Fractured by Sarah Fine

Author:Sarah Fine [Fine, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyscape
Published: 2013-10-28T18:30:00+00:00

NINETEEN

WE DIDN’T FIND THE nest by the end of the week, but not for lack of trying. I mapped out routes, including all four of the shelters, to be patrolled by two Guards each night. The third Guard on duty was assigned to monitor Facebook and connect with our friends in an effort to keep tabs and make sure they weren’t doing anything crazy. The fourth Guard on the rotating schedule was under strict orders to rest. I designed the schedule so that the guys would have every third night off, with the instruction that they use that time to get at least eight hours of sleep. I … did not give myself the same kind of break. I couldn’t.

I could barely sleep at all.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her beckoning to me. Ven conmigo, she whispered. Come.

I couldn’t figure out why she’d said it. Had that been the Mazikin speaking, trying to capture me, or had she said it because, deep inside her, my mother’s memories were so strong that the Mazikin felt something for me? I didn’t know what I wanted the answer to be, but the question dogged me.

The woman hospitalized after the Mazikin attack on the camp died a few days after the incident, never having regained consciousness. She was identified as Marie Clement, a thirty-nine-year-old unemployed waitress from West Warwick. Cause of death was still being determined, but I knew how it had happened. The Mazikin inside my mother had bitten her, and the venom had paralyzed and slowly killed her.

Her death fueled the enthusiasm of the media. The death of one homeless person might not get much attention, but at this point several had been found dead in local parks, and now five people had been slaughtered in a single night. Rumors about how they died were swirling. Homeless advocates were up in arms, demanding justice. It was becoming more difficult to stay under the radar for Guards and Mazikin alike.

I was a Guard and nothing else. I ate mechanically. Did minimal homework on autopilot, enough to keep out of trouble. Stared my way through classes while my brain whirled with patrol strategies and what-ifs. I trained with the other Guards for hours every day after school, turning off all my emotions and facing Malachi down on the mat with fists and knives. He kicked my ass repeatedly, and sometimes I think he enjoyed it a little. I know I did. I needed a place to vent my frustration, and that was it. I couldn’t blame him if he did the same thing.

On Friday, the day after Aden’s funeral, I arrived at school to find Malachi sitting on the half wall at the front entrance. As soon as I pulled into a spot, he was up and walking toward me. I groaned and leaned my head back against the seat. He knocked on the window.

“Good morning,” he said briskly when I opened the door. “I take it your patrol was quiet.”

I nodded, savoring the bitterness.

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