Manipulated Page 21

  I could feel my cheeks flush with heat over that thought, but was I really ready for this? Footage from the news flashed through my mind along with Grams' words about me either dying or turning psycho, and all of it combined with Brodie's eerily green eyes. How much time did we have left if it was going to kill me? How much time did we have left if the infection took over the city? "If something happens with the infection and we—" I couldn't say it—the thought that we wouldn't make it, that I wouldn't make it was too much to speak about. "I want this with you, Brodie." I smiled and bit my bottom lip before remembering out loud, "It's why I went out with you."

  That got his attention, and he pulled away from me more. "Okay, I know you can't possibly mean what I'm thinking you mean."

  I laughed lightly. "No, you got it right. I wanted to have experiences. I wanted to go to parties, kiss, make out, drink, flirt—all of it. And after that first party and that morning in your truck, I knew I wanted to be here underneath you at some point."

  He shook his head, complete amazement on his full, parted lips. "I feel so used."

  My laugh was much fuller, and I hugged him to me. "Don't like the taste of your own medicine?" I teased.

  His crooked, arrogant grin came back, and he moved his hips, grinding against me in a way that made me throw my head back. He attacked my neck again before moving to my earlobe. "Every taste of you is incredible, Risa."

  Between the way he was moving against me and the way my name sounded in his heavy voice, I couldn't think of anything I wanted more in that moment than to be right where I was. When his hands traveled absolutely everywhere and his mouth followed, I felt like the fever had come back at 110.

  It was slow and torturous and so incredible. I wanted him to hurry up, and yet I wanted him to slow down and stay there with me forever. He pulled away from me, but I grabbed at his shoulders, digging my fingers frantically into him.

  "I have to get a condom, sunshine."

  I shook my head, in a complete haze of insanity. "Just, please—"

  He chuckled low and ran his hand down my body. "Shh. You don't know what you're saying. Just trust me to know what's best." Then he left me in agony, taking far too long to come back even though I knew it had only been a second. He held the condom between his fingers. "Are you sure about this?"

  The hesitancy in his voice made a small amount of the fog clear in my brain. Didn't he want me? Why wasn't he as crazy as I was? I reached for the sheet on his bed. "If you don't want—"

  He yanked the sheet away from me and spread out on top of me. "I've never wanted any girl like I want you, but I don't want you to regret this—doing this—with me."

  He was self-conscious? What an insane man. I said the only thing that I could think of. "I love you. I could never regret—" That must have been enough because he crashed his lips into mine, devouring me.

  He knew exactly what to do, it seemed. When I was in pain, he ran his fingers through my hair and kissed away the few tears that fell. He whispered so sweetly that he hated hurting me. When I was frantic with need, his hands were everywhere, making it impossible to stop myself from crying out his name. When he became just as frantic, he gripped my hips and moaned my name, just once. But the rough, desperate way he'd said it—as if it pained him and meant the world to him all at the same time—made me feel so special. And when I panicked at the trembling all over my body and at being unable to catch my breath, he held me close and softly rubbed my back until I got control over myself.

  My brain slowly floated down from the cloud it was on way up high in the air. I think I was smiling, but I couldn't really feel my face, so I wasn't sure. Brodie had his eyes closed when I opened mine, but his hand still ran lightly along my back. His man-whore reputation was indisputable after being with him, and yet, it didn't feel like I thought it would. I'd expected to want him and need him, but there was more than that. It was tender and powerful, overwhelming and yet I felt so centered on him with the way his eyes stayed locked on mine the entire time. I knew I shouldn't let myself think it, but those are the exact thoughts you can't get out of your head. He acted like he'd made love to me—like maybe he loved me.

  I put my hand to his cheek and rubbed my thumb along his strong cheekbone. He slowly smiled and opened his eyes. "I—" As he stared at me, though, his smile faded, his breaths came faster, and his eyes widened. He quickly sat up, shaking his head. I reached out to touch his back, but he jerked away from me as if I'd burned him. He went to the bathroom and shut the door hard.

  I didn't know what to think. Did I do something wrong? Why did he jerk away from me like that? I tried not to panic, tried not to read into it, but I was trembling again. He didn't stay in the bathroom long, but when he came out, he went straight for his dresser and pulled on a pair of jeans.

  "Brodie?" I hated how weak my voice sounded, but I couldn't help it. I got up, wrapping the sheet around me. Where was he going?

  He pulled a T-shirt from another drawer and yanked it over his head. "I've just gotta—just—"

  He turned toward the door, and I put my hand on his arm, but he yanked it away from me with this look of disgust on his face. He didn't even bother to look up at me before he walked right out the door, closing it loudly behind him.

  My breaths came out in gasps and I couldn't prevent the sobbing. I'd done something wrong. He'd been disgusted by me. It was written as clear as day on his face. I couldn't get that expression out of my head as I cried into my hands.

  "Stop it," I sobbed to myself after a few minutes. "Stop being a baby," I commanded. "You don't need him. Get up and leave. Get up and leave. Get up and leave." Finally, I got the crying under control and managed to pull my shaky body into the bathroom to clean up. I made myself put one foot after another over and over again until I'd reached my duffel bag. Painfully, methodically, I got my things and shoved them in my bag.

  I looked around the room and almost started sobbing again. "You will not let him break you," I forced out. The tears still rolled down my cheeks, but I wasn't sobbing like a child, and I just had to be okay with that. "Front door or balcony," I asked myself through clenched teeth, trying to keep myself together. If he was downstairs, I didn't want to see him or Lara or Sammy, for that matter. If he was outside, I could run from him and—oh, who was I kidding, he wasn't going to chase me. The look on his face when he left told me he'd be more than happy to know I'd vacated his room. He got what he wanted, after all. The stabbing in my chest made me want to double over, but damn it, I wouldn't let him beat me!

  I squeezed my eyes shut and moved toward the balcony, one step at a time. I tried so hard not to think about what we'd just done, but as I climbed over the balcony, the soreness brought it back full-force. But I forced myself to keep going. Get to the ground, Risa, just get to the ground. It all felt like it was in slow motion. My feet touched the dirt flower border at the bottom of the trellis, and I picked up my right foot, putting it forward to the driveway. Brodie's truck wasn't there. Had he gone off to find some other girl to sleep with—to push the memory of me out of his head? No, stop thinking about him, I commanded. I was not crying any more!

  When I'd gotten to the house next door, I could breathe a little more. When I made it to the corner, I stopped having to tell myself to pick up each foot. Just as I followed the sidewalk around the corner and out of the sight of Brodie's townhouse, I could hear his truck. I picked up my pace and refused to look back.

  I didn't know where to go. I knew I could call Dad, but I'd still be putting him in danger. I was putting everyone in danger just by being away from people that could control me.

  "Control me," I said out loud with as much disgust as Brodie had on his face. People had been controlling me and manipulating me for years. Why did I allow it to happen? It started with mom then Bill, Kelsea, Charlie, and Brodie. Brodie—the gun-shot wound he'd given me in my heart seared me. Why did he have to be another person out to manipulate me? His face told me he just wanted to sleep with me and toss me to the
side like the others. How did I not see that? He'd been so sweet. I actually thought he might love me.

  You wanted the experience, sweetheart, that hideously awful voice in the back of my brain justified. And I had. It was an experience. I had to look at it that way. Just an experience. I got what I wanted and that just had to be that. No more tears, no stupid girl but I love him bullshit. It was an experience. I'd had a good time and now I needed to move on. Yep, move on.

  I'd reached the entrance to our townhome community and took a moment to stare back in, looking in the direction of Dad's townhome and missing him. But I couldn't put him in danger. The vibrations of my cell phone in my pocket made my stomach boil. Dad would be so worried, but I had to leave. Finally, I turned and forced myself to walk away.

  Quarantined

  Safety was my first concern. I could seriously hurt people. I didn't want to live like that, but who could stop me? I couldn't be the only one who was like this—in danger of killing or in danger of dying. Where were the others? I thought back to what Grams told me—they'd been taken to a quarantine facility and never heard from again. I shrugged. That wasn't a big deal anymore. I could call Dad just before I walked in and tell him goodbye. My gun-shot wound flared up again at that thought, but I reasoned with myself that it wasn't a big deal. I mean I'd only known he really loved me and wanted to be my dad for a few days. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that heartbreaking to give him up. That's what I told myself anyway.

  The real problem was that I had no idea where the quarantine facility was located, and I didn't know my way around the city, so getting there would be tricky. My more immediate problem was the incessant thirst I felt. I couldn't risk dehydration again, so I went into the grocery store several blocks away.

  The parking lot was crowded and people were running around everywhere. It was almost seven in the evening, so it struck me as odd that it was so busy. People usually ate around six or seven. My stomach growled at the thought of food, and I headed for the deli section to get a sandwich when I finally really noticed the hysteria going on around me. People were loading their carts up with bottled water, cans of everything you could think of, boxes of snacks, and piles of toilet paper and paper towels.

  In the small café area next to the deli, a flat-screen TV caught my eye. I expected a movie or the news, but instead the letters EAS stood out in bright red. Underneath read: Emergency Alert System. The sound was off, but the words scrolled on the bottom of the screen. "Attention Albuquerque residents, it is important that everyone remain calm. The National Guard has quarantined all areas of Albuquerque. In order to ensure the safety of all residents, please go to your homes now and stay inside. Lock your doors and remain calm until the quarantine is lifted. Do not attempt to leave Albuquerque as no traffic will be allowed in or out. Curfew will be in effect as of nine o' clock. Anyone seen on the streets after 9 p.m. will be taken into custody."

  I looked behind me. No wonder people were going crazy. The whole city was under quarantine. I sat heavily at a table and watched the message repeat twice more.

  "Honey, you should go home," a gray-haired, kind-looking woman with an apron said to me.

  "I don’t—I can't." My stomach growled again, and I looked back at the lines in the front of the store. They stretched beyond the aisles, so there was no telling how long they were. "Are you still taking sandwich orders? I have cash." I reached into my duffel bag and found my purse, pulling my wallet out.

  "What kind do you want, sweetie?"

  My shoulders relaxed a little. I used the twenty dollars I had to buy four bottles of water, a sandwich, and several bags of chips. Thanking the woman profusely, I made my way out of the store and down the street. I didn't know where to go. If the whole city was under quarantine, a quarantine facility was sort of pointless. I wandered for an hour or so before it started getting darker out, and I worried about the curfew. But maybe it was better that I be taken into custody. Maybe they could stop me from hurting anyone. I found a bench at a bus stop and sat down to wait out the forty-five minutes until nine. Would they take me to jail? Would they—

  A large black SUV sped down the street right past me. It was only 45 mph, but he had to be going 90. When I heard the deafening crash and screams, I was horrified, but not surprised. What was wrong with people? I mean, I knew they had to be trying to get home, but to speed like that was asking for trouble. I don't know why, but I got up and walked toward the crash.

  As I got closer, I could see the black SUV mangled around a small red car and another white car smashed around the traffic light. I watched as three bodies went to the smashed cars, yanking people out and—no. I had to be seeing it wrong. It looked like they were licking them or—one of them put its mouth toward a bloody body and seemed to be ripping off—Oh my God, I almost shrieked, running in the other direction. I tried to block the image of the ear dangling from that thing's mouth, but I couldn't. The screams petrified me and pushed me farther, faster. Oh my God! Is that what I was turning into?

  I couldn't function beyond running, couldn't see or hear anything around me, but when my knee started aching, I slowed just enough to acknowledge the leering, grotesque, human-like shape chasing me. I pushed myself faster, trying to ignore the pain in my knee. I turned toward a shopping center that was all but empty, trying doors, trying car doors. The thing was still behind me and had gotten closer. The last door in the shopping center gave way a bit, and I stood there, trying to open it all the way for just a few seconds too long. The thing plowed into me hard, knocking me to the ground. My bad knee hit the concrete, and I tried to push myself up to run again, but I couldn't.

  When the thing laughed this high-pitched inhuman laugh, my whole body felt cold. Its nails were really long and the blood around its mouth made me want to puke. As its face got closer to me, I freaked and kicked and shoved with all my might. It took me several seconds to realize it wasn't on top of me anymore. A little dazed, I sat up and found it slumped on the ground having hit a pillar ten feet from me.

  I had just managed to push myself up off the ground when it started shaking its head and getting up. Hobbling, I used my full strength to yank the door open, breaking the lock. Inside, they were doing construction on the store. I found a shortened two-by-four that I grabbed to use as a bat and ran for the back, locking myself in the bathroom. The thing pounded and pounded on the door, but thankfully, it was metal and held strong.

  Crouching on the floor in the corner, I had no idea what to do. With the car wreck and likely a million other people in trouble, it wasn't likely that the police would come to rescue me. I needed Brodie—no, damn it, I didn't need him, just someone strong and infected. It hit me—Sammy. Would he come help me? Between the two of us, we could take down the thing outside the door.

  Reluctantly, I pulled out my cell phone. 14 missed calls, 8 voicemails, and 18 text messages. I went to the text messages which were from Dad, Lara, and the most from Brodie. Without even looking at the messages from Brodie, I hit "delete conversation" and created a new message to Sammy, my hands shaking a bit.

  It's Risa. Could you come pick me up alone? No Brodie, no Lara. Please?

  Sammy replied almost immediately. You scared the shit out of us. I'm on my way. Where are you?

  Hillard Shopping Center next to Johnny's Tacos. An infected thing has me trapped in back. It's dangerous. Please no Brodie.

  I'll be there in less than ten minutes by myself.

  I was scared for him. I didn't want him to get hurt. Text me when you're here. I'll run out.

  Got it.

  I let out a relieved breath. He was coming to get me. I had no idea where I'd have him take me, but there had to be a safer place than this. My brain flashed back to sitting at Ms. Gunn's desk being creeped out by the article about Infecteds on drugs ingesting people. Is that what this was? Drugged up Infecteds? Just then, the pounding on the door stopped. Maybe the thing got bored. Maybe it was hiding, waiting for me to come out so it could make its move. I
sat there in the dark, debating what to do for several minutes until I finally said, "Screw it."

  I stood at the door and tried to work myself into a pissed off frenzy. Damn brain-eating, psychotic thing. I could take it. I could kill it and bite its damn ear off—okay, I wouldn't do that, but I could if I wanted to. I picked up my damn two-by-four and put my hand on the damn doorknob. Taking in a pissed off breath, I threw the door open and wielded my two-by-four, ready to take a psychotic head off.

  A little relieved and a little disappointed, I found nothing in the whole store. I slowly made my way to the front door and saw the thing attacking a young girl who was on the ground, not moving. I'd had to psych myself into being angry before, but as the psycho leaned down toward the unconscious girl, its teeth barred, and this growling noise emanating from it, my anger was real and forceful.

  I threw the door open, and it hit the wall behind me, shattering. Psycho looked up at me and growled more. I charged at it and brought the two-by-four down on its back over and over. It fell across the poor girl's body. Something about it being draped over her made me even angrier. I picked it up by its arm and threw it off her. I was bending down to check on the girl when headlights appeared and someone yelled, "Risa, get in."

  I couldn't just leave her there. I hadn't killed the psycho, so it would only wake up to attack her again. Unsure if I could even pick her up, I squatted down and tried to pull her onto my back. Sammy got out of his car and came over to me. "Wait, I can carry—shit!"