Lex Thomas - Quarantine - The Saints

“Rod and Tyson,” Sophia said, concentrating on folding toilet paper into a neat rectangle for Lucy’s cut. “Total assholes.”

Raunch pointed at Sophia. “They’re both her ex-boyfriends.”

Lucy did a double take. “Wait, I saw them. You practically tried to kill them. You dated them?”

“How do you think I found out they were assholes?” Sophia placed the TP bandage on Lucy’s cut, and began covering it with masking tape. “What about you?” Sophia said to Lucy. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Um…”

It was the secret that had kept her from joining in conversations like this when she heard them. She still didn’t want to say.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t gotten your rocks off since David,” Raunch said, and with that comment, the girls nearby simmered their conversation and edged toward Lucy.

The other girls didn’t know about David’s death, she hadn’t told them, so she couldn’t blame them for bringing him up, but it still hurt her heart to hear his name.

“How big was he?” Lips said.

The girls leaned in. Sophia narrowed her eyes at Lucy and made the same face she’d made when she was deciding what was best for her wounds.

“Pretty big?” Lucy finally said.

“Was he good at giving head?” Sophia said.

“He was…”

“Tell us! You have to! Come on!” others chimed in.

Lucy couldn’t think of what lie to say. All these girls asking her about the sex she never had with her dead boyfriend was making her mind spin.

“I bet he was rough,” Lips said. “He was so nice all the time, the nice ones are always mean in bed.”

“Did his missing eye make him fall over?” Raunch said. “Did you have to always do it on your side?”

Raunch scored more laughs with that one. Lucy stood up. She couldn’t take any more of this, and she wasn’t going to cry in front of them.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lips said. “Just tell us.”

Lucy saw Violent walking into the bathroom on the other side of the cafeteria. She walked away from the table of Sluts without a word.

“Hey, what the hell?” Raunch called after her.

Lucy ignored them and rushed to the bathroom. Inside, Violent was washing her hands. Lucy still trusted Violent the most of anyone in the gang. She was only able to get short and infrequent moments alone with Violent, so she always tried to make them count. The Sluts’ leader had a way of putting things in perspective that Lucy was coming to depend on.

“Um…”

Violent rolled her eyes. “Just spit it out.”

“How do you know when you’re ready to have sex?”

“I figured you were a V.”

Lucy couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she was that easy to read.

“What, is it written on my forehead?” Lucy said.

“It’s not a big deal, chill. You’re ready… when you meet someone you want to do it with. That’s pretty much it.”

“Yeah, but what if I don’t meet anyone like that? Will I get kicked out of the gang or something? ’Cause… I really like it here.”

That made Violent laugh. “I haven’t come across that yet.” Violent stepped away from the sink and wiped her hands on a towel. “You’re telling me there’s no hot boys who turn you on?”

“Well, sure there are, I’m a human being.”

Violent’s amused grin hung in place. There was affection in her eyes, Lucy could swear it.

“Just do what you want,” Violent said. “I don’t get any benefit from you having sex. It doesn’t affect the gang. Those girls out there are just messing around. Stay a virgin if you want to, who cares?”

“Right,” Lucy said. “Who cares.”

“We good?”

Lucy nodded. Violent walked past, and just before exiting, she gave Lucy a gentle pat on the shoulder. Lucy took a deep breath. She felt like a real weight had been lifted off of her. She was lucky to have Violent in her life. She turned for the door and headed back into the cafeteria. They’d be eating soon.

When Lucy stepped into the dining room she was met with a blaring chant, voiced by every Slut in the room, and the volume of it nearly knocked Lucy over.

“VIR-GIN! VIR-GIN! VIR-GIN! VIR-GIN!”

“I think we found you a nickname!” Lips shouted over all of it. They continued their joyous chant. “VIR-GIN! VIR-GIN! VIR-GIN! VIR-GIN!”

Lucy saw Violent laughing. She was doubled over, getting red in the face. She stood up, holding her chest like she couldn’t breathe. She’d never seen Violent laugh so hard.

“I had to!” Violent yelled to Lucy through the laughing fit. “I’m sorry, I had to, I had no choice!” Violent’s laughter took her over again, and she had to steady herself on a nearby table.

Lucy was set to break down, to fall apart from the sheer embarrassment of it, but the sight of Violent laughing made Lucy laugh too. She scanned the faces of her gang members and saw that the ones who weren’t chanting were having a great time. There was no malice to anyone’s laughter, and in a weird way, the mocking made her feel closer to them.

“You bitches,” Lucy said with a smile.

IT WAS A JOYOUS FOOD DROP. THERE WASstill fighting, vicious fighting over certain items, but there were far too many silly grins across people’s faces to call it anything but joyous. The parents had come through. Junk food, candy, frozen pizza, and more. Half the kids were chowing as they ran. There were tugging matches over fresh jeans, boys getting knocked unconscious over porn DVDs, pig piles on top of two video game consoles in the mix. It was as if a giant piñata had burst over their heads and now they were going berserk with adolescent sugar lust.

“Will,” a voice blared from above. “Was that the kid’s name? The one that wanted the pills?”

Will looked up. The man with the motorcycle helmet stood at the edge of the roof, behind the razor wire, his black helmet and scuba tanks gleaming in the sun. The Saints said that the toxicity put off by infected teens only attacked the lungs, and that was why these adults were able to only wear oxygen tanks. It was a step down from the military haz-mat suits McKinley was used to seeing.

Will approached the wall. The man in the motorcycle helmet spotted him and held up a plain paper sandwich bag, then tossed it over the razor wire. It spiraled down like a leaf toward the quad floor. Will broke into a run for it, but there was someone already underneath it.

Bobby, the Freaks’ leader, caught it. It landed perfectly in his hands, and he looked up at Will with a sharp-toothed smile and a flip of his blue mane.

“Uh-oh,” Bobby said. “Looks like somebody’s outta—”

Bobby never finished his sentence. Pruitt cracked him in the back of the neck with the butt of his rifle. Bobby jolted and dropped. Pruitt picked up the bag and tossed it to Will as he came running up. Bobby was at Will’s feet, unconscious but still twitching, his blank eyes staring up at the open sky.

Will looked to Pruitt. “Thanks.”

Pruitt gave him an apathetic nod and moved on.

Will tore open the paper bag. There they were. Two orange pharmacy bottles of Carbatrol. And another of Lyrica. He twisted the white plastic safety cap off the Carbatrol with such muscle he was surprised he didn’t snap the plastic. He popped one of the blue and black capsules in his mouth, and dry-swallowed.

He felt cured the moment it was in his body. Carbatrol was the medication he was on before the quarantine, the third medication he had tried and the only one that suppressed his seizures consistently. There was no way the pill had dissolved at all in his stomach, but the effect on his psyche was immediate. He felt unstoppable. Will ran into the fray. He was ready to have some fun.