Chapter 9
I struggle to fall asleep in my spot on the floor.
January’s snoring rings in my ears, but knowing that tomorrow we’ll be leaving the relative safety of the dayroom weighs on me more.
I’ve lived at the Pegasus Center for the last two years, and every day of those two years I’ve dreamed about the day I’d get out.
I dreamed I would have an apartment waiting for me, or that maybe I’d be going to college.
I dreamed I’d get a job to save money to buy a car and get my driver’s license.
I didn’t imagine leaving while running for my life.
I have no idea what we’ll be met with once we leave.
When the sun comes up, I feel like I haven’t slept at all. My nerves are buzzing, and I tap my feet anxiously while waiting in line for the bathroom. Our little routine feels painfully slower today.
We eat a small breakfast from the dwindling pile of tiny cereal boxes and granola bars, and the three of us tuck an extra bar or two into our pockets when the rest of the group isn’t looking.
Once we’re all clean and fed, I give Keisha the look, making sure we’re on the same page.
She nods once. She’s ready. Lucia gives a nod as well.
If Keisha’s ready, so is she. Here goes nothing.
“I need to talk to you guys,” I announce to get the group’s attention. “We can’t stay here forever. Keisha, Lucia, and I have decided we’re leaving. Today. Right now.” For a moment Mr. Josh, Nurse Patrick, Ginger, and January say nothing. Finally, Ginger speaks.
“You can’t leave, or you’ll die; the man on the TV said so,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Girls, let’s think this through together. It’s not safe out there yet,” Nurse Patrick says sympathetically.
“We’re staying right here. All of us,” Mr. Josh commands, his face reddening. “If you take one step out that door you’ll lose every privilege you’ve ever had. We’re waiting for help, and that’s the end of the discussion. Sit down,” he growls with clenched fists.
I shrug on my backpack I had packed earlier, pick up my bedpost, and look Mr. Josh right in his stupid eyes and bare my teeth.
“Like hell we are. Let’s go,” I snarl.
I turn to leave, knowing Keisha and Lucia are following close behind.
I can hear January beginning to cry, and I walk a little faster. When fast footsteps come up behind me I wind up, pulling the bedpost back over my shoulder ready to swing, but it’s just Nurse Patrick, looking concerned.
“Wait. If I can’t convince you to stay, I’m coming with you. Give me two minutes,” he says hopefully.
I sigh, annoyed. If it had to be anybody, I guess I’m glad it’s him tagging along. He’d better pull his weight, though. I give him a firm nod.
“If you’re not on the roof in five minutes, we’re leaving without you. Get the other bedpost,” I tell him.
He nods and runs quickly down the hall. Keisha and Lucia give me a surprised look, but they don’t question the decision.
When we reach the end of the hall, Keisha and Lucia pull their backpacks from their hiding spots. Lucia grips her screwdriver deep in her pocket, and Keisha holds on to her bedpost reluctantly.
Down the hall I can hear both January and Ginger heating up. They’re not taking our departure well.
“Here we go.” I punch in the door code, and the little light flashes green.
When I push the door open, the smell hits me like a brick wall.
I almost forgot about that. Cat’s body lies still and gray, rotting right where I left her.
We startle a colony of flies. Keisha inhales sharply, and a soft whine escapes Lucia’s lips.
“Christ, Quinn! You couldn’t cover her up? Or at least take her down a flight or two? Anything?” Keisha accuses.
“She was too heavy,” I say, shrugging flatly.
“Let’s just go,” she says, covering her nose and mouth, pushing past me.
I know I’m Keisha’s best friend, and I know she cares about me, but sometimes I can tell I’m a little too much for her.
That look she’s giving me right now? I’ve seen it before.
I’ve seen it on the faces of disapproving foster parents and disgusted staff and on the faces of kids and teachers at school.
I learned pretty early on that I experience emotions differently than most people, and as a therapist once put it, my “moral threshold is broader than most.” I don’t really feel guilt, but I don’t like letting Keisha down.
I vow to do better, or at least be more discreet.
Despite the smell, we reach the roof in no time at all.
The late-June sun beats down on us, and I can feel myself begin to sweat under my layered clothes.
It’s dead quiet on the streets around us.
There are several bodies littering the sidewalks and parking lots that surround our building.
From this height it’s difficult to tell if they’re permanently dead or waiting for the next big noise to rise up.
As we reach the rusty fire escape and look down, I realize just how far down we’re going to have to climb, and I shiver.
I hear shuffled footsteps and sniffles behind me, and I whip around, reeling back my bedpost again.
I don’t know which is worse: a carrier waiting to attack or turning around to see Jan’s tear-stained cheeks.
She’s followed by the whole crew, and everyone’s carrying a full backpack. Everyone except Mr. Josh.
This is not how things were supposed to go.
“Quinn, Nurse Patrick says we can go with you!” January hiccups.
“It’s too hot out here!” Ginger whines, squinting behind her glasses under the bright sun.
This is exactly why I wanted to leave them behind.
“Nobody’s going anywhere! This is unbelievable! You are wards of the state of Illinois, and you’re under my supervision. We stay put. Go back downstairs. Now,” Mr. Josh demands, gripping the third bedpost that I told Nurse Patrick to get. So much for that.
“In case you haven’t noticed, the state of Illinois is dead,” I say, pointing my bedpost toward the street below.
“No one’s coming for us, and we have to leave before our resources dry up and we die waiting for help.
You’re welcome to stay here and wait, but you won’t stop us.
You’re not in charge anymore,” I say with finality.
Always the peacemaker, Nurse Patrick tries to reason with him gently. “Josh, we really can’t stay here. You could just—”
“You shut your mouth, Pat! You have no idea what’s out there!
What happened to having a united front, huh?
She is dangerous, and you know it! You’ve seen her chart.
She can’t be out there unchecked,” he says, pointing at me.
I guess we’re no longer being professionally discreet.
My blood boils. “And the rest of them need constant supervision. Are you abandoning your post?” Mr. Josh spits accusingly.
The desperation in Mr. Josh’s eyes is obvious, and it puts me on edge. Desperate people are dangerous. It doesn’t take long for him to prove my point.
In a flash, Mr. Josh grabs a handful of Lucia’s brown curls, pulling her in tight against his body and wedging the bedpost under her chin. Lucia gasps for air, her eyes wide and wild.
“Get. Back. Inside,” he threatens.
“Let her go, now,” I say between clenched teeth. Honestly, I don’t care what happens to Lucia. I’d be fine to walk away and leave her behind, but she’s important to Keisha, so I stand my ground.
Lucia’s tiny fingers claw frantically at the bedpost, and the sound of her fingernails on wood gives me goose bumps, even in the blazing heat.
Nurse Patrick corrals January and Ginger toward the door, backing away slowly.
“Josh, there’s no need for this. We’ll go back inside. You can let her go,” Nurse Patrick says.
Keisha and I stand firm with two bedposts between us. I get into a fighting stance and give him one last warning.
“Do something,” Keisha whimpers to me.
“Let her go or I’ll end you,” I say, baring my teeth and doing my best to stare directly into his soul. I pull my bedpost back threateningly, and I’m a little surprised when Keisha does the same at my side.
“I’m not playing games with you! You think I don’t see what you are, Quinn?
” He spits my name as he says it, squeezing the bedpost a little tighter against Lucia’s throat.
“You’re going to get these kids killed out there, and for what?
So you can watch them suffer? For the thrill and adrenaline?
I’ve been working with people like you my whole career.
All you psychopaths think about is yourself.
If anybody knows what’s good for them, they’ll—”
With his eyes on me, Mr. Josh never sees what’s coming next.
Lucia stops struggling, reaches deep into her pocket, and pulls out her screwdriver.
The sharp metal end glints in the sun, but Mr. Josh is too focused on me to notice.
She grits her teeth, squeezes her eyes shut, and then punches the tool deep into Mr. Josh’s thigh.
She pulls it out just as fast as it went in, and Mr. Josh doubles over in pain, gripping the bedpost in one hand and his fountain of a wound in the other.
Lucia runs into Keisha’s arms, shivering, holding on to her for dear life, but I know this isn’t over.
There is ice in my veins and fire in my belly.
We could easily walk away now and leave him bleeding on this roof, but something in me craves more.
I do want to watch him suffer, and I do want to experience the thrill and adrenaline that would come with ending his life.
He may be right about me, but I’m right about him too.
Killing Ms. Michelle and the others after they became carriers was about survival.
Killing Cat before she turned was just doing what needed to be done. This is different.
I don’t have to kill Mr. Josh. I just want to.
Running toward him, I swing my bedpost and send his weapon clattering across the roof.
He holds up his empty hand to me like he’s backing away from a wild animal.
Maybe he is. I press the end of my bedpost to the middle of his chest and smile.
I take a step forward, forcing him to limp backward; then I take another.
“I’ve tolerated you for two years now. I’ve watched you boss us around with that smug sense of superiority.
” I take another step. “I see the way you look at us.” Another step.
“You think I’m a loose cannon?” I say, cocking my head to the side.
“I think it takes one to know one. I think you’re just about to lose control and show us who you really are, Josh.
But I guess we’ll never know for sure.” I take one final step forward.
Before he realizes he’s reached the edge of the rooftop, I give him a sharp shove with the end of my bedpost, feeling his chest crack.
I stare directly into his wide eyes as he falls backward over the edge.
On the way to the concrete below, he lets out an awful scream, then lands with a cracking thud.
I spit over the edge of the roof, satisfied. Free.