Jenny Plague-Bringer(69)

“I’m not working tomorrow,” Tommy said.

“You’re barely working now,” Ward replied without looking back. “Don’t worry, we always know where to find you. Just don’t do anything stupid between now and then.”

When they returned to the car, the wheels in Ward’s mind were turning. He’d believed that Tommy had been the leader of a small group of paranormals, but he was starting to doubt that assessment. The kid could barely lead himself to the bathroom to take a piss. The faction must have had a different leader...maybe the zombie-master guy, but he was dead, according to Heather Reynard’s memories. Killed by Seth’s healing power, somehow.

So, Ward reasoned, maybe Tommy and Esmeralda didn’t have a leader anymore, they were just wandering without any direction at all. Ward was prepared to give them one.

Their next stop was a motel not far from Tommy and Esmeralda’s apartment, just off the interstate. They would listen to the device Buchanan had set up, a laser listening system pointed at the apartment window. The laser translated glass vibrations back into sound, creating a clean way to bug a room without ever entering the premises. They would be able to hear what Tommy and Esmeralda’s thoughts might be regarding whether to serve their country or not.

“Kid looks like a real loser,” Avery commented as they pulled out onto a busy boulevard.

“We’ll see,” Ward replied.



* * *



“You have to come with me,” Tommy said. He’d already crammed half his clothes into a duffel bag, and he was trying to shove more into it.

“The only thing I have to do is catch the bus,” Esmeralda told him, buttoning her blouse. It was seven in the morning and Tommy’s eyes were open, which meant he’d skipped sleeping after he’d gotten home from work. He looked disheveled, with a sheen of nervous sweat. “Why don’t you take a bath?” she asked him.

“You’re not listening, Esmeralda. They’re going to delete my prison record. If I don’t do what they want, they’ll probably send me back to prison. I don’t have a choice.”

“You could ride away,” Esmeralda said. “Go hide somewhere new.”

“If I did that, would you come with me?”

“I can’t, Tommy. I have school, and my mother. And you know how much trouble I had finding another job after I ran away last time.” She pulled on a pair of dark slacks. “And that crappy new job is where I need to be in thirty minutes.”

“This is our big chance to really do something with our lives. Don’t you want that?” He reached for her arm, but she shook him off.

“I am doing something with my life,” Esmeralda told him.

“What, putting make-up on dead people?”

“I like dead people. They tell interesting stories.”

“Don’t you want an interesting life?” Tommy asked. “Instead of just watching what dead people did with their time?”

“If you want to go off and be an assassin or whatever they want, that’s your choice. Staying here and living my own life, that’s mine.” Esmeralda trembled, feeling fear tinged with hope. Maybe he would go. Maybe this was finally it. He made her feel protected, but also miserable. Without him, she would be vulnerable and free.

“Then maybe I’ll go without you,” he growled, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe you’ll never see me again.”

Esmeralda stared back at him, feeling the war inside herself between the part of her that craved him and shivered at his touch, and the smarter part, the one that knew he would only destroy her life if they stayed together.

“You don’t have anything to say?” he asked.

Esmeralda sighed and folded her arms. “You need someone to order you around, don’t you, Tommy? Somebody in command, like Ashleigh, always telling you what to do. I give you your freedom to be anything you want to be, and all you do is piss yourself away.”

He glowered at her, his jaw grinding inside his cheek. He looked like a mad dog.

“So you think I’m worthless. Anything else?” he snarled.

“I did not say that.”

“You basically did.”

“I have to work, Tommy.” Esmeralda started for the door.

“I might not be here when you get back,” he called after her.

Esmeralda resisted the temptation to turn around and say anything. She walked out the door, closed it firmly behind her, and started down the concrete stairwell.

When she returned from work that evening, Tommy and his clothes were gone. So was the gold 1908 Indian-head coin he’d given her when they’d first met as children. She didn’t know if he was keeping it as a reminder of her, or taking it away to show her that they were finished.