Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1) (9 page)

The next morning, I slog through the motions of prepping the most recently delivered bodies.

“Hang in there,” Gus cautions after I drop the same clipboard twice in a row. “Are you sure you want to go running today?”

“Don’t worry.” I yawn. “It’ll wake me up.”

He snorts. “Or do you in.”

After every corpse is tagged and bagged, he releases me from duty. “You better go get that run over with before you fall asleep standing on your feet.”

I grab my bag. Just hiking up the staircase takes twice as much effort as usual. Maybe I
am
too tired to run today. But then I think about actually running outside, and the stubborn part of me won’t give up this opportunity.

After I change in the locker room, I find Liam waiting for me near the front steps of the gym.

“You look terrible,” he says with a grin. “What did you do? Forget to sleep for a week?”

“No.” Why does he have to say that? I don’t need an extra reminder of how tired I am. “I worked all night, delivering bodies to the Incinerator.”

That shuts him up for a second.

I do some lunges to stretch out my hip flexors while Liam fiddles with his watch.

“Aren’t you even going to stretch beforehand?” I ask.

“Nah, I don’t need to.” He taps the huge square screen on his wrist. “Darn it. I can’t get this to work right.”

“What is that, and why are you wearing it?”

“If I can ever get this to work, you’re gonna be so jealous and want one of your own. It’s so awesome. It shows your pace, heart rate, calories burned, and has a built in GPS.”

“I don’t really care about all that. Let’s see how this goes today, okay? I’ve never run outside before. I’m kind of nervous about it, actually.”

“How much different can it be?”

As soon as we start, my legs feel disconnected with my body. I keep glancing around, distracted by all the voices and people. Even though I’ve been running for a long time on a treadmill, it’s like I’m running again for the very first time. This is so awkward with my feet slapping heavily on the ground. Why do my footsteps sound so loud out here? I never noticed them inside. I force my shoulders to relax. It doesn’t matter how much noise I make.

As soon as we reach the park, I inhale the heavenly smell of lilacs. I’m finally getting the hang of this running outside business by the time we reach the mulched trails. But the uneven terrain causes my ankles to bend and pinch out to the sides.

“Why is this so hard for me?” I ask. “I swear my ankles are
tired.
I’ve never felt that before.”

He slows the pace but only a little. “You’ll get used to it. I’ve heard it takes weeks to build up ankle and calf strength on a different terrain.”

“This feels so strange. And why can’t I focus? I keep looking around instead of just ahead.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re practicing, right?” He grins. “Let’s repeat this loop one more time and call it a day.”

“Okay.”

At the end of the loop, we stop, panting. I lean over to catch my breath and stretch my hamstrings.

Overhead, a deep voice drawls. “Hey, Liam, I thought you said you were in shape. Both your little sisters could beat you, and they’re only nine and eleven.”

I glance up, sweat dripping down my hairline, and brace my hands on my knees to support my ragged breathing. A tall man shakes his head at Liam. He narrows his impatient, dark hazel eyes, like a troubled prince in a fairy tale.

“I thought you wanted to meet for coffee, that you had something important to tell me,” he says.

“I do.” Liam wipes sweat off his brow.

“Okay.” The stranger glances at me then looks away as if already bored. “Then why’d you bring
her?”

Liam chuckles. “She’s not a spy, you idiot. She’s helping me.”

“Oh, I get it,” the tall man scoffs. “She’s just another one of your stupid girlfriends.”

“I am not!” I stand, hands balled on hips.

The instant our eyes meet, I notice everything about him: how one cheek has a slight dimple; how the sunlight catches on the green and gold flecks in his eyes; how his clothes are rather unusual for Panopticus. Where did he get them? Black combat boots, cargo shorts, and… No, it can’t be—a green scrub top under an unbuttoned faded jean jacket.

He works in Plant Production.

“Oh, really?” The stranger examines me again, this time showing interest. “Then who
are
you?”

“I’m not even his friend. I’m his running partner,” I stammer. “He roped me into training for this race together…” My voice trails off. Why do I care what this guy thinks, anyway?

I change the subject, going on attack. “How do you get away with wearing
that
if you work in Plant Production?” I motion to his ironically-attractive outfit, my gaze catching on the well-defined musculature of his legs. My cheeks flush. Look at that gastrocnemius. What kind of workout does he do to get muscular calves like that?

He laughs. “You’ve got a problem with the way I dress?”

“No…” I pause, my thoughts muddled. “But I thought everyone who worked there had to dress the same.”

He steps toward me to whisper, “If you make yourself a valuable enough player in the game, you can wear whatever you want.”

He smells slightly sweet, like the foamy, rich soil Dad used for planting. My mind flickers back to helping him out on the Community Deck, dividing and repotting his giant fern.

Liam clears his throat, and I return to present day, backing up a step and struggling to get my heart rate under control.

“You weirdo.” Liam punches the guy’s shoulder. “Silvia doesn’t want to hear all your stupid theories on life. Quit being rude.”

He narrows his eyes. “It’s not rude to tell the truth.”

“With you, dude,
everything
is rude.” Liam laughs. “Ignore him, Silvia. That’s what I do.”

The stranger adjusts a setting on his bike. “So
why
did you force me to meet you here if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“I need you to help me with Mom,” Liam wheedles.

He groans. “What now?”

“Are you two brothers or something?” I ask, interrupting what sounds like the beginning of a lifelong argument.

“No. Franco’s just my cousin,” replies Liam. “He’s not cool enough to be my brother, and those two little sisters waiting at home to attack me are more than enough, let me tell you.”

I crack a smile, imagining them pestering Liam, shadowing him from room to room. “I hope they give you as much trouble as you give me.”

Franco raises a hand to cover a smirk. “Okay, I believe you now.” His eyes catch mine as he jabs a thumb towards his cousin. “You’re much too clever to be one of
his
girlfriends.”

“Thanks a lot,” mutters Liam.

“Do you work at Plant Production, too?” Franco watches me closely as if puzzled. “You look familiar.”

“Quit hitting on my running partner,” grumbles Liam.

Hitting on me? Is he really doing that? I flush, suddenly worried that I might smell bad after our run. “No. Mortuary Sciences.”

Franco raises his brows. “Then I was right. You must be smart. Are your parents doctors or something?”

For once someone is impressed by my job. That’s a first.
“No. My father’s dead, and my mom plays the violin.”

“Oh.” The look of puzzlement returns to his face. “Is she any good?”

“Of course she is. She’s Yoshe Wood.”

His handsome jaw drops. “Then you’re…”

Liam helps him out. “Oh, sorry, I never introduced you. Silvia, this is my cousin, Franco Harman. Franco, this is—”

“Silvia Wood.” Franco covers his eyes for a moment, his tone hollow. “Of course. I should’ve known.”

“Why should you have known?” I ask.

“Let’s go, then.” Franco sets off at a fast pace, walking alongside his bike. “If you’ve got something important to say to me, Liam, I prefer we talk on the move.”

Liam falls into step with his cousin. I lag behind, my tired legs as heavy as a thick wooden chair, wondering why he didn’t answer my question but too tired to do much about it. Their conversation floats back to me on the early summer breeze.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Franco growls.

Liam shrugs. “What does it matter who she is?”

My steps pause. Why would Franco be so upset about who my mother is?

“Why do you want to be Chosen, anyway?” Franco snaps. “It’s crazy. You want something without even knowing what it is that you want.”

“To be Chosen is the greatest honor—”

Franco grabs Liam by both arms. “But what happens to the Chosen? Their families never see them again. Is that what you want to do to your mom and your sisters?”

I hurry to catch up but hang enough back to stay out of Franco’s way. He seems to get easily pissed about everything.

“But think about the possibilities.” Liam grins, his face rapt. “The Chosen go to another city and get a great job.”

“Why do they have to go to another city?” Franco asks. “Aren’t there any great jobs left in this one?”

Liam throws his arms in the air. “You’re so paranoid, it’s ridiculous.”

Franco turns to confront me. “Why are you helping him with this… this joke of a race? I suppose you want to be Chosen, too.”

I take a deep breath, his intense gaze disarming me, making me tell the truth. “Well, my mom would like it. She wants me to be special.” I blush at how infantile I sound, but something about Franco doesn’t allow me to be any other way but honest.

“What’s wrong with you the way you are right now?” he asks.

I self-consciously cover my wrists. How could he possibly hit on the same question I often ask myself? Franco’s dark eyes pierce right into mine, making me wish I could say something—anything—that would make him smile again. Why do I care if he’s happy?

I clear my throat. “That’s what I ask my mom, but ever since I tested into Mortuary Sciences instead of Plant Production, she’s been on a mission to ‘better my life,’ as she puts it.”

“Gotcha.” He frowns for a second. “Family’s important. The most important thing, really.”

Avoiding his intense stare, my gaze descends to the collarbones peeking out of his scrub top. What lovely clavicles. I almost reach out and touch them.

What is
wrong
with me? I must be so tired from our run that I’m losing my mind.

“Okay,” Franco says. “Fine. I’ll take you.”

“What?” I’m lost in his beautiful anatomy. “Take me where?”
What’s he talking about?

“Isn’t it obvious?” His eyes widen. “I’ll take you for a tour of Plant Production.”

I struggle to focus. “Why?” Did I miss part of the conversation?

He cocks his head. “Don’t you
want
to see it?”

“Yes, but—” I feel like a bouncing ball, trying to catch up to his next emotion. Friendly, angry, distressed—what’s next?

“Then it’s settled. You’ll come tomorrow on my short day.” Franco turns his attention back to Liam.

I stand in a daze. The outside world fades away. I get to see inside the greenhouses. I really get to see them. But why is Franco taking me? He’s obviously not doing it just to be nice.
Nice
isn’t really the right word for him.

“Silvia! Did you fall asleep?” Liam calls.

The guys are far ahead of me on the path. I hurry to catch up.

Franco elbows Liam as I approach. “Maybe she found out that you still play with dollies and is trying to ditch you.”

Liam laughs. “More likely she doesn’t want to hang out with you, the mad scientist, always thinking everybody is after your Top Secret super fruits and mega-vitamin vegetables.”

“I’ve got more secrets than you’ll ever dream of,” Franco warns then turns to me. “But if you don’t want to see my section of Plant Production, you don’t have to. I just thought you might find it interesting.”

“Yeah, I want to go.” My eyes catch on the way his muscular shoulders (deltoids, trapezius) fill out his jacket. Oh, do I ever.

“That is, if it’s okay with your mom.” Franco pats his pockets, searching for something.

“It’s my day off tomorrow, so she’ll be fine with it.” I don’t have to ask her permission. I’m old enough to make up my own mind, even if
he
doesn’t think so.

“Franco, you should work in Business Management like me,” interjects Liam. “Don’t you ever get sick of digging in the dirt?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve been there close to ten years now, and it only gets better.”

“Ten years?” I ask. That would make him almost twenty-five.

“Yeah.” Franco reaches in a pocket and pulls out a small book. “I interned with the best. Now I’m—”

“The best?” Liam smirks.

“That, too.” Franco glares good-naturedly at his cousin. “But what I was going to say is: now I teach my own interns.” He turns back to me and places a small book in my hands. “Here, take this.”

I glance down, hiding the blush that flares in both cheeks as his gentle touch sends a thrill up my bare arm.
Good grief—what is wrong with me?
The cover is hand-drawn, flowers spiraling along the border. I flip it open and scan the contents.

1. Edible plants.
   

2. Poisonous plants.
   

3. Medicinal plants.
   

4. Plants to produce or dye clothing.
   

5. Plant proteins.