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By the time I emerged from the subway at Lincoln Center, I still hadn’t come up with a brilliant explanation for how Saberton knew about the meet with Brian. Nothing made sense. I stopped at a little grocery and bought snacks, sandwiches, ibuprofen, bottled water, and vitamin C with Jerome Womack’s money, then took the slightly rumpled fedora out from under my shirt and stuffed it into the bag before heading to the sewer hatch. Yet as I climbed down the ladder my stupid, neurotic, and paranoid brain tried to insist that the tunnel would be empty and the others gone, either because Naomi-or-Philip was the insider and had thrown Philip-or-Naomi to the Saberton wolves as soon as I left, OR because Naomi and Philip simultaneously decided that I had no clue what I was doing, was obviously dead weight and would get them all killed, and it would be best for them to cut and run while they had the chance.
Thankfully, my stupid, neurotic, and paranoid brain was quite wrong about all of this. Naomi was in the same spot, eyes closed and face drawn, apparently dozing. Philip sat against the wall a few feet away, and his unfocused expression told me the MegaPlague had attacked again. Andrew was the only perky one. Well, his eyes were, at least, as they glared at me above the gag shoved into his mouth. The rest of him was bound in a secure hogtie.
“Naomi? Philip? I have stuff to eat and drink.” I set the bag down between Naomi and Philip. Naomi muttered something and sighed without waking, but Philip opened his eyes.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
My throat tightened. “He wasn’t there. I’ll explain in a minute.”
His forehead creased in concern, but he gave me a slight nod. “When you can,” he said, with understanding in his voice even though he had no way of knowing all the shit that had happened.
How the hell can either of them be the insider? They were my friends. If one of them had tipped off Saberton, it would mean that friendship was bullshit. I honestly wasn’t sure if I’d be able to handle that. Both of them were too damn special to me.
Still unsettled, I let Philip take care of getting the stuff out of the bag while I shifted over to Andrew and pulled the gag from his mouth. “Sorry,” I said as I undid the hogtie. “Do you need something to drink?”
“Sorry? Really?” He struggled to a sitting position, mouth twisted in contempt. “Somehow I doubt that.”
All possible sympathy for him evaporated in a flash. After the monumentally shittastic day I’d had so far, that one pissy remark sliced right through the last remaining frayed thread of my self-control. “Listen to me, Andy-boy,” I hissed. “I’m not like you and your people. I don’t do shit like this without provocation. So don’t you get all high and mighty and morally superior with me, whining about how I’m not sorry enough.” I poked him in the chest with my index finger. “Your people kidnapped my dad and then me, and put me through all kinds of fucked up hell in Charish’s lab.” My voice rose as the pent up anger and fear and frustration came spewing forth. “Your people ran a bunch of experiments on innocent civilians. Your people do horrible shit to zombies. And your people kidnapped Pietro Ivanov and three of his men, murdered Chris Peterson, tried to kill Brian Archer, and now have Kyle.” I was shouting now, right in his face. “So you can take your goddamn doubt and shove it up your fucking ass!”
“You’re lucky we don’t expose you,” he snarled. “There’d be bounties on
you monsters in a heartbeat.”
“At least your shit would be out in the open then as well,” I shot back. “You’re lucky we don’t expose you. And you’ve got a lot of nerve calling us monsters.” Fury trembled through me. “Hey, I have an idea. Maybe I’ll show you what it’s like to be a monster. Maybe I’ll turn you, make you one of us! Let’s see how you feel when you’re the one trying to scrape out survival when everyone is trying to fuck your world up!”
He went white as a sheet and recoiled as if I really was a slavering monster. “You wouldn’t,” he gasped, eyes darting back and forth in a desperate search for escape.
“Wouldn’t I?” The cloying scent of his fear wound around me. I let out a nasty laugh, caught up in the glorious thrill of being in control of this prick, this slimeball who was responsible for so much bad shit. Deep down I knew I couldn’t lay it all on him, but I was cocked to the full pissed-off position, and he’d made the mistake of pulling my trigger. “You know damn well I’m capable of it,” I growled. “Call me a monster? You’re the monster! Only fair to make you one for real!” I grabbed his shoulder, and he let out a panicked cry and fought to twist away. “Whaddya say?” I shouted, distantly aware that someone else was yelling my name. I tightened my grip and gave him a rough shake. “It’ll only hurt a lot!”
Eyes wide in panic, Andrew struggled against the cuffs, feet scrabbling as he tried to get away from me.
“Angel! Stop it!” It was Naomi yelling at me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her struggle upright.
“I’m not a monster!” I screamed at Andrew, shaking him. “I’m not! You’re the monster. It’s your fault. All of it!”
“Angel, stop!”
The knife-hard edge in Naomi’s voice was like a slap in the face. I turned my head to see distress and pain twisting her features as she stood on her good foot, one hand on the wall for balance and the other holding a tranq gun leveled at me.
Philip let out an ominous growl and lurched toward Naomi, but his legs buckled before he reached her, and he had to grab at the wall to avoid falling in a heap.
The panic in Andrew’s face retreated as he took in the situation, and he sniggered. “Oh, this is rich. The zombie-loving whore protecting the lowly human from the crazy hick zombie while the cripple tries to stop her. Worse than the Three Stooges.”
I jerked my hand away from him and stumbled back as the insults struck home. Naomi’s hand shook as she held the tranq gun, but she didn’t resist when Philip fought his way up to take it from her. Her hands dropped to her sides, and she slid down the wall, meeting my eyes with a look of OMG what did I just do, this is all fucked up and damn this hurts.
I took another unsteady step back from Andrew, from the others. My chest ached with tension and a mild nausea that I knew was only partly because of the MegaPlague. The whole situation was fucked. Andrew was right. We were bumbling around like idiots, and I didn’t have the slightest idea how to fix any of it.
Swiping a hand across my face, I turned and hurried off down the tunnel, away from the others. I heard Philip’s voice behind me, angry and intense as he spoke to Andrew.
“Say another word, and I’ll take you around the corner to piss and give you some pain you won’t believe—without leaving a mark on you.”
I stopped about fifty yards away in a shadowed section of the tunnel and sat, crying and attempting to be quiet about it.
Naomi’s voice carried to me. “I may be a zombie lover,” she growled at Andrew, “but I’m not a whore, you dick.” Then she peered into the darkness toward me. “Angel?” she called, worry in her voice. “You okay?”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone right now, not while the utter humiliation of what I’d done still had me in its grip. Why the hell had I threatened him like that? He was a prick, yes, but the whole “ I’m being held hostage by creatures who might eat my brain” thing had to be pretty fucking stressful. No wonder he’d lashed out.
“Angel?” Naomi called again.
