Dead Time Page 2

  “The Giver says it’s God’s punishment for desecrating the Garden of Eden,” the kid says, not sounding convinced. He looks to be sixteen or seventeen, tall and skinny as a snake. His skin is a gorgeous shade of coffee—but his curly hair is a little orange. “She says if we follow the righteous path, the Lord will save us.”

  “How many folks you met who made it out of a coal mine alive?” Grizzly asks, his mouth twisting into a sneer.

  The kid shrugs.

  “What’s a coal mine?” I ask.

  Grizzly snorts and shakes his head, obviously annoyed by my question.

  I turn toward the boy and raise my eyebrows.

  “I don’t rightly know,” he says, not meeting my gaze. “But it must be something horrible because everyone in here is sick from the bad air.”

  I hold my breath, wishing I had grabbed one of the rebreathers from the airplane.

  Grizzly laughs. “Best get used to it, princess. This here’s your home now. It may not be gay Pair-ree, but it beats the heck outta getting strangled by Doomsday.”

  I look around. The room is small and windowless. One wall is lined with cabinets, and there’s an empty bulletin board on another.

  “What are you going to do with me?” I ask.

  The kid glances down at his hands and then shakes his head. “I’m sorry they forced you to come here.”

  “You are?” I ask, my voice breaking. I look over at Grizzly. “Then why don’t you let me go? Kidnapping is a sin, you know.” I’m not positive about that, but I think I must be right, because the boy jerks his head up, his eyes wide.

  “You ain’t no kid,” a voice says from behind me. “So it ain’t no kid-napping.”

  I crane my neck around. Mikey is standing behind me, peeking through a door into another room. He’s shorter and thinner than I imagined, and his teeth are bad.

  “But it’s still wrong,” the skinny kid says. “To take someone against her will, I mean.” The boy’s hair is long and tangled, and he has a bad case of acne.

  “If you dab your face with vinegar,” I say, “it’ll help clear up the pimples.”

  He turns toward me, his eyebrows furrowed. “You a doctor or somethin’?”

  I shake my head. “More of an engineer, but my mother’s a doctor—one of the best in the country.”

  “Maybe we should invite her over for tea,” Mikey says, “I’ve never done a lady doc—”

  “Shut it,” Grizzly says, “or I’ll report you.”

  “Then you’d be good as dead, old man.” Mikey shuts the door and steps around in front of me, flicking open a pocketknife with one hand and closing it again.

  “I ain’t” —Grizzly stifles a cough and then spits on the floor— “got much longer either way.”

  The kid ignores them. “Vinegar, you say?”

  “Yeah. Any kind will do, but apple cider vinegar works best.” I turn and look at Grizzly. “And you should cover your mouth when you cough, or you’ll spread your germs and more people will get sick.”

  “Lord in heaven!” Mikey says, pointing the knife at me. “Now I remember why we didn’t want no womenfolk here.”

  “Well I think she’s nice,” the kid says, standing up straighter. “And pretty too.”

  “Thank you,” I say without thinking, “but my mother says you should look for brains over beauty.” I feel my face flush.

  Shut it, Shaz.

  “What a load of crap,” Mikey says. “All the brainy women I ever met had a smart mouth to go along with it. Give me a dumb blond any day.”

  “Just because I’m blond, doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” I say. “And there’s nothing wrong with being educated.”

  “Hush now,” Grizzly says, wagging his finger at me, “or you’ll be giving the boy notions.”

  The kid narrows his eyes like he’s wondering what notions he might be missing out on.

  Mikey laughs. “I told you, old man, giving blondie to that pansy is a waste a good tits and ass. He wouldn’t know what to do with his pecker if God hisself—”

  “How old are you?” the kid asks.

  Mikey hurls his knife at the boy’s head, narrowly missing him—and me. I scream and try to move out of the way, but I’m still tied to the chair. All I manage to do is tip over.

  I lie there on the cold, dirty floor, too frightened to speak.

  Mikey steps over me and pulls his knife out of the bulletin board. He wrenches the chair—and me—back upright.

  “You do somethin’ like that again,” Grizzly says to Mikey, “and I’ll kill you myself.”

  Mikey laughs and runs the back of his hand across my cheek. “You sure do scream pretty, girly.”

  The boy swallows, his face unreadable. “So how old are you, miss?”

  “Eighteen,” I say, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

  “Well, Romeo here is nineteen,” Grizzly says, pulling at his bushy eyebrows. “So it ain’t such a bad match.”

  “As long as you ignore his limp dick,” Mikey says and snorts. “In any case, they’ll be wanting us to bring her in soon.” He flicks open his knife and uses it to lift up my chin. “And it’d go better for you if I didn’t have to drag you in kicking and screaming.”

  “Drag me in where? What are you planning to do to me?” I look at the boy, but he won’t meet my gaze.

  “Ah, shit,” Mikey says. “I forgot to get the dress. Stall ’em until I get back.” He pockets the knife and slips out the door.

  I slump back in the chair and breathe a sigh of relief.

  The moment the door clicks shut, the boy starts untying my hands. “I’m letting her go. She’s not some slave girl you can order around, even if she don’t believe.”

  “Believe what?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

  “Your funeral, kid,” the old guy says and stands up. “Which is pretty much the same ceremony as a wedding any—” He starts coughing again, but this time he covers his mouth.

  “Wedding?” I say, rubbing the circulation back into my wrists. “I think you should tell me what this is all about.”

  The kid’s face turns the same color as his hair.

  “And thanks for untying me. My name’s Shannon.” I offer him my hand, but he just stares at it.

  “He ain’t never touched a girl before,” Grizzly says. “His mother died when he was a whippersnapper, and the women here don’t let no one touch them except during the Culling—and Romeo here ain’t made it through one yet. Seems his pecker don’t work right.” He smacks the boy on the shoulder. “Where are your manners, kid? Kiss the lady’s hand like a proper gentleman.”

  The kid doesn’t move, and for a moment, I think he might start crying.

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” I say. “And you don’t have to kiss me. Where I come from, people shake hands.”

  He gives my hand a quick squeeze, and Grizzly rolls his eyes.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, surprised at how big his hands are given how skinny he is.

  He swallows, still looking embarrassed. “Peter.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I force a smile. “You seem like a nice person, Peter.”

  “Petey here is the Prez’s son,” Grizzly says, “our one and only dauphin.”

  Peter rounds on him. “I’m not no fish.”

  Grizzly lets out a snort. “It’s French, you retard—means you’re the next king.”

  “Oh,” the boy says, looking embarrassed.

  “You shouldn’t make fun of people who aren’t as educated as you are,” I say to Grizzly. “Besides, Peter’s not the one who fucked up the world. You are.” The old man’s eyes get big, so I bet he knows what I mean. “And anyway,” I add, “it’s America. No one cares about dolphins—or silly old kings.”

  Peter half-smiles.

  “Thank you,” Grizzly says dryly, “for the history lesson, but I suggest you keep your colorful language to yourself in the future. Most folks around here ain’t as… tolerant of uppity womenfolk as Ol’ Griz. I�
�d hate to see that pretty little face of yours get beat up over a few bad words.”

  They hit people for swearing?

  The door opens and Mikey strides back in. He glances at the chair and then at me. “So you decided to cooperate, did ya?” He runs his gaze leisurely down my body, his lip twitching. “Good. Makes it easier when it’s my turn.”

  I stifle a cry and shuffle closer to Grizzly.

  “Well it ain’t your turn,” Grizzly says, “so keep your pecker in your pants.”

  Mikey’s carrying a bundle of fancy white cloth, and I notice that his right hand ends in a stump. He’s missing all four fingers.

  I try not to stare.

  “Take off your clothes,” he says and tosses the bundle at me. “And put that on.”

  I barely manage to catch it. “What?”

  “You heard me,” he says and hides his disfigured hand behind his back. “Do it, or I’ll do it for you.”

  Grizzly steps between us. “Put the dress on over what you’re wearing. Lord knows it ain’t much.”

  I stand up and slip the full-length dress over my head, grateful to have something to cover my torn T-shirt. There’s one long zipper on the side—something I’ve never seen before—but I manage to get it zipped up by myself.

  The dress is decorated with the pearls and the sparkly things Miss Lucy wears on her fancy hats… sequins, I think they’re called. It fits well—except the hem drags on the floor.

  “It’ll do,” Mikey says, his eye twitching.

  “As you may have guessed,” Grizzly says, inclining his head toward Peter, “you are this young man’s fiancée.”

  The blood rushes to my feet. “His what?”

  “His bride-to-be, princess. Only yesterday, the Prez prayed for a grandson, and today you fell right out of the sky.”

  “I didn’t f-fall out of the sky,” I say, struggling to stay in control. “My plane ran out of fuel.” My chest is so tight, I can scarcely get the words out. “You can’t make me marry someone I just met. It’s unethical!”

  Mikey laughs. “You say the damnedest things.”

  A door opens, and loud organ music floods into the stuffy room.

  Mikey grabs my arm, dragging me toward the door, and when I jerk away from him, he slaps me hard across the face.

  “That’s enough!” Grizzly says.

  Mikey gives him a treacherous look and then grips my arm again. “Don’t matter what you want, girly, long as you can bear children.” He pulls me toward the oppressive music. “You got forty days with limp dick, here, because the law says so.” He glances at the boy’s pants and shrugs. “And then you’ll be gettin’ a visit from me.” He uses his stump of a hand to turn my face toward his. “And if you don’t submit, well then, we’ll be pushing you out of the coal mine a bit early.”

  2

  Lost

  Lani

  “Lordy me, they found the plane!” Lucy calls from the clinic hallway. She rushes in, her pillbox hat in hand. “Jack says they’ll have more information any minute…”

  I drop the bed sheets I’m folding and run out the door.

  Shannon!

  I sprint across the darkened expanse of Central Park toward the radio room, my lungs on fire.

  You never should have let her go. You never should have trusted Mr. Miracle.

  When we first got word that the Lou had failed, everyone was worried sick: a biodome full of people forced to evacuate and the closest help hundreds of miles away. We were told that someone had spoken to Madders—and the plane was headed back to KC.

  That was over twelve hours ago.

  When Kansas City hadn’t heard from them by midnight, we all feared the worst: The plane had run out of fuel and gone down God knows where. KC assured us they would send out a search party at first light—and that there was nothing else to do except wait and see.

  Please let my daughter be alive.

  I rush through the door of the radio room and narrowly avoid crashing into Mindy’s father, Jack.

  “They’ve spotted the plane to the east of C-Bay,” he says and gives me a hug.

  I nod, still trying to catch my breath. “Shannon?”

  “Everyone on board is fine, but they’re low on fuel.” He switches to speaker mode. “Ted,” he says into his headset, “I’ve got Lani here. Can you give us an update?”

  “Sure thing,” the guy at C-Bay replies. “We have them on visual, and we’re tracking their approach.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” I say, tears of joy streaming down my face.

  Before you met Diego, you hadn’t cried in years. Now it seems that’s all you do.

  “They’re about thirteen nautical miles out,” C-Bay says, “and Mr. Kirk is scrambling a rescue boat even as we speak. He’s on the other line and will talk to you just as soon—hold on a sec…”

  I glance over at Jack. “David sent a rescue boat?”

  “Yeah. Pretty much everything up and down the East Coast is underwater—and has been for more than a decade. Last time I was there, the place was crawling with crocs.”

  “Probably alligators,” I say, “but that’s not much comfort.”

  “Well there’s no need to worry, Doc,” he says and squeezes my arm, “C-Bay is well above the high-water mark—including their runways—and the whole area is surrounded by a military-grade security fence.”

  The radio is quiet for another ten seconds and then crackles back to life. “Bub, I’ve just been informed that they are attempting a dead-stick landing on an old section of raised freeway. Stand by.” The connection light goes out.

  “What’s a dead-stick landing?” I ask, my brain full of scattered parts, mangled bodies, and crazed gators.

  “No engine power,” Jack says. “But it’s no big deal. Madders has probably done it hundreds of times.” The look on his face betrays his real thoughts.

  For twenty-seven excruciating minutes, I pace back and forth next to the silent radio, afraid that my one and only daughter is going to be swallowed up by an alligator-infested swamp.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “What the hell’s happening, Jack? Can’t you call them up and ask?”

  “I’m sure they’ll get back to us as soon as they have any new information,” he says. “They’re probably talking to the plane right now, and we would be getting in the way.”

  “But that’s my d-daughter out there!”

  The receive light comes back on.

  “Hey, cupcake.” The voice is warm and confident.

  “David!” I nearly shout. “What’s going on?”

  “Calm down, doll. Everything’s fine. The rescue boat picked them up a couple minutes ago.”

  “Thank goodness.” I wait for my heart to stop pounding. “Can you put Shannon on the moment she gets through the airlock, please?”

  “Yeah, about that… I’m afraid she’s not with them.”

  “What? W-where is she?” I shut my eyes, icy coldness filling my chest.

  “Look, I’m sure everything will be fine, Lani. I haven’t got all the details yet, but apparently Shannon’s still at the biodome in Catersville. That’s in Tennessee.”

  Jack and I exchange looks.

  “I know where C-Catersville is, David. That biodome was all over the news a few years ago when… when they killed all those women by pushing them out—” I feel faint, and the next thing I know, I’m slumped on the floor.

  I feel Jack’s hand on my shoulder. “What about Diego?” he says. “Was he on the plane?”

  “Yes,” David says. “He and Hudson are fine, but they were forced to leave Shannon behind.”

  “Leave her?” Jack says. “For crying out loud, what happened?”

  “When they were refueling the plane, a couple of men spotted Shannon hiding in the back and forced her out at gunpoint.”

  I feel sick to my stomach.

  Oh God, no!

  “Come again,” Jack says, reaching out to help me up. “They what?”

  “They forc
ed her out of the airplane and were planning to take her inside the biodome. Hudson says they couldn’t do anything to stop ’em.”

  Jack offers me his chair and I collapse into it, struggling to breathe. “What do you mean they c-couldn’t do anything?” I say, gripping the microphone with both hands. “Why didn’t Diego try to s-stop them?”

  “Easy there, babe,” Dave says. “I’m going to head down there and—”

  “Just tell me what happened, David!”

  He exhales. “Crusoe did try to stop them, but Catersville had a fifty caliber machine gun aimed at the plane. Apparently, shots were fired. Hudson tried to reason with them, and when that didn’t work, things got ugly. Crusoe went all action-hero on a handful of paramilitary, and they beat him up pretty bad. By the sounds of it, he and Hudson were lucky to get out alive.”

  “What in Pele’s name were they doing in Catersville?” I say, my fear giving way to anger. “Everyone knows the p-place is a loony bin. Madders would never take Shannon there.”

  “With St. Louis out of the picture, they needed fuel, and Catersville was the only viable option. It was that or go down in the woods.”

  “Oka fefe, David, I don’t want to hear this. You have to d-do something. You have to get her out of there.”

  “It’s not as bad as you think, Lani. As soon as I heard what happened, I got on the horn to Catersville, and I expect to hear back any minute. I don’t have any reason to doubt what Hudson says, but I’m sure CV will have a different story. It may not be a pinnacle of democracy, but one of the original founders of the sect was a good friend of mine, and that biodome is one of the best there is—fully automatic environmentals and more backup systems than you can shake a stick at. Shannon will be safe there until I can get to her.”

  “Safe? With a bunch of religious fanatics that kill women who don’t submit to them?”

  “It would have been way worse if the plane had gone down in the Tennessee woods, Lani. So take a deep breath and give me a chance to do some negotiating.”