Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1) (22 page)

“Is it weird being here during the day?” I ask.

“Do whatever you can to kill time,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s important.”

Once we reach the main Incinerator Room, I make a slow job of matching up the lost forms with the right bodies, zipping open each bag to check the corpses.

“Your family misses you,” I murmur to each body before closing their bag.

Heavy footsteps approach.

“Come on. Come on.” The taller Handler reaches out a black-gloved hand. “Let’s get this show over with.”

I glare at him. “That’s not how we usually treat the dead.”

He sighs and turns to Gus. “Can you reel in your overly-enthusiastic employee? We’re on a schedule here.”

Gus shrugs. “She does great work. I understand you’re new here, but you’ll soon learn that it’s best not to interfere with the way things are run.”

“What the Hell is wrong with you people?” The Handler shakes his head. “Fine. I’ll take my meal break while you finish. Just hurry up.”

Gus catches my gaze across the room. We continue our work in the summer heat. The main Incinerator Room radiates like an oven. Sweat trickles down my back. As slowly as we can, without raising suspicion, we line the body transport racks behind the conveyer belts. Then we stand by the tool chest eyeballing each other, stalling again.

“Aren’t you done yet?” the taller Handler calls out as he stomps back into the room.

“Of course,” Gus replies. “We were waiting for you.”

“Why the heck didn’t you come looking for us?” the Handler snaps as the shorter one follows him into the great room, stretcher in hand. “We’ve been waiting for—oh, never mind.”

“Careful with those stretchers,” Gus warns. “They don’t seem as sturdy as the last ones.”

“What the—” The shorter Handler almost loses his grip. “This piece of junk is coming apart right in my hands.”

A small smile plays on the corner of Gus’s mouth.

“I hope they don’t drop any of the bodies,” I mutter loud enough for them to hear. “That would be so disrespectful.”

Gus turns to me and whispers under his breath. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

As the bodies travel down the conveyer belt, spaced further apart than usual due to the difficulties the Handlers are having with the carts and stretchers, the Incinerator comes to life with a loud hiss. A heat wave presses against me while flames dance up the walls of the furnace.

I fan myself, melting from every pore.

Gus offers me a water bottle. “Silvia, why don’t you step outside and cool off a bit?”

“I’d love that.” I turn to go.

Gus taps my shoulder and leans close. “Keep your eyes and ears open.”

My legs shake slightly as I leave the room. I gulp down the water, wiping my brow with my arm. The busy Incinerator workers scatter like ants through the hallways. Nothing looks suspicious, not on the surface, at least.

The sun starts to set as I step outside. Purple and pink clouds stain the horizon. I gaze into the warm glow, treasuring this gift. You can’t see sunsets very well in the city. The buildings are too tall. The colors fade, and darkness follows. The effect seems so dramatic out here with no streetlights to keep the night at bay.

Sighing, I turn back to scan the dirt parking lot. The overhead lights flicker on, one in each of the distant corners of the lot.

As the last one sputters to life, I see him.

Franco Harman.

Half-hidden at the far edge of the parking lot.

Glaring at the Incinerator.

And staring at me.

ur eyes lock, the empty parking lot a vast space between us. I hold my breath. Why is Franco here? Is he going to yell at me now?

Footsteps shake the metal ramp of the Incinerator as the Handlers approach.

In the distance, Franco backs away from the overhead light, ducking under a cloak of darkness. The trance lifted, I step out of the way of the Handlers rolling out the transport carts. The unruly wheels catch and swivel on the ramp. The Handlers curse and shake the carts as they attempt to load the truck.

“Oops. Sorry about the language.” The shorter one catches my eye. “But when I took this job, I was told it was easy.” He smiles.

Suddenly, he’s a real person. He’s not the New Order; he’s just an employee. He probably has a family and, under other circumstances, I might learn he is kind, or funny, or good with children. However, right now, he is the enemy, and my job is to stall for time. I’m a little fuzzy on the details of the war Gus is fighting. All I know is I’ll always be on his side. No matter what.

I smile back at him, hoping it doesn’t look pained or fake. “I’m new at this, too, but it seemed to me that the other racks worked better.” I stand out of the way and make no offer to help as the Handlers struggle through repeated trips up and down the ramp.

Trying not to be obvious, I sneak glances into the dark edge of the parking lot, searching for Franco. Is he still out there? I hope he doesn’t launch into another environmental tirade and start screaming at me, too.

After the last cart has been loaded, the shorter Handler clears his throat. “When will your Supervisor be ready to go?”

“I’ll ask him.” I casually stroll back to the main Incinerator room.

Gus is still fussing with his tool chest. He glances up. “Anything interesting out there?”

Just Franco.
“The truck’s all loaded. The Handlers are asking if you’re ready to leave.”

“Why’d they have to move up the schedule?” Gus’s shoulders slump. “Oh, well. I guess I can’t stall any longer.”

I stare at Gus, willing him to tell me what’s really going on here. He could at least give me a hint.

I help him push the tool chest outside, making it look more difficult than it is to move in an effort to fool the Handlers. We carefully ease it down the delivery ramp and onto the truck. Then Gus stands at the opening, tapping his hand on his side. If I didn’t know how relaxed he normally is, I wouldn’t think anything of it.

I take one more glance toward the spot where Franco stood. Nothing but black sky.

A loud crack and wheeze interrupts the quiet night.

“What the heck?” The shorter Handler steps in front of me and grabs the weapon attached to his utility belt.

I peek over his shoulder as a shower of gold-colored sparks fly through the air.

Alarms wail from within the Incinerator facility. Workers dash around, wide-eyed, yelling orders muffled by the constant, booming explosions overhead. But their voices fade in the beauty of the Northern sky filling with silver and gold fire, spilling from the sky like a sparkling fountain.

“Well, isn’t that pretty?” Gus checks his watch. “Look at the time, folks. Let’s get going.”

A hazy glow rests on the horizon a moment before another bright flame shoots up into the sky and bursts into a millions pieces of light. A chorus of whistles sing through the night air as sparks tumble to the earth. Tearing myself away from the wondrous splendor, I step into the back of the truck.

“Nope.” The shorter Handler takes my arm. “You’d better ride up front with me to be safe. We don’t know what we’re dealing with out here.” He points at the sky.

I look to Gus, who settles down with a content sigh. “Best to be safe, I guess. Silvia, I’ll see you when we get back. I’m beat. It’s time for a good nap.”

The taller Handler climbs into the back with Gus. I get down and walk around the truck, staring at the sky, then hop into the passenger seat. We pull out of the parking lot. The wheels catch in a pothole just as the truck headlights outline Franco’s tall form on the side of the road. After a long moment, he’s lost again in the darkness.

The Handler chuckles. “I hear that guy is a complete psycho. He hates anyone and anything to do with the Incinerator.”

“Really?” A smile plays on my lips because I think Franco just winked at me.

“Yep. That’s what the other guys say. But don’t worry. If he gives you any trouble, let me know, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks.” But your assistance won’t be necessary.

“And don’t be scared about those explosions in the sky. There must be some simple explanation for it. I’m sure we’ll be safe. It’ll probably be on the news when we get back into the city.”

The poor guy drives as fast as he can over the potholes, gripping the steering wheel until his fingers turn white. For a moment, I consider telling him about the fireworks program I watched, but I stop myself, thinking that maybe I better keep my mouth shut. The now over-friendly Handler keeps up a nervous chatter, all the way back to town. I can barely hear his words over the plethora of questions bouncing around in my head. I need to talk to Gus. Alone. What’s his plan now? Why were there fireworks in the sky? How did he know they were coming? That had to be what he was waiting for, but why? What does it mean?

I’m exhausted by the time we finally reach the Mortuary. Even though we haven’t been much help to the Handlers all afternoon, Gus starts unloading carts right away. Once we’ve finished, and the Handlers depart, we head back to the office.

The lights are on.

“I thought we turned these off,” I say.

“We did.”

We step inside a transformed office. Gus’s desk has been cleared off. His maps have been unpinned from the wall and folded into a neat pile. His work clothes have been taken off the hooks and tossed over a chair. My gym bag is on the desk, open as if someone rifled through it. An electric teapot is plugged into the wall outlet. There’s a foul stench in the air, and I work in a Mortuary so something has to be really bad for me to notice.

“What the heck?” Gus rubs a hand through his wild hair.

Heels click across the floor, and a stranger enters. Her bobbed, black hair has been teased into the shape of a helmet. Her cool, patronizing tone chills me. “Gus Andrews, I’ve been waiting for you,” she says.

“What’s the meaning of this, Edwina?” Gus gestures at his desk. “Where’s my stuff? What are you doing here?”

“It’s Dr. Wang to you.” Her thin lips form a tight, unfriendly smile. “And, Gus, you’re
far
too old to let yourself get so worked up over nothing. You might have a heart attack and die. Wouldn’t
that
be a pity?”

“This is my desk.” Gus points. “This is my office. This is
my
job.”

“Not anymore. Consider this your retirement party. Starting today,
I’m
in charge.”