Razor Girl (4 page)

“Behind you!”

Instinct from years of training kicked in as Molly heard the warning. The strange guy on the roof pointed, and she whirled. A kick of adrenaline slammed through her body, activating her body’s cybernetic offense. The razors shot out from under her fingernails, flashing in the bright sunlight, and she held them in front of her face, ready. She was coiled in a fighting stance.

Her eyes widened under her ocular implants. Oh God, it was one of
them
. For some reason, some stupid reason, she’d imagined they had gone away by now. Died out. Become extinct or something. But no. Evidently they had survived. Perhaps they even ran things these days; she had no idea.

They sure were as ugly as she remembered. This one was naked, save for scraps of tattered clothing clinging to its glowing yellow-green skin. It had too many fingers, too many toes, a third eye growing out of its forehead. It was covered in festering, pus-filled wounds. And it smelled like—well, she couldn’t think of anything foul enough to compare it to.

But while they might still be ugly, she wasn’t still defenseless. And she sure as hell wasn’t about to let anything kill her on her first day back in the real world. What would her father say? What would Molly Millions say?

“Stay back, Pus-head,” she growled. “Unless you want to be sliced and diced.”

Sadly, though she hadn’t expected him to, Pus-head didn’t seem to have a good grasp of the King’s English. Either that, or it underestimated the martial arts training and nano-enhancements of its intended dinner. With a bellowing roar the monster lunged toward Molly, fleshy arms outstretched, clearly preparing to grab her by the neck and chomp on her face. She leapt away and lashed out with her razors. Those caught the thing’s left shoulder, sliced across its chest, and the creature squealed in pain and fury, blood gushing everywhere. It lunged again but Molly ducked, avoiding a spray of gore and bodily fluids.

Looking at the ooze on the ground, Molly almost hyperventilated. Returning to her basic defensive stance, arms up, razors out, she focused and forced herself to breathe. This was what she’d trained for, she reminded herself. She could do this. She
would
do this. She spat on the ground.

The creature made a grab for her. She swung her leg out, slamming the thing in the stomach with a well-placed kick. It made her stomach turn, the sickening thud of her boot meeting rotten flesh. Good thing she’d left the flip-flops at home. But the creature staggered backwards, losing its balance for a few precious seconds. This was just the opportunity Molly needed. She swept her arm out, blades flashing, aiming at its face. The blow didn’t miss. All three eyes were blinded at once, and the creature bellowed in pain as Molly yanked her hand free and retreated.

Had her attack been enough to stop it? She wasn’t sure how many more rounds she could take.
Only a flesh wound
, she imagined it saying, forcing her to slice off its arms and legs. And maybe she should cut off its head.

Evidently Pus-head hadn’t had a chance to see Monty Python, because instead it made the logical choice: to turn tail and run blindly down the street, still sobbing in pain and rage. Molly couldn’t blame it. She wouldn’t be happy either if she’d spent her whole life missing Monty Python and then been turned into a zombie.

She sucked in a breath, her heart pounding a mile a minute.
Suddenly the boring old shelter where she’d spent the last six years didn’t seem like such a bad place after all. At least deep underground she’d been safe from these things. She’d factored them out of the equation. It was time to factor them back in.

She looked down at her hands, at the flesh-and blood– caked razors. She’d have to clean them off before retraction beneath her fingernails. So gross! But, she had to admit, they had just saved her life.

“Thanks, Dad,” she muttered, at last appreciating what he’d done for her. Still, her gratitude was a bit grudging.

A clapping noise from above startled her back to the present. The guy on the garage roof! She’d almost forgotten about him in the heat of the fight. Forget the razors; it was his warning that had truly saved her life. She looked up and waved.

“Thanks, guy,” she said, still breathing heavily. “I owe you one.”

He jumped off the roof and approached her. He was tall and lean, with flashing green eyes and a full mouth that was currently quirked in a half-smile. He wore leather from head to toe: jacket, pants, gloves. Her stomach twisted in an exquisitely female appreciation she hadn’t felt in a long time—maybe ever. It had been a while since she’d seen anyone not in her immediate family. And even back when she had, she couldn’t remember anyone looking so good. Except maybe on some of the romance sims, and let’s face it, computer-generated guys really didn’t count!

“I’m Chase,” the man said by way of introduction. He glanced down the street in the direction the creature had run. “That was…well, that was some fighting. I haven’t seen someone take on an Other in…well, ever.”

She drew in a breath. “So they’re still around, eh? I was sort of hoping they’d have died out or something.” She wiped her razors on the ground, taking particular care with them as she always did. After a moment she spat.

“Yeah, right. I wish. They live, they thrive. They got us all
scared shitless. Nothing’s changed there.” He gave Molly a strange look. “How do you not know this, though? You been living under a rock or something?”

“Pretty much,” she admitted. “This is the first time I’ve been outside in six years.”

“Ah, that explains it,” Chase said. “Well, let me be the first to greet you into our brave new world. Our own little corner of hell on Earth. Welcome back.”

Molly grimaced. “Um, thanks.”

“Just kidding. Well, sort of,” he said with a shrug. “I do really welcome you back. So, where’s this rock you’ve been hiding under? I thought I’d scouted this neighborhood out good.”

She pointed down the street. “Twelve Mulberry. My dad bought the old fallout shelter before things started getting really bad. Packed it up with food and supplies. Set a timer, escorted my mom and I inside, closed the door. Home sweet home for six years. The door opened yesterday.”

Chase stared at her, disbelieving. “Oh my God,” he said.

“What? It’s not
that
weird a story, is it? If you’re out here, there must have been—”

But Chase’s face was white. “Molly Anderson?” he said.

She cocked her head, scanning his face. How did he know that? And what was it about him that was so familiar?

Then it hit her. With all the force of a ten-ton truck.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re…you’re…”

The guy bowed low. “Chris Griffin. One of the last men on Earth.”

“Hey, geekazoid, what are you doing?”

Chris reluctantly pulled off his VR goggles at the sound of his older brother’s voice. When Trey plopped down uninvited on the couch beside him and punched him in the arm, he grunted, “What does it look like, shit for brains?”

“You know, too many video games will make you sterile,” Trey volunteered. “I read that once somewhere.”

“You read somewhere that you won the Space Station 13 lotto, too,” Chris retorted. “And that you’ll die if you don’t forward that note to ten of your friends.”

“Oh, you’re such the clever little man. If you’re so clever, though, why don’t you have a date to night like I do?”

“Because that stuff isn’t important to me. Not right now at least. I’ve got better things to do.”

Trey could barely hide his mirth. “Oh? Did your Knights of the Living Dead guild just take down Fiddler’s Green?”

“No. I’m using Basketball Dayz now,” Chris snapped. “And just ’cause I use my time to enhance my basketball skills instead of cracking into that Playboy House of Love sim you jacked doesn’t mean I’m some social reject. There are girls in B-Dayz, too. Real girls from our school. Not computer-generated sexpots.”

“Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you, little bro, but you’d have a much higher chance of scoring with a sim star than anyone at our school.”

Sadly, Chris knew Trey was probably right, but he wasn’t about to admit it. The last thing he needed was more teasing from his older brother. He understood the reality: Trey was über popular. Everyone loved him. Trey was the life of the party, and Chris was the dweeby little brother no one ever noticed, including the person he was most desperate to have notice him—Molly Anderson, the most beautiful girl at school. Ever since his family first moved down the street from her, Chris had known she was the girl for him. But she’d turned him down time and again, this year going for that stupid meathead Drew Barry. Chris had no idea what she saw in him. He had a brain the size of an amoeba and even less personality.

But hey, Drew was tall and built and had a flashy smile. And Chris was just a beanpole who couldn’t manage to put on any weight if he tried. If only he’d gotten Trey’s genes, maybe he’d have had a chance.

“Hey…Trey, Chris…will you guys play Barbies with me?” a little voice begged.

Chris looked over to see that his sister Tara had entered the room. Back when she was a baby, his parents had adopted the six-year-old girl from an African country all but wiped out by the resurgent AIDS epidemic. Sometimes he wished they’d traded his brother for the privilege.

“Yeah,
right
,” Trey said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve got to get ready for my date with Anna Simmons.”

Tara’s face fell, but Chris knew how to fix that. “I’ll play with you, Tara Bara,” he said, pulling on his VR goggles. He didn’t have much else going on. “What address are you at?”

His sister chirped in joy. “Dream house Fifteen, on the Blonde and Beautiful server.” She grabbed her own sim deck. “Thanks, Chris. You’re the best!”

“You just remember that come dessert,” he teased as he activated the sim. “I want your portion of Mom’s banana cream pie.”

“Anything!” Tara promised. Of course, he knew she’d deny it all when it came to actually giving up her sweets, but he didn’t really mind.

Just before putting on his goggles he glanced out the window. Molly was there, talking to their neighbor, Mrs. McCormick. The old woman was his favorite person on their block. She was a sweet, cookie-baking, grandma-type who’d been his babysitter when he was younger, and they’d found an unlikely bond over romance novels, of all things. Something Chris could never in a million years admit to Trey. She was always around to listen, even when his parents were late coming home from work, which they usually were. He’d never seen Molly talk to her, though. He wondered if Mrs. McCormick was putting in a good word for him. He hoped so.

After a moment he squinted. Was Mrs. McCormick okay? The older woman swayed then stumbled, and Chris rose to his feet. He turned back to his sister.

“Meet me in the Glow Cat area,” he told her. “I need to make sure everything is okay outside.”

Molly, late for her training session with her father, had been rushing home from a fight with Drew at school—he hated how she had to rush home to train every day instead of spending time with him—when she came across her elderly neighbor hobbling down the street. The woman was coughing so hard that at first Molly was worried she was going to die. She ran up, placed a hand on the old woman’s shoulder and peered into her eyes. “Are you okay, Mrs. McCormick?” she asked.

The old woman grasped her with a bony hand. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice cracking. “I felt fine this morning. But now I can’t seem to stop coughing.” She opened her hand, revealing a tissue clotted with scarlet-flecked phlegm. Molly recoiled. “A few minutes ago I started coughing up blood.”

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Molly said, glancing around for a neighbor. She needed someone with a SmartCar, because it was unlikely they’d make it to a hospital otherwise; the old lady was never going to be able to walk. Making it tougher, unlike everyone else in the universe, Molly didn’t have an iComm. The tech that had replaced the cell phone was yet another modern convenience her dad forbade, and if she
used her outdated phone to call home, she doubted he would answer. He never did.

Molly led Mrs. McCormick to the curb and helped her sit down. “I’ll go try to find someone to help.”

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Molly turned to see none other than Chris Griffin approaching. After a brief spasm of discomfort, relief washed over her. Maybe he could get his mom to drive them or something, or just call the hospital. She doubted he’d take this opportunity to make a pass. She prayed he wouldn’t. “Mrs. McCormick’s sick,” she explained. “Do you have an iComm? We need to get her to an ambulance.”

Chris pulled his longish hair back from his ear, revealing the tiny headset. He pressed the silver button at its tip. “Dial 911,” he commanded, then waited. “Hello?” he said. “Yeah, I’m at 23 Mulberry Lane. We need an ambulance.” He listened for a moment. “Yeah, she’s an elderly woman. Name’s Mandy McCormick. She’s coughing up blood.” Another pause. “Okay, thanks. Yeah, we’ll be right here. No, we won’t leave.” He pressed the button again and turned back to Molly. “Okay, they’re sending an ambulance.”

“Just hang in there, Mrs. McCormick,” Molly said, patting the coughing woman on the back. “They’ll come for you in a minute.”

Mrs. McCormick looked up at the two teenagers, appreciation in her watery blue eyes. “Thank you, kids,” she said. “You’re good to help me.” She was overtaken by another wracking cough.

Chris sat down beside her and took her hand in his. “Are you kidding, Mrs. McCormick?” he asked. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

The older woman blushed like a schoolgirl, and Molly couldn’t help but notice. “Such a sweet boy,” she said. She looked up at Molly. “You know, he comes by twice a week after school to visit me.”

“He does?” Molly was surprised.

“Oh, yes. He reads me all my favorite romance books,” the
woman explained. While she was smiling at him like he was her own personal savior, Chris was beginning to look uncomfortable. “Of course, we skip over the sexy parts. He’s just a baby after all. Can’t have him reading about blowjobs and boinking.”

Chris’s face turned instant tomato red. “Mrs. McCormick!” he cried, sounding absolutely horrified. Molly didn’t blame him. She was blushing pretty furiously herself. And Chris looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment. Suddenly she wondered if he’d applied for
his
LTF yet. Probably not. He did seem really innocent. But then, so was she.

Mrs. McCormick reached out and pinched Chris’s cheek then turned to Molly. “See, this is why we have to skip them,” she confided in a stage whisper that everyone in a ten-block radius could probably pick up. “But don’t worry. I go back and read them after he leaves. They are the best part, you know.” She giggled, prompting another coughing fit.

Chris instantly snapped out of mortified mode and reached over to pat her on the back. “Relax, Mrs. McCormick,” he instructed in a voice so authoritative you’d never know a moment ago he’d been blushing about boinking. “You’re going to laugh yourself sicker.” He handed her a clean tissue he’d pulled from his pants pocket. She blew her nose. No blood this time, at least.

Mrs. McCormick turned to Molly. “You’re a very lucky girl,” she said.

And here Molly had thought she wasn’t capable of blushing more than she already had been. “Oh, we’re not…I mean, we’re just friends.” She didn’t want to say even that was pushing it.

Mrs. McCormick was taken by another coughing fit, but when it quieted, she squinted up at Molly. “Maybe for now, dear,” she gasped. “But I have a good sense of these things. My kids call me psychic.”

For a moment Molly wondered if Chris had paid the woman to say that, then she scolded herself for even thinking
it. He wasn’t
that
bad. In fact, despite his unwanted crush, he was kind of sweet. Wasn’t that what Erin was always saying? The way he was caring for his elderly neighbor…well, she couldn’t imagine Drew or any of her other friends doing it.

“Sorry, Mrs. McCormick,” Chris said. “It’ll never happen. Molly’s got a better boyfriend than me.” He said it completely seriously, without sarcasm, and Molly felt her face burn.

“That’s not—” she started.

Before she could finish, an unmarked van careened down the street, seeming to come out of nowhere. It screeched to a stop before them. Two men, each wearing a brown uniform and a respirator, jumped out and ran to Mrs. McCormick.

Chris jumped to his feet. “What are you—?”

“Get out of the way, son,” interrupted one of the men. His respirator made him sound like Darth Vader from those ancient
Star Wars
movies Erin loved. “You need to get home. We’ll take care of your friend.”

The two grabbed Mrs. McCormick by her arms and dragged her somewhat ruthlessly toward the van. She screamed in protest, surprised, then broke into another coughing fit.

“Stop!” Chris demanded. “Where are you taking her? We called for an ambulance.”

“Yes, we got the report,” said the second masked man, pausing. “We’re taking her in to get treated. Mount Holyoke. She’ll be back in a day or two.”

Molly stared at the men, her brain awhirl with her father’s many conspiracy theories. Instead of reacting, she forced herself to stay calm and catalog the details. The masks. The uniforms. The seal on the van. It looked like a government seal, and there was no way this was a normal ambulance.

“Mount Holyoke? Well, Westview’s not too far away. Can you tell me when and where I can visit her?” Chris asked. Molly had never heard him sound anxious before, but she understood his fears. She also knew Mount Holyoke was in Monroeville, not Westview. Was he testing them? “Or maybe you should tell me your names.”

The two men looked at each other. “Perhaps we should take them, too,” the first said. His voice was amiable. “Just as a precaution.”

The second man turned back to look at them and nodded.

“Take us?” Chris repeated, looking scared. “Take us where?”

“We’re not sick,” Molly added, in case it wasn’t obvious.

“Well, why don’t we just find out for sure,” suggested the second man, still smiling that weird smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Get in the van.”

Get in the van? No effing way. Not with all her father’s fears and stories whirling through her head. And it didn’t take a paranoid nutjob to see the red flags waving in this situation.

Mrs. McCormick broke into another coughing fit. Molly took the opportunity to glance at Chris. He caught her eye, looking as freaked out as she felt.
Shit
, he mouthed.
I don’t
trust these guys. Run
.

Molly didn’t need a second invitation. She and Chris both took off at the same time, as fast as their legs could carry them. She was surprised they shared an instinct: neither headed to their respective homes.

When she glanced back, Molly saw the brown-suited men had gotten Mrs. McCormick into their van and had turned it around, likely to give chase. “Go through the yards!” she cried, pointing. “They won’t be able to follow.”

Chris hung a sharp right and dove through a neighbor’s yard, dodging clotheslines and wading pools, avoiding a snarling dog. Molly followed, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. What the hell was going on here? Who were those men? Why had they just all but abducted a sick old woman in the middle of the street? Why were they now giving chase to a couple of kids?

More running, less thinking
, she reminded herself, picking up her speed to keep pace with Chris. Together they leapt another fence and ran into the woods behind a nearby elementary school dodging trees and stumps and fallen logs. Finally
Chris stopped, in a clearing, leaning over, hands on his knees, panting heavily. He looked behind him and then at Molly. “I think we lost them,” he said.

“Yeah.” She plopped down on a stump, sucking in breaths. “But what the hell was that about?”

“I don’t know. But that sure wasn’t a normal ambulance.”

“No. They were government, I think. I saw the seal on their van. They must have intercepted your call. My dad always says the government monitors all transmissions. That’s why I’m not allowed to get an iComm.”

“What do you think they’ll do to Mrs. McCormick?” Chris asked, looking worried. “I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“You really like her, don’t you?” Molly mused. She couldn’t help adding, “Do you really…read her romances?”
Do you
really skip over the sex scenes?
she wanted to add, but didn’t.

“She used to babysit me and Trey when our parents went away. She’s like my grandmother. I think she’s a bit lonely now. And since she can’t really keep up with all the technology changes—they confuse her—I try to stop in after school a couple times a week. Try to take care of her like she once took care of me. Read to her or what ever. And yes, romances. You probably think that’s weird, but there’s some good stories out there. Action, adventure, history. They’re not all about sex like some people think.” He blushed again. “I actually…enjoy reading them, too.” He paused, then added, “You probably think I’m a complete freak, huh?”