The Undertakers (23 page)

Outcast Amy

The cafeteria was empty except for Nick and Amy. The Mom Boss stood at one of the counters, dipping a pair of long tweezers into one of three small bowls. Amy stood beside him, smiling wanly, although there was bright, eager interest in her eyes.

As I approached, Nick lifted the tweezers out of the bowl, cupped his long-fingered hand under the girl's chin, and dropped the tweezers' sticky contents onto her ready tongue. Amy chewed, swallowed, and sighed.

“Told you,” Nick said, grinning. “Nothing like candy to make you feel better!”

Amy smiled.

“Now how about some of the grape?” he suggested.

“Sure,” she replied, nodding.

“Hey!” I said, announcing myself.

Neither kid looked particularly happy to see me.

Nick said flatly, “Oh—hey, Will.”

Alongside him, Amy's face had suddenly paled. I offered her a smile. She looked away.

“Figured you guys'd be packing,” I remarked, trying to sound friendly.

“Almost done,” Nick replied, motioning toward a stack of boxes piled atop one of the cafeteria tables. “Amy was helping me. Then we kind of got sidetracked.”

“Oh,” I said.

“You want some candy-coated something?” he asked me.

“Candy-coated what?”

“Well…” The Mom Boss conducted a quick inventory. “We got peanuts, cashews, milk chocolate, and pretzels. Take your pick.”

I looked down into the three bowls. Each contained a different-colored syrup heated over a separate hot plate. “How's this work?” I asked.

“Nothing to it,” Nick replied. He gingerly picked up a chunk of chocolate with the tweezers and dipped it into the red bowl for a few seconds. “There!” he declared, removing the morsel and blowing gently on it. “Hold out your hand. Don't worry, this stuff cools fast.”

“It's cherry,” Amy offered shyly.

Shrugging, I let Nick drop the misshapen confection into my palm. I sniffed it and then popped it into my mouth. I vaguely recalled these homemade candies from my first day in Haven, but I hadn't tried them since. They were better than I remembered.

“Good,” I said, still chewing.

“Yeah!” Nick remarked, grinning. “Try something else. The peanuts are my favorite.”

“Not right now,” I told him. “Actually I was kind of hoping I could talk to Amy for a minute.” At the sound of her name, the girl went even paler.

Nick's usually pleasant face darkened. “Well, the thing is, Amy's kind of helping me right now.”

“It won't take long,” I pressed. “I promise.”

“Don't you think she's been through enough, Will?”

“I'm not going to upset her.”

“Why not? You've upset just about everybody else around here.”

I was about to reply, but Amy beat him to it. “It's okay, Nick. I'll talk to him.”

Nick looked at her, his expression softening. “You don't have to.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Scowling at me, the Mom Boss reluctantly nodded. “Then why don't you both grab that table over there? In the meantime, I'll finish coating these candies. We'll need them when we get to the new place—for morale.”

He wants to keep an eye on us.

Sharyn had once described Nick as a
born nurturer
. I wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but there was no mistaking the pleasure the boy took in looking after the Undertakers' most struggling underdogs. Everybody in Haven knew that if you were unhappy or frightened, you could always count on big Nick to cheer you up.

Or try to.

If anybody fit that bill, it was Amy Filewicz.

After all, two Undertakers had died because of Amy's betrayal at First Stop. Brainwashed or not, I imagined that most of Haven's residents wanted nothing to do with her.

But Nick had taken her under his wing.

It was hard not to like a kid like that.

“Sure,” I said. “Thanks, Nick.”

I sat down beside Amy at the farthest table, feeling the Mom Boss's watchful eye on me. For a long uncomfortable moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Amy whispered, “You hate me.”

I blinked. “What?”

She didn't repeat it.

“Amy, why would you say that?”

A single tear traced a lazy path down her cheek. “I tried—” She swallowed and then regrouped. “I tried to kill you.”

I saw no point in pretending otherwise. “Yeah, I know.”

Amy buried her face in her hands and cried. I awkwardly patted the girl's shoulder. Nick gave me a look of plain, undisguised loathing.

“It's okay,” I muttered.

“No, it's not!” she told me miserably. “Everybody tries to pretend it's okay. But then I see the way they look at me when they don't know I'm watching. I hear some of them whispering when I walk by. They think I betrayed the Undertakers—and I did. They think I might still be working for the Corpses—but I'm not!”

“Everybody's freaked out over what happened last night,” I told her gently. “I left Haven without permission to find out what Booth was up to. I've got to be honest: I didn't even know you'd be there. But that's how it all worked out. And in the middle of it, Helene got snatched by the Corpses. Some of the kids are blaming me. I think maybe the rest are blaming you.”

“I killed Kyle,” she said, her face ashen.

“But you couldn't help it. The Corpses were controlling you.”

She shook her head vehemently. “It doesn't work like that! When they first caught me about a month ago, they took me to Kenny Booth's house. He's got this room in the basement where he keeps these—spider-like things, only they've got ten legs instead of eight. He told me not to be afraid and that his people had come to
help
Earth. He promised to put an end to war and disease and starvation. He promised to help all humanity. I guess that, scared as I was, I kind of wanted to believe him, even if he did look…”

“Dead?” I finished for her.

She nodded, still crying.

I could imagine Booth's oily charm taking advantage of this innocent girl's fears—his dead guy appearance notwithstanding.

But Corpses helping humanity? Not likely.

“Then he had his two servants grab me and make me lay face down on a table in that basement room. Mr. Booth took one of those spider-things and just dropped it on the small of my back. It started to…dig its way into me, burrowing right into my skin! It hurt! Oh, Will, you've got no idea how much it hurt!”

No,
I don't
. I shuddered.
But I can imagine.

“After a while this funny kind of—I don't know,
calm
settled over me. Suddenly, everything that Mr. Booth had told me wasn't just believable. It made, like, perfect sense. I wanted to prove myself to him, wanted to do anything he asked me to do. And I told him so.

“He said they would teach me how to use special equipment that they had. Then I'd be asked to infiltrate a camp of rebels who were fighting against his people—against humanity. He said that he wanted to shut their camp down. So he arranged for his people to pretend to chase me into a part of the city where he knew the Undertakers would rescue me. They did, just as he'd planned, and they brought me to First Stop. The rest I guess you already know.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Amy—what happened that last night?”

“They gave me this little cell phone. Mr. Booth warned me to only use it once—on the night before we were supposed to go to Haven. He was afraid that if I used it more than that, it might be detected. So I hid it in my sock and waited until Monday night. Then I snuck out of bed and went and called Mr. Booth.

“I told him that the next day we'd be going to Haven. But Mr. Booth wasn't interested in waiting until tomorrow. Instead he wanted to raid First Stop that night and capture—you.”

“Me,” I echoed, feeling sick to my stomach.

Amy nodded. “He didn't tell me why. He said you were dangerous—very dangerous—and that getting you was all of a sudden more important than finding Haven. That's when you showed up.” The girl looked away, blinking against fresh tears. “I tried to…kill you…because I was afraid of you. I thought you were evil. I thought all the Undertakers were. Then when Kyle came in, I was so scared. I didn't even realize I'd grabbed the knife.…”

“What happened after you ran out?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I went right to Mr. Booth, who was nearby in a police car. At first he pretended to be happy to see me. But when I told him that I'd tried to kill you, he got really mad and had me thrown in the trunk.

“After that I don't remember much. When we got back to Booth's house, the Corpses gave me a needle right here—in the back of my neck. All of a sudden, my mind changed. I think whatever they gave me killed the spider-thing. I don't know for sure. All I
d
o know is that I remembered what I did to you and the rest of the Undertakers, and I felt—well, just awful.”

More sobbing. I wondered if I should hug her or something. I didn't have a lot of experience hugging girls, and doing so now seemed embarrassing and uncomfortable.

What would Tom do?

With a sigh I put my arm around the girl and let her head fall to my shoulder. There she cried, softly but deeply, for several minutes, soaking my shirt and clutching at me with her tiny hands.

“It's okay,” I said. But we both knew it wasn't. Amy would face what she'd done over and over again in her dreams for the rest of her life.

And in that moment, I hated the Corpses more than ever before.

Booth especially.

Wiping her face, Amy pulled away, offering a small, grateful smile. “Anyway,” she said, sniffling, “yesterday afternoon they drove me down to that fort and locked me in one of the buildings. Mr. Booth said even though I'd failed him, he had one more way in which I could help his people help humanity. I told him that I didn't want to help him do anything! That I hated him! But he only laughed and told me it didn't matter what I wanted. It never had. Then he left, and after a while, it got dark. I heard voices and then some Corpses came for me.”

She looked up at me with doe eyes. “I knew they were going to kill me. But
you
saved me.”

“No, I didn't,” I replied. “I tried—but they'd have gotten us both if the Angels hadn't shown up.”

“The Angels wouldn't have shown up if it wasn't for you. They would've let me die. If you hadn't stuck your neck out for me, that's what would've happened.” Then in a shy voice, she added, “Thanks.”

Feeling tongue-tied, I simply shrugged.

“I—I don't know what I can do to pay you back,” Amy stammered.

“Maybe there
is
something you can do for me,” I said.

“Sure,” the girl replied, still sniffling.

“Tell me exactly where Kenny Booth lives.”

A Force of One

I spent the afternoon quietly getting ready.

It wasn't easy. Everywhere I went, I drew stares—some friendly; some not. Many whispered nasty comments or made even nastier gestures. A few smiled or offered me thumbs-up signs and little winks, as if we shared some dark conspiracy.

Either way, the attention made sneaking around next to impossible.

Collecting the necessary supplies was the most difficult part. Most of the Brain Factory equipment was already packed. That meant waiting until the crew had gone to lunch and Steve finally took a bathroom break—that kid seemed to have a bladder the size of City Hall! When at last the Brain Boss left to take a whiz, I moved in and quickly rummaged through the boxes until I found what I needed. Then I hurried off, leaving Steve and his crew none the wiser—hopefully.

Next came a trip to the kitchen, where—ironically enough—I had to wait for the Brains to
finish
their lunch. Finally alone in the roped-off area, I gathered up some supplies, which included a fistful of snacks and lemonade packets from the fridge. I stuffed it all into my backpack, along with the rest of my stolen gear.

The ramp was unguarded and crowded. Spotting an opportunity, I stepped up behind a girl I didn't know who was struggling with a crate of telephones and wiring. Wordlessly I grabbed one end of the crate and heaved right along with her. She repaid me with a tired smile. Together we hauled the load up the long, spiraling tunnel and out onto Green Street, where an unmarked white van stood waiting, already half-filled with Undertakers stuff.

Seeing it, I wondered vaguely if the Corpses were already watching the building, and if so, what would keep them from just following the truck to the new hideout.

But that was Tom's problem, not mine.

The nameless girl and I delivered our burden. Then with hasty thanks, she hurried back into Haven for more.

The only other kids outside were two Monkeys named Jonathan and Adam. They both eyed me distrustfully but said nothing as I smiled and strolled away.

With a relieved sigh, I turned the nearest corner, vanishing from sight. My plan was to walk up to Market Street and catch the 61 bus up Ridge Avenue and into the Roxborough section of the city. This would take me straight through Manayunk—a prospect I didn't relish. Being so close to home was a lure that I could've done without.

Still, if I wanted to reach Helene, there was simply no other way.

“Hey, Red!”

I spun around, almost leaping out of my shoes. A figure emerged from the shadowy alley that ran directly behind Haven. Instinctively I drew my water pistol.

“Yo!” Sharyn cried in mock alarm. “Watch where you're pointing that thing! You might muss up my hair!”

My shock ebbed. I lowered the gun and said nothing.

“Out for another stroll?” she asked.

I still didn't respond. I felt heartsick and defeated.

“That backpack sure looks heavy,” the dreadlocked girl observed. “Got a lot in it, huh?”

I shrugged.

Sharyn leaned casually back against Haven's brick rear wall. “Word is that your arm ain't busted after all. It's got Ian all in a tizzy. He can't figure it.”

For the first time, I spoke. “Well, it's not like he's a real doctor.”

“Straight up. But he's the closest thing we've got to one, and he ain't usually wrong about stuff like this. Anyways, I saw you myself last night, right after that Corpse knocked you flying. Your arm was broke. I'd bet a year's pay on it—that is, if I got paid anything.” She laughed her musical laugh.

I shrugged again.

“Not feeling too talkie now, huh?” Sharyn remarked. “Your first day all over again, ain't it? After everything that went down last night, I guess you're pretty freaked.”

“Yeah,” I replied.

Sharyn nodded sympathetically. Her smile faded. “Will—do you really figure Helene's alive?”

I nodded.

“So now you're off to rescue her. That right?”

I swallowed. Then I nodded again.

“So you're gonna—what? March into Booth's crib, trash the bad guys, grab the damsel in distress, and just split?”

I faltered. “I—guess so.”

Sharyn chuckled. “If Helene ever found out you was thinking of her as a damsel in distress, she'd kick your butt!” Then more soberly, she added, “And you're planning on doing this all by yourself?”

“I'm not risking anybody else,” I told her defiantly. “Not this time.”

She studied me. “So let's just say, for saying's sake, that Helene
is
still breathin', which ain't likely, and that you're gonna boost her all on your own—which ain't likely even more. She'll be guarded. You figure on taking on the world with a water pistol for the second time in two days?”

“I've got another one in my backpack,” I said defensively.

“Oh—so it's
two
water pistols against the world?”

I didn't reply.

Sharyn laughed. “You're your old man's son. No doubt about that!”

She stepped toward me.

“Wait a minute!” I protested.

She paused in mid-step.

I struggled to find the right words. “Look, Sharyn, we both know that if you want to stop me, you can. It's just that—”

“Who said I wanted to stop you, Red?” she asked.

I stared at her, uncomprehending.

She sighed. “Will, I love my bro. Tom's more'n just a cool dude—he's a great man. After your dad died, he kept this place running with nothing but guts and brains. In fact, until you came along, I would've said there wasn't anything that could challenge his leadership around here.”

“I'm sorry about that,” I said at once. “I didn't mean to—”

She cut me off. “But that don't mean I always agree with him. See, Tom's all about organization, security, and defense. I ain't never been too good at just sitting back and waiting for my problems to come at me, dig? So we knock heads a lot. I've been saying for years that we ought to start laying some serious fight on the Deaders. But he's always figured we ain't ready yet. And in the end, I always go along because—well, he's Chief, and I wouldn't trade him for nothing or nobody. None of us would. Tom Jefferson
is
the Undertakers.”

She looked at me, her expression complex.

“Truth is, you and me think the same. Neither of us is like Tom. We can't turn our backs on what we feel just because it's
best for everybody
. Tom won't order nobody to go after Helene, won't risk another life for a girl who's probably already iced. He'd go himself, of course. I know he wants to—pretty bad. But he ain't going to do that neither. You know why that is?”

I shook my head.

“Because my brother puts Haven ahead of everything else. Sometimes it half-kills him, but he does it anyhow—just because it's the right thing for him to do. He won't go running off to boost Helene because he's needed here.”

I said quietly, “I'm not.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Will, if you was anybody else, I'd give you a quick chin tap and drag your sorry butt right back inside. But you ain't anybody else. Fact is, even though you're one of the youngest kids we got, I'd trust you with my life—and that ain't something I say easy. So I'll let you go, but that don't mean I can't up your odds a bit.” Reaching back into the shadows of the alley, Sharyn produced a Super Soaker. “I want you to take this.”

I took it. It wasn't a particularly big gun—it had maybe a pint of saltwater in its reservoir—and it seemed easy enough to carry and conceal under my coat.

When I looked back at Sharon, she wore an odd expression—and she was holding her sword in both her hands.

“And this,” she said.

I looked from her to Vader and back again. “Sharyn…I can't—”

“Your dad gave this to me before he died,” she said. “It's only right I should loan it to
you
now.” She smiled a little nervously. “And get this, Will. That's what it is: a loan.”

“I wouldn't know how to fight with it,” I said, gazing at the sheathed short sword.

“Ain't so hard,” she told me. “You swing that there sharp edge at Corpses.”

I reached out and took the sword. It was heavier than the Soaker—but somehow it didn't
feel
heavy. There was a funny balance to the weapon, and when Sharyn showed me how to wear it across my back and under my jacket so that it didn't show, it fit so well that I could almost forget it was there.

Almost.

When this was done, Sharyn put her hands on my shoulders and said grimly. “You know everything that went down at First Stop was about snatching you.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“If you get yourself caught, you'll be giving Booth just what he wants most. You'll be making his day!”

“I know that too,” I said.

“But you're going anyway, ain't you?”

I nodded. “I have to.”

“For Helene?”

Another nod.

Sharyn sighed. “I wish I could go with you. Fact is, I
should
go with you. Helene's my friend too. But I can't. That kind of betrayal—coming from me—would kill him.” We both knew who
him
was. “And that's a line I ain't never going to cross.”

“I understand,” I said. Then on impulse, I reached into my pocket, pulled out Tom's silver knife, and handed it to Sharyn. “Give that to Tom. Tell him that this time, I really
am
sorry.”

“Ain't you gonna need this, Will?” Sharyn asked, accepting the pocketknife.

I thought of the other one that I was carrying and shook my head. “No, I don't think so.”

Slowly the dreadlocked girl nodded. “Then you go get her, Red,” Sharyn told me gravely. “And you bring both your sorry selves back safe.”

“Where to?” I asked. “You'll all have abandoned Haven by then. How will we find you?”

Her grin returned. “Don't worry over it.
We'll
find
you
. But there's just one last thing before you go.”

“What's that?”

She was on me so quickly that my mind barely registered it. One minute, we were standing on the sidewalk four feet apart, and the next, her arms were around me, pulling me into a fierce hug. Her body was warm and muscular, very athletic, and she smelled of soap. She kissed my cheek and whispered, “Mind your training—Undertaker.”

Then she disappeared into the shadowy alley.

I stared after her, my cheek tingling and my face burning.

“I will,” I said to nobody.

Then, armed with a backpack, a sword, and a Super Soaker, I continued up the street, feeling ready for whatever the rest of the day might throw at me.

After all, I was an Undertaker.