The Epidemic (25 page)

As we enter, we check the crowd for Arthur Pritchard, relieved to find him nowhere in sight. That would have certainly complicated our mission. Reed opts to split off when he sees the girl he was here to research. In the car, Reed mentioned that the girl’s boyfriend had recently died. He was going to take on that role to help her, but after what Marie told us, he doesn’t want to take on the assignment. Instead, he said he’d talk to the girl and see if he can get some information about the student population.

Aaron and I sit in the middle, and when I look back, I see that Reed has joined the girl and her friend high up on the bleachers. They look like they’re talking freely, giving away secrets.

Next to me, Aaron watches the game as I scan the players,
surprised to find Virginia sitting on the bench, especially since I thought she was one of the stars. Aaron bumps my shoulder with his.

“Is that her?” he asks, nodding toward the sideline.

“Yeah,” I tell him, furrowing my brow. “How’d you know?”

“Because she doesn’t look good.”

He’s right. Although Virginia is wearing the same uniform as everyone else, she seems smaller now. Like she’s folded in on herself. Her shoulders are slumped forward, and her head is lowered as she follows the game with just her eyes. She looks nothing like the girl in the parking lot yesterday, before she took me to the lighthouse. Before she helped me break into her home. I lied to her when I told her I had a lead on her memories—I hope this isn’t my fault.

“Come on, Deidra,” Virginia calls out, clumsily clapping her hands together. Her friend misses the save, and Virginia jumps to her feet.

I can’t be certain, but there are what appear to be scratches on her arms and on her thighs just under her uniform shorts. I turn to Aaron and he meets my gaze, looking equally concerned. I open my mouth to ask what he thinks, when a whistle blow startles me. Virginia runs out onto the court and helps her friend off the floor. Then she lines up, joining in the game. I can see from her coach’s expression that Virginia’s demeanor is worrying her, too.

And suddenly I start to think that everything is off. I turn slowly and scan the faces of the crowd. Sure, there are people cheering. But mixed in are those sitting quietly with dark circles
under their eyes—like they haven’t slept. Those with long sleeves, wringing their hands in their laps as they watch the game, looking uneasy. I check back with Reed and see that a deep crease has formed across his forehead. The two girls he’s talking to are absorbed in their words; whatever they’re telling him disturbs him, though. I watch as his throat bobs, and then he turns to look down at me from the upper rows, his eyes wide with fear.

Some of these people look
unwell
. They remind me of Roderick at the party, his expression as he walked himself off the balcony. The referee blows the whistle again, and I visibly jump. Aaron puts his hand on my leg to steady me.

“You all right?” he asks, his eyes trained on the court.

“I don’t know.”

The game continues, and Aaron leans forward, his elbows on his knees as he studies Virginia’s behavior. Virginia is diving for volleys she has no chance of reaching. She’s tossing her body around as if she can’t feel it when she hits the floor, her skin squeaking against the polished wood. A patch of blood appears on her knee, another on her elbow. The ref notices and calls time.

The coach comes onto the court with a white cloth and some bandages. She motions for Virginia to go to the bench, but Virginia shakes her head no. The coach puts her hand on her shoulder, but Virginia shrugs it off and then slaps her coach’s hand away when she reaches for her again.

“I said I’m fine!” Virginia shouts, her voice echoing throughout the gymnasium. The gym goes quiet, and my stomach knots up with a deep sense of dread. The referee comes to
stand next to the coach, and the two women take a step toward Virginia, their hands held up in a nonthreatening manner.

“We want to treat your cuts,” the coach says, her voice audible in the silence. “I just need you to come to the bench for a minute.” But even I can tell she’s lying. Virginia won’t be going back into the game.

Virginia laughs wildly, shaking her head, backing away from the approaching women. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” Virginia snaps bitterly. “But you don’t really care about that, do you? Just like you didn’t care about Diana or Roderick or Micah.”

The coach takes a wounded gasp, lowering her hands. “Of course I care,” she says. “I cared about all of them. Care,” she corrects.

“You want us all well behaved,” she tells her, and looks back at the crowd. Several of the students straighten up, as if she called on them specifically. They’re hanging on her every word, entranced by her. She’s a burning building you can’t look away from.

Virginia turns back to her coach. “I know you’re working with him,” she says flatly.

This makes the coach stop in her approach. She fumbles for a response. “You need help, Virginia,” the coach says, not addressing the comment. “Now come off the court. We’ll call your father and have him pick you up.”

Virginia laughs and walks toward her coach, making the woman puff herself up in case there’s going to be an altercation. Virginia stops just in front of her. The referee watches from a few feet away, ready to break up a fight. The players stand in shock, staring at them.

Virginia leans in, blinking slowly, erratically, and says, “I remember
everything
.”

The coach drops her supplies and grabs Virginia to spin her around. She locks her in a hold to restrain her, as if Virginia was about to attack. Which wasn’t what I saw. Aaron is the first to stand, reading the situation same as me. Half the crowd stands up with us, some covering their mouths. All looking horrified.

Virginia starts to thrash, telling her coach to let her go. She snarls, wild. Unhinged. In the struggle she splits her lip, and blood sputters out as she shouts and kicks. The referee comes over to help the coach pull her from the court.

My heart is in my throat. I don’t know what to think, but I’m watching in horror as Virginia Pritchard seems to disintegrate in front of our eyes.

“You won’t erase me again!” she screams, kicking at the air as she tries to free herself. “I’ll die first. We’ll all die first!”

I see at least one person nod.

“Call Dr. Pritchard and tell him to get down here!” the coach yells to the player that Virginia helped on the court. Without a second thought the girl runs toward the bench and grabs her cell phone out of her bag, biting her nail as she watches Virginia get dragged toward the locker room.

“No!” Virginia yells to her friend. “Don’t call him!” She seems to choke on some of the blood and spits it out on the floor. Tears stream from her eyes. “No, Deidra,” she tells her friend again, her voice shaking. “Please don’t call him.”

Her friend pauses, but the coach waves for her to continue.
Conflicted, the girl turns away from Virginia and begins talking to who I assume is Arthur Pritchard.

Virginia cries the rest of the way, no longer fighting. Resolved to the unspeakable outcome she’s resigned herself to. I grip Aaron’s arm hard enough to turn my knuckles white. Aaron’s eyes have welled up as he watched. When he turns to me, a tear drips onto his cheek.

“We have to get out of here,” he whispers. “And we have to leave now.”

I look across the gymnasium just in time to see the locker door close behind Virginia and the coach. They’re gone.

“We need to help her,” I tell Aaron. “She’s scared.”

“
I’m
scared,” Aaron responds, prying my fingers from his arm. He tilts his head like he can’t understand why I would say such a thing. “We can’t help her now,” he adds. “If what she says is true, if her coach is in on it . . . this is already beyond us. We can’t stay here. We need to call Marie.”

“No,” I tell him fiercely. “That’s bullshit, Aaron, and you know it. Virginia said she remembered everything, and if that’s the case, we need to find out what that includes. And how exactly she remembered.” But I’m being selfish, because part of me thinks that if Virginia can remember, maybe she can show me how to do the same.

Around us groups of students flee the gymnasium, while the ref cleans up the blood from the court with a mop; the opposing team is standing around, staring in shock. I see one of the players scratch nervously at her forearm, scratch until a thin red line appears in her skin.

Reed stops at the end of our row and waves us forward, his eyes already on the exit. Aaron and I make our way toward him, and I hope that at least he is thinking rationally. We can’t just leave Virginia behind.

When we get into the school hallway, I hear a whistle in the gym signaling the continuation of the game. I don’t imagine the team will do well after Virginia’s outburst. I know I’m not doing well.

Reed runs his hand roughly through his dark hair. “I feel like I’m in a fucking asylum,” he says, an obvious change in his demeanor since we arrived. “Do you know what those girls said? The ones I was talking to?” he asks. “They wanted to know if I was interested in something called ‘quick death.’ Poison, apparently,” he clarifies. “But they acted like they were selling me weed or something.” He shakes his head, horror in his expression. “I’m glad to back out of my assignment. They need more than closers here,” he says. “We are way out of our depth.”

“Marie asked us to check on Virginia,” I say, my voice echoing down the corridor. “And now you want to abandon her? Did you see how they were treating her?”

“Have we considered that maybe Arthur Pritchard has a real strategy to deal with this?” Reed asks. “At least he’s a doctor.”

“Yeah?” I say. “And did his daughter seem interested in that plan? You saw how she reacted.” I look at Reed and then at Aaron. “Would you call that a normal response to therapy?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call any of this normal,” Reed says darkly. “But I know I feel like shit after seeing that, after being here.”
He shivers as if a thought haunts him. “We
can’t
help these people,” he adds. “Any of them—including Virginia.”

“He’s right, Quinlan,” Aaron says, surprising me with his firm tone. “We need an actual plan.”

I shoot him a betrayed look, and he lowers his chin as if I didn’t let him finish.

“A plan to talk to Virginia,” he continues in a softer voice. “She’s the key to this. Once we know what they’re doing to her, maybe we can relate it back to a trigger. That’s what Marie and Evelyn really need—a problem to treat. So let’s figure out what Virginia knows, make a list of people she’s been in contact with, and hand it over. Then we get the hell out of here.”

“Okay, look,” Reed says, stepping closer. “I’ll drop the two of you back at your motel to regroup. I’ll find where they’re taking Virginia and contact you. Until then, stay put.”

I’m about to tell him he can’t give me orders when I feel Aaron take my elbow. “Come on,” he says. “It’ll give us a chance to loop Deacon in.”

Deacon is off looking into Arthur’s intentions, but after Virginia’s complete meltdown, I’m even more worried about what can happen to him.

“Call Deacon and tell him to meet us,” I tell Aaron. “He’ll know what to do.”

Which is, of course, a lie. None of us know what to do.

And with one last glance behind us, Aaron, Reed, and I rush for the exit and out into the uncomfortably bright afternoon.

I SIT IN THE BACKSEAT
of reed’s car in complete silence, listening as Aaron calls Deacon and tells him to stop what he’s doing and come to the motel. Once he hangs up, he dials Marie and relays the events of the past hour. He mostly listens as Marie gives instructions. At one point he stiffens and says, “Yeah, she’s with me.”

When he hangs up, he turns. “Marie said she’s delaying Tabby and Shep’s placement,” he tells me, “and that we should wait for information on Virginia’s condition before moving forward. You okay with that?”

“I think I’m outvoted,” I say. “And how are we supposed to talk to Virginia if we’re sitting around in a motel being useless? Telepathy?” Aaron scoffs and gets out of the car.

“Dial it back, Quinn,” Reed tells me, glancing in the
rearview mirror. His skin has paled, and his blue eyes are serious. “I’ll find where they’re taking Virginia,” he says. “But this is obviously a bigger conspiracy than we initially thought. If you’re losing your grip on this, we should—”

“I’m not losing my fucking
grip
,” I snap, and then immediately regret my attitude. Shouting isn’t the best way to prove control. “I’m just . . .” I continue in a softer voice: “I’m worried about her.”

“Then I will do absolutely everything I can to help her,” Reed says kindly. “I promise you, Quinlan.” This particular tone combined with Reed’s good looks is useful for manipulation, I’m sure. The fact that he’s trying to use his closer skills on me should be irritating, but instead it actually offers me a small measure of comfort. And for that I’m grateful.

“Thank you,” I say. “That means a lot.”

“Anytime, Quinlan,” Reed murmurs. He tears his gaze away from me, seeming lost, and adds, “Every time.”

*  *  *

Reed swears he’ll be in touch the minute he tracks Virginia’s location, and he leaves. Aaron stands in the parking lot with his fingers locked behind his neck and stares up at the motel. When Reed’s car is gone, Aaron turns a suspicious eye on me.

“What’s really going on?” he asks. “Because I love you, girl—but I’m not going to blindly follow you into the abyss.”

“But I’m supposed to trust
you
with no questions asked?” I shoot back. “Tell me what’s going on with you and Marie.”

Aaron exhales and turns his back, but he doesn’t walk away.
“I don’t trust her anymore,” he says. “We’ve been with her for years, but look what she kept from you—how she lied to you. As soon as you called, saying she disappeared, things started to click into place.”

“How so?”

“She had me watching you for a while,” he says, looking back guiltily. “Hell, when you were Catalina, I staked out the house on her command. She had me worried, said you were losing it. And maybe you were.