Twisted World: A Broken World Novel (2 page)

Now though, no one at home would be willing to listen to my petty problems.

I darted down the dark alley that led away from the wall, jumping over trash and other debris as I went. Anymore, most of the wall was impossible to scale, but Jackson and I had our special little place. Tucked behind a couple buildings, somehow it had been overlooked when they’d cemented the rest of the wall together a couple years ago. Or maybe, knowing how much I liked sitting up there, Jackson had talked his dad into leaving it.

I made it out to the main road and kept jogging. People waved as I passed by, and I nodded to the ones I recognized. The population had gotten so big that at times I could go a whole day without running into someone I knew personally—which was weird considering how few people had been left behind by the virus. It was nearly impossible for people not to recognize
me
, though. Between my relationship with Jackson and my last name, most of the time I found it impossible to hide who I was, and oddly enough, there were times when being recognized made me feel even more alone. Like now.

When I turned onto my street and the shantytown came into view, I finally slowed to a walk. The houses here were small and square, and the roofs so low that they barely left room for an average size adult to stand up straight. I’d never been inside one, but they couldn’t hold more than a couple mattresses for sleeping—my bedroom was bigger than some of them—and yet whole families found themselves crammed into the tiny spaces.

I reached the shrine halfway through shantytown and ducked my head, hoping to hide my face behind a curtain of hair. Candles were lit, their lights flickering across the darkness, and under them a few notes were held down by rocks. The small stone statue was of a man, although I doubted it looked anything like the person it was supposed to portray. I didn’t know for sure, though, because I’d never bothered to ask. No one seemed to know who had taken the time to carve the statue, but it’s been in this same spot almost as long as I could remember. The subject of this weird little religion was something my family did our best to avoid talking about, though. It was just too creepy. Even for me, and I’d never even met Angus.

My gaze was still focused on the statue when a woman stepped out of her makeshift home right in front of me, holding a bucket in her arms. The curtain she used for a door got wrapped around her shoulders, and even though she managed to shrug it off, she also succeeded in sloshing the contents of her bucket onto the road. The scent of urine filled my nostrils just as the liquid splattered across my shoes.

I jumped back, letting out a yelp. “Watch it!”

“Just a little piss,” she muttered, tossing the rest of the urine aside. It splashed onto the street, narrowly missing a woman and her two children. The mother glared at the woman, then hurried her children along.

“On my shoe,” I said, coming to a complete stop.

The woman’s eyes focused on my face and recognition flashed in them. Her gaze moved to the statue as her mouth scrunched up, and she shoved a few strands of greasy hair out of her face.

“Oh, I see how it is. Little Miss James has it too nice. She don’t want to see how the rest of us live.” The woman took a step closer, the bucket tucked under her arm. This time when she opened her mouth, I was so close that I could see the rotten nubs of teeth sticking out of her gums. “Can’t hide from the truth forever, girlie. This is the life most of us have these days, and it ain’t much better than what the zombies are living on the other side of the wall. We sleep in filth, we eat in filth, and we live with filth. This is the world!”

Her voice rose above the surrounding noise, causing people to stop what they were doing. Even though she was nasty and hateful and a total bitch, heat crept up my neck and over my cheeks. Every hair on my scalp tingled, and I stepped back, but the woman didn’t let up. She took a step too, and then another and another until she was so close that she was the only thing I could smell. And it wasn’t good. Urine and sweat, dirt and rotting teeth. Every inch of her reeked, and even though she was foul and repulsive and being near her made me gag, she was right. The life these people were living wasn’t much better than the zombies.

“Take a good look around before you go back to that apartment you’ve been living in,” she said, the words hissing through the holes in her mouth where her teeth used to be. “Then tomorrow, when you see your boyfriend, remember this. That father of his can do something about the way things are, but he’s choosing not to.”

I wanted to tell her that Jackson wasn’t my boyfriend, but of course that didn’t matter and she wouldn’t care. Not to mention the fact that no one believed me when I did bother to say it. We’d been lumped together for years, and I had a feeling it would probably always be that way. Even if we each got married to other people, there would probably always be whispers about Jackson and me meeting up on weekends. When you didn’t have much to distract you, gossip was an easy thing to grab onto.

Instead of bothering with silly details that didn’t matter to anyone but me—and probably Jackson—I took a step back. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t my fault, and I don’t deserve your anger.”

The woman’s mouth scrunched up, and I cringed away, waiting for her to spit in my face or fling more hate-filled words at me.

Before she could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the air from behind me. “What’s going on here?”

I turned just as Al pushed his way through the crowd. He frowned at the woman before shooting a wink my way, and even though relief surged through me, I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. Not only did I know people in every important position, but they were my family. It seemed like every time I had a problem someone swooped in to rescue me. Despite the longing I had to return to the way things used to be, my life hadn’t been hard. If anything, I’d lived the cushy existence that came with knowing people in the right places.

“It’s not a big deal, Uncle Al.” I gave him a smile that probably made me look like I was in pain. “Just a misunderstanding.”

Al didn’t look at me, and when his eyes narrowed on the woman holding the bucket, his frown deepened. For him. My uncle typically had a smile on his face, so even the smallest frown gave off the impression that he was furious.

“You giving Meg a rough time, Suzie?” Al shoved his hand under his hat and scratched his head. His other arm, most of which he lost back in the beginning days of the zombie apocalypse, was decked out in a sword contraption of his own making. It hung loosely at his side and was menacing despite the fact that Al was cuddlier than a teddy bear.

The woman in front of me shook her head so fast that more of her stringy hair fell across her face. This time, though, she didn’t push it away. “Just trying to educate the girl.”

“No need for that,” Al replied. “Meg is as smart as they come.”

He glanced around, his gaze only stopping on the shrine for a split second, and almost reluctantly the crowd that had gathered to watch our altercation began to disperse.

Only they didn’t go around us. They went
through
us, pushing their way between Suzie, Al, and me. Elbows and shoulders poked at my ribs as I was shoved to one side, then the other. I took a step back, trying to distance myself from the mob, but it was impossible. The crowd around me thickened until I couldn’t see my uncle anymore. A handful of people shot angry looks at Suzie, but the majority of them sent me glares that could wilt a head of lettuce.

I twisted away from a particularly evil scowl, once again trying to break free of the crowd, but it was impossible. They had me pinned. We were packed together so tightly that a thousand smells flooded my senses, each one more pungent and foul than the last. I turned away from a man whose mouth was so scrunched up that I was sure he was preparing to spit in my eye, only to find myself staring at the chest of another man who was so close that I could see how threadbare his shirt was. I tilted my head back so I could see his face, and smoky gray eyes met mine. They were piercing, but so bloodshot that it looked like the owner hadn’t slept for a month. At least. Still, there was something familiar about—

Before I even had time to think about it, the man moved closer. I tried to take a step back, but his fingers wrapped around my wrist, holding me in place. His gray eyes were the same shade as the hair on his head and face, and his beard was thick and unruly, reminding me of a movie Jackson and I had watched last week about a man who’d gotten stranded on a desert island after a plane crash.

The gray man’s fingers dug into my flesh, and my arm jerked back almost on its own as I tried to break his hold on me. Before I was able to, his free hand found mine, and something soft was shoved into the palm of my hand.

He leaned his head down, practically putting his lips against my ear. “Take it,” he hissed, his voice barely audible over the crowd still swirling around us. “Don’t read it ‘til you’re alone.”

His fingers fell away and I stumbled back, bumping into someone behind me who cursed. I blinked, and like magic the man was gone, melting into the sea of stinking bodies surrounding me as my fingers tightened around the paper in my hand. It barely crinkled and it was as soft as a piece of cloth, like a dozen different people had wadded it up a dozen different times. The way I was squeezing it probably wasn’t going to do it any favors, either.

What could this crazy man who looked like he was on the verge of dying from exhaustion have to say to me? I was nobody, not really. I might have known people in important positions, and I carried a last name that made people do a double take, but I was still just a kid in so many ways.

I glanced around, my gaze moving over the faces surrounding me so quickly that I barely even registered what I was looking at. Then, at the back of the crowd, I caught sight of Jackson. A mixture of relief at seeing a familiar face and terror at knowing I couldn’t keep a secret from him shot through me as I shoved the paper into my pocket. It was probably nothing more than the ramblings of a crazy man, but maybe not. There could have been more to it.

“Meg!” Jackson called as he forcefully shoved people aside so he could get to me.

He reached me at the same time that Al did, and together the two men escorted me through the throng of people. They towered over me, and between them I felt lost even though I should have felt like salvation was on its way. My heart, which was already beating wildly thanks to the confrontation with the woman, pounded even harder now, and beads of sweat had broken out across my forehead and upper lip.

“You okay?” Al asked when we’d made it across the street.

Now that we’d put some distance between Suzie’s shack and ourselves, the stink of urine had faded, but it couldn’t be avoided completely. Not when walking through this section of New Atlanta.

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing out a laugh. It nearly got caught in my throat and ended up coming out sounding more like a cough. “It isn’t a big deal, really.”

I grabbed a chunk of my hair and twisted it around my hand, working to calm my heart and slow my breathing. It wasn’t easy, but thankfully, the two men in front of me seemed to attribute my anxiety to the confrontation. They would never suspect that one of the members of the mob had slipped me a message.

Al shook his head, and his usual easy smile was replaced by a frown that was deeper than almost any I’d ever seen on his face. The only exception might have been the days we’d had to deal with death and loss in our family.

“The streets are getting dangerous,” Al said.

“They’re just trying to live,” I replied, suddenly remembering the anger Suzie had mistakenly aimed at me. I wasn’t the right target, but she hadn’t been wrong. Something needed to be done for these people. “Things have gotten bad. You can’t blame them for being upset.”

“They don’t have to live like this,” Jackson said, shaking his head. There was a look of disgust on his face as his gaze moved over the shacks. “They’re choosing to live in filth. If they worked harder, they could make a better life for themselves. They’re a drain on society.”

Al frowned, his gaze moving over Jackson slowly as if he were trying to see through him, right to his dark soul. My uncle shook his head and looked away, but his usual smile seemed to have been wiped from his face.

My own mouth morphed into a frown at the sound of the Regulator’s words coming out of Jackson’s mouth. He was better than this and I knew it. He just had to fight against his father’s influence so he could be the man he needed to be.

“How?” I whispered, keeping my tone calm so it would reach him and not make him shut down.

Jackson opened his mouth, but slammed it shut a second later. His eyes moved past me, back toward the shacks we’d just fled, but he didn’t say anything. He never did. His loyalty toward his father was unyielding, which probably had a lot to do with why I couldn’t take that next step with him.

I wasn’t ready to give up on Jackson, though. Even the striking man in front of me, who had been brought up by a power-hungry politician in a post-apocalyptic society, had to see that this wasn’t okay. It had been at least two years since any new housing units were built, and nothing was being done to help the people living in these shacks. The Regulator’s house, however, was pristine. No other homes inside the walls of New Atlanta compared to it. Not even the houses of the council members, who often had to share their large homes. Two families to a house was normal these days, except when it came to the Regulator. He was above the law because he made the law, not just here, but across the rest of the country. All sanctioned settlements bent to Garret Star’s will.

He’d been in charge since before the walls went up, quietly at first, and then stepping in to take control like he was saving the world from certain doom—at least according to my parents. Slowly, his influence had spread to other settlements as they popped up around the country. During the early days of reestablishing the government, Garret Star had the foresight to send crews out to oil refineries so fuel production could continue. He’d also trained crews on how to get the electricity running again, then sent them to other areas to help out. If the settlement in question cooperated—meaning they adopted the laws Star had put into place—they got help. If they didn’t, they were on their own. If they didn’t play by the rules they got no help from the new government, no vaccine when it was finally created, and no fuel. Nothing.