Trapped (Here Trilogy) (13 page)

“No one's after us?” I asked Nick, feeling breathless. “Can you tell?”

Expertly navigating his way down a semi-residential side-street where everyone was parked along the curb, Nick gave a single nod. “I don't sense anything like that.”

Thinking about what he was doing made me feel slightly breathless; he was pushing his body way past what any human could do. But was he getting everything?

I chewed my lip as traffic lights and stop signs held us up, and when we passed a police car, I nearly had a heart-attack—but finally I saw Market Street on a little green sign, and after we passed a few houses, some sort of little city office, a TV news station, and a parking garage, Nick gave a low whistle, and we were looking up at West’s modern, several-story apartment building. It looked like it was made of huge sheets of tin, and there were tons of big windows reflecting nearby traffic lights and headlights. This was a neighborhood near LODO, so it looked trendy, a mix of residential and commercial real estate.

Nick parallel parked faster than any human I'd seen, and when he cut the truck’s power, my heart pounded with a blend of relief and suspense.

Nick's lips twisted as he squeezed my hand, then let it go, and when I looked in the rear-view at Vera, I found her once again playing Sudoku.

“I'm not going in.”

“Yes you are,” Nick said. “And you're changing your appearance, too.”

“What's the point?” she asked without looking up. “You two love birds don't need me.”

Maybe she could feel the heat of Nick's glare, because she looked up at him, pushing her bangs out of her face. Her expression hardened. “I need some time to myself.”

“Vera, please? I need you to go in first, in disguise.”

“What do I get?”

Nick's face twisted. “Are you asking for a reward?”

“Whatever,” Vera growled, throwing her door open and sliding out of the cab. I got out, too, and I was, like before, a little unnerved to see the truck looking like a SUV. As I came around the front of it, I glanced over at Nick, and my stomach flipped.

A tall, trench coat-clad man stood beside him, arms crossed, bearded face set in a menacing expression.

“It's Vera,” Nick said, unable to resist a little grin.

“The name’s Cleaver,” she said in a gravelly voice.

I tried not to blanch as I took Nick’s hand and we walked toward the entrance of The Edge. Nick waved, and Vera walked ahead of us through the glass door, emerging a couple of seconds later to say, “All clear.”

Four glass doors led into a sleek lobby, with gleaming marble-like floors, minimalist furniture, and post-modern art played across the walls. To our left was a shiny, metallic desk, where a college-aged girl sat at a Mac, wearing headphones. As we scrubbed our feet on a star burst-patterned rug—'The Edge was stitched in the center in a modern-looking font—the girl leaned around her wide monitor. Her face twisted and her brows gathered in what looked like a grumpy expression, but she didn't beckon us over; I didn't figure apartment buildings required sign-in, either, so I led the way through the lobby.

In front of the elevators was a tall, metal block with a large speaker and dozens of small, square buttons, each one bearing a room number. I had to think hard to remember West's. My finger hovered over 224 for a second—I remembered it only because February 24 was Halah’s birthday—and when I felt fairly sure, I pressed it. I stood there waiting to hear West's voice, but instead the elevator simply swished open, and the three of us walked inside.

I pressed the second-floor button, then stepped back into one of the corners.

“That was easy.”

Nick smiled, and Vera,
who had returned to her usual appearance, asked, “Are these things usually difficult?”

The elevator doors opened onto a hallway with hard, shiny, faux marble floors, metallic light fixtures, and sleek, gray mats in front of sleek, metal doors. The walls were cement bricks, and some (brand-new looking) pipes were exposed. The blended scent of sweat, beer, and perfume greeted us as we stepped into the empty hall and followed it to West's unadorned door.

After I knocked, I wondered what Vera would think of West. He was cute, in an intense, super geek kind of way. Of course I didn’t even know if her “vessel” was human in that way. Surely it was.

My stomach did a quick roll as I heard scuffling behind the door. I glanced at Nick; surely the DoD didn’t beat us here, but what if they had? I was ready to bolt when someone chuckled and the door cracked open the length of a chain lock.

Then a sliver of West's face appeared, blue eyes wide, mouth pulled open, and through the crack, a big, stinky cloud drifted out into the hall.

“MILO?!”

I widened my own eyes. “Uh-huh.”

West blinked, the door shut, then swung open, enveloping Vera, Nick, and I, in the thickest pot cloud I'd ever seen. West gave a low whistle. “So the reports of your kidnapping have been greatly exaggerated.”

His over-relaxed grin spread across his face, and he waved us inside.

I DIDN’T THINK it likely that Sid or Diego were hiding in such a smoky apartment, but when I saw the freckled face smirking from the couch, I almost gasped. In the thick haze, I thought it
was
Diego. Then the guy broke into a big grin and strode over to slap West on the back.

“
Dude
—this is Emily?” he asked, nodding at me.

West, still standing in the foyer with us, turned to the freckled guy. “Of course not, dude. This is my
cousin
, Milo.”

Freckled guy grinned like a kid in a candy store. “So she’s available.”

West shoved Freckles in the chest. “And in high school. Now bounce. I’ll call you about that other thing.”

Freckles had the decency to hang his head a little as he walked past Nick and I, in the little foyer, but when he saw Vera, he said, “DUDE” again before stepping out into the hallway.

West shook his head disgustedly. “That guy...” He shut the door behind his friend and turned to me with a proud grin. “Milo, woman. You’ve gone wild.”

“Um, is anybody else here, West?” I’d heard he had a few roommates.

“Just me,” he said, turning and waving us to follow.

Nick shot me a skeptical look as West led us past a small, mostly stainless steel kitchen and into a spacious, hardwood living area.

“This is a good thing,” I whispered. “He probably won't even remember we came by.”

West looped around a leather recliner and walked past a white mod coffee table, where a huge, rainbow-colored glass bong rested, just a foot or so in front of the couch.

He scooped up the bong, which looked kind of like a curvy elephant's trunk, and collapsed onto a love seat perpendicular to the couch.

Nick, Vera, and I took our seats on the couch, and I felt sick with fear that maybe West knew what Nick and Vera were. He was in cahoots with the DoD. Freckles had gone to get the commandos. I held my breath as I watched him check out Nick and Vera, wondering how much of his brain was actually functioning. He looked at Nick, sitting between Vera and me, and tilted his head with a frown. “Do I know you, man?”

Nick, looking surprisingly nervous, shook his head.

“Yeah I do, man. You're Milo's other ‘cousin.’” West flashed me a knowing smile. A moment later it faded, and his blue eyes narrowed; with his frizzy brown hair sticking up in a semi-fro, he looked like a curious owl. “Wait a second, are you the dude who scored with Annabelle?”

“What!” That was Vera. She shot Nick a scandalized look, and West nodded, smiling. “Your boy was getting it on with a high school hottie.”

“Actually, I wasn't,” Nick said sharply.

West shrugged, tapping his foot to some invisible beat. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first deny it.”

“He’s telling the truth,” I said pointedly, and West slapped his knee, with the exaggerated slowness of manner some stoners have. “Oh, I see now. Milo, this is
your
boy.” He fished a lighter out of his pocket and planted the bong in his lap. As he leaned over to place his mouth over the hole at the end of it, I watched him give Vera another once-over. He used a cigarette lighter to do something I couldn’t quite discern on one side of the bong. Then his shoulders rose as he filled his lungs and held the smoke there for a few seconds before slowly releasing it. My mind raced with different ways I could bring up the question I needed answered. The question whose answer I wasn't sure I was brave enough to hear.

When I had finally mustered up the courage to ask about my mom, West placed his palm over the hole where he'd inhaled from the pipe, and held it out to Vera. “You want?”

My jaw dropped when Vera nodded. Her bangs flapped a little, and her mouth tipped into a smile I swear looked almost coy. As she stepped toward West, Nick grabbed her wrist. “Ver,” he said, with wide, imploring eyes, “you can't.”

“You underage?” West asked her.

“No,” Vera snapped.

“Well, technically I am too.” He shrugged. “You have to be twenty-one. But it’s cool.”

Vera glared at Nick. “You're not my keeper.”

“C'mon, let her try some.” West held up have a sandwich bag full of marijuana. “This is the bomb. It’s…the
bong
.” He giggled at his…joke, I guess is what it was.

Vera raised her eyebrow. “The bong…” she said as she looked down at it.

“Milo, you should have some, too,” West said as Vera stood beside him. “Have some,” he urged, looking from Vera to me, “then tell me your story of intrigue and espionage.”

My throat constricted, and I thought I might throw up. Intrigue and espionage. Shit—he knew. For a full second, I couldn't draw a breath. “You tell me,” I finally managed to rasp. “What have you heard, West?”

With a final glare at Nick, who was shaking his head at her, Vera sulked back over to her side of the couch and sank down into the leather, crossing her legs.

“Nothing much,” West said. “Just that these two kidnapped you, and then burned down a cabin.”

“So just what the news is reporting?”

He shrugged. “Actually, Dad told me about it when he called a couple of days ago. He said your mom's been crazy looking for you, that you ran off with some sketchy guy.” He gave Nick a surprisingly lucid look, and I crossed my arms over my stomach.

“You've been gone a while now, right?” West asked me. “A couple days?”

I nodded, the tears in my eyes threatening to spill over.

West looked from Nick to Vera. “You want these guys to hit the road? I can have them bounced, just say the word.” He looked and sounded like a protective older brother, and I felt grateful for our friendship.

“No, it's cool. Nick and Vera are my friends. The truth is—”

“I did it,” Nick cut in. He straightened his shoulders and held West's gaze. “I was smoking a cigarette and I threw it down without stamping it out. Burned most of the house before they put it out.”

West frowned at me, like he needed verification. “So you just split?”

I shrugged. “Mom and I have been fighting,” I offered lamely.

I was surprised when West nodded. “Aerie, too. Girls and their moms.” He arched a brow at Vera. “Same for you?”

She nodded, rolling her eyes in a way that was so teenage girl, I almost choked on my surprise. “My mom's a real bitch,” she added a second later.

“What do you know about what's going on in Golden?” I asked West.

“You can't get in?”

“I stopped here because I wasn't sure what the best way was. We were up in Yellowstone—”

“Damn, you went all the way up there?”

I nodded, reticent to reveal any more details. “I wanted a little vacation,” I lied. “I heard about the virus in a gas station. I tried to call Mom, but couldn’t get through.”

West nodded, drumming his fingers against the bong, which he again held between his legs. “New strain of swine flu.”

“Do you know if my Mom's okay? I mean, she's been in contact with your parents, so she has to be, right?”

West shrugged, frowning. “I haven’t heard about any deaths or anything, so I’m sure she’s fine. But I don’t think anyone’s been able to call in or out since the CDC moved in.”

Nick's hand spread out on my knee. “Nothing?” I said. I planted my feet on the floor, genuinely feeling like I might throw up.

“They said it started near your house. Your neighbor, Suxley. He’s the dickhead, right?”

“It started with his pigs or something?” I said, hating that I couldn't just be honest. I wanted to scream in frustration.

“Maybe. All I know is, the place is blocked off,” West said. “My mom left me a message yesterday, but I don’t know what it was about. I haven't called her back. She'd call twenty times a day if I answered.” He made a face.

“Could you call her back for me? Please?”

“I don't know.” He dragged a hand back through his dark hair. “I'm pretty high.”

“But it's my
mom
,” I said. My voice cracked on the word, and I dropped my head into my palm. I'd already lost my dad; I couldn't live without my mom, too. I was clutching my chest, where it felt like a nail had pierced my ribcage, when I heard Nick ask, “Can we stay here tonight?”

I lifted my head, narrowing my eyes at Nick, but his expression was unreadable.