Chapter 9 Jo
nine
Jo
Ihate lying to the precious angel that is Adela, but I definitely did not try to take a nap. I know the girls claim there are no omegas matching Mabel’s description in Zombieland, but I have to see it for myself.
The building looms over me in the courtyard, and I swallow roughly as I look up, my eyes running over the details of the stained glass. The sun is setting behind the building, casting a huge shadow over me, and I know I’m garnering a few looks from the courtyard dwellers.
I can’t help it though, the art…something about it is niggling at me. The woman has white-blonde hair, just like Mabel, and the one eye that’s open on the devil side is more blue than the ocean.
The similarities send a shiver through me and I try to shake myself out of it.
It’s just a coincidence.
Pretty big one considering the crime scene photos I saw after I found out about why she was shipped here.
There are too many people with eyes on me in the courtyard, so I go around the side of the building, hoping there’s a more discreet entrance, and…bingo.
A small door on the side of the building reads “Staff Only”, but as luck would have it, the door opens easily when I turn the handle. I suppose they don’t have to worry about people sneaking in usually, and the patients are too doped up to make a break for it.
As soon as I’m behind the door, my eyes widen in shock,
While the interior of the main buildings are shiny and new, this one looks like it hasn’t been updated in fifty years.
Buzzing, yellow lights flicker on the ceiling, the wallpaper is peeling, and the linoleum tile looks like it’s about forty years old.
The hallway is long and narrow, closed doors lining the walls.
Not a soul in sight.
Unsettling feeling in my gut, I wander down the empty corridor, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest. I’m sure a squeak from a mouse could make me jump and scream at this point, and as if sensing the direction my thoughts have taken, Turnip climbs out of my pocket, her little claws digging into the material of my jumpsuit as she scales up and onto my shoulder.
“I agree, it is creepy,” I whisper, and she squeaks in confirmation. There are no security cameras. No sounds. I wouldn’t be surprised if an empty wheelchair rolled out from behind a corner.
The thought of Mabel being in a place like this has my gut twisting.
Then, I hear it. It’s faint, and it has the background fuzz that tells me it's coming through an old radio. A song from…what, the fifties? Because that’s not creepy as hell.
I follow the music, my hair standing on end as my footsteps echo on the floor. I reach the end, hang a left, and then…I see them.
Gray and orange hospital gowns, at least twenty alphas and betas. But no purple.
No omegas.
They’re all sitting around tables, staring into nothingness. One has half a puzzle done on a table, and is just staring out the window.
There’s a few tv’s playing some old reruns of sitcoms, with some patients staring slack-jawed at the screens.
Not an orderly in sight.
It’s like I’ve walked into some kind of weird wax museum where the sculptor really had a thing for horror movies.
The faint sound of scribbling catches my attention, and I see an alpha in the corner, her crayon moving furiously across a page in a sketch book. Curiosity getting the better of me, I find myself approaching the alpha, peering over her shoulder to see what she’s—
A screeching laugh makes me jump, and I whip around to see a ginger-haired beta in his forties, pointing at me and laughing. His eyes are cloudy, but his finger is pointed straight at me as if he’s condemning me to share his fate. Turnip lets out an alarmed squeak, scrambling back into my pocket.
Coward.
The others may as well be statues, and it’s an eerie feeling to be surrounded by stillness.
Dammit. I shouldn’t have come here. But…I need to see for myself that Mabel isn’t trapped in this hell-hole.
Quickly, I turn my attention back to the alpha, only to let out a little scream when I see she’s staring straight at me.
My reflex sets off a chain reaction.
The alpha who had been scribbling starts screaming the most blood-curdling, gut-wrenching sound I’ve ever heard in my life. My hands fly to my ears, but it does next to nothing to stop the piercing terror that shoots through me.
The laughter from the beta behind me continues, and my panic starts to rise. What the hell will I do if someone hears this?
“Who the fuck set Endo and Farris off?!” A shouting voice comes from the hallway that I walked through not five minutes ago, and my heart drops to my stomach.
Welp. I knew it might happen, I was just hoping it wouldn’t.
“Shhh! Shhh, I’m sorry!” I whisper-shout, backing away slowly with my hands up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Greg! Get your ass to the sitting room. Endo needs a dose of tranq.” It doesn’t even sound like the orderly is talking about a person—more like an animal.
When the footsteps grow louder, I find myself scrambling back, and then crawling under a table in the corner of the room. I scoot until my back hits the wall, but Endo is still screaming, every echo in the room like a knife to my eardrums.
Footsteps enter the room, and I hold my breath, hoping like hell none of the zombies can rat me out. “Shut the fuck up, you demented carrot!” The laughter from the beta cuts off as I hear the sound of a body hit the floor.
“A carrot? Really?” Another voice shouts over the screaming before it cuts off abruptly, followed by another thud.
“You try coming up with ginger-related nicknames for this fucker, then,” the first voice grouses.
“Can’t. Too busy coming up with nicknames for that omega when she gets sent in here.” My blood turns to ice. They…they have to be talking about me.
A low chuckle. “You wish. It’s been too long since we’ve had an omega.”
A sigh. “Yeah. She’ll be too important to Whitmore’s research to end up in here any time soon.”
Whitmore? Who the fuck is Whitmore? Isn’t this whole thing Brooks’ operation?
I file the name for later, running over the first half of the conversation. They don’t have any omegas here. Which means…Mabel can’t be.
At least…she’s not in the Cathedral.
That begs the question, though…why the hell did the girls think there were two omegas here?
The guys’ voices fade as their footsteps echo down the hall, and I peek my head out from under the table.
The room is exactly the same as it was before I went under the table, exept…the two patients, Endo and Farris, are in heaps on the floor. Are they…are they just going to leave them there?
Rage fills me at the thought of how they’re treating these people so poorly, and then I get a stroke of inspiration.
Giggling to myself, I use all my strength to put both Endo and Farris back in their respective chairs. I have to let their heads rest on the tables in front of them, but I can’t wait for those two asshole orderlies to shit themselves, not knowing how it happened.
Admiring myself for my ability to think of hilarious pranks even in the face of immense danger, I sneak back the way I came, hoping to hell that the orderlies aren’t sitting by an open door somewhere.
When I hear shouted cursing from the direction of the sitting room, I realize they must have gone down a different hall when they left earlier, and sprint the rest of the way out of the building.
I don’t stop running. I run through the courtyard, not paying proper attention to where I’m going. That’s the only explanation I can think of for how I end up running into a brick wall.
Wait. Not a brick wall. Strong hands brace my arms, and when I look up, I’m caught in Hayden’s hazel gaze, his smoky pepper scent tickling my nose. “Woah, where’s the fire?”
I gape up at him. Is he trying to make a joke? Or is he just constantly thinking about fire?
Shaking my head, I take a step back. “Sorry. I shoulda been watchin’ where I was goin’.”
Hayden frowns, his brows furrowing as he looks at me. His expression is way more concerned than what I would expect for someone I’ve had one conversation with. “You’re shaking.”
I let out a breathless laugh, holding my hands out in front of me. “Well I’ll be damned. You’re right. Guess I just got spooked by somethin’. Anyway, I gotta go. I’ll try not to run into you so hard next time.”
I’m stepping around him and running away before he can say anything else, but I’m not ten steps away when he calls out behind me, “You’re always welcome to run into me as hard as you want!”
I look over my shoulder, meeting his eyes as he shoots me a wink. My chest bubbles with laughter. “Whatever you say, Crazy Boy.”
His smile only widens before I turn back around and continue to my room, feeling a little lighter than I did a minute ago.