Colony East (2 page)

Shocked, she gaped out the window. The gang had already retreated to the other side of the street. Grateful for her parched throat, Abby quickly ducked out of sight.

Peering out the window, careful to avoid a shard of glass inches from her nose, she saw four shapes close to each other. One kid stood a foot taller. He had to be Brad.

As Abby moved from the window, something rustled outside. “It’s her,” Brad shouted.

The flashlight flicked on, and the beam locked onto a girl coming out of the shrubs across the street. She wore a green jacket and had long hair. She ran straight at them, like a bull charging a matador. Then she veered away at the last second and dashed down Pearl Street. Like lions after a gazelle, the four kids broke after her.

It made no sense. Why did the girl run at them? Abby chalked it up to the craziness of the mainland.

Expecting Brad’s gang to come back for the motorcycle and to demand pills if they didn’t catch the girl, Abby jiggled Jordan’s shoulder. “Hey, wake up.”

He grunted, folded his arms and rolled over.

The stories of what her brother could sleep through were legendary. Fire engines. Fog horns. Screaming toddlers. “Jordie, c’mon.” When she jiggled him again, he swatted her hand away.

Accepting defeat, she moved to the others. It tugged at her heartstrings to see Mandy sucking her thumb, and Timmy clasping Mandy’s free hand with both of his. Abby shuddered when she recalled Mandy’s tearful admission, but it helped her understand why Mandy, who had only known Timmy for a matter of hours, was acting like his fierce protector. Even huddled together in the chair, they looked cold, so she covered them with a jacket.

Deciding to let all of them sleep, Abby grabbed their only beer and tilted the can to her lips. It was a special purple brew, made to celebrate the comet. She took a tiny sip, which barely moistened her swollen tongue, and closed her eyes, savoring the pale wash of flavor. She wanted to throw her head back and guzzle the rest to quench her powerful thirst, but she saved the rest for the others.

She slid the piano bench beside the window to keep watch. The eastern sky showed a trace of light through the hazy smoke. She eyed front yards where she had once played, while her mind replayed the voices of neighbors who died the night of the purple moon. She had grown numb to the staggering loss of people who had once been part of her life.

Daffodils bloomed in the garden below the window. The sob came without warning, along with tears that Abby couldn’t believe she had left. They trickled down her cheeks. She had helped her mom plant the daffodil bulbs three years ago.

Abby’s feelings about her mother were still raw. She and Jordan had buried Dad last year. They, along with Toucan, had grieved as a family. But Mom was here in the house, right upstairs in bed, undisturbed for the past year.

Jordan had gone to her bedroom. “Mom looks so peaceful. Abby, go see her.”

Abby was holding on to a special image in her mind—her mom on the Castine Island ferry, healthy and happy, red hair blowing in the wind, waving from the deck. Abby wanted to preserve that memory of her mother.

Dawn broke and swept away the shadows and her dark thoughts. Tall weeds sprouted from cracks in the sidewalk, and a carpet of oak and maple leaves covered the street. Nature was reclaiming the city. Abby wondered if, someday, Cambridge would resemble an ancient Mayan city swallowed up by jungle, or would kids, with help from the few remaining adults, preserve and rebuild it.

The sky brightened to a burnished gray as billows of black smoke boiled up in the distance. The smoke was so thick and black that it blotted out the sun. Would this fire alter their plans? Could they get to the airport by taking the route she knew, or would they have to find a different way?

That and other problems weighed heavily on her mind, and soon, Abby could no longer stand being alone, no matter how much the others needed rest. She looked up and down the street a final time, then turned to the scene of sleeping kids.

“Hey, time to get up.” Abby pressed her hand on Jordan’s shoulder. Once again he slapped her hand away. He was living up to his reputation of being a grumpy, hibernating bear. She considered dragging him off the couch, which would serve him right.

The front doorknob clicked and Abby froze.

How stupid could she be? Brad’s gang had doubled back. They’d been watching her at the window all this time and made their move the moment she stepped away.

Her heart boomed. She rushed to Mandy and squeezed her arm. Mandy’s eyes shot open. Abby put a finger to her lips and pointed in the direction of the door.

Mandy understood instantly. She pulled Timmy’s head close and placed her hand over his mouth. “Shhhh,” she whispered in his ear.

The door squeaked.

Abby held up four fingers, showing Mandy the number of kids they had to fight. Then she held up one finger with her hand raised to show that one of the kids was a monster. Mandy nodded and removed her knife from its sheath. The sight of the long blade sent a chill down Abby’s spine.

Mandy set the sheath on the floor. Then she tapped Timmy and pointed to a corner of the room, wanting the boy a safe distance away. Timmy stood his ground, ready to take on any threat. Mandy narrowed her eyes and shot him a look. He tiptoed to the corner with a scowl.

When the door clicked shut, Abby feared the gang was inside.

Should she try to wake Jordan? If she spoke up now, she’d put them all in jeopardy. She took a deep breath and focused on the hallway. The blood pounding in her ears drowned out all sounds.

Mandy plastered herself against the wall, ready to strike with sudden force. Gripping the knife, she motioned Abby to swing wide. Not wanting to veer too far from Jordan but trusting Mandy’s instincts, Abby moved to a spot beside the piano where she had a good view of the hallway. Movement caught her eye. She tensed. Timmy was inching forward.

As the girl with the green jacket rounded the corner, Mandy raised the knife and reared back. In one motion, she twisted her torso and drove the blade forward.

“Stop, I know her!” Abby cried.

Just as the knifepoint came in contact with the girl’s jacket, Mandy jerked in surprise. She opened her hand, and the knife tumbled to the floor.

Abby threw her arms around her friend, Mel, and wept in utter relief.

CHAPTER TWO

Jordan jerked upright when the motorcycle engine fired up. His head started spinning, and he swung his arm over the back of the couch for support. He was alone in a room he knew all too well. Memories trickled in. The house in Cambridge. He had grown up here. At the age of nine, he moved to Castine Island with Abby, Toucan, and Dad, but Mom stayed behind because of her job in Boston. Now Mom was ready to join the family on the island.

No, all the adults, including his mother, had died a year ago. An ache pulsed deep inside his heart. Last night, he had found her body upstairs. To say his final goodbye, he had reached out and touched her arm under the blanket. Jordan clenched his fists and grunted, trying to force the sad memories from his brain.

He vaguely remembered arriving. Abby had helped him up the steps and inside. She had steered him to the couch. It was all coming back to him. Leaving him alone in the house, Abby had gone to the airport to get pills. One thing seemed certain. She must have succeeded—otherwise he wouldn’t be asking any questions.

Jordan let out a sigh of relief when he saw a makeshift bed of jackets on the floor. Maybe Abby was out front with the person on the motorcycle? The sound of it idling agitated him for some reason.

“A-Aaa…” His attempt to call out sputtered in his dry throat.

He wanted to go to the window, but with the room spinning the way it was, he’d fall on his face before he took more than one step.

He dragged his sleeve across his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating. A can of beer sat on the table. He reached for the can, but knocked it over. Purple beer dribbled over the edge of the table. Mopping his tongue across the dusty tabletop, he tried in vain to lap the beer up—then slumped back on the couch and cursed himself.

The motorcycle engine revved. Jordan flushed with rage, suddenly remembering the gang who had abandoned him and Abby in New Hampshire. Mandy, Jerry, and their leader, Kenny, had been taking them from Portland to Boston to get pills. Jordan would never forget the roar of their bikes as they sped off, leaving him and Abby to die by the side of the road.

A hard lump formed in his throat when he spotted the knife sheath on the floor. He recognized it immediately. He’d never seen Mandy without the long knife dangling from her belt.

How could Mandy be here? And why? Abby must have run into her somewhere and offered her a place to stay. It was like his sister to be so forgiving. It was also like Abby to do something that stupid.

A cold wave of fear traveled through him. Mandy might have stabbed Abby. She was capable of anything. He scanned the room and thankfully saw no blood, but that didn’t mean Abby was safe.

He jumped up and immediately lost his balance, crumpling to one knee. He fixed his gaze on a painting above the piano. It was a watercolor of sailboats in Castine Harbor. Using the painting as a visual anchor, he stood up and wobbled as if he had drunk the whole can of beer, but he managed to stay on his feet.

Going to the window was a waste of time. He couldn’t defend Abby with his eyes. He needed a weapon.

He headed for the kitchen to arm himself with a knife. Plowing through waves of dizziness and nausea, he stumbled three steps to the wall between the hall and the living room. From there, scraping his shoulder against the wall, he shuffled into the hallway where he stopped to take aim at his next goal, the kitchen counter. If he could make it to the counter, he would have support all the way to the knife drawer. In the drawer was a meat cleaver his mom had always used to chop up chicken.

He pitched forward and grabbed the counter. Hand over hand, step-by-step, he worked his way around the perimeter, past the stove, the spice cabinet, the onion drawer, the toaster on its side, the sink, a broken glass, an empty cereal box. The journey seemed endless.

He yanked open the knife drawer and swallowed a sob. The meat cleaver was gone. The carving knives were missing too. He realized that scavengers had taken every big knife.

He grabbed a paring knife, which had a narrow, three-inch blade. It was the sharpest item in the drawer. Better than nothing, he sighed.

Gripping the knife, he took a step toward the front door and teetered. Flailing his arms to maintain his balance, he veered to the left. He shifted his weight, careened right and plunged forward. He crashed on the floor, bouncing hard on his shoulder.

Jordan rose to his knees and crawled in a zigzag pattern, avoiding the broken glass scattered on the floor. Reaching the door, he grabbed blindly for the knob and quickly drew his hand back when his palm found jagged glass in the smashed door window. Blood trickled down his arm.

He transferred the knife to the hand with the cut and squeezed the handle to stem the flow of blood. In one motion, he stood and flung open the door.

“Jordie!”

He jumped back. Abby stood before him. Her cheeks were sunken. Grime caked her sunburned skin. Her red curls hung limply. She looked half-dead. A young boy was also on the porch beside her, along with another girl about Abby’s age. The girl stared blankly as if she were in shock, deep sadness reflected in her eyes.

Just then, Mandy rode down Pearl Street on her motorcycle.

Jordan blurted. “Did Mandy hurt you?”

“Hurt me?” Abby shook her head. “She saved our lives.”

“Huh?” The knife dropped from his hand, and the new boy trotted down the steps to the sidewalk. “Mandy’s gang left us to die,” Jordan said.

A look of concern flashed across his sister’s face. “Mandy gave us pills.”

What made him gasp in astonishment were Abby’s eyes. For the first time in weeks, they were bright and filled with optimism. Mandy must have tricked her. “I don’t care what she gave us. We shouldn’t trust her.”

Abby reached out and inspected the cut in his hand. It measured about two inches near the base of his thumb. He grimaced as she probed with her fingertip to check for signs of any foreign bodies like splintered glass. “We need to clean and bandage that.”

“Where did Mandy go?” he asked.

“She’s hiding the motorcycle.”

“Abby, she’s dangerous.”

She scrunched her brow. “A lot has happened that you need to hear about.”

“Who are they?” he asked, gesturing to the strangers.

Abby nodded to the boy on the sidewalk. “I met Timmy on the way to the airport, and you remember Mel.”

“Mel?” Jordan’s jaw dropped. Was this the same girl who’d get him in a headlock until he begged for mercy? Mel Ladwick, Abby’s best friend, whom he loved to tease and see if he could outrun, though Mel always caught him. She ran like a lion. Now Mel was a ghost of her former self. Something was very wrong with her.

Abby took him by the elbow. “Let’s go to the kitchen.” He resisted her effort to turn him and stepped past her onto the porch. The sky was dark overhead and even darker to the south. The neighborhood was silent and deserted. Jordan had the eerie impression that a large bomb had gone off, and everybody had fled. Coughing from the smoke, he looked warily down the street. He didn’t know why Mandy was hiding her motorcycle, and he didn’t care. Before she returned, he would have to tell his sister a thing or two about trusting the wrong people.

CHAPTER THREE

Abby faced three immediate problems.

Since Mel had come within a whisker of Mandy stabbing her, she had followed Abby like a shadow and not spoken a word. Abby had seen kids in shock before. Some stopped eating, others cried non-stop, and some, like Mel, retreated into themselves. The best approach, Abby thought, was to back off and give Mel time to recover.

Jordan had apparently forgotten everything she had told him after she, Timmy, and Mandy returned from the airport last night. He only remembered Mandy as the girl who, along with her gang members, had tried to steal their supplies in Portland, and then abandoned them in New Hampshire. Abby would tell him what happened again, but her first priority was to take care of his wound.