Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1) (37 page)

After work, I head toward the 37th Street Gym for yoga class. I haven’t run since Liam left town. I tell myself I’m taking rest days, but it’s more than that. I glance between the tall buildings lining the streets. The sun doesn’t even seem to shine right anymore.

I hurry inside the gym and get stopped at the check-in desk.

“Silvia Wood?” a male attendant inquires. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“You have two messages.” He turns the electronic reader so I can read them.

Message #1:
Keep running. I’ll be back for the next race.
—
Liam Harman

Message #2:
You have an appointment tomorrow at 6 a.m. at Citizen Family Planning Services.

I groan. “Not again.”

The next morning, I perch on the edge of one of Family Planning’s chairs, ready to leave as soon as they’re done with me. The nurse scans my arm then hands me a cup.

I stare at it. “Is this another pregnancy test?”

She smiles. “Yes. Just taking normal precautions.”

“Fine.” I go to the bathroom and pee in the cup, just like they want me to. It’s not worth the effort to fight it, but this is getting ridiculous.

Thirty long minutes later, a different nurse enters the room, a puzzled look on her face. “You’re negative.”

I stand, grabbing my gym bag. “I could’ve told you that when I walked in here.”

“But…” She pauses.

“Can I go now?” I gesture toward the door. “I really need to get to work. I didn’t even have a chance to warn my boss I would be late.”

The nurse doesn’t answer. She taps her fingers on the test result sheet.

“Do you need anything more from me?” I ask. I really don’t want to pee in a cup again, especially not twice in one day.

“No… unfortunately. You can go.”

I rush to work, excited I finally have something to say to Franco when he asks if I’ve heard from Liam. He’ll be happy. He might even smile again—which would be wonderful.

Now, I’m the one who pities him instead of the other way around.

There’s a back up in Mortuary Sciences when I arrive.

“Sorry, Gus.” I set my gym bag on the floor and grab a coat. “I had a last minute appointment.”

“You’re having a lot of those lately.” Gus’s hair sticks up all over the place. It’s even messier than usual. He hurries around the room, checking bags and tags. “We’ve got to get everything ready for the Incinerator tomorrow.”

“I can stay as late as you want. I don’t have anything waiting, and Mom has extra practice for Orchestra.”

“That would really help me out. Thanks, Silvia.”

Hours later, we’re all caught up. Gus leans back in his chair, drinking a juice, and I’m scanning a computer article about ankle reconstruction.

“Got another body for you,” announces a Handler, rolling in a cart.

Gus sighs as the Handler parks the dead body and leaves. “I’m plain worn out today. I’m getting too old for all this, but don’t tell Edwina Wang that.”

“Don’t worry.” I jump up out of my chair. “I’ve got this one.”

I cross the room and search for the chart. It’s not attached to the cart, not tucked under the body bag. I dart out in the hall to see if it fell down when they made that last turn. Nothing.

I head back into Mortuary Sciences. “Gus, there’s no chart.”

He groans but doesn’t get out of the chair. “Those Handlers are getting really slack sometimes. I’ll call upstairs for it.”

“Okay. I’ll get started.” I unzip the bag, starting at the feet. The toes have running calluses.

That’s strange. The Citizen Race was two weeks ago. I unzip further. Blond hair covers well-muscled lower legs. Ones I’ve seen before.

I start to tremble. Slowly pull the zipper to the top. My hesitant gaze follows the long incision that runs from the waist up to the chin. To the blue eyes I’d seen almost every day for weeks before the banquet that took him away.

I back away from the cart, bile flooding my stomach. I cling to the table behind me, my legs useless beneath me, my breath in gasps.

Liam. Dead.

He’s not in Argos. He’s here on my cart.

Maybe the city of Argos doesn’t even exist.

All I know is that
Liam
no longer exists.

No wonder the sun doesn’t want to shine anymore.

“No!” My scream echoes, hitting off every metallic surface.

“No!” I grab everything I can find and fling it across the room. Charts, surgical instruments, and chairs smash into the walls.

Gus narrowly misses a flying scalpel as he rushes to my side. He grabs my arms and pins them down. “Keep it together, Silvia,” he whispers in my ear. “They’re always watching.
Always.”

The doors slide open behind us.

I spin around, expecting the Handlers. Or maybe the Suits. At least this time I might have a weapon or two I can use.

But it’s worse than that.

It’s Franco.

My heart tears in two as tears slide down my cheeks.

“Hey, have you heard from—hey, what’s wrong?” His face blanches as he glances behind us.

Franco glides to the gurney like a ghost, reaching out a shaking hand to brush back the hair above Liam’s ear. He tries to close the eyelids but can’t. Liam’s eyes remain hauntingly open, revealing a blank, empty death stare.

Franco’s face crumbles.

I reach out to him. “I didn’t want you to see this.”

He backs away. “Don’t touch me. Not now. I want to kill somebody, and I might hurt you.”

“Franco, you’d better think hard before you do anything rash,” Gus warns. “Or Linda will be left with nobody.”

Franco glares at Gus. “Give me scissors.”

“What for?” I ask.

“Just do it,” he growls.

I place one in his quivering hand. He snips a curl from Liam’s head, shoves it in his pocket, and turns away. The scissors clatter to the floor as he sweeps out of the room.

I rush after him. “Where are you going?”

“I’d say Hell, but I’m already there, aren’t I?” Franco’s voice cracks, and he pauses on the bottom stair. “Take care of yourself, Silvia. I’ll probably never see you again.” He sprints up the stairs, away from me.

I collapse onto the cold, hard floor, silent tears spilling into my hands.

Gus follows me into the hallway, sits down next to me, and puts an arm around my back.

“There now. Cry all you want.”

I lean into him and sob harder than ever before. I don’t remember crying this hard for my dad. Probably because it took me so long to realize he really wasn’t coming back. With Liam dead, and Franco off to do something crazy, I feel all the bad at once. Every person I’ve ever truly cared about—with the exception of Mom and Gus—has been ripped away from me. The pain in my chest in overpowering.

“Get it all out.” Gus pats my shoulder. “We still have to process the body.”

I tense.

“I’m sorry, but it has to be done.”

“I can’t—”

“It’s the only way to figure out what happened to him.”

I suck in deep, shaky breaths. Yes, we need to find the cause of his death. The reason the New Order lied about him going to Argos.

I sit up, clench my jaw, and wipe my eyes. “Let’s get started. I need to know the truth.”

An hour later, I know four things:

1. Liam was alive this morning.
   

2. His lungs have been removed.
   

3. His birth control capsule was empty.
   

4. According to the evening news report, Representative Nielsen is recovering nicely from lung transplant surgery performed earlier today.
   

rush up the hospital stairs, heart pounding, throw open the door, and gasp for air. But it’s no use—I can still smell Liam’s dead body, his liver, his blood.

Glaring streetlights make a false day of night and block out every star. Even at this late hour, the streets still teem with life. All the worker ants hurrying to and from their places of employment.

The New Order feeds off its citizens twenty-four hours a day. Always taking whatever it wants. Babies. Organs. Whatever they want, they take.

And they give so little in return. Just enough to keep our hopes up. Just enough to make us try harder, give more, with empty promises that we can get ahead.

That’s what Liam wanted. That was his dream.

And, in return, the New Order cut his life into little pieces and fed them to the Representatives.

My mind fills with painful pictures.

Liam. His pale body in the blue lights of the mortuary.

His blond hair on the table. His feet lifeless, wrinkled, and cold.

Franco’s face when he saw Liam on the gurney with a fresh incision down his chest.

My stomach heaves, and I fall to my knees, gagging in front of the hospital for all the cameras to see. But I no longer care. Did they show me Liam’s dead body as a warning? Or a threat? Are they trying to push me over the edge again? There has to be a reason for this. I can’t believe it’s an accident his body ended up here.

I rise to my feet, gulp in metallic air, and brush away the tears flowing freely down my cheeks. I’ve got to keep it together, or they’ll come for me next.

I finally know the truth, and it hurts even more than the lies.

My feet fly over to Franco’s apartment even faster than on race day. Some force pushes my finger on the elevator buttons and empties me on his floor. My steps clatter down the hushed, empty hallway to his door.