who she thought it might’ve been. I was glad she didn’t finish her sentence. Just like Margo’s father, mine had worked for the government, but higher up. The last thing I’d heard about my parents was that my father had died. I’d thought briefly afterward that maybe my mother would try and get me. She had been the softer-hearted of the two. That was three years ago.

“What did he look like?” Cindy asked, breaking the tension and always looking for a little entertainment.

I was still chewing the same bite—I liked to really make the most of meals—which bought me some time to get my head around a good description. And it had to be good. Visitor stories were big entertainment for us.

“He was in this drab gray baggy suit but it didn’t matter. You could see the muscles underneath when he moved, like he was a gladiator of old or something.” I tried to emphasize every word and give my retelling as much suspense and intrigue as I could. Most of us could retell the most mundane happenings as if they were absolutely riveting. “He had this way of looking at you through steely eyes.” I squinted my eyes and tried to make them deeper and intense like his had been, and shot each of them a second or two stare. “It made you think he might pounce on you at any second.” I paused now for effect before I added, “And you wanted him to!”

“So he was hot?” Cindy asked, gripping my arm in excitement.

“Steaming,” I said, and realized my story was actually true this time. I hadn’t lied, although I would’ve just to perk them up.

Margo let out a sad little sigh. “He had to have been good if you thought he was hot. You don’t like anyone. To see prime male meat.” She jolted up suddenly. “Oh, talking about hot, drop something. I just got a new Moobie in hot off the presses. Already read it last night.”

I immediately dropped my napkin to the ground. I leaned down to retrieve it and grabbed the book from Margo under the table. I had it stashed and adjusted it up my dress in under two seconds flat. Moobie was much better reading than the short list of approved books we could get from our classes once a week.

Moobie spy books were banned reading, and we lived for them. One day I was going to get out of here and be just like Moobie. He went to elegant parties, traveled the world, and had the coolest lines. He always knew exactly what to do in any situation. The best thing about him, though, was he didn’t take shit and no one pushed him around. Ever. He generally kicked ass.

If it weren’t for Margo, I’d never know about Moobie. She was sleeping with Ben, one of the guards, and he sneaked them in for her. It was like the dysfunctional compound version of bringing flowers to a date.

As far as the guards went, Ben wasn’t that bad, at least judged by my sliding scale. Margo figured it was better to choose one guard she could stand than waiting for them to all have a go at her. Patty and Cindy followed suit shortly after. There seemed to be an unspoken thing—or maybe it was said in the guardroom, or wherever they went, for all we knew—that once you had a guard boyfriend, the other guards backed off.

I seemed to be the only one who the guards avoided of their own accord, and I was thankful for it. If that meant that maybe I was too ugly to bother with, than
hear, hear
for ugly. Winning a beauty pageant wasn’t going to get us out of here and I wasn’t in the market for a soul mate; all I wanted was freedom.

A chair clattering to the ground drew our attention to the front of the room. Hagger, another of the guards and one I held in particularly high disgust, was standing over Piggy Iggy laughing. He’d tripped her. That was one of his favorite pastimes. He’d probably watched her heading toward the garbage—she had serious tunnel vision for garbage—and instead of telling her she couldn’t dig though it, he’d tripped her instead.

Instinct drove me to my feet. Hagger’s eyes met mine. We’d had run-ins before. I’d like to say I’d won some of these confrontations, that I hadn’t gotten my ass kicked and bad, but that outcome only happened in my dreams. And to be precise, I’m talking daydreams. He’d kicked my ass in a couple of nightmares, too, not that I’d openly fess up to that. I just couldn’t win with that bastard.

Patty’s hand stalled me when I would’ve moved forward, holding me in place, silently encouraging me to sit.

“This isn’t a fight you can win,” Margo said. “Don’t land yourself in the hole again. You almost didn’t make it last time.”

I looked at Margo and saw the desperation on her face. I felt the bite of Patty’s nails in my skin, because she was gripping me so tightly, and the watery look to Cindy’s downcast eyes. As much as they kept me going, I knew I was their emotional crutch here too, and no matter what they said I was the only one left with any hope we’d get out. One by one, they’d given up and accepted this place as the end of the line for them. I was the only one that truly believed we would all eventually have a life beyond here. And if I had to carry that torch and see it done, I would do it. These girls were my family. I’d chop off my limbs for them.

I broke eye contact with Hagger. Margo was right. I’d come down with pneumonia last time I’d been tossed in the hole.

Piggy Iggy wasn’t my favorite person, but it was hard to stand back and watch—but that was what I did. Iggy finally got to her feet and I relaxed enough to sit down again. One day I wouldn’t have to sit. I’d walk right up to Hagger and let him have it. I’d bide my time now, but that day would come.

“We’ll all be getting out. You’ll see. Just remember, if I get out, I’ll send you the sign and be ready.” I’d had lots of time to think on what I’d do when I got out. How I’d bust them out as well, and I knew exactly how I was going to do it.

“Dal, I don’t think it’s ever going to happen,” Margo said, and I could see that the disappointment of my last visit not being what she’d hoped was weighing her down more than normal. “Maybe you should just face it. It’s easier to live without the disappointment.”

She leaned back in her chair, not eating anymore. Her face was drawn and there was a sadness in her eyes that was there more often than not lately, like she was mentally hitting the wall of the Cement Giant until it robbed her of who she was. I saw so clearly what this place was doing to her, doing to all of us, and I refused to believe that this was what the entirety of our lives would be. My eyes shot to some of the tables where the old-timers were. They were like zombies at this point, no sparkle left in their eyes.

I wasn’t giving up and I wouldn’t let them either. “I’ll get out. Just make sure when I send you the sign, you’re ready.”

***

The fifty-by-fifty yard was empty today as I lay down on the bench so that all I could see was the sky, not the dreary cement building or the depressing cement wall that enclosed the space and made it hard to take a deep breath. With my face raised to the sky, I let the drizzle land on my skin. I liked when it rained, but I was the only one. Everyone else had stayed inside. The rain wouldn’t stop me from getting the small taste of the outdoors. Without the noises of other people that would destroy my illusion, I could pretend I was in a huge field with nothing but trees surrounding it.

It was nice alone. This was what it would be like when I left here. I’d run until I couldn’t breathe hard enough to pump my muscles, and not because I hit a gray cement wall. There wouldn’t be any cement or white clothing or ugly ponchos like I wore now. I’d surround myself with bright colors, polka dots and stripes in every shade from purple to yellow. And flowers, I’d have flowers everywhere, like the ones I remembered from the garden growing up.

I’d pick flowers and bring them into the house every day and hang yellow curtains, the color of sunshine, over a sink where I’d wash sky blue plates.

“Time.” The guard’s deep voice from near the building called out the word. It was Tim, another one of the many guards here. He did the outside duty, and although he didn’t have a bad voice, I dreaded hearing him from the second I stepped out here.

I didn’t move, pretending I didn’t hear the call.

“I said ‘time.’” Tim was getting mad. If I didn’t move soon, I knew what would come next. Tim wasn’t the worst. He didn’t throw punches for fun, but he did have a short temper.

I hesitated. If they weren’t coming for me soon, and without the girls tempering my instincts, I’d risk the beating. Why? Because sometimes it was worth the pain just to remember who you were. But they
would
be coming after the visitor this morning, and I needed to be as healthy as possible. I took a final look at the sky.

I wouldn’t die here. No, that wouldn’t be my end. I didn’t know if I’d go out in a blaze of glory like some of the characters in the Moobie books, but there was no way I’d give them my final day.

I dragged myself back toward the door, past the rusted swing set that looked like it had been here for a century, the same one that was all shiny and new in the pamphlets they handed out to the visitors.

I walked back toward my room for final head count, past the other girls in the place, most of who avoided me, and with a few coconspirator winks to the ones who kept me going.

I spotted a new girl on my way to my cell. She must have gotten here this afternoon sometime. She’d looked only four or five, and I caught a quick glance down at her hand. No brand. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved for her or not.

She was three rooms away, which meant I’d be able to hear her tonight when the crying started. I wished I could help her, but there isn’t anything that can speed up some processes. No soothing words that can wipe away the pain. Unfortunately, she’d have to live through this on her own until the tears finally stopped.