Thicker than Blood Page 23

  “Dancers! Get ready to take your places!”

  An older woman called Mattie, with long black hair heavily intermixed with sparkling strands of silver, clapped her hands together in earnest. She was, for lack of a better word, my boss, and more importantly, the madam of Purgatory. She handled all of the women, more or less, responsible for designating them to certain areas of the complex to sell themselves. She also distributed the girls’ payment, as well as clothing and accessories, pretty much all the things an old-world madam had done, Mattie did as well.

  She was surprisingly kind, a once-handsome woman with a sharp edge about her that I instantly appreciated. In a way, she reminded me of Evelyn, beautiful yet gruff, rough around the edges but with a heart of gold.

  “New girl!” she called out, beckoning me with two fingers. “You first.”

  When no one else made a move toward her, I glanced around me, looking at the other girls for an idea of why I was being made to go first. Was this some sort of cruel new-girl initiation?

  “Go, little mouse,” Bethany said, obviously taking her cues from Liv as she gave me a not-so-gentle shove on my shoulder. “Nobody’s here yet, the doors open in five. And you’re going to need a minute to adjust.”

  My stomach did a funny sort of dip straight down into my intestines as my already sky-high anxiety skyrocketed. Adjust to what, I wondered. The possibilities were endless, and as my imagination ran away with itself, all of them seemed more horrific than the last.

  Despite my fears, I dutifully placed one foot in front of the other, grateful that I hadn’t been forced to wear heels. I could dance, yes, but in heels? No. Although I wasn’t too sure how sanitary it was to be walking around Purgatory barefooted, at least I didn’t have to worry about falling flat on my face.

  Together, Mattie and I left the dressing room and entered the bar, aptly named the Drunk Tank, which was still silent and empty, with the exception of several men who were busying themselves behind the bar. The space was huge, the size of a high school gymnasium, and had been fitted with mismatched low-hanging chandeliers. It was filled with tables of all shapes and sizes, painted much like the rest of Purgatory, in a rainbow of colors without rhyme or reason.

  “Lower the cages!” Mattie called out, snapping her fingers.

  One of the bartenders, a burly-looking man with a shaved head and his arms covered in tattoos, jumped up and over the bar. With a salute in Mattie’s direction, he headed toward what looked to be a set of gears affixed to the wall. His muscles bulging, he raised a heavy-duty lever and the gears began to turn, slowly at first, gradually speeding up. A grinding, clicking sound erupted from above me, and I watched as large wrought-iron cages came cascading down from the high vaulted ceiling.

  My hand clasped over my mouth and I stumbled backward, again grateful for the absence of heels. Half of the cages were empty, but the other half…were not.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Mattie said kindly. “They can’t hurt you.”

  Gaping up at the occupied cages, I made a choking sound behind my hand. No, they definitely couldn’t hurt me. They were missing half their faces, their lower jaws appeared to have been sawed off entirely and their eyes plucked from their heads, but none of those facts made such a gruesome sight any less horrible.

  I surveyed the caged infected, noting that all of them had once been women. Some were naked, their sagging breasts and rotting genitals exposed to all who cared to look, while others were dressed in skimpy, sexy clothing, much like the ensemble I was wearing.

  All in all, it was a heartbreaking sight. Yes, they were no longer human. Yes, they were monsters who, if given the chance, would destroy every last one of us. But once upon a time, back when the world had been something worth remembering, they had been people—women. Mothers, sisters, daughters, and friends. Why couldn’t these people see that? Didn’t they remember? Didn’t they care?

  “But why?” I stammered out between choking breaths.

  “Because nothing goes unpunished around here, and men like to be victorious over their conquests.”

  I frowned harder as my head began to pound. What was wrong with these people that they would think there was anything okay with any of this? Did they find it sexually satisfying? Seeing women caged and rotting away? Sick to my stomach, I clasped my belly as it twisted in on itself, matching the fear that climbed up my spine.

  “Listen to me,” Mattie said forcefully as she took my shoulders in her firm grip. “If you cry, you’re going to ruin your makeup. Makeup is hard to come by these days, only reserved for my prettiest girls. I’d hate to have to punish such a beautiful face for something as trivial as makeup.”

  When I heard her words, the tears welling behind my eyes froze. I blinked repeatedly, trying to squelch any errant drop that dared to leak free.

  “I was told you were from the wild,” Mattie said, frowning at me. “Forgive me, honey, but you don’t strike me as near tough enough to survive out there among the rotters.”

  My lips flattened, my nostrils flared, and I swallowed back any last shred of pain I was feeling for the caged infected. “I am from the wild,” I said thickly. “I’m just not an animal.”

  Mattie clucked her tongue at me. “Now that’s where you’re wrong,” she said, her tone as smooth as melted butter. “We’re all animals. Always were. The only difference is we’re no longer caged.”

  A vision of Lawrence, snoring peacefully in our bed, danced behind my eyes. And then of me, holding that blade over his body, my eyes wide, my hands shaking, my heart bursting…

  Folding my arms across my chest, I cleared my throat and glanced around. “Which cage is mine?”

  Mattie smiled. “Atta girl.”

  • • •

  It was an eerie thing, an odd conglomeration of past and present—residents of this new world, dancing and drinking, laughing and shouting to the rhythms of the old world. It was a head-on collision of what was and what would never be again, much like the famous paintings lining the walls marred by graffiti.

  It felt wrong, it looked wrong, like a dream you couldn’t seem to shake. You woke up again and again, only to fall asleep and pick back up right where you’d left off. The moment the doors had opened and the crowd noisily poured inside, an odd sort of haze quickly enveloped me, leaving me feeling surreal, as if I were floating along a breeze, an incorporeal essence, and everything around me…only a mirage.

  Still, I danced. I danced and I danced and I danced to the beats of yesteryear. To rap music, to hip-hop, to show tunes, and to the oddly thrown-in recordings of car commercials and the closing credits of television sitcoms. Every so often a wild-looking man would jump on top of the bar, yelling obscene things into a microphone, further winding the crowd up to the point where, even as barbaric as it was, I was glad to be locked in a cage and hanging high out of reach.

  All around me, both men and women were crowded together, some half-naked, others entirely nude, their hair plastered against their faces, their sweaty bodies straining. They danced and they sang as they guzzled drink after drink, groping one another. Some even decided to have sex right then and there—on the floor, up against the wall, bent over a table or the bar—their shame left at the door.

  Even stone-cold sober, I felt drugged by it all…the atmosphere, the barely restrained violence, the fervent sexuality oozing from every pore of every person.

  Somewhere in this room full of bodies were Alex and Evelyn, since both of them insisted that they’d be present despite my protests. I’d thought, at first, that their presence would make the whole awful situation that much worse for me, like having an audience to your shame. Only now, unable to pinpoint anyone’s face or even distinguish between the sexes, I no longer cared. In fact, I was glad for it. Glad that somewhere among all this insanity was a tether to what remained of my sanity.

  And so I danced. I danced slowly, I danced wildly, I danced sexually. I raised my arms above my head and danced to the beat of my own drum. I sent my hands skim
ming down my body, feeling my way through the music and the wants of the screaming crowd.

  I danced and danced, and I ignored them all. They shouted requests for me to take off my clothes, to pull my underwear to the side, to flash them my breasts. I ignored the glasses and lit cigarettes thrown at my cage, much as I ignored my dance partner, the infected hanging no more than three feet from me, bumbling around to a hungry beat only it could hear.

  I ignored and ignored and I just danced, losing myself to it all, and yet strangely felt as if I’d found some long-lost piece of myself in the midst of it all.

  When the sun finally rose, the bar emptied except for a few straggling employees. My cage was lowered, and Alex was there waiting for me.

  “Hi,” I whispered as I stumbled forward.

  Alex’s dark eyes burned. He seemed so incredibly alive in that moment, as if he were actually lit from within, his fire radiating from the inside out.

  “Say something,” I said softly, placing my hand on his chest. Beneath my palm, I could feel his heart racing.

  “I wanted to hate it,” he said slowly through gritted teeth. “You up there locked inside a cage looking…like that.” His feverish gaze dropped down, taking in every exposed inch of me. My stomach flip-flopped, and I nearly found myself preening in the face of his admiration, even as lust-fueled as it was.

  “And these sick shits watching you,” he continued as his eyes glazed over. “Wanting to touch you, and…” He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving me.

  “But you didn’t hate it,” I finished gently for him.

  His teeth clenched, and he shook his head slowly. “I didn’t hate it.”

  “And?” I prompted him, wanting—no, needing—to hear what he couldn’t seem to bring himself to say.

  “I’m not like them, Leisel,” he ground out, his eyes flashing angrily as they refocused on me. “I know I’m not like them.”

  My hand fisted in his shirt, and I tugged him down until our faces were nearly touching. “I know,” I whispered. “But you can tell me. You can tell me you liked it, and it won’t change anything.” I needed to hear it from him, felt it desperately in the pit of my stomach.

  He stared into my eyes, his heart pounding a furious beat beneath my fist. Then his hand slid from my back to my backside where he grabbed hold of me, bringing me flush against his body, his hand squeezing possessively. I could feel him, all of him, hard and eager, his body tense, yet trembling just beneath the surface. I knew we were being watched, could hear the whispered giggles from some of the other girls, but I didn’t care. Nothing else mattered in this one moment.

  “I liked it,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.

  I let out a sigh of relief and fatigue. I was exhausted, tired, and sore to the point where I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand upright for much longer. But this moment, it was an important one, a turning point in both my life and Alex’s, in our blossoming relationship, in finding our places within a world we hated, and I didn’t want to dismiss it or him.

  “Alex,” I said, arching my neck and brushing my lips against his. “I liked that you liked it.”

  What I didn’t say, what I couldn’t even admit to myself, was that some small part of me had liked it as well. Though, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.

  Chapter Thirty

  Evelyn

  It was midday before Leisel finally began to stir, and Alex still had yet to sleep. After carrying her back to our room, her cradled against his chest, he’d held her for hours, watching her sleep, staring at her so intently, so full of sexual energy, that I barely recognized him. Gone was the silent, brooding, usually moody man who’d saved our lives. This was an infinitely more sexual version of Alex, reminiscent of a man possessed.

  As for me, I hadn’t been able to stomach an entire night of watching Leisel dance in that ludicrous cage, watching the men and women below her using her body as a sexual stimulant, pleasuring themselves as they stared up at her. But Alex, he’d been the opposite, seemingly obvious to everyone else in the room, to anyone but her. With his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his eyes glazed over with raw fascination as he simply stared.

  He was still staring. Leisel hadn’t had the energy to even change her clothes when we’d gotten back to our room. Sprawled across the dirty mattress, she was still wearing the same provocative ensemble, and Alex still couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.

  I, however, was staring at the delivery that had arrived a few hours ago for Leisel. Leisel’s old clothes, and her payment for services rendered—a pitiful bag of canned food, bottled water, and a single T-shirt emblazoned with a trucking company’s logo. That was her wages for an entire night of dancing nearly naked, for giving those greedy bastards a part of her she never should have had to. And how had she been repaid? With virtually nothing. Her soul and her pride were only worth a couple of meals and a lousy T-shirt.

  Even worse was the stream of visitors we’d had. Mattie had dropped by first, informing us that Leisel would be working again tonight. After that, two men had knocked, wanting to speak with Alex. I hadn’t told him what they had wanted, how they had tried to barter for Leisel’s body. Then Liv had graced us with her horrible presence, simply to inform us that Alex and I would both be participating in the fights today.

  Through it all, Leisel had slept.

  “Do you think we should wake her?” I asked Alex softly.

  “No,” he replied without bothering to look my way, his gaze fixed firmly on her sleeping form.

  My shoulders slumping, I turned back to Leisel’s insulting payment and fell silent again, wondering what it would be like to be a man in this new world instead of a woman. Wishing, not for the first time, that Leisel and I didn’t have to rely on Alex for safety, unable to trust anyone or anything.

  “Will you be okay?” Alex asked suddenly, and I turned to face him, surprised.

  “What?”

  “The fight,” he said, finally looking away from Leisel. “Will you be okay?”

  My brows raised; I was shocked that he was even asking. “I think so,” I said slowly. “I guess it depends on my opponent.”

  What I didn’t say was that I wondered if it was going to be worth it. After seeing Leisel’s meager earnings, I couldn’t help but doubt it would be. It just made it clearer to me that we needed to bargain, beg, or earn what we could as quickly as we could, and then get the hell out of here. Sooner rather than later.

  Alex suddenly stood, towering over me as he rolled his shoulders. His usual scowl missing, he looked younger somehow, more like the young man he would have been if the world hadn’t gone to hell.

  “Do you even know how to fight, Eve?” He quirked one thick, dark eyebrow in question.

  Rolling my eyes, I snorted out a laugh. “Yes, Alex. I know how to fight.”

  “Show me,” he said as he slowly approached me, his hands raised, his palms facing front.

  I shrugged, figuring a bit of practice might actually be good for me. Who knew what kind of training my opponent would have? Plus, I hadn’t fought in years.

  Getting to my feet, I shifted my body into position, raising my arms and curling my hands into fists. Smirking, Alex circled me, assessing and judging my stance until he was once again standing in front of me.

  “You’ve fought before,” he said with a small smile, appreciation warming his eyes.

  “Three years of kick boxing.”

  Leisel’s quiet voice shocked us both, and immediately I dropped my arms and rushed to her side. As I knelt on the floor beside the mattress, Alex took a seat beside her on the bed.

  “So, did I earn my millions last night?” She laughed softly, looking at me. “Am I famous now?”

  “You did great,” Alex answered. Glancing over top of her head, he gave me a stony look, silently telling me to keep my mouth shut regarding her pathetic earnings.

  “More than great,” I said, my smile suddenly strained. “How are you feeling?”

  “H
ungry,” she replied. “Please tell me we got some food.”

  “Sure did.” I turned away, reaching into the bag to rifle through it. I chose one can in particular, mostly because it looked to be in better shape than the rest, and pulled it free.

  “Creamed corn?” I asked, doing my best to sound cheerful. Leisel’s eyes flickered to the can in my hand, a sad-looking little thing that had probably been traded back and forth a hundred times before coming to us.

  Meeting my eyes, a small frown furrowed her forehead as Leisel slowly shook her head. “Tell me there’s more than that.” Her eyes stay glued to mine, watching me intently.

  “Of course there’s more!” I laughed gently. “There’s split pea soup, pickled asparagus, and canned pasta.”

  Her eyes wide, Leisel looked from me to Alex. “That’s it?”

  Swallowing hard, I pulled the bag out from behind me and set it down on the mattress. “That’s it.”

  For a moment, Leisel only stared at the bag. Then all at once her nostrils flared and she angrily pawed through the bag, tossing its contents aside one by one until it was empty.

  “It doesn’t matter—” Alex started to say, but was abruptly cut off by Leisel, who crumpled the bag and sending it flying across the room.

  Shrugging off Alex, she jumped to her feet and shouted, “It was all for nothing!”

  “No, Lei.” Getting to my feet, I placed my hand over her trembling arm. “It wasn’t for nothing, and this is fine, this is great.”

  Because it was great. If you were starving—and we were—any sort of edible food was a great and wonderful thing.

  “It is not fucking great, Eve!” she screamed. “This is bullshit!”

  Snatching the can of creamed corn from my hand, she sent it flying across the room. It smashed into the opposite wall, nearly hitting one of the paintings hanging there before crashing to the floor and rolling behind the armchair.

  Idly, I found myself wondering if this was exactly how the can had come to be in such poor condition, dented and dirty, its label peeling and stained. I inexplicably found myself feeling oddly protective over this poor can of corn, unloved and unwanted by all. Dropping to my hands and knees, I started hunting for its whereabouts.