Twisted World: A Broken World Novel (31 page)

M
ike lived
one floor below me, but I’d only been to his place a few times. With Dad. I’d always known my father was involved in the black market of New Atlanta, but I’d never really asked questions. With stuff like that it was better to live in ignorance. That is, until you were in the position I now found myself in. Thankfully, I’d paid enough attention back then to know where I needed to go now.

Standing outside the closed door, I shifted from foot to foot and glanced up and down the hall, almost as if I expected to see someone standing in the shadows. No one was around though, and even if someone did happen to see me here, there was no real reason for suspicion. It wasn’t illegal to visit someone in the middle of the day, and as far as any strangers passing by knew, that’s all I was doing. Still, my heart was beating twice as hard as it usually did, and my palms were moist with sweat.

What I was about to do wasn’t necessarily what was making me nervous, though. The thing that was making it all so much more nerve wracking was the utter silence that had fallen over this building. It felt empty. Deserted. Like a graveyard. It seemed that the flu hadn’t just wreaked havoc on the shantytown, which just went to show that no one was really safe these days.

When I finally got up the nerve to knock, the sound of my knuckles hitting the wood echoed through the hall. I jumped even though I knew I was the one who’d made the noise. My heart beat faster, the sound of it echoing in my ears. I took a step back and looked up, toward the peephole. If someone did happen to be home in the middle of the day, they were going to look through that little hole before they opened the door.

“Please, please, please,” I whispered, crossing my fingers.

It seemed to take forever, although it was probably less than a minute, but finally the sound of the deadbolt clicking cut through the silence that surrounded me. The lock followed a second later, but when the door was finally pulled open, the safety chain was still on.

A pair of blue eyes peered at me through the gap, moving over me slowly. “What do you want?” the woman asked.

“Hi.” I took a step closer as I shot another quick look up and down the hall. “I’m looking for Mike.”

The woman didn’t blink, but she also didn’t respond.

Did I have the wrong apartment? I was certain this was the right place, but maybe Mike didn’t live here anymore. Maybe he’d died or been shipped off to DC for selling weapons. Anything was possible, and it had been a few years since I’d come here with Dad.

“I need something,” I said, then held my breath.

I couldn’t just come right out and ask for a gun, especially not if this woman had nothing to do with the black market, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet. After seeing Jimmy’s body in that alley, I was afraid to walk away empty-handed. Twice in the last week, my knife had proven insignificant.

When the woman in front of me still didn’t respond, I tried one last tactic. “My dad was Axl James. I need help.”

The woman blinked again, but this time it looked more like she was startled than she was studying me. A second later the door slammed in my face. My shoulders slumped and I let out a deep breath. Maybe I didn’t have the right place, or maybe this woman didn’t want to get mixed up in whatever had happened to Dad. At this point, I almost couldn’t blame her.

I turned to leave, but a click from the other side of the door made me freeze. I spun back around, and a second later the door was pulled open.

“Come in,” the woman hissed, her blue eyes darting around as I rushed through the door.

She shut it before I’d even had a chance to register where I was, and it wasn’t until it slammed behind me that I started to worry. With all the shit going on around me, how did I know I could trust this woman or Mike? Dad had worked with them, but everything had been fine for the past twenty years, and then the world around me seemed to explode. For all I knew, these people were just as bad as Jackson and his father.

The lock clicked and I spun around, coming face to face with the woman who had answered the door. She was in her forties, fit despite the saggy skin on her neck and the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair had once been blonde, but now it was a dull color that was somewhere between gold and gray, and her eyes, although bright, looked sunken.

She coughed once, turning her head away. “What do you want?”

I swallowed. “A gun.”

“And Axl was your dad?” The woman didn’t even blink when she looked me over.

“Yes.”

“Megan, right?”

I nodded.

She moved past me, further into the apartment. “I only have one.”

“Where’s Mike?” I asked as I watched her cross the room.

Her entire body jerked, but her steps didn’t falter. “Dead. Last night.” She coughed again. “I’m not too far behind him.”

“I’m sorry.”

Something in my voice must have reached her, because she paused long enough to look back over her shoulder. The sadness in her eyes reminded me of Mom and how she looked every time someone talked about Dad. Like a piece of her had been ripped away.

“Me too,” the woman whispered.

She disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone, and I shuffled from foot to foot while I waited for her to return. Random items lined the walls in the living and dining room. Bottles of booze from the old world, bootlegged cigarettes by the carton, moonshine, batteries, and prepackaged meals. The illegal stuff was probably hidden, but it looked like everything in this apartment was worth something to the right person.

Footsteps headed my way, and a few seconds later the woman was back, a pistol in her hand. “This should be easy for you to use, but there are only five rounds.” She held it out to me.

“I’ve shot one before,” I said as I shoved my hand in my pocket and pulled out all the credits I had in the world. How I’d pay for rent I didn’t know, but I did know I needed the protection this gun would provide. “This is all I have.” My hands were trembling. Hopefully, it would be enough.

She shook her head as she shoved the gun in my hand. “I’m dead. Even if this flu doesn’t kill me, I’m finished.” The resignation in her voice was painful. “Take anything else you might need.”

She jerked her head toward the stuff stacked along the wall, and even though I felt slightly guilty about taking advantage of her, I turned toward it. “Thanks.”

She nodded, watching me as I shoved the gun into a box of prepackaged meals. My scalp prickled under her scrutiny, but I was too desperate to be humble right now. I needed this stuff.

When I turned back to face the woman, she nodded. “I hope everything turns out okay for you.”

It sounded more like:
you’re screwed
.

“Thanks,” I mumbled again as I hurried to the door.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the apartment, but once I was in the hall I was only able to breathe a little bit easier. The box in my hands weighed me down, but not because of the food packed inside it. Because the gun resting on top of those meals was enough to get my ass shipped off to DC, only I had serious doubts that Jackson would let me leave this city. I had to get it home and hidden as soon as possible.

A
fter After stashing
the gun in the back of my closet, I was too wound up to hang out at the apartment by myself, so I headed to Dragon’s. My shift wasn’t supposed to start for hours, but I didn’t want to be alone right now. Not after getting attacked last night and not after finding Jimmy’s body. Not only did I want to be around people I trusted not to hurt me, but I wanted to tell Donaghy what had happened. He knew all my secrets and I felt like we’d reached a point where we were closer than friends—even if I wasn’t exactly sure how to categorize our relationship.

The atmosphere in the bar was darker than usual, but I wasn’t sure why. Glitter was behind the counter, serving drinks in her skimpy little dress, but she was missing the usual bounce in her step. Dragon was nowhere to be seen and neither was Helen, although I could only assume she was still working her day job at the CDC. After what had happened today, I needed to make it a point to get to know the older waitress better. To find out if I could trust her, and what she might know—if anything—about my dad.

Donaghy was nowhere in sight, so I headed into the back room. The growl of the zombies made me freeze, but once my eyes adjusted I saw that there were only the normal two. No more bald creatures of the CDC’s making, and no little surprises for me. Thank God. Maybe Jackson had decided to admit defeat.

The room with the cots was quiet, and two of the beds empty. Donaghy’s guards had barely been clinging to life the day before, so I could only assume that they’d died sometime in the night or early this morning. Thankfully, their bodies were gone.

The fighter occupied the third cot. He sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees as he held his head in the palms of his hands. He didn’t move or look my way when I crossed the room to him, and every inch of him was tense. Something about his body language made my heart beat faster. Had he caught the flu? He looked okay. He wasn’t coughing and his skin was still bright with life. His face even looked pinker than usual.

“Donaghy?” I whispered as I moved across the room. “Are you okay?”

His gaze stayed glued to the floor. “Wonderful. My whole fucking life has fallen apart, but as long as you find your family it will all be worth it.”

The bitterness in his voice took me by surprise, and I found my legs unable to move closer to him. Not since I’d opened up to him about my family had he spoken to me with so much distance. His tone was cold. Detached. He sounded like the fighter I had first met, the one who kept everyone at arm’s length so he didn’t have to feel anything.

No. That wasn’t right. There
was
feeling in his voice, only it was hatred and pain. The warmth I’d felt in his arms just yesterday had vanished completely, leaving the room—and the fighter—feeling cold.

Something had happened.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as I closed the distance between us, going against my better judgment.

His body was rigid before I started walking, but the closer I got, the more he tensed until he looked like he’d been carved out of stone. I knelt at his side, hesitantly touching his arm. His muscles flexed under my fingertips, making the tattoos that swirled around his biceps jump. His skin was warm, but not hot. He wasn’t sick, but something had happened.

“What is it?” I whispered. “What happened?”

“You.” The word was harsh and sharp, like a knife cutting into me. It sliced down my middle and penetrated my chest, slashing my already raw heart in half.

“Donaghy, I—”

He twisted to face me so fast that it knocked me on my ass, and the expression on his face made it impossible for me to regain my composure. I sat on the hard, dirty floor as he got to his feet, pushing past me. Pacing. His hands were on his head, massaging his skull like he wanted to crush it so he could forget. The pain was written across every inch of him.

“You did this. Spoiled. Selfish. It doesn’t matter if you destroy everyone around you as long as you find the people who matter to you. Who gives a fuck about the rest of the world when Megan James needs help?” He shook his head, his hands still on his skull when he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “And I fell for it. I let you bat your eyes and shake your ass in my direction and snare me in your trap. Like an idiot!”

“Donaghy, I don’t know—” My sobs made it impossible to talk, but I needed to. I needed to find out what had happened and why he was hurting, and tell him I was sorry and that I hadn’t meant to bring him down with me. “Please.”

It was the only word I could get out, and it was so distorted that I didn’t think he’d understand it, and when he reared toward me, his eyes blazing with anger and pain, I wasn’t sure if he had.

“Is that all you can say? Is that all you can do? Ask for help like a child? Why couldn’t you have taken care of yourself? Why couldn’t I have let you?”

His eyes landed on my face and he blinked. We stared at each other in total silence. The room around us got hotter by the second while the sobs that were threatening to break their way out tried to suffocate me.