Monument 14: Savage Drift (Monument 14 Series) by Emmy Laybourne Read Free Book Online Page A

he loved me.
    I loved him, too. Maybe at times I felt smothered by his adoration. But I did love him, too, I did.
    Maybe the only kind of love that can thrive now is a desperate, crushing love.
    Anyway, it’s lost now.
    Did he make it? Did the kids make it?
    I do not allow myself to think about them.
    I might as well throw myself off a cliff.
    I open the medicine cabinet. There are two old Q-tips, stuck to the metal with yellow residue. A safety pin lying askew to its rusted shadow.
    What was I hoping for? Nobody snuck in and put a pair of scissors there.
    But if they had I would take off my knots.
    Maybe I’d take off my face.
    (See, O, O, O is rising and begging for release.)
    Sometimes I ask God if I should kill myself.
    I ask Him to send me a sign.
    Am I asking Him to send me a sign as I stand there, staring into the empty glass?
    I don’t remember, but Lori appears in the mirror. The ghost of Lori. Standing behind me and shivering, miserable in her stupid thin thermal.
    “I’m sorry,” she says. “Please come back.”
    “Can’t sleep without me?” I ask, as mean as I feel.
    She shrugs. She runs her hands over her goose-bump arms.
    “Do what you want. I’m just trying to be nice,” she says.
    I know I’m hurting her with my callousness and indifference. Sometimes it feels good to hurt someone.
    She shuffles back to our mattress and naked pillow and our charity blanket and grubby, coarse bottom sheet.
    Rising in my throat is an apology and the tears to wash it out of me.
    I’m sorry, Lori, that you have nightmares.
    I’m sorry your daddy died getting you on that plane.
    I’m sorry they locked up all the Os together—you don’t deserve to be here.
    I’m sorry that I have nothing for you or the others.
    I am sorry about the dead.
    I am sorry I am the dead.
    *   *   *
    I swallow my apology and go back to bed.
    My feet are like ice.
    I don’t let them touch her.

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    DEAN
    DAY 32
    At daybreak a sound woke me up. It was not the kind of sound you want to wake up to: the sound of your girlfriend stifling a moan into her pillow.
    I slid out of bed. My feet made the platform floor squeak.
    “Cramps?” I asked her.
    “Yeah,” Astrid said. “Not as bad as yesterday, though.”
    The paleness of her face made me pretty sure she was lying.
    “I know you don’t want to go, but I really think we should go to the clinic.”
    “I know,” she said.
    I leaned in and kissed her. Little tears were pooling at the corners of her eyes.
    “Do you really think it’s safe to go?” she asked me. She sat up. Her hair was poking all over with its wayward curls.
    “I was thinking, what if we just give them a fake name? We could say you’ve just arrived. You’re not in the system…”
    “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe. But what if they recognize me from before. What if it’s the same guy?”
    “You could say you prefer a woman? You’re shy?”
    “That’s a good idea. Yeah.” She smiled, then grimaced. “It hurts.”
    “Let’s go.”
    “Dean,” she said. “Thank you. I know I’m not always as, like, girly or gushy or girlfriendy as somebody might want. But the way you take care of me, it means a lot to me. I just wanted to say that.”
    That made me feel great. It wasn’t quite “I love you forever,” but I guess that was her point. She wasn’t that kind of girl.
    *   *   *
    I put my hand on Niko’s arm.
    He was instantly wide-awake.
    “Hey, I just wanted to tell you—Astrid’s not feeling well so we’re going over to the clinic.”
    “Okay.”
    “When we get back, I’m going to help you figure out about Josie.”
    “Okay.”
    “I didn’t want you to think I forgot.”
    He nodded.
    *   *   *
    The early-early birds were up and headed to the Clubhouse for breakfast. We saw them crossing the greens, alone and in small groups. Rising early was a good way to beat the lines.
    The field hospital was housed in a series of tents behind the Clubhouse.
    Alex had found out