Twisted World: A Broken World Novel (26 page)

“When it was over we went back out to the street. There were bodies everyone—both human and zombie—and the road was covered in blood. We found Margot’s backpack lying in the middle of the street, covered in blood and ripped up. Jackson helped me look for my sister, and not too long after that Mom showed up. She had a big gash on her head, but she couldn’t remember what had happened. She thought the crowd had trampled her. We searched all night for Margot, but never found her.

“After that, Jackson and I were inseparable. I knew people didn’t like him, but he was always good to me. Sweet and caring. I thought I could see something in him that no one else could. I thought I knew him better.”

I stopped talking and silence settled around us. Donaghy was frowning, thinking it all through, and I did too. Searching my memories of what had happened for facts I might have been ignoring for years.

It was odd, Jackson popping up like that when he didn’t live in that part of the city, but it had always seemed almost divine to me before now. Like it was meant to be. Now, though, I had to wonder if it hadn’t all been for show. Like he had planned the whole thing. No, not Jackson, but his father.

“We never found her,” I said quietly. “Margot’s body vanished. She was the only one from that day.”

“You think they took her?” Donaghy asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

They
. It always came back to
they
lately. Only, I didn’t know who
they
were and I didn’t know who to trust or what to think.

“Maybe. Angus was immune, and I now know my father is too.” Donaghy’s eyebrows shot up and I shrugged. “My aunt and uncle filled me in on some details. Anyway, Margot could have been too.”

Something like worry or fear or a feeling even more intense than that flashed in Donaghy’s eyes. “If they took her, they could take you. You’re part of that family too. What if you’re immune?”

“I’m not.” I almost laughed. “My last name is the only thing special about me. People get all bent out of shape when they hear that my last name is James, but the truth is, we aren’t related by blood. My biological parents died on the way to Atlanta. Vivian and Axl James adopted me.”

Understanding crossed Donaghy’s face and he frowned. “That’s it. That’s why Jackson wants you.”

“What?” I wasn’t following his train of thought.

“Your name.
James
. You’re the one who told me how power-hungry his dad is. Well, who has more power in this country than the Regulator?”

“Angus James,” I whispered, shaking my head. “He’s been dead for twenty years, and yet people still talk about him every day. They pray to him for God’s sake.”

“Having you at his son’s side could ensure that the Stars would be able to stay in control. Hell, he might even be able to get The Church to back him if Jackson was married to you.”

“Shit.”

It had never occurred to me before now, but it should have. Jackson was usually careful not to bring my uncle up, or the crazy religion that for some reason thought Angus James was their savior, but Donaghy was right. If anyone in this settlement could sway people to side with the government, it would be someone with the last name James.

I
I mulled
over what Donaghy and I talked about the whole walk home, so lost in contemplation that the coughs ringing through shantytown got little more than a fleeting thought from me. A thought that went in one ear when a hacking cough shook the metal walls of the shack I was walking by, passing through my head and flying out the other ear when the statue of my uncle came into view.

I slowed to almost a stop, my gaze on the carving and the gifts lined up around it. Credits were tucked under the base, the paper they were printed on flapping in the breeze like it was taunting the people around it.

To me it felt like that, anyway. The people living in this section of the city didn’t have enough of anything to go around, and yet those credits would sit by this shrine until it rained hard enough for them to be washed away. No one dared touch them, no matter how lawless or needy they were. Even skeptics probably found themselves silently fearing that the spirit of Angus James would curse them to a death even more horrible than the one the virus had rained down on this country. They would instead starve, possibly right here in this very spot, kneeling in front of the statue and begging for help while the credits flapped in the breeze.

This religion was perhaps the most powerful thing in the settlement, but it had never occurred to me until Donaghy brought it up. Mostly because it was something we didn’t discuss in my family.

I couldn’t remember a time when people hadn’t prayed to the statue of Angus, but I had never realized that I was somehow a part of it—at least in the eyes of the fanatics—until I started school. Before that, I think my parents worked to shield me from The Church, because I never really made the connection with the statue and the uncle who had died saving humanity until I started school and it became impossible to avoid.

On that first day we took turns standing in front of the class, sharing with the other children our age our names and who we were. When my turn came, I’d been nervous enough, and it had only gotten worse when I’d said my name. While half the kids had maintained their sleepy boredom, the other half had perked up. It was like my name had some magical power I’d never been aware of until that moment.

“James?” one little girl, who I would later learn to avoid, had asked. “Like Angus James?”

“Yes.” I’d nodded, unaware that this girl was the daughter of the high priestess of The Church. “Angus James was my uncle.”

I’d raised my chin, proud that I shared the last name of the man who’d died saving us. That was a story I knew. One everyone knew. What I’d never been told by my parents, though, was that there were a lot of people who thought of Angus as some kind of god.

On that first day of school, I learned more than I did for the rest of my education. I learned all about The Church and their beliefs. How they thought Angus would come back and save them again one day, and I also learned that the religion was spreading faster than the virus had.

Back then, only a small portion of the population held those beliefs, but as the years passed and illnesses claimed even more lives, the religion spread. Now more than half of Atlanta bowed their heads when they sat down at the dinner table and said a prayer to Angus James.

I shivered and walked faster, leaving the shrine and the shantytown and the thoughts of religious zealots behind me. My building came into view, and the sight of Jackson leaning against the wall next to the door caused my footsteps to falter just a little.

The realization that he’d been using me all these years hurt, but it also scared me. Whether or not he knew what was going on in the CDC, he was part of this whole thing. His father had brought him in as an apprentice at a young age, and there was no way Jackson had been kept in the dark for all these years. Not completely, anyway. He had to know something about my father.

“Meg? Are you okay?” Jackson pushed himself off the wall when I was still ten feet away, and when he looked me up and down, the hair on my scalp prickled.

For years I’d interpreted looks like this as concern. As proof that he was better than his father. Now, though, I couldn’t help wondering if it was something else. If Jackson was studying my moods and using the feelings I was so poor at hiding from him as a weapon against me.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Just tired and confused about life. Things have changed so much and I don’t think I’m dealing with it all that well.”

“I’m sorry. I know things have been hard for you.” For once, the sympathetic look he gave me felt fake and rehearsed.

How had I allowed him to fool me for all these years? Other people could see through him. My parents had never been fans, and Donaghy saw it the second he laid eyes on Jackson. But I’d been blinded for years by the fact that he’d been there to save me when I needed him the most. Jackson had comforted me in the worst moments of my life, and I’d seen it as proof that deep down he was a good person. Had it all been an act just so he could use my name to gain more power?

I let out a deep breath, trying to act exhausted and confused, which wasn’t a total lie. I was exhausted, and everything about Jackson seemed like a riddle to me now. But, I needed information out of him.

It was time for a different strategy.

I took a step closer and pressed myself up against him, laying my head on his chest. When I wrapped my arms around his waist, he returned the hug, but the familiarity of his embrace was gone. This man no longer felt like a friend. He felt like a stranger. Or worse, an enemy.

“You’ve always been so strong,” I said. “Always been here for me. Thank you.”

I lifted my head, peering up at him through my eyelashes. Jackson was watching me, his face expressionless and his eyes so cold that it almost made me shiver. I forced out a smile as I lifted myself up on the tips of my toes, and when I pressed my lips against his, I had to squeeze my eyes shut and pretend he was someone else.

Jackson’s hands were on my hips in a second, and then he was pulling me closer. His mouth moved over mine so quickly that it took my breath away. I tried to put everything I had into the kiss, but it was hard. All I could think about were the things Ticker said and the icy expression in Jackson’s eyes when I’d gone to his house earlier today. I needed to do this, though. I needed him to trust me and let me into his life so I could look around. This was all about survival. About bending the situation to my will.

Jackson spun me around so my back was against the building, his hands snaking up my hips to my waist while his mouth devoured mine. He’d wanted this for so long and I knew it, and even though having his lips and hands on me made my skin crawl, I couldn’t back down.

But the kiss was cut short only seconds after it started, and Jackson pulled away. Only he didn’t step back, and his hands were now planted firmly against the wall on either side of me, caging me in. My lips were raw from his attack and he was out of breath, but the intensity that flashed in his eyes when he looked down at me had nothing to do with passion. He glared like he was trying to shoot fire from his eyes, looking more like his father than he ever had before. I tried to shrink away from his fury, but he had me trapped against the wall.

“Jackson?” I whispered, suddenly terrified of the person in front of me.

“I bet you think you’re real smart,” he said, the smile on his face not matching the fury in his eyes. “Well, fuck you.” A laugh that was slightly maniacal popped out of his mouth and I cringed away from him. “That’s what I should have done. I should have kept going. Seen how far you’d be willing to take this little charade. You would have screwed me if you thought it would get you what you wanted. Wouldn’t you?” The last two words echoed through the streets, bouncing off the surrounding buildings.

“I don’t know what you mean.” I sounded smaller than a mouse, which was how I felt under his gaze. Tiny. Insignificant. Unable to fix even the smallest problem in my life.

Jackson let out a deep breath and stepped back. “It would have been a waste of time. If you think I’d ever consider betraying my father and what he’s trying to accomplish here, you’re even dumber than I thought. He’s building something great, and I’m going to help him.”

The truth of who this person was slammed into me. Matt had been right. Jackson was a sociopath. All these years I’d thought that deep down he was good. He wasn’t, though. Never had been. He was exactly like his father. Manipulative and power hungry, and Jackson’s friendship with me had always been about my last name and a desperate grab for even more power.

“
Anything
they do within the walls of the CDC is justified.” Jackson’s voice was low and menacing. Like a threat.

Tears filled my eyes when images of Dad flashed through my mind. Strapped down to a table, tubes and wires coming out of him.

“Is he there?” I whispered even though I knew Jackson would never tell me. There would be no reaching the man in front of me.

His hands dropped to his sides and he took a step back, giving me room to breathe. I did, sucking in a deep breath and holding it, waiting for him to answer. He didn’t, though. He just ran his hands down his shirt, smoothing it out like it was a suit and he was getting ready to head into an important meeting.

He didn’t meet my eyes again. Not even when he said, “It’s late. I should get home.” He took one step away before stopping, not even turning when he called over his shoulder, “When you see that fighter friend of yours tomorrow, be sure to tell him that I said good luck. From what I hear, the zombies they’re tossing his way are bigger and newer.”

He headed off, but I couldn’t move. I wasn’t sure if his last statement was intended as a warning or if it was his way of telling me that he knew Joshua had been thrown into the ring last night. Maybe it was both. After what I’d just witnessed, I didn’t have a doubt in my mind that Jackson knew all the ins and outs of this settlement.