Fight Dirty (20 page)

CHAPTER 37

M
organ waited for Micah to explain more about Bree, but he sat in silence, his face shuttered by grief. Maybe it was a mistake telling him the truth. Too late now. She tried a different tack. “Were you here when Bree arrived?”

He nodded. “
I’d
been here a week, was still overwhelmed, trying to find my footing. Didn’t help that other than Deidre and Nelson, the leader of the Red Shirts, I’m the oldest here—guess that made me threatening. I spent most of that first week in isolation. But then Bree came and they turned their attention to her.”

“Like they did with me?”

“No. No. You’re the only person—” He stopped then began again. “Bree began at Step Zero like everyone, but she seemed to understand Deidre, saw right through the games and stupid challenges. Bree didn’t let Deidre or anyone manipulate how she felt, but it was clear she already felt bad about something. She never confessed, at least not to the group, but—”

“She never went through the Purge?”

“I guess she made her own variation. That very first day she was here, she begged the rest of us to help her. Said she needed to earn our love.”

He turned his face away, staring up at the far corner of the ceiling. “Bree was just s
o . . .
lost. First time I saw Deidre cry—really cry, like weeping, tears that wouldn’t stop. I’ll never forget the two of them sitting on the floor surrounded by all of us, holding each other, crying. After that Deidre and Bree were inseparable. Until the day she left, that was.”

She bet the Red Shirts didn’t like that bond between Deidre and Bree. Upsetting the balance, gaining access to the person with the most power, circumventing the normal chain of command. “How did Nelson feel about that?”

“He was jealous of Bree—before her, he was the one Deidre confided in, kept close.”

“But nothing bad happened to Bree while she was here?”

“Nothing anyone else did to her. We all loved her. She brought us music—no one here played, but Bree convinced Deidre to open the music room, and she would play for hours and hours. Anything. Silly songs we all could sing along to. Music
I’d
never heard, not classical but rich like that, complicated. Bree would be like in a trance when she played that stuff, but she never finished the song, sh
e’d
always wake with a jerk, notes crashing around her.”

He stopped, rubbed his palms against his knees, as he remembered. “It was like waking a sleepwalker from a dream. The look on her face, startled by the real world—and desperate to return to the dream.”

Morgan restrained her impatience. She already knew Bree played the piano. She needed to understand more. “What about the Reverend? Did he single Bree out for special attention?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. He saw her every day. Would keep her for hours. I thought maybe—I was afraid, I mean, an old guy like that—but she said nothing ever happened. Said he never touched her, he only wanted to make her talk. Said she never did and tha
t’s
why he kept making her come back.”

“And you believed her?”

“Yes. She never acted afraid to go when he called for her. Treated it as if it was some kind of game and she was winning.” A tiny smile flitted across his face. “I had the feeling Bree never had a chance to feel like a winner before.”

“Did she ever talk about why her parents sent her here?”

He shook his head. “No. You could ask, but sh
e’d
never answer. Just said she needed to become a better person before she could go home.”

Didn’t sound like a rebellious teen to Morgan. Sounded like someone wh
o’d
been pounded down so hard that she blamed herself for everything.

“I’ll tell you one thing, though,” Micah continued. “Bree wasn’t excited about going home. If it wasn’t for helping Deidre and the rest of us, she would have never agreed to leave when her mother came. Especially after she saw how upset it made Deidre. Deidre accused Bree of abandoning her. I’ve never seen her so angry. Bree was torn—she wanted to stay with Deidre, but had no way to stop her mother from taking her.”

Okay. She hadn’t been expecting that—she was more than ready to blow this joint and sh
e’d
only been here a few hours, not two months. Maybe Bre
e’s
time here at ReNew had nothing to do with her death? If so, then Morgan was wasting her time.

“She never said why she didn’t want to go home? Maybe she and Deidre were more than friends?” Their relationship sounded intense, maybe a love affair? It would explain why Deidre had grown so angry and volatile after Bree left her.

Micah shook his head and gave another one of those shrugs, this one enigmatic.

Okay. She needed more answers. And she wasn’t going to find them here. She pushed up to her feet. “Le
t’s
go.”

Micah seemed reluctant to leave the quiet of the intake room. “Are you some kind of cop or undercover investigative reporter? What do you think really happened to Bree?”

“Not a cop or a reporter. And I have no idea.” When he remained sitting, she lowered her hand to help him up. “But I’m going to find out.”

They pushed through the doors to the commons room together. The room was empty except for two Red Shirts and Tommy. One of the Red Shirts, Nelson, watched and snickered as the second held Tomm
y’s
face down to the puddle of vomit Morgan had left.

“Stop it,” Micah called out.

The two Red Shirts spun around. Tommy tried to escape, but Nelson grabbed him by his shirt collar, twisting it viciously to hold the boy in place.

“You’re a Zero again, Micah. You can’t talk to me that way,” Nelson said.

“And you can’t touch him,” Micah protested. “Deidre said—”

“Deidre isn’t here. Sh
e’s
off getting saved by the Rev. How come he never sends for you, Micah?”

“Deidre must give better head,” the other Red Shirt snickered.

“Le
t’s
see how good this one is.” Nelson wrapped his arm around Tommy in a choke hold. The little boy whimpered. His face twisted as he tried to prevent the noise from escaping. He seemed to realize that showing weakness would only encourage these two hyenas.

Micah stepped toward Nelson. “Let him go.”

The second Red Shirt, a beefy red-faced wrestler-type, grabbed Mica
h’s
arm and pivoted him into a wristlock, forcing Micah to either bend forward or risk dislocating his shoulder.

“Maybe the new girl here wants to volunteer.” Nelson leered at Morgan and nodded to the other Red Shirt who twisted Mica
h’s
arm harder to pivot him toward her. Micah had no choice but to comply, the Red Shirt shoving him until Mica
h’s
face was in Morga
n’s
cleavage.

“How about it, Micah?” Nelson sang his name in a high-pitched approximation of Deidr
e’s
voice. “All that time you two spent in the showers. She must have been mm-mm good. Why don’t you two give us a demonstration?”

Morgan assessed her options. No weapons within reach—if you could call those damn broomsticks or the plastic chairs weapons. The Red Shirts took her silence as fear. Fools. She rubbed her right side, her fingers dancing over the fake scar above her right hip, and decided the one holding Micah would be the first to die. Then, with Micah free, it would be two against one.

“Leave them alone,” Micah said, his words gritted with pain. “Take me. Do anything you want.”

The Red Shirts laughed. “What makes you think we won’t, anyway?” said Nelson.

“Stop it!” Deidr
e’s
voice sliced through the air like a machete. “Let them go.” She stood in the doorway, the light from the hall silhouetting her, making her seem taller, majestic.

Nelson released Tommy who scurried to Morgan, hiding behind her, clutching her waist. She shook him free, needing to be able to move without him holding her back.

“How was your personal salvation lesson, Deidre?” Nelson asked with a sneer. “Did you see the face of God?”

Deidre strode forward and slapped him so hard he rocked back. His partner in crime took advantage of the moment, released Micah, and sidled out the door. Hopefully not to get reinforcements. Morgan doubted it; the guy had seemed like strictly a follower, not an alpha. Micah moved to stand with Morgan, Tommy behind them.

The silence that followed the slap seemed endless. Deidre and Nelson were trapped by some unseen force. Nelson raised his hand. Micah stepped forward, ready to defend Deidre, but instead of striking her, Nelson touched his cheek in surprise. He blinked, opened his mouth to say something, then fell into Deidr
e’s
arms.

Deidre wrapped herself around Nelson, and together they sank to the floor.

“Nelson,” Deidre crooned, soothing her hand across the Red Shir
t’s
face, pulling his head onto her lap. “Why? You were my strongest warrior. How did you lose your faith?”

Nelson shoved her hands away and pushed onto his knees, facing Deidre. “I’m aging out of this joint next week. My parents left me here for almost two years. Left me here to rot. In all that time, the Rev never called me in for any personal salvation. Wha
t’s
that mean? My soul isn’t worth saving and yours is? Or is it because you’re fucking the old man?”

His voice broke with unshed tears. It was obvious where the real source of his anger and pain lay. He was in love with Deidre. Faced with being forced to leave her, knowing she would never follow or reciprocate his love, it had driven him to rage. He wanted to hurt her, destroy everything sh
e’d
built.

Morgan knew the feeling. It was exactly how she felt about her father. A twisted love-hate that couldn’t be put into words.

Deidre wrapped her arms around the Red Shirt and pulled him to her. Morgan couldn’t hear what she whispered into his ear, but his shoulders twitched with silent sobs.

Micah took a step to the door. Deidre glanced up, not at Micah, at her. The newcomer. The one wh
o’d
upset the delicate balance of the sizzling stir-fry of adolescent emotions that was ReNew.

“You three. Wait for me in the room across the hall. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

Morgan followed Micah and Tommy into the classroom across the hall. There were no desks or chairs. The only decor consisted of more ReNew banners with their promise of a rainbow sunrise. In the corner a group of khaki-clad students sat in a circle on the floor, passing a Bible and reading from it under the watchful eye of a Red Shirt.

“Why did you do that?” Morgan asked in a low voice. “Offer yourself to him? You can’t show them any weakness or they’ll slaughter you.”

Micah gestured for Tommy to join the others as if hoping that by blending in, Deidre might forget him. When he started to follow Tommy without answering her, Morgan grabbed his arm, tired of all this nonsense and more than ready to get out of there.

“I don’t need any of your paternalistic crap,” Morgan snapped.

Micah was silent. He didn’t look at her. He watched the other kids around them, especially the Red Shirts.

“Need me to explain what paternalistic means?” she asked, annoyed when he didn’t answer.

“It means treating someone like they’re a child.” His gaze met hers, then slid off again. “I wasn’t treating you like a child, Morgan. I was treating you like you were one of us.”

“I told you, I’m not.” Last thing she wanted was him playing hero, getting in her way.

“Doesn’t matter why you’re here. While you are here, you’re one of us.” He turned and faced her, accepting the weight of her stare without flinching. “And in here, we watch out for each other. Nothing paternalistic about it—i
t’s
the only way to survive.”

CHAPTER 38

N
elson entered the classroom and beckoned to Morgan. To her irritation, Micah stepped forward between her and the Red Shirt. Had he heard nothing she said?

“Deidre wants to talk with you,” Nelson told her. He placed a palm against Mica
h’s
chest. “Just her.”

The two boys faced off, but Morgan ignored them and walked to the door. She remembered Deidr
e’s
rules: not looking a Red Shirt in the eyes, not speaking, not crossing a threshold without permission. It worked, because Nelson left Micah alone and joined her.

“Follow me,” he ordered.

They left, but not without Morgan looking back and giving Micah a nod, letting him know she was in control. It did nothing to ease the worry from his face. If he only knew what she was capable o
f . . .
of course, if he knew, he would have never let her get close to any of these kids, kids he obviously cared about and felt responsible for. He would have made sure she was locked away, to protect them from her.

It was the first time she could ever remember feeling regret about the truth of who she was. Just an instant, but it was an instant of weakness that she despised. Can’t change the past, she reminded herself as she shuffled down the hall behind Nelson.

He led her to what could only be the music room. An empty classroom, identical to all the others sh
e’d
seen, barren of all furniture, not even any gym mats or plastic chairs, the only thing in it was a small upright piano without a bench. It was positioned facing away from the windows so that whoever played could sit on the radiator grill.

No one played it now. Deidre leaned over the back of the piano, staring across the keys out the window to the March landscape appearing stark and cold in the glare of the spotlights ringing the schoo
l’s
exterior. A no-ma
n’s
-land between winter and spring filled with brown grass leading to a brown forest, barren twigs scratching a moonlit sky. Deidre stroked the keys as if stroking a love
r’s
cheek, gentle enough that she caused no sound.

Morgan watched Deidre out of the corner of her eye, waiting. Nelson shifted his weight in the doorway behind her, made a small sound. “Do you want me to stay?”

Deidre shook her head without turning around. Nelson waited a moment longer, then finally left, closing the door behind him. The sound of the latch catching seemed abnormally loud, but Deidre didn’t flinch. Her fingers caressed the keys, forward and back, forward and back.

Finally she pressed one white key. A single tone filled the space before dying.

“I imagine you’re confused,” Deidre said, her voice soft but loud enough to carry to Morgan.

“Yes,” Morgan answered, still not looking up.

“You don’t know what to expect.”

“No.” Morgan let the silence grow, sensing Deidre wanted to talk—just as Micah had earlier. It was a useful tool, silence. Norms hated it, always wanted to fill it up, would tell you their deepest, darkest secrets just to end the silence.

Deidre sighed, turned to face her. “I’m sorry you heard that. What Nelson said. H
e’s
upset about leaving his family.”

“I thought he was going home next week,” Morgan ventured.

“You don’t understand.
We’re
his family—not the parents who abandoned him. Just like we’ll be your family. If you follow the path and truly repent. You want to repent, don’t you, Morgan? You want to shed your sinful ways and be ReNewed?”

Morgan nodded, an eager sheep. “Yes, yes, of course.”

“Good. Tha
t’s
all I want for you—for everyone here. Tha
t’s
all the good Reverend Doctor wants as well.”

“But Nelson, what he said—”

“He was wrong. The good Reverend Doctor isn’t interested in carnal knowledge. All h
e’s
interested in is saving souls. Cleansing us all from evil.” Deidr
e’s
shoulders sagged as if she carried a heavy burden. Her palms went to her belly. “I
t’s
my job to carry your sins, to cleanse them.”

Morgan nodded even though she had no idea what the hell Deidre was talking about. The silence lengthened, Deidr
e’s
attention wandering back to the piano.

“Do you play?” Morgan asked.

Deidre shook her head. “Not me. There was a girl, Bree. She made such sweet music—it was the sound of angels come to dance among us. She understood.”

More silence. Deidre didn’t seem to mind it, so Morgan pressed her. “Understood what?”

“Bree understood me. My job. How important it is that someone lead. The price to be paid. She was willing to take up my burden, to help me escape. All we needed was a little more time—”

Again her hands moved to her belly. Morgan doubted she was even aware that she did it. Deidre reminded her of Bre
e’s
mother, Caren. Emotions zigzagging in every direction from the raging lunatic fanatic attacking Morgan earlier to healing lover comforting Nelson and now to quiet, reflective true believer. Which was the real Deidre?

The girl had been here seven years, she reminded herself. Maybe they were all part of her—maybe she had no idea who she was or what was real anymore, a shattered mirror, each piece reflecting a sliver of the truth but never the whole.

“She left without you?” Morgan risked asking. “This Bree? She left you behind?”

Deidre jerked her head up. “No. You don’t understand.” Her tone sharpened, slicing through the air between them. “I was the one who was meant to go. Bree was meant to stay, take my place. It was my time to be free.”

Morgan stood silent, letting the emotions settle around them both. Did Deidre really think that? That Bree would stay and take her place here rather than return home, to the freedom of the outside world? It sounded like the delusions of a desperate woman. And if there was one thing Morga
n’s
father had taught her to know and use, it was desperation.

“What did you mean? When you said you knew who I was, that I didn’t fool you?” It was a risk, challenging Deidr
e’s
delusions, but Morga
n’s
curiosity got the better of her.

Deidre whirled on her, her glare piercing. “I know you. I see the truth. You are a sinner, just like me. You know sin, you know blood, you revel in it. You understand salvation only comes through pain.”

She stepped toward Morgan, her face flushing with excitement. “I was wrong about Bree. She wasn’t who I’ve been waiting for. I
t’s
you. You’re the one. The sacrificial lamb. You’ll carry the sins, the blood for all of them. Just like I’ve done.”

Sacrificial lamb? Morgan? Deidre was mad, utterly mad. Morgan stared, half-tempted to slap the other girl back to reality. Her hand rose, but then she dropped it. Challenging Deidre wasn’t going to get her any answers about Bree.

None of these kids could help her. Best thing she could do was find those records and get the hell out of here.

Deidre paced a circle around Morgan, scrutinizing her. “You’ll do. You’re strong enough. You’ll carry the blood.”

Suddenly she stopped and clapped her hands like a child getting ready to blow out her birthday candles. “Nelson! Take her away.”

Nelson popped inside the door so fast Morgan knew he must have been listening.

“Take her to Iso. Her and Micah Chase. No one is to speak to her. No one except me.” She grabbed both of Morga
n’s
hands, just as she had earlier. Morgan resisted the urge to jerk away. Deidr
e’s
eyes shone, as she squeezed tight. “Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you. The good Reverend Doctor will be so very pleased with your offering. I just know it.”

Then she let go, spun on her heel, and danced away, leaning over the piano and randomly hitting notes with gleeful abandon. Nelson took Morgan by the arm and ushered her out of the room.

“You tell anyone what you saw, what she said, any of that crazy shit, and I’ll kill you,” he told her. “No. Better. I saw you with Micah. You step out of line, do anything to hurt Deidre, and I’ll kill him.” He shook her so hard she almost lost her balance. “Do you understand?”

Morgan looked down before he could see the fury in her eyes and nodded sheepishly. She followed meekly, memorizing their path. What did she care about his threats or Deidr
e’s
madness? She was getting out of here. Tonight.