Writing on the Wall (12 page)

“What was he before?” I ask, trying to shake
away the imagery that phrase is attempting to force into my mind.

“He was you.” she says, matter of fact. “And that’s why he likes you so much.”

“What do you mean he was me? Ten years ago nobody was living like I do.”

“Vin was. He was a kid your age from the wrong side of town
living almost exactly as you do now. A runaway alone, trying to avoid becoming affiliated with a gang and scraping out a life for himself. And he wanted more, just like you.”

“I don’t know
that I’ve ever wanted more.” I say softly, feeling embarrassed somehow. “I think I’ve always just wanted to keep what I had.”

“This Ryan of yours, is he something new for you?”

“Yeah.” I admit softly.

“He’s something different. Something more, and I can tell from your eyes that he’s something you want. You’re a
hard as nails survivor and a closet softy. So was Vin. He still is, he’s just locked up the softy in the closet tight and he’ll never let him out again.”

“It’s probably for the best, right?”

She shrugs. “That’s not my place to say. Everyone has to decide for themselves how they want to handle this life. You need to choose whether or not you want to survive or you want to live.”

I stare at my hands thinking of brown eyes, stolen kisses, scribbled messages and how
, despite my present situation, it was all worth it.

“Living is harder, isn’t it?”
I ask, looking up at her. “It’s more dangerous.”

“Much more.” she agrees. Then she smiles at me. “Which is why I know you
can do it.”

***

That night I wake up to the blurry sight of a dark face coming at me. A hand grips my head, clamping down on my mouth. It’s my worst nightmare come true; a crawler catching me sleeping.

I don’t have time to think. I go on autopilot and my system is programmed for violence. I punch the face as hard as I can. There’s a groan as I make contact and the hand falls away from my mouth. I sit up quickly, rear back and punch again, this time catching the thing in the side of the head
behind the ear. It screams, something that should strike me as odd, but I ignore it. I’m still half asleep and scared out of my mind so it could stand up, plead for mercy forwards, backwards and in Latin and I’d still beat its face in.

I grab the pillow off my bed as I launch myself at the figure. I grab its
dark hair and yank its head back hard until it falls backwards onto the ground. Then I pounce. I’m straddling its chest, just about to bring the pillow down over its mouth to protect me from its teeth while I drive me knee down on its throat until it snaps, when it speaks.

“Please don’t! Please stop!”

I hesitate. My chest is heaving and every muscle in my body is screaming to finish the job but I rein it in. I take in my surroundings. I remind myself where I am. Who I’m with. And when I look down I realize with horror that I’m about to kill a living human being.

I scurry backwards away from her until I’m pinned up against my bed’s frame.

“What the hell?” I gasp.

The girl sits up slowly
, swaying side to side. She’s holding her hand to the side of her face where I punched her in the cheek. I can’t see her very well in the dark but I know that’s going to bruise because my right hand is aching. It’s nothing compared to what she must be feeling. Or what she’ll be feeling tomorrow.

“What’s going on?” someone calls from the other side of the room.

“Nothing.” my assailant calls lightly, shaking her head as though to clear it. I got her good behind the ear. Her equilibrium will be jacked for a while. “The new girl had a bad dream. I came over to check on her. She’s fine.”

“Go back to sleep.” someone else grumbles nearby.

“We are.” she replies. As she stands up, she has to grab onto a nearby bed to keep her balance. She offers me her hand. “Right, Joss?”

I shake my head and stand up on my own, watching her
closely. She’s drenched in shadows and I can’t make out her face. All I know is her height, build and that she’ll have a hell of a black eye tomorrow.

“This isn’t over.” I whisper fiercely. “I’m gonna find you.”

She nods faintly and whispers, “I hope you do.”

The next morning I’m on shiner watch. I’m looking at every woman I pass trying to find long dark hair, a petite build and a face with my knuckles written all over it. At breakfast I sit with Vin as I always do but I notice we’re not alone. Two other men about his age come to sit with us and a middle aged woman I’ve never seen before sits herself right down beside me. I look her over quickly. Too tall.

“
Joss, have you met Sandra?” Vin asks, gesturing with his fork between myself and the Amazonian beside me. I’m surprised by his genial tone and use of my actual name.

“No. Hi.” I reply curtly.

Vin frowns at me but I ignore him. He talks and laughs with his new friends as I slowly eat my pancakes. Throughout the meal I scan the crowd. I don’t see anyone that fits the shadow I wrestled with last night and I’m starting to wonder if she’s even on the same sleep cycle. Maybe she was just coming off shift when she decided to stop by and try to murder me.

As the room clears out I begin to lose hope of finding her today. Vin’s friends
eventually leave. I go to stand to leave as well but he stops me by slamming his hand down on my tray, knocking it back to the table loudly.

“What’s your deal?” I exclaim, glaring at him.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You need to get to making friends with these people.”

I shake my head and look away. “You sound just like Nats.”

“She’s a smart woman, you should listen to her. I know social skills aren’t your thing, but at least try.”

“Why do we need to make friends with them?”

“To use them.”

“That’s chipper.”

“Do you want out of here?”

“Yes.”

“Then get off your high horse and help me out.”

I sit back from him, taking in his angry eyes and the harsh line of his mouth. He’s never been mad at me before. It’s intimidating and I hate it
that he can do this to me.

“What are we using them for?”

“Eric and Tim, the guys sitting beside me who you ignored, they work in the fields. Do you know where the fields are?”

“
Outside the building where we’re not allowed.” I reply quietly.

None of us were selected for outdoor duties permanently. Not yet. We’ve had private counseling sessions with our Team Leaders (mine is Melissa and I’m just grateful it’s not Barbie) to discuss our transition into the community. Despite his charms, Vin wasn’t chosen to go outside either. They don’t trust us ne
ar the fence lines unsupervised. I can’t say I blame them. Given the chance I’d risk the freezing waters to get out of here. No question.

“And Sandra works in the laundry. How could the laundry be helpful to us,
Joss?”

I thought it was weird that he was using my name before but I find it condescending and annoying now
. He’s treating me like a child. I’m thinking I’ve already punched one person in the past 24 hours and I wouldn’t mind doing it again.

“Clothing. Warm clothing and lots of it.
”

“Nailed it.” he says, smacking his hand on the table loudly. “Next time I expect you to act a little friendlier and remember that we would like to get out of here before we die.”

He rises to leave but I stand quickly as well, leaning over the table and shoving my finger in his face.

“And next time
you
try and remember that you’re not my pimp, I’m not one of your girls and if you want my help you’ll watch the way you talk to me. Understood?”

This is a moment in my life when I seriously wonder if I’m going to get slapped. I’m mouthing off to a Stable Boy from The Hive, a guy whose job it is to keep women in line, doing what they’re told and making the very testy, very violent men at the top of his
food chain happy. He minds the coffers and the coins all have PMS. It can’t be an easy job. It could easily be one he manages with an iron fist.

His jaw works under the taught skin of his face. It clenches and release
s as he chews on what I’ve said. He carefully, dispassionately considers me. His calm is freaking me out. I’d rather he was yelling. I’d almost rather he hit me. Eventually what he does is smile.

“Understood, Kitten.” he replies, his voice low and rough.

His eyes bore into me with a heat that I recognize. A hunger I’ve seen before. It reminds me of Ryan and it hurts in my heart like you wouldn’t believe. I haven’t let the thought sink in because it’s massively inconvenient and wholly unlike me, but it’s undeniable. I miss him.

I lower my hand. “Don’t.”

He grabs my hand before I can pull it back. He uses it to pull me forward over the table. I have to brace myself on my other hand so I don’t fall over. Suddenly my face is inches from his.

“Don’t what?”

I look him hard in the eye and shake my head firmly. “Don’t make it like this. We’re not like this, you and I.”

“Who’s to say we couldn’t be?”

“Me.”

He chuckles. It smells like
honey, dripping and sweet. “Come on, Kitten. Don’t you ever get tired of being alone?”

“Are you gonna
fix that for me, Vin? Are you gonna be with me and stay with me forever? Can you handle that?”

“Is that what you’re looking for?” he asks me, his voice and grip tightening. “The fairytale and forever after?
Because I’ll break it to you now; it’s a myth. It always has been.”

“I’m not holding out for forever. I’d be happy with tomorrow but you can’t even promise me that so let’s stop this before it gets weird and we can’t come back from it.” I feel eyes on us and I look over his shoulder to see Caroline there in the doorway. Her
eyes are livid. They’re promising me the eternity Vin can’t, only this one I imagine to be far less enjoyable. “And before your girlfriend gets the wrong idea.”

“My what?” He follows my
eyes over his shoulder. When he sees Caroline he curses, clenching his hand and pinching mine in the process. I let out a small whimper of pain that makes him jerk his head back to me. “What’s wrong?”

“Let go of me.” I say, swatting at him. When he releases me I rub my hand, trying to ease the ache.

“What happened to your hand?”

“
I got in a fight.” I grumble.

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Did you win?”

I glare at him. “Are you serious? Of course I won.”

“What happened?”

“A girl jumped me while I was sleeping. I punched her in the face. Then in the ear. Finally she went away.”

“Why?”

“Because I punched her.” I enunciate slowly.

“Why did she jump you?”
he growls.

“No idea.” I say looking back at the doorway. Caroline is gone. She’s too short and the hair color is all wrong anyway.
“But if it happens again, I’m finishing what she started.”

***

Four days after the attack I still haven’t found the girl who did it. I’m wondering if she’s hiding and her words about wanting me to find her were all talk. I cross paths with Nats and ask her to keep a look out on her shift but so far no luck there either. I’m beginning to think the chick is a magician and either escaped or has moved on to another Colony.

I take Nats and Vin’s advice.
I start to make friends with the people in the kitchen. There are six of us in there during our shift, four women and two men. I find it surprisingly easy to talk to them, almost like they were waiting for me to give them the chance. And what do they want to hear about most from the girl from the outside?

The gangs.

“Is it true they eat people?” Steven, a portly forty-ish guy asks me.

He’s one of the very few people I’ve seen in the last decade with any kind
of weight problem. I have a feeling it’s got a lot to do with the “tasting” that he does in here. He’s the head chef and rightly so. The man is a magician with water, carrots and thyme. I’m convinced he could make manure edible.

“Some of them do.” I say cautiously, cutting up apples. Endless amounts of apples for canning and eating and applesauce and apple bread and who knows what else. “Not all of them, though. As far as I know there’s only one gang that does.”

“Have you ever seen them?” Crystal asks. She’s about Steven’s age but whisper thin with hair almost as red as mine.

“Yeah, from afar. They look totally normal. Just like you and me.” I tell her, heading off the question I see coming.

People think that just because you eat someone you look like a freak. Not so. Serial killers were charming, upstanding members of society back when there was one and the cannibals in the wild are the same way. It’s the freakiest thing about them; their normalcy.

“Do they really keep Risen as pets?”

“Not that I’ve ever seen, but I’ve heard about zombie fights.”

“What, like boxing a zombie?” Steven asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“No, like cock fights.”

“Oh.
How do you get them to fight each other?”

I don’t answer. I don’t want to, not around all this food. How they do it… it’s disturbing.
It involves masks. What the masks are made of is the key here. That is if it’s true, which it might not be. I actually really hope it’s not.

Amber, a brunette with bright eyes and a face that reminds me
of Breanne, changes the subject. I’m eternally grateful.

“
Is it true most guys in gangs are gay?”

I laugh so hard I almost cut my finger instead of the apple.
Tears spring in my eyes. “Please ask Vin that. Please!”

Amber laughs as well, but blushes. She’ll never ask him but I don’t care. That moment in the kitchen is the best
and brightest I’ve had in weeks. I feel like I’m doing Nats and Vin proud making friends. But for some reason Melissa pulls me out of the kitchen a few days later and gives me some terrible news.

It’s time for me to try my hand at sewing.

I wish they’d let me save us all the trouble and listen to me when I say that this is not my place. But Melissa isn’t hearing any of it.

“You’ll do great!” she beams, leading
me through the building to where they store the machines and fabrics. “Everyone has hidden talents. You have so much potential but you’ve been robbed of the chance to experience it. We’re giving that back to you. It’s so exciting!”

I am not excited.

She continues to lead me toward the sewing room, which I think is odd. I know where it is because I saw it on the tour. I tell her as much but, again, she isn’t hearing it.

“I want to make sure you meet everyone and get settled in.” she insists.

She wants to make sure I show up is what it is and fair enough because, left unattended, I wouldn’t set foot in that room. As it turns out I’m glad I do. The second we walk in and all heads lift from their work to see who has arrived, I come face to face with my attacker.

The room is laid out long and narrow.
A large loom that I imagine was part of an exhibit sits at the far end along with two ancient looking sewing machines, the kind from the old days that you pedaled with your feet instead of running on electricity. Most of the 10 or so women in here are sitting at long tables with baskets of fabric, pins, patterns and God knows what else in front of them but I only have eyes for one.

“Everyone, we have a newbie here.” Melissa sings, pulling me forward to put me on display. “This is
Joss. She’s been through a lot of the outdoor jobs recently, staying out in the fresh air. She’s needed to take her time adjusting to the good life.”

She smiles at me as the room breaks into small chuckles.

I smile faintly, trying to look sheepish. “I’m blown away by having a hairbrush again. Everything else is a little overwhelming.”

More
soft chuckles around the room. I can feel all eyes on me as they weigh me down with their pity. Melissa even whispers an “Oooh” and rubs her hand on my back. I resist the urge to shake free.

“Well,
that nightmare is over. You’re safe and sound with us now, sweetie. Girls, let’s make her feel at home, alright? Who would like to show her the ropes?”

All hands in the room rise eagerly. All but one. I look at my attacker and watch as she tentatively raises her hand, obviously not sure about being in close quarters with me. But if she doesn’t raise her hand like everyone else it will look suspicious and the sheep mentality of this joint rolls over me hard in a hot, smothering wave.

I have got to get out of here.

“Lovely, thank you!” Melissa cries, happy to see everyone so eager to take me on. She gestures to the group and smiles at me. “Take your pick.”

I pick the hesitant girl with the fading yellow bruise around her eye.

She’s about twenty five or so, petite and kind of mousy. I’m pretty surprised she felt confident enough to take me on. My left shoe weighs more than this girl.