Tainted (16 page)

“Then we’ll end up at another book-turned-movie movie,” Jason complains.

“Yeah.” Bree puts her hands on her hips. “And if you guys pick, we end up enduring something with fast cars, girls with big boobs, and stuff that explodes.”

Jason cracks a big smile, and then dodges a swing from Bree.

“Enough,” Emma says, “Everyone pick out a movie, then we’ll put them through RANDOM.ORG and see what comes up.”

Leave it to Em to resort to Internet geekery to make a decision. I run my fingers through her hair, then tug it gently. She turns, and I drag her mouth to mine. Electricity and warmth. She sighs, and leans deeper into the kiss, and I press her lips open. When we’re together like this, nothing matters, not what I did to her, not what she might’ve done to others, not the pain I’m in. It’s just Em and me and everything’s right.

“Whoa. Break!” Bree says. “Give the boy air, Em.”

I could go without breathing for a while…

“OK,” Bree says, “Em suggested collecting movie titles and going all nerd girl to pick a winner. Who’s in?”

“Deal,” Jason says. Bree arches an eyebrow and says, “Fine.”

“I’m good with it,” I agree. “Then we’ll make calls and firm up the time.”

As if on cue, all four of our phones ring at the same time. Emma fishes hers out of my scarf, then hands mine to me. Jason and Bree both get theirs out, too.

Unknown caller
.

We all load the message, another video clip. It freezes on a frame of Emma at the Ascension Lab gates. When it completes the download, Emma walks toward the front doors. Static distorts her image, then devours the screen. Em, Bree, and Jason share stunned looks. I watch it again, squinting at the timestamp in the lower right corner. According to the timestamp, it was as Paul said, about a half-hour before the reports came in, right about the time I was on the highway headed to the mall. The ASCN L M1 designates the footage is property of our lab.

Paul said he destroyed this. How can I trust him when another incident has dragged itself into the light? As important: where did it come from?

Why are we all receiving this?

I push the icon to return the call, and get another “not in service” message.

“You were not seeing friends,” I say, as Emma slinks down and huddles at my side again. She stretches an arm over me. “Were you?”

“That’s all I remember,” she says, voice meek. “Those words keep rolling through my head.”

“Friends don’t bring friends to Ascension Labs,” Jason says.

I arch an eyebrow at him. That line is worse than him and I blasting undead and him missing the joke.

“Well?” He crosses his arms. “That place set off the alarms on my weird shit meter.”

“Mine, too.” I agree.

“Totally creeps me out,” Bree adds.

Emma says nothing, her attention focused on her phone, watching the video of herself over and over, her fingers tightening around the phone like she wants to throttle the truth from it.

“I don’t remember this,” she says. “I don’t.”

“We’ll figure it out, Em,” I promise.

“How?” Confusion and fear make her voice loud in the sterile environment.

“By taking you to Ascension Labs.” We will run a battery of blood tests. They will have to tell us something.

“I’ve already been there.” She sounds so defeated it hurts my heart.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

My new definition of awkward? Sitting to dinner with my grandparents and watching a news segment about the animal attacks the night before.

With perfect diction, dark-haired Eliza Mennov tells the viewers, “Three people have died from their injuries, one a young girl from Shelley High. Her parents have asked for privacy.” Gran gasps and reaches for Grandpa’s hand. I know who it is. Marin Rhodes. I never believed in survivor’s guilt until now. I should’ve run quicker, thought less about the blond girl, done something,
anything
to help her. “The animals have been caught,” Eliza continues, “and are being tested. Preliminary lab reports suggest they were given a cocktail of drugs that caused their massive size, and rabid behavior. All the animals were microchipped, and owned by Ascension Labs.

“What other horrors are hidden at Ascension Labs?” she continues, sober-faced and directly to the camera. “What costs are we paying for their medical advancements? All requests for an interview have been deni–”

The screen goes black. When I look away from the silenced television, Grandpa holds the remote pointed at the box like an accusation. He leans to the side and slides the controller onto the counter. “I don’t know what mess you’ve got going on over there, Alex,” he says, eyes on me despite Gran’s concerned shushing. “But you had better get it sorted soon.”

I don’t have a mess,
I want to argue.

That’s a lie. Emma needs the weekly injections now. Hailey’s going off the rails and trying to take me with her. Paul might be involved. With the news and police investigations, it’s going to be harder and harder to hide what my father did there. I’m tempted to shut the entire lab down, but we have contracts to fulfill, real, life-saving medicines to produce. I let out a long breath, meet Grandpa’s eyes and then drop my gaze to my plate.

Renfield coils around my feet, waiting, I’m sure, for the hasty escape he must sense is coming. Breakfast from Mugz-n-Chugz has solidified in my gut, I do not want to add gravy on top. I lift a sheepish glance to Gran, and ask, “May I be excused?”

“Yes,” she says. Then Grandpa adds, “From the table, but not from your responsibilities.”

“Yessir.”

Restrained conversation crops up between them the moment I leave the kitchen. The side of my head throbs, and helps drown out their terse words. Emma’s white cat sits beside my pillows when I push the door mostly closed. I’m already in pajama pants, so I collapse to the bed, and drag the feline close. On a normal day, he would leap away, and possibly bitch me out. Today, he nestles closer, his tail flicking, brushing the oversensitive skin of my forearm.

I don’t bother looking at the puncture marks, or the little black stitches holding the bigger tears together. Friday morning, after my shot and power surge, the skin will crawl with regeneration. Creepy and cool – or maybe I’m just a little sick and enjoy it.

Will Emma come to enjoy the surreal healing? How will she handle her first intentional serum injection and charge? Will she go willingly, or will she fight it?

Are we safe to trust our lives to Paul?

Renfield readjusts when I pull my cellphone close and open the messaging program. I click on the thread with Emma and type:
The truth is, sometimes Bree reminds me of a poodle
.

I run my fingers down the cat’s fur, his rumbling purr the only sound in the room. He’s become such a constant, such a friend, I’m really going to miss him when he can finally go live with the Gentrys again. Maybe Gran and Grandpa will let me get a dog. More likely Gran will take pity on me and guilt-trip Grandpa into letting me have one. I can see where my mother got her spunk from.

The side of my face feels hot when I prod it. Ache lives in the bones now. For a little while, at least. I’m luckier than the other victims. Before my thoughts can drift too far into the memory of seeing Marin taken down, my cellphone tells me Emma’s responded.

LOL
, the text reads.
Bree is high energy, and definitely as sassy as a poodle. Give me more!

I knew that would make her smile. Closing my eyes, I can picture her lying on the bed in their guest room, knees bent with her slippers bouncing above the curve of her butt, and her blond hair spilling over her shoulders. Her freckles would scrunch on her nose.

Rubbing the cat’s ears, I settle back on the pillows and type:
The truth is, Jason’s been the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m going to miss him when he goes to college
.

Here on my bed, with the farmhouse finally quiet, I can hear a hint of buzzing in my right ear. I probably damaged the eardrum when I fell in the parking lot. Sleep drifts in on silent feet, the kind of spirit I welcome in this muddled living undead life.

Before the phone screen fades to black, Emma texts again:
At least he and Bree will be together at Grand Valley. That’s not too far to visit them. And he’ll be home on weekends
.

Since I woke up from resurrection, I haven’t thought of much besides Emma. In some ways, Daniel was more alive in me than I was – it was natural for me to follow where he led. The horrid theft my father committed was a blessing and a gift, because it brought me to a wonderful girlfriend and true, honest friends in Jason and Bree. I would never have thought of missing Trent when we attended Sadony Academy. Now, I think about the hole Jason will leave in my life and hate it.

Send me another one
,
Emma demands.

Of course I can’t say no to her.

The truth is
,
I type,
I like hot cocoa with vanilla and cinnamon, and I would love to share one with you
.

Drowsy, I nestle deeper into my bed, pull my phone charger cord close and plug it in. Sleep hovers over the bed now, wisps sweeping over my eyes, sinking into my bones.

Emma sends one more message before I crash into the waiting black:

We have our entire future to share – cocoa and everything else. I <3 you
.

Thursday afternoon, Emma and I are alike in the pasty pale department. Dark shadows smudge the skin beneath her eyes. The color contrast makes her irises a more vibrant blue. She smiles at me from across the Ransoms’ sunken family room.

According to Bree, her parents had the addition put in, eating close to half their backyard, when she was twelve. Ruined her best tanning spot too, she added with a perturbed pinch to her eyebrows. The room extends from the dining room slider doors into the yard and along the left half of the house. Two walls are glass windows and French doors, one wall is brick, with shelves and a big screen TV. A big gas fire place takes up much of the last wall.

The floor is sunken, with built-in padded benches lining the circumference.

Now, the flames dance over the fake logs in the fireplace, Bree and Jason huddle around the computer desk wedged into the corner. Emma climbs down the steps, then wades through throw pillows to stand next to my legs. She stands a little over five feet above me, eyes shadowed and mysterious, her blond hair loose around her shoulders. In her ripped jeans, black hoodie and fingerless gloves Emma looks like a naughty angel. And I like it.

I hold a hand up in invitation. “Com’ere.”

With a tip of her hips, she steps one foot across my thighs, and then sinks to straddle my lap. Bree looks over from across the room, huffs a breath, then turns back to the computer. The room shrinks to fit the space occupied by me and Em when she slips her arms around me and cuddles down to my chest.

“The fade looks good on you,” I say. I know I shouldn’t. Girls get all weird and offended when you talk about their looks.

“The fade?” she echoes.

“That’s what I call the symptoms of the formula wearing off. You’re tired, energy’s drained…”

“Yeah.” She unzips my sweatshirt and presses her cheek to my T-shirt. I can’t help but wonder if she hears my heart beating, or Daniel’s.

“Emergizer’s not so Emergetic?” I tease. Poor taste, really, because I’m the one that bound her to an energy pulse once a week.

“Ha ha, Alex. Very ha ha.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s OK. Better than the alternative, right?” Em catches cool fingers in my neckline, and pulls that down, too, and then buries her face in my bare neck. “And speaking of sorrys,” she adds, “I’m sorry about the animals.”

“You didn’t let them out,” I argue. She has nothing to apologize for. “Someone else had to have done it.”

“Not them,” she says, and bites my earlobe. Not hard, but enough to let me know I was on the wrong track. “The ones on your property.”

“Oh.” Is it sad to appreciate the apology? They were nothing I should’ve had, nothing I should’ve held onto. Clinging to the undead animals made me feel less of a freak. But it was very wrong to do to them. Emma might have flipped personalities, but she was right in ending them. “They weren’t really alive,” I say. “Not like us.”

“I still feel bad.” She’s so close she could be another part of me. Her personal pain makes us very separate. “I remember that deer when she was alive. I would’ve loved to see her
living
.
”

“Me, too.” Her arms constrict around my ribs, and I press my lips to the top of her head. She and the deer have been inexplicably bound in my head, and I think maybe on some level, Emma feels the same. In her pain, Em has offered me insight into something I can do to make her happy again.

Vibrations from my phone buzz up through my side, and possibly Emma’s thigh where it’s pressed to me. Since the afternoon in the hospital, we all dread the ring of a cell phone. Emma drops off my lap to the side like the phone stung her. We share a glance then look to Bree and Jason, oblivious with their faces in the computer screen. So, whatever the call is, it’s just for me.

Silence reigns for a minute or two, long enough to relax before the phone rings again.

“Answer it,” Em says. She’s trying to be tough, but I hear the tremor of fear in her voice.

The phone comes from my pocket with the display screen lit and announcing the caller is Paul Stanton.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Are the Ransoms there?” No greeting, no wasting time.

“Actually, no, Bree’s parents are out. Why?”

“I think your idea of a portable kit and blood draw there is a good idea,” Paul says. Random noises come through the phone, what sounds like the rustle of a jacket, the short zip of a blood draw kit. “Now is the best time to get base readings on Emma,” he continues. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He disconnects the call, leaving me a little stunned. And worried. Is he operating on an agenda to help Em and me, or hurt us?

“What was that about?” Emma asks.