Infected: Die Like Supernovas (The Outlaw Book 2) (17 page)

“Ugh,” Chase said.

“S’wrong, Chase?” Cory asked around some meatloaf. “Another headache?”

“Nah,” Chase said, rubbing his eyes. “Best I’ve felt in three days, actually. Just tired.”

Lee asked, “Dude, why are you holding Katie’s hand?”

“Because shut up,” Chase said and put his head back down.

“Taking notes in Spanish class has gotten crazy challenging,” I said, playfully trying to shake him off.

Samantha Gear said, “Thanks for sitting with us today, Katie.” Her lunch today was a carrot and a chocolate bar. No wonder she looked like pure muscle. “Instead of sitting with the Queen.”

“She really doesn’t think of herself as a Queen,” I said in defense of Hannah Walker. Today was the first day she’d gone back to sit at her old table. Truthfully, I kind of missed her.

“How’s she doing?” Chase asked from his position, face down on the table.

“Hey, sit up,” Samantha Gear said and she whacked him solidly in the side. “You look ridiculous. Quit slouching.”

“Um, kicker? Hush your mouth. Katie, how is Hannah?”

“Ask her yourself,” I said.

“Noooooo,” he said, sitting up and looking pained at the idea. “It would be so weird. Just tell me.”

“She misses you.”

“No she doesn’t,” he scoffed.

“Yes. She really does,” I shot back.

“Do
you
think Hannah and I should get back together?” he asked me, and he gave my hand a squeeze. My Chase. My sweet wonderful Chase.

“That’s…up to you,” I said carefully, even though I wanted to shout ‘No!’

“Yo, Katie, how’s she feel about you always holding his hand?” Lee teased.

“She knows he’s initiating it,” I said. “And she’s kind of pissed at him.”

Chase yawned, “It’s no big deal. Sometimes friends hold hands.”

“Dude. No we don’t.”

Chase texted me that night, after supper as I was doing homework.

>>Katie. I’ve decided I need to tell you something. Something big. Something important. Can I come over in about ten minutes?

Sure!
I replied. I FLEW into my room and changed out of my old t-shirt. Hair looks great. Make-up, done. Room, messy, but that’s okay. I popped a breath mint and was rubbing lotion onto my arms when he knocked.

That was fast! I opened the door for him.

But, once again, I was fooled. It wasn’t Chase.

I texted Katie that I was coming over and then I looked in the mirror. Oooof. Wow, that’s bad. I hadn’t been sleeping recently and it showed. I looked like the After Photo in an anti-drug campaign.

I had to tell Katie. She must know. She must know she’s everything. I don’t have much longer, I can feel it. The virus was everywhere and I was constantly fighting a war between headaches and bouts of insane energy. The pain and the irrational unstoppable urges to go flying off buildings were closing in each day, both threatening to kill me. The nights I managed to stay in bed were spent tossing and turning.

I’d already written Dad a letter, for him to find in case I lost the fight. A letter explaining how much he meant to me, my hopes for his future, etc. I kept the details vague on why I wrote the letter, on how I knew I was dying.

Now, Katie. I practically floated to her house. I’d wanted to tell her for months. I love you. I think I always have. I want you. I want to be with you. There’s only you.

I knocked on her back door.

No answer.

I knocked again.

And then Tank opened the door.

Tank
!

Tank ducked his head and emerged out of the sliding doors, one arm draped around Katie’s shoulder. They were both pink and had flushed lips.

They’d been kissing.

Katie looked affectionately at Tank, then at me, and then back at him. Tank smiled victoriously. No one spoke for a long moment. Time slowed. I could hear every animal within a mile. I could see both their pulses palpitating faintly in their neck. I could smell her lotion, his deodorant, and supper from both tonight and last night. In that instant, in that blast of startling clarity and acuity, I was confident I could count the blades of grass in her backyard with a single glance. I almost tore her whole building down.

“Hi Chase!” Katie giggled. Since when did she laugh like that? “I forgot you were coming over.”

“Yeah, I was going for some ice cream,” I lied smoothly, somehow. “Didn’t realize you had company. Some other time.”

Tank sneered at me.

I made a quick list of all the secrets. I knew Tank was Katie’s abductor. He knew I was the Outlaw. We knew each other knew. Tank was probably Infected, but might not be aware. Katie had been with the Outlaw, but wasn’t telling anyone. But Chase Jackson knew. And I knew they’d just been kissing.

“Tank, good to see you,” I said.

“Yeah,” he chuckled maliciously. “I bet.”

“I’ll go make some popcorn,” Katie said and she vanished into her bedroom.

“Popcorn?” I asked. “You eat popcorn? I figured you just ate little kids.”

“I like popcorn,” he grinned. “And Latinas.”

“How’s your forehead?” I asked, peering at an imaginary spot on his face. He’d apparently healed from the gunshot. “Looks pretty ugly. But it matches the rest of you.”

His face clouded and he said, “The Sniper saved your miserable life, pajamas.”

“Miserable? Seems a little harsh. How about a ‘Thank You’ for saving your life the other day? You know, when the Chemist’s goons were about to rip you apart?”

“The Chemist,” he thundered. “You know him?”

“Nope. Not a clue.”

“I’m looking for him. Won’t be long,” he said, and he started rubbing his temple. His skin tone was fading to white and then flushing. “I’m going to burn both him and the Shooter alive in the middle of the Dodger’s Stadium. Done it before. Might bring you along to watch. Or use you as kindling.”

“What’s the Chemist want with the Outlaw?” I asked.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. He’s dead.”

“Fine by me,” I shrugged. “I’m not a big fan of his, either. You have a headache, by the way? Trouble sleeping recently?”

He didn’t answer. He pinched the bridge of his nose and started taking deep breaths. I commiserated with his pain. Watching him was fascinating. I could hit him. He wasn’t ready. I could break his nose. I could drive his nose back into his brain, and then dump his body somewhere. Maybe I could find a rock and crush his skull. But. I wasn’t going to.

“I heard you started using cocaine,” I said. “Coke help with the pain? Maybe you should go home and sleep it off. Far…far away from Katie.”

“Nah,” he smiled even though his eyes were watering. “Got a date. Watching a movie. On her bed. How’s that for pain?”

He went back inside and slid the door closed.

I bounced on my toes outside her door, grinding my teeth. My imagination tortured me as I pictured them on her bed. Nothing would happen. Probably. Katie wouldn’t let it. Maybe. Tank wouldn’t try anything with her mom home. Hopefully. But what could I do? I couldn’t manipulate Katie’s will or emotions.

So I drove to a downtown pharmacy and bought two needles and a pack of glass vials. Then I climbed to the rooftop next to Natalie North’s building, staying in the shadows and out of sight.

Nine at night on a Friday, and I was hiding on a rooftop, learning how to draw blood. My life sucks. But maybe I could find a way to stay alive.

The phone rang inside my helmet.

“What?” I answered it.

“Yo, dummy. How come you keep wearing the motorcycle helmet?” the voice sparked in my ear.

“What?”

“I think the black and red mask looks better. Pretty badass.”

“PuckDaddy,” I said.

“That’s me, baby.”

“Are you always watching me?”

“As often as I can,” he answered. “You’re priority number one. For Carter. And, well, your life is pretty fascinating. Even though you’re stupid.”

“Can you see me now?” I asked, scooting closer to the brick wall. “I thought all those stupid cameras wouldn’t be able to find me here.”

“Yeah, dummy, I can see you through about a dozen cameras. I see everything. But I’m erasing the data.”

“Great,” I said, examining the needle and vial in my hand.

“What are you doing? The picture is too fuzzy.”

“It’s a secret,” I said.

He sighed and said, “I could pull up your bank account, or I could scan the pharmacy security tape to see what you bought. Or you could not be a total newb and you could just tell me.”

“Secret,” I repeated and I jabbed the needle into my finger. The needle…bent. I jabbed again. Nothing. I tried scraping the point across my skin. No luck. Again. Jab. Again. Jab. Katie. Jab. Tank. Again. No blood.

“Oh crap,” PuckDaddy groaned into my ear.

“What?” I said, blinking away tears of frustration.

“I see what you bought. You idiot. Why are you collecting blood?”

“Shut up,” I said.

“Oh boy. You’re not smart.”

“You know what else isn’t smart?” I asked through a tight throat. “Waiting around to die.”

“The FBI guy, Anderson. I heard his plan. You’re giving him a blood sample.”

“Come on!” I shouted and I hurled away the destroyed needle. “Do you listen to
all
my phone calls??”

“Not that night. You used a disposable phone, remember? Pissed me off. But I listened to Anderson talking to his superiors about it. He said you were considering providing a blood sample. Which is totally stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” I said. “I’m trying to survive.”

“It won’t work, dummy.”

“It might,” I said, losing the battle to keep desperation out of my voice. “Might find a cure.”

“No, not that. You won’t be able to draw blood right now. You’re upset. Your skin is probably hard as a rock. That’s how the virus works. When you’re mad or under duress or excited or upset or something, the virus kicks in, begins manufacturing adrenaline. That epinephrine makes your muscles tense, skin turn hard, blood start pumping, you can see better, you know. All that stuff. No way can you pierce your skin right now.”

“Ugh,” I groaned and laid flat on my back. Tears leaked and spilled in hot rivulets down the creases around my ears. “This sucks. This sucks so much.”

“Sorry, man. The virus is cold. Merciless, like a machine.”

“Yeah,” I sniffed. “I’ve learned. I can’t sleep. Can’t think. Can’t function.”

“You’re doing better than most,” he said and I could hear him drink something. “I monitor a couple kids like you every year. They all die. You’ve lasted the longest in five years.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-three.”

“How’d you get through the virus?” I asked. I wanted to talk, to distract myself, calm down.

“Cause I’m awesome,” he replied.

“Oh. Wow. Thanks.”

“It’s true. But your situation is weird. Our whole world is on hold, waiting to see what happens to you. Lots of manpower, lots of money, lots of precious hours spent deleting data, accessing phone calls, moding fan websites, really deep magic stuff on my end. It’s like nothing we’ve ever done. Most guys like you drop dead pretty quickly, or commit suicide, or do something stupid, like a girl last year thought she could swim across the Pacific. You’re still here and still pushing through with your daily life, even with this bizarre hero gig. Crazy legit. Mad respect.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, fogging the visor of the helmet. “Crazy legit. How many sick kids has the Shooter put out of their misery?”

“None last year. Pretty rare. The virus is effective. You were
supposed
to get shot. Twice, actually. Because you were being a dumb ass.”

“He got me once,” I said. “Right before I could kiss this girl.
The
girl.”

“He got you once,” PuckDaddy mocked me. He did that a lot. “Yeah, I was watching from a security camera. Carter ordered a real bullet. Shooter decided to just warn you, though. Used wax. I thought Carter’s head was going to explode.”

“Shooter and Carter don’t get along?”

“It’s…complicated, man,” he laughed again. “I stay out of it.”

“Is Carter the boss? He gave me the impression he wasn’t.”

“Oh he’s the boss.”

“What, did you guys elect him or something?”

“No.” A chuckle. “It’s a monarchy. He’s the king, not the president. Something like that. Crazy control freak. But he’s aight. Usually. PuckDaddy too busy to complain.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Monitoring the escalating war between North Korean hackers and NSA’s cyber ops team, and toying with ways to requisition NOAA’s satellite cameras without them knowing. Harder than it sounds, amigo, but nothing’s impossible for PuckDaddy. By the way…”

“Yeah?” I prompted.

“Don’t know why I’m telling you this. Really don’t care. I guess I do, but whatever. I think you should tell Katie who you really are.”

“Hah!” I laughed. “Oh man. You are all up in my personal life.”

“Yeah, kind of pathetic. Don’t know why I’m so hooked. It drives me crazy when you two talk in real life and I can’t hack in.”

“If I survive this thing,” I said, “I might tell her. It’ll be a lot to explain.”

“Yeah, definitely. Trust PuckDaddy. I read your text to her tonight. How’d that go?”

How’d that go? It went awful. Really awful. Tank was there.

I sat up straight, grabbed another needle, and tore open my finger. The wound turned white and puckered when I pressed it open, but then it began spilling thick red drops into the waiting vial. My skin had softened during our conversation. Because of the lack of adrenaline? Who knows. My body is so freaking weird.

“What are you doing, noob?” he asked.

“How’d it go tonight?? It went
so
bad. I’m dying and Katie is dating a monster,” I said, fresh emotion welling up. “And I don’t know what to do about it, so I’m doing this. I’m trying to live. Looking for hope. It’s all I’ve got.” I pressed the green stopper into the opening and examined the full vial. “Maybe the FBI can help me. Because you and Carter sure can’t.”

“Okay. Well. Close your eyes, stupid,” he warned.

“What? Why?”

The vial in my hand exploded. Snap,
crash
! Glass and blood all over the bricks beside me. A gun shot! Someone shot the vial out of my fingers!