Tracey Ward - Backs Against the Wall

“Joss, you know it takes a long time to turn. Way longer than it used to.”

“But there are tons of people in there that come in contact with Risen for fun. I’m not done worrying you’ll still turn from being around them with your open cuts. What kind of wounds do all of them have? How old are they?”

“We cleaned mine early, I’m fine. Calm down. It’s not like it used to be.”

“If a person is bitten, though—“

“They’re done for, I know. But we’ll be out of there way before they turn.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Keep that to yourself when you get in there.”

“I’m not great at censoring myself.”

“Maybe don’t talk at all,” Trent suggests.

Ryan and I both glare at him. He shrugs, unconcerned.

“You can talk, just be careful what you say,” Ryan tells me. “Less is more.”

“I tried to say that about her clothes and you told me to f—“

“Don’t start that again,” Ryan warns Trent.

“What about my clothes?” I ask, glancing down at my tattered jeans and too large coat.

Trent smirks at me. “You look like a tomboy.”

“Because I am, Trent.”

“I told him we should bring you in looking like a stable girl. It would make more sense.”

“And I said drop it,” Ryan warns him, his voice becoming hot.

“Like a pro?” I ask, shocked.

But then I wonder why I’m shocked. How else are they meant to explain me? Where have I been hiding if not inside a stable? I’ll cause more of a stir walking in looking like this, like I don’t owe anyone anything, than I would waltzing in naked. I’m definitely not doing that, that’s insane and I’m pretty sure it’s so far outside my comfort zone that I’d vomit from the stress, but it’s something to consider.

I quickly strip off my jacket, carefully peeling it over my aching arm.

“Hold this,” I snap at Trent, throwing the jacket in his face.

It falls away to reveal his feline smile, his eyes watching me in the dark.

“Joss, you don’t have to change how you look,” Ryan says, sounding tired.

“Yes, I do,” I tell him, pulling my t-shirt up over my head.

I don’t have anything on underneath but a thin tank top and a sports bra, but it’ll have to do. My education on sexy comes from 80’s movies but I somehow doubt fluffing my hair and wearing neon spandex is what I need to blend in these days.

“You need to eat more,” Trent says, pointing at my side. “I can see your ribs.”

I snatch my coat back from him, wincing as pain shoots up my arm.

“If I had more to eat, I’d eat it. Back off me.”

“You’re not taking good care of your girl, Ry.”

“I would if she’d let me,” Ryan mutters.

He’s staring down at me as well. Mostly at my chest.

“Alright,” I growl at both of them, “eyes forward and hands off. Let’s go get this over with.”

We move under an overpass, crumbling and decrepit. I hurry as I always do going under them, worried that they’ll choose that moment to dissolve down on top of me. To trap me as easy pickings for… well, just about anyone, living or undead. I shiver at the thought of all the enemies I have out there, a fair portion of which are in this building looming in front of me. It’s stupid to be here.

The building is two stories of good condition that screams someone lives there. The exterior paint is badly chipped and faded, but broken windows are carefully boarded up and the surrounding areas are barricaded and secured. It’s a long building stretching out onto a pier over the water of the Pudget Sound. I’ve fished there before. Not by this building, obviously, but hidden farther north away from The Hive and the Colonies nearby. I can see them now. The stadiums are just south of us, also glowing faintly in the night sky. All of them so shamelessly broadcasting where they are and what they have. Hardly a care in the world.

I hate all of them.

The inside of the building is dark as far as I can see, but Ryan doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to the door and knock sharply. It doesn’t take long for a small square in the door to pop open.

“What?” a voice asks gruffly.

Ryan puts his face to the hole. “I’m here to see the Boss. He asked for me.”

“You’re not here to fight?”

“No. Just business.”

“That’s a shame. Slow night.”

“Not my problem,” Ryan says, his tone dead.

I hear a muffled chuckle as the square slams shut. Bolts are unlatched and eventually the door swings open. There are lights on inside but not much. The entire entryway is cast in black shadows, including the bouncer at the door, and I hesitate as all of my survival instincts scream at me to run the other way. Nature and numbers. They don’t lie.

Ryan steps inside, not bothering to look back to see if Trent and I are following him. Trent nudges me subtly with his arm, falling in step behind me as I stumble forward. I keep moving, my muscles jerky with the tremors running through them. I probably look like one of the junkies. Someone itching for a fix. Better to look like an addict than a coward.

We come into a large open area with high ceilings and exposed beams. The remnants of a huge fish tank sits on the opposite side of the room. It’s emptied of water but looks like it’s filled with something else. Shoes maybe? It’s too dark to tell and I’m too freaked to wander over and look. I hang close to Trent, of all people.

I am knee deep in Neverland now. There are so, so, so many Lost Boys. They’re milling around the lobby, swarming everywhere. No one close, but they’re on the peripheral. Walking on the catwalks above us, sitting around what was once a reception desk to the left and a lot of them are coming and going behind the fish tank. Back there must either be where the fights or the girls are.

The people, they don’t bother me so much. I got pretty used to it at the Colony, though I never learned to like it. What’s bugging me more than anything is the darkness and the lights. It’s too dark to see well, to know who is who and what their life status is. But the light annoys me more. Strung all over the building are strands of LED Christmas lights of every color. I hate Christmas lights. Christmas trees, Christmas music, Christmas presents, but I absolutely cannot stand Christmas lights. These LEDs make the movements of the people around me seem strange, almost like a strobe light. I try my hardest to ignore them but it’s like ignoring the sun. It’s everywhere.

“Ryan,” a high pitched voice sings out.

We all turn to see a girl about my age walking down the stairs from the catwalks. She’s wearing next to nothing. Tiny little shorts and a tinier tank top. Her long blond hair looks pretty clean, making me wonder if The Hive has hot showers. I’m pretty sure they don’t get their soap from Crenshaw.

“Elise,” he says, his voice no warmer than it was for the bouncer.

“I thought that was you. I missed you the last couple times you were here.”

“I wasn’t here to socialize.”

“What about tonight?” she purrs, walking right up to him and pressing her hand against his stomach. “Do you have time to be social tonight?”

I go to take a step toward them, but Trent stealthily grabs my hand. Thank goodness it’s my good hand, because he crushes it in his. When I glare up at him, trying to pull it out of his grasp, he shakes his head minutely. I freeze, waiting.

Ryan steps back from the girl. She steps forward, regaining the ground and giggling up at him.

“Not a good time, El. I’m here to see the Boss tonight.”

“What about after? You might want a midnight snack.”

He jerks his head toward Trent and I. “I packed a lunch.”

I want to punch him, but I remind myself that being a trick was my idea.