Run (2 page)

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" ED
demanded, wheeling himself out from the exit under the stoop, afraid for a moment that the package might explode in her hands.

But Gaia had grabbed her ever-present messenger bag and was down the steps. Ed aimed his chair to the left, toward the sidewalk. He could barely see Gaia over the row of potted shrubs as she sprinted away.

He caught up to her three corners later. One good thing about being in a wheelchair -- even New York drivers slowed to let you cross the street.

She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, waiting for the light to change.

"Gaia, hold on. You can't just go to school and put that thing in the VCR!"

She didn't turn to face him. "Watch me."

"What if it . . . I don't know . . . what if it starts spewing out poisonous gas or something?" Ed offered.

"This isn't a
Batman
episode, Ed!" Gaia spat out, glancing over her shoulder. "What do you think, the Penguin sent that e-mail?"

"No, but somebody just as wacko did!"

"Somebody who's got Sam."
Her voice was grim. Determined.

"Yeah, I get that. But we need to think about this. You don't know what's on that tape." He shook his head. "Okay, I admit, toxic vapor is a little extreme. But this whole thing is freaky, and I'm just saying we should be careful."

"You be careful," she snapped. "I'll be quick."

"Do you
never
think before you act?"

"Ed! Listen!" She grabbed the armrests of his wheelchair and leaned over to look him directly in the eyes. She was so close he could see the pores in the perfect skin around her nose. Her hair was still wet against her cheeks. "I don't know who is doing this or why," she said. "But I have to help Sam."

In the next second he watched, helpless, as she flung herself out into the middle of traffic. A cab swerved. A UPS truck hit the brakes. A bike messenger careened off a mailbox.

But she made it.

He expected her to go right on running, but when she hit the opposite sidewalk, she turned and looked at him.

It was probably the fastest look in the history of eye contact, but that look was loaded.
It was part defiance, part desperation, and part apology.

"Go!" he shouted, his voice raw. "I'll see you there."

She nodded almost imperceptibly, then took off down the street.

He followed as fast as his confinement allowed. Thinking.

She wanted to sleep with Sam. Sam Moon. But she hadn't. It had taken complete self-control to keep from popping a wheelie in his chair when she'd confessed that. Saturday night had been torture -- the thought of her in someone else's arms, of someone else kissing her, had kept him awake all night. Awake and angry and sick to his stomach.

Because he loved her desperately. In mind, in spirit, in body. He wanted her.

So what if she wanted Sam? Seeing him with Heather must have cured that, right? The fact that she was rushing off to his rescue, no questions asked, just meant she was noble. One more thing to love about her.

Ed's remark about the universe setting them up came back to him, and he cringed. Stupid. Childish. Pathetic.

Yet on some level he'd meant it. He'd found her, that first day in the hall at school. She'd been so lost, and so not wanting to be lost. Ed knew how lost felt. He'd felt it every day since he'd first sat in this chair. Every day he was set apart.

He approached school and entered the crush of people. He imagined Gaia in her first-period classroom, slamming the mysterious video into the VCR. What the hell is on the tape? he wondered, feeling panic press into him.

And if he had to, could he rescue her from it?

He smiled bitterly at the ridiculous image. Sir Edward of Useless Limbs, the knight in not-so-shining armor, rushing in to rescue the fair Gaia, Lady of Brutal Ass Kickings.

Remember that, pal? Three punks in one shot. And without even having to touch up her lip gloss afterward. His lady had no need for a knight. And, anyway, knights rode horses, not chairs.

He broke from the pack of students and rolled toward the handicapped entrance.

As he did on every other day of the school year, Ed entered the building alone.

To:
ELJ
From:
L
Date:
October 11
File:
776244
Subject:
Gaia Moore

She is even more beautiful up close. And far more dangerous. For now, we proceed as planned. The trials have begun. We will test her limits. I want to see how far she will go for this boy. What she will risk. How much she is willing to lose.

The boy suffers, but it is all in the name of authenticity.

I have no doubt she will succeed on her own; however, if any complications should arise to impede her various quests, I will arrange for assistance. Her safety, as ever, is of utmost importance. She must not fail -- for all roads lead to me. Tonight I will secure my position in her life. There is much to alter. Much to gain.

To:
L
From:
ELJ
Date:
October 11
File:
776244
Subject:
Gaia Moore

I understand what is expected of me. The note is already written and waiting to be planted. Other objects with regard to this aspect of the plan are also in place.

GN and I will leave the city early. He will not be there to help her or to interfere in any way. He will not suspect a thing.

Tonight I will meet the pawn and see that he is where we need him to be, and when.

She told herself the only thing that mattered was that she'd passed the first test.

"NO, MAN! NO, MAN,
PLEASE!
DON T!"

CJ closed his eyes as Tarick lifted one rock-solid fist and slammed it against CJ's skull. His eye felt as if it had been dislodged from its socket, and his mouth instantly filled with blood.

"You let her go?" Tarick shouted, coming at CJ again. This time he wrenched CJ's arm -- the one in the sling.
The one with the bullet hole in it.
The pain shot through his entire body like an explosion, and everything went blurry. CJ sank to the grimy concrete floor on his knees and then fell forward, savoring the feel of the cold, grainy surface against his cheek. It smelled like burnt cigarettes and blood. CJ knew it was the last smell he'd ever experience if he didn't do something.

"Kill him." Tarick's voice.

"Now."

"No! No! Wait!"

He heard them loading the gun.

"I can still do it!" CJ shouted through the pain.

Suddenly he was being wrenched to his feet, and Tarick used one beefy hand to push CJ up against the wall by his neck. "We should have let you bleed to death in the first place, you useless piece of shit." Tarick spat in CJ's face, but CJ couldn't move a muscle. He just let the gob slide down the side of his nose and onto his chin.

"I can still do it," he repeated pathetically, choking on the words. Joey was hovering behind Tarick, gun clenched in his hand. He didn't even look sad or scared.
He just looked ready.

Tarick released him and he fell to the ground, sputtering for breath. He bent over at the waist, thought better of taking his eyes off Joey, and forced himself to straighten up.

"Please, Tarick," CJ said, his eyes stinging. "Weird shit is always happening around this bitch. Guys with guns, like she's got a
protector
or something."

Tarick laughed, showing his yellowed teeth and flashing the stud that pierced his tongue. "This isn't a storybook, CJ," Tarick said. "She don't have a fairy godmother."

Joey cocked the gun.

"Please, man," CJ said, trying hard not to whimper. "Just give me one more chance. I won't let you down again."

Tarick's eyes roamed over CJ's broken and battered body. He sucked at his teeth, ran a hand over his shaved and tattooed head. He glanced at Joey, then looked back at CJ.

"All right, man," Tarick said with a quick nod. "You get one more chance."

CJ let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. Then Tarick's voice cut through the darkness, his breath impossibly close to CJ's ear.

"Screw it up again, and I kill you myself."

HEATHER GANNIS DID NOT WALK SO
much as float. With her delicate chin tipped upward slightly, she moved purposefully but gracefully through the posthomeroom throng. The look of disdain on her pretty face was to remind the Gap-clad masses that she was, and would always be, their superior. Even if she didn't necessarily feel like it. They were the ones who'd elevated her to that status. She was the one who had to
struggle daily to perpetuate the illusion
.

She floated, seemingly high on her own significance, weightless in the knowledge that she, and she alone, had the best hair, the best blouse, the best ass.

She was Heather Gannis, too ethereal to simply walk.

That was how they saw her, anyway, and that was what they expected, maybe even needed. And she was the one they'd elected to provide it for them.

Sometimes she thought she'd be willing to chuck the whole popularity thing in a heartbeat. Other times, having swarms of admirers had its perks.

And so she'd float.

Today, though, she had to work harder than usual to pull it off. Today she was dealing with stuff. Big-time confusion. Insecurity -- not about her beauty or her position at school, of course. Insecurity beyond the ordinary is-there-lipstick-on-my-teeth variety.

And Heather's self-doubt came in the form of the same pitiful little mutant who'd put her in the hospital. Gaia Moore.

What kind of name was that, anyway? Guy-uh. Sounded like a Cro-Magnon grunt rather than a name.

And Cro-Magnon girl had ruined everything.
Shocker.

Saturday night had started out perfect. Then it had gotten even better.

She'd been in Sam's arms -- securing what was hers, giving him what he wanted before Gaia had the chance to make
an offer of her own.

Heather's motives for Saturday night had been part romance, part strategy. Sleeping with Sam would cement their relationship -- take it to the next level. She was reasonably certain that Sam would forget Gaia completely if he believed Heather was committed enough to make him her first.

Sam wouldn't really be her first,
of course -- she'd lost her virginity to Ed long ago -- but he'd
believe
that he was. She'd (briefly) considered telling him the truth, but decided "first" sounded so much more devoted than "next."
Ed was her secret,
and she was going to keep it that way.

But Gaia had her grubby little hooks in Ed, too. It made Heather's skin crawl to think about that. Ed followed Gaia around like a damn puppy dog.

She realized she was aching to see Gaia, maybe right now, in the hallway, where she could create some big, ugly scene that would make her look great and Gaia look even more pathetic than before.

She remembered with the small section of her brain in which she stored information about school that Gaia was in her first-period class. Fine. She could destroy her there just as easily. Smaller audience, but
better acoustics.

Heather's mind spun (but she kept floating) and images of Sam, catapulting off the bed to chase after Gaia, burned in her mind. The Slim-Fast bar she'd eaten for breakfast threatened to come up. What had he been thinking? What was wrong with him, leaving her for Gaia, and just on the brink of . . . well, of everything?

But that bitch -- that disgusting, creepy little bitch had shown up, and Sam had freaked.

On the upside, Gaia had looked absolutely miserable upon catching them in the act. Maybe now she'd get the message and back off. The girl had proof now, proof that Sam and Heather were the real deal. Of course, Sam's running after her might have given Gaia cause to wonder. . . .

Damn him! Why had he left? And why hadn't he called? That had been Saturday. This was Monday! No call, no personal appearance. She could have been home crying all weekend and he didn't even care.

A chill shot through her. What the hell had taken place when Sam caught up to Gaia Saturday? Had she said something, done something, to override Heather's sexual surrender?

Was there anything that
could
override sex for a guy? She doubted it, but still. Evidently Gaia had some
weird power
over Sam. Had she been able to use that power on Saturday, even as his hair was still tousled from Heather's own fingers?

Heather mentally checked her expression. No creases. No frowning. She had to look distant, aloof, as calm as always or else they might suspect. She lowered her eyelids slightly, pushed out her lower lip -- sexy, sullen, unconcerned, and floating. Christ, this was getting old.

They called out to her, waved. Occasionally she'd reply, but not often enough to give them any substantial hope. And tomorrow she'd do it again.

And tomorrow. And tomorrow.

Shit! That reminded her. She had a Shakespeare quiz later this morning, and she hadn't even opened her notebook. What was it old Willie had said about the moon?
The inconstant moon.
Sam Moon. Inconstant, big time. Changeable. Fickle. And in love with Gaia Moore?

Maybe.

Heather entered her first-period class and immediately scanned the room to see if Gaia was there. To her amazement, the loser was actually present, actually had the nerve to show her face! Heather prepared herself to deploy her patented secret weapon -- a look of death that could make even the thumb-heads on the wrestling team shiver in their sneakers -- but Gaia seemed to be looking right through her.

Oh, this one was good. Most girls who found themselves on Heather's shit list would be groveling already. But this freak of nature had the audacity to diss her. On some level Heather was actually impressed. It was almost a relief to know there was someone who didn't shed all self-respect the minute Heather threw her a look.

Okay, so it was impressive.
But it still pissed her off.

Heather slammed her books onto her desk, accepted some hellos from neighboring students, then noticed that the classroom television was on. The screen was blank -- the same bright blue Tommy Hilfiger used last spring -- and the VCR light was blinking.

Thank God! Heather thought. A video was about all she could handle this morning. Probably something about the Civil War. Wait. This was economics, not history. Okay, something boring about supply and demand, then. Perfect.

She wouldn't even have to watch. She could study for Shakespeare and write
vicious things
about Gaia on the desktop. And wonder if Sam was out of her life for good now.

And if he was, was he in Gaia's life instead? Losing him would be bad. Losing him to her would be unbearable.

God, did that little witch actually believe she could do battle with her? Did she think she was better than Heather Gannis? And if she thought she was, how long would it be before the rest of the people in this school -- flock of sheep that they were -- began thinking it, too?

She didn't want to think about this. Not now. She wanted to get her mind off Gaia and Sam. She'd allow herself one nasty piece of desktop graffiti, then maybe she'd watch the stupid video after all.