The Last Girl by Joe Hart Read Free Book Online Page A

thin mustache wriggling like some poisonous caterpillar. The fear is irrational—she knows he can’t touch her or do anything that his leering stare is suggesting—but it is there nonetheless. She feels the concrete behind her and realizes she’s pressed her back against it. She hates herself a little for it. Zoey can smell him now, an acrid tang of body odor mixed with the last tinges of vanilla that all the clothes are washed in. The scent makes her want to vomit.
    “Pretty,” Dellert whispers as he passes in a rush of air. He doesn’t look back, but she hears Baron snicker, a low, furtive sound that could be passed off as a cough. She’s trembling and she grits her teeth as Simon steps out of the assembly, his head snapping around when she isn’t standing where he left her. He sees her, and she feels a rush of appreciation for him in that moment. He would kill for her, die for her. She knows this though it’s never been said. It’s simply his job, among other things that are less appealing.
    When he nears her, he sees there’s something wrong. He stops a short distance away, eyes questioning. Are you okay?
    Yes.
    You’re sure?
    Yes.
    I don’t believe you.
    I’m fine.
    “Let’s go,” she says aloud. Simon nods slowly, and she leads the way down the hall.

    Zoey changes clothes in her room quickly, tossing the dress onto the floor in an angry display of defiance that gives her a fleeting second of triumph before she concedes that she’ll be the one that will have to pick it up. But she leaves it there for now, crumpled and misshapen, something ugly. She grinds her heel on it as she leaves the room.
    When Zoey steps from her room, the corridors are deserted save for Lily and Steven. Lily hurries toward her, her hitching gait and lopsided smile both raising and lowering Zoey’s mood at the same time. She grasps the girl’s hand.
    “Ready to go to work, Lily?”
    “Ayeah. Worr!” Lily says, and tries to dance ahead, but Zoey keeps a firm grip on her. They move down the halls until the stairway comes into view. Their Clerics talk in low voices behind them and only catch up when they reach the first-floor entrance at the base of the stairs. Simon scans his bracelet and opens the steel door.
    This level hums.
    The walls seem to vibrate with the power of the machines that reside behind them. The mechanical room, on their left, is by far the largest area on the first floor. Zoey has been inside only a handful of times, always accompanied by Simon and a guard. There are motors twice as tall as she is hidden behind enormous casings. The air is constantly moving there, hot and sour with the smell of burning dust. Even the foam earplugs that can be retrieved from a station inside the door can’t block out all of the sound, the high whining and thrumming bass that froths the blood within her veins.
    Zoey and Lily move on, the loudest area falling behind them. To the right is the sprawling exercise facility that the women are allowed to use on days when the weather is too inhospitable for walks outside. They can use the aerobic machines but aren’t permitted to touch the many free-weights or pieces of machine-weight apparatus. It’s because they don’t want us to be strong ,Meeka told her once. Healthy, yes. Strong, no. Meeka always seems to voice Zoey’s own thoughts.
    At the very end of the hallway two doors sit perpendicular to one another. The first, straight ahead, leads outside to the promenade. A guard stands beside it with his hand resting casually on the butt of his handgun. She can’t remember his name, but she gives him a quirked glance. She’s never seen a guard use a handgun. As far as she knows, it’s forbidden. That’s why they carry the prods. There’s something in his stance that tells her he hopes she tries to run for it. She grips Lily’s hand tighter and heads toward the other door.
    It is set in the left wall and Zoey doesn’t wait for Simon to scan his bracelet—she simply flashes