Unforsaken (25 page)

The lawn hadn’t been mowed in weeks, and my shoes slapped against the weedy grass. I took the rotting, uneven porch steps with care. The house was no different from its neighbors, weathered wood showing through the peeling paint, an old black iron mailbox hanging at an angle from a single nail, an overturned bucket the only object on the sloped porch. Through a limp gray curtain, a weak light shined, but the upper windows were dark. I smelled mildew and garbage and smoke.

I took a breath and thought of Chub and Prairie and raised my hand to knock. Before my fist could strike the door, it opened and I was staring into the harsh-planed face and spinning milky eye of Rattler Sikes. It was like he had been waiting there for me, still as a snake, ready to strike.

“Hailey-girl,” he said softly. “Come to see your papa.”

Prairie stepped from the shadows. She pushed Rattler out of the way and gathered me into her arms with a soft cry, and I knew her from her scent, from her silky hair, from the tight embrace that seemed as though it would go on forever.

When she finally released me, her voice was choked with tears of relief. “Thank God,” she breathed.

And I almost broke.

“Prairie, I—” There were a thousand things I wanted to say to her, most of them apologies. I was sorry I’d lied to her. Sorry I’d thought I could protect us better than she could. Sorry I’d taken her for granted, sorry I’d let evil find us, sorry I hadn’t been there for her. But there wasn’t time, so I settled for the most important. “I love you.”

Rattler raised his hand, and I flinched, waiting for the blow—but he only turned on a light switch, illuminating a neat parlor with furniture that looked like it was a century old, the arms covered with crocheted doilies, and wood floors swept clean.

“My girls,” he said, as though it amused him.

“We’ve struck a deal,” Prairie said stiffly.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Rattler had a vision, Hailey. All of you, out at Quadrillon. He says trouble’s coming tonight.”

“Big trouble,” Rattler echoed. “Death dealin’ and blood runnin’.”

“You’re going to help us?” I demanded.

“Hell yes I am,” Rattler drawled. “Fact, we were just on our way when you showed up. I got the truck loaded up ready.”

Prairie steered me back onto the porch. “We need to go. We can talk on the way.”

Only then did I see that she had a belt slung around her waist that was clearly too big, a holster holding a handgun clipped to the front. I gasped, and Prairie’s expression turned grim.

“Why—how—”

“It’s Rattler’s,” she said. “He’s got one for you, too, Hailey.”

“What exactly is this deal you made?”

She looked deep into my eyes, her expression sad. “You don’t need to know the particulars, Hailey.”

“Oh, yes I do,” I protested, refusing to step out of her way.

Prairie sighed and put her hand to her throat, and I knew she was touching the ruby pendant that matched mine.

“All right,” she finally said. “Rattler’s going to help us get Chub out. We’ll find Kaz. And the three of you will go back to Chicago. Rattler’s promised he won’t look for you there ever again. You’ll be free, Hailey.”

“But what about you?” I asked, my blood suddenly running cold.

Because I already knew the answer. I knew the deal that Prairie had made.

She’d traded herself to Rattler to buy our freedom.

R
ATTLER DROVE STRAIGHT
through town, not bothering to disguise his route. I knew that people got out of the way when they saw Rattler’s truck coming, because any encounter with Rattler was bad news, whether you were Banished or not. No one followed us; it was past the dinner hour now and people were at home for the night.

The truck’s shocks had seen better days and every jolt and bump jarred my spine, but Rattler didn’t seem to mind. I was wedged against the passenger door. Between us, Prairie rode with her hands folded in her lap and her head held high. I knew better than to try to argue with her now, but I couldn’t believe she had agreed to stay with Rattler once this night was done.

She’d done it for me and Chub. And for Anna and Kaz. She’d done it so that Rattler would never come after us, never
drag us back to Trashtown to live out our lives in poverty and abuse. I felt sick at heart knowing what she was willing to sacrifice to save us.

I told her almost everything. About how sorry I was that we’d left her behind. About our pulling over to rest and Rattler and Derek’s finding us. About surviving the explosion only to end up in Prentiss’s new headquarters. About seeing Chub, and Dr. Grace, and Bryce and about the terrible thing Prentiss had asked me to do. About nearly falling for the trap and escaping to the utility room, and about Kaz’s plan to destroy the data before we got back.

There were a few things I didn’t tell her about. Like the night Kaz and I had stayed in the motel, and the kiss we’d shared. And the room Rattler had set up for her, with the photo of the two of them when they were children. Those things I saved to tell her later, because that way I could pretend that there would be a later, that she would be leaving with me when everything was over.

Throughout the trip, Rattler drove with a half smile on his face. Every now and then he rested one of his big callused hands on Prairie’s knee. It was as though he was trying to reassure himself that she was really there, as though he didn’t quite trust his spinning eye not to conjure her image from nothing.

If Rattler was afraid, he didn’t show it. And if Prairie was afraid, her fear had little to do with the next few hours—and much to do with what would follow.

We fell silent as we pulled off the road. We approached
the circular drive in front of the complex on foot, staying in the shadows cast by the decorative landscape lighting. The foyer was dark, the reception desk empty, but I knew that inside, a frantic search was going on, if it hadn’t already concluded with Kaz’s capture.

I was waiting for the doors to open with shouts and gunfire when a small figure shot out of the bushes and came running toward us at a gallop, then collided with me, nearly knocking me down.

“Hayee!”

It was Chub. We tumbled together, hugging each other, Chub babbling excitedly, me holding on for dear life. Prairie was next; she scooped him up and kissed his cheeks, his forehead. He laughed and shrieked with delight—and then, suddenly, he stopped.

He regarded Rattler solemnly from the safety of Prairie’s arms. “Your eye hurts.”

Rattler chuckled. “No, little man, it don’t. This here’s a magic eye. It tells me tales.”

But Chub shook his head and ducked his chin. “It hurts,” he repeated. “It makes you sad.”

Rattler’s grin faltered, but he played along, winking at Chub. “I ain’t sad. You’re lookin’ at a man what’s about to do what he does best. Gonna bust some ass and take what’s mine is what we’re fixin’ to do.”

“We can’t take Chub in there with us,” I protested.

“He can wait in the truck,” Rattler said. “Jes’ as soon’s he shows us how he got out here in the first place.”

We followed Chub back along a brick path that wound behind lattice screens, thick with wisteria. Shielded from view, the path took a turn toward the back of the complex, where Dumpsters were clustered next to a loading dock. The air smelled of garbage, and flies buzzed.

“I saw that, I saw that door,” Chub said proudly, pointing. Sure enough, a door stood open. Trash bags were stacked haphazardly outside, as though someone had been interrupted in the middle of a task.

By an alarm sounding through the complex, for instance.

“I’ll take the young’un back,” Rattler said, reaching for Chub. But Chub backed away from him, clearly frightened. “Oh, now, I won’t hurt you none,” Rattler crooned.

The sound curdled my blood. My father’s voice was not one that would ever sing a lullaby or soothe an injured child. There was no comfort in it, and Chub—who knew far more than most little boys—didn’t trust it.

Not until I told him to. I hated doing it, but there was no other way.

“Chub, you go with Mr. Sikes now,” I said, kneeling down to give him a hug and a kiss. “You get to sit in his nice big truck and wait just a little while and then I’ll be back for you. Lie down and try to sleep, and maybe you’ll have a nice dream.”

Chub looked skeptical, but he reluctantly went to Rattler.

Rattler was back in moments. We were barely inside the building when we heard a woman’s scream.

I
HAD BECOME FAMILIAR
enough with the layout of the place to know that the scream came from the direction of the atrium at the center of the complex.

I led the way, fear boosting my adrenaline. Behind me, Rattler jogged along, holding weapons in both hands. I didn’t know guns, so I wasn’t sure what they were, but one looked like a regular handgun, and the other like something out of a video game, big and heavy.

The scream came again, stark with horror and fear. Dr. Grace’s voice, it sounded like. As we rounded the last turn, I saw that I was right: Dr. Grace, her hands bound behind her, was standing on a circular coffee table, turning one way and then another, nearly tripping herself in her panic. A red stain on one shoulder revealed where she’d been shot. It looked
like the bullet hadn’t done much damage. It certainly wasn’t the reason she was screaming.

Circling the table where she stood was a ring of zombies.

“Holy …,” I heard Rattler mutter behind me, and just in time I turned to see him raising both his weapons in the air.

“Don’t,” I said. “You can’t kill them like that!”

Rattler glared at me, but he didn’t shoot, and we stopped at the edge of the atrium, stunned by the scene.

Dr. Grace was not alone. Bryce had been propped up on the floor against the coffee table, at Dr. Grace’s feet. He was conscious, his eyes tracking the action in the room, and his color was returning as his flesh continued to knit. Next to him crouched Kaz, pleading with Dr. Grace in a low voice, telling her to stay calm.

Many of the chairs in the room were occupied, and I recognized the staff I’d encountered over the last couple of days. Biceps. Texas. The servers from the cafeteria, the security staff, the researchers I’d passed in the halls. And up front, standing on a huge flagstone hearth, was Prentiss, watching the proceedings as though they amused him. He caught my eye and gave me a chilling smile.

“Hailey!” Prentiss called. “How delightful to see you. And Prairie, what a nice surprise. I had hoped to welcome you personally, but things did get fouled up, didn’t they? Nevertheless, we are pleased you could make it. And Mr. Sikes. My intrepid partner.” His voice turned cold. “You’ve supplied me with one … challenge after another.”

“Shut your mouth, you damn windbag,” Rattler snapped. “You got what’s mine. One a my people. Let ’im go now, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Your people …” Prentiss pretended to be confused. “Oh, you must mean young Mr. Sawicki. I am afraid I will be requiring his services. In fact, we were just having a … staff meeting, to introduce him. And, of course, to discipline Dr. Grace, who was careless enough to allow him and young Hailey to cause quite a disruption. And now you’ve brought the Tarbells to join us. How very expedient.”

Kaz had gotten to his feet and clambered up onto the coffee table, where he was trying to quiet Dr. Grace. He shot me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m’a start shootin’ now,” Rattler said. “I’ll drop one a your folks at a time until you start talkin’ sense.”

Before anyone could react, a shot echoed through the space and there was a sharp exclamation; the man who had served me my lunch the day before fell to the carpet, clutching his arm and moaning. I hadn’t even seen him move.

“Jes’ so you know, if I’d’a meant to kill ’im, he’d be a dead man,” Rattler added placidly.

Prentiss chuckled. “Impressive, I suppose, when one hails from a backwater town such as this. Only don’t forget, my dear man, that I’m always a step ahead of you.”

He motioned with his outstretched arms, and the staff rose from their seats.

“Endearing, really, your bravado,” Prentiss said. On the floor the injured man moaned and clutched his elbow.
“Especially when my men could exterminate you in three seconds flat. Oh yes, on my signal they—”