The Burning World (Warm Bodies #2)(43)

“Parker,” Abram says. “You’re making a mistake.”

Parker is younger than Abram, mid-twenties, with a slouching stance and a lazy smirk. He looks bored. “These three,” he says, pointing from me to Julie to Abram. “We take them back to the dome.” He points at Nora. “We can kill this one.”

“What?” Nora blurts. “No you can’t! The TV said ‘Find them and bring them back.’?”

“It showed cages for these three,” Parker says. “That means capture. Fish tank for you. That means kill.”

“A fish tank is a cage, you idiot! You’re supposed to capture all of us!”

Parker glances at his comrades. “I’m pretty sure fish tank means kill. You know, like, ‘sleep with the fishes’?”

“Oh my God your code sucks,” Nora groans.

Parker shrugs. “If I’m wrong, I’m doing you a favor. You don’t want to go where your friends are going.”

“Parker, listen to me,” Abram says, taking a step forward. The other soldiers raise their guns but he ignores them. “Axiom’s a runaway train. You need to get out while you can.”

“Shut up, Kelvin,” Parker says, finally raising his gun. “And step back.”

Abram steps forward. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the change since the hiatus. We’re spreading too fast, taking territory we don’t need and can’t hold, and you never hear a word about an endgame.”

“An endgame?” Parker scoffs. “You’re a fucking transport pilot, Kelvin; leave the ‘endgame’ to Executive.”

“And where is Executive? Who’s on the board and who put them there? Do you even know who the president is right now?”

Parker glances to the side, thinking.

“We get our orders from our bosses and they get theirs from their bosses but you ask who’s at the top and you get blank stares. You ask these fucking ‘pitchmen’ anything and you get blank stares.”

Parker shrugs. “Okay, yeah, those guys are a little spooky. New training techniques, I hear.” He squints. “But what’s your point?”

“My point is it’s not safe here anymore!” He takes another step forward, but the desperation in his voice tells me this is no ploy to distract Parker. He means every word. “Who are we working for? What is our product? There’s no security in a company where you can’t answer that. What if there is no one at the top? What if Axiom’s a headless chicken just following leftover impulses, scratching the dirt while it bleeds to death?”

Parker stares at him for a moment, then bursts into laughter. “Wow, Kelvin. I’ve heard some bullshit come out of your mouth but that’s a fresh pile. Is this how you managed to work here half your life without even making Brown Tie?”

“Parker—”

“What a waste. If you could’ve learned how to shut up and do your job, you would’ve been Upper Management by now.”

“Parker, listen—”

“Nah, we’re done here.” Parker waves his gun toward the Porsche. “Go ahead and get in the car before I misinterpret the code again and decide birdcage means kill.”

Abram grinds his teeth. He doesn’t move.

Parker lets his gun drift from Abram’s head to Sprout’s. “You know, your kid wasn’t mentioned in the broadcast. Guess it’s up to me to decide what happens to her.”

“Daddy?” Sprout whimpers, staring into the pistol’s barrel, and Abram’s body stiffens as if flooded with electricity.

“Get that away from my daughter,” he says in a level growl.

“Or what, Kelvin?”

“Or I’ll walk through every bullet in the clip and snap your neck while I bleed out.”

Parker hesitates, then snorts to mask the concession as he moves the gun away. “Will you just get in the fucking car? This is boring.”

Abram grabs Sprout’s hand and pulls her close. “You’re a fool, Parker.”

“And yet I’m the one with the gun and the tie and the guaranteed housing in Manhattan, and you’re the one going to jail.”

Abram spits on the ground and moves toward the Porsche.

Parker waves his gun at me and Julie. “You too, kids.”

We take a few halting steps. The other two soldiers go with us, keeping weapons trained on our heads. Parker jabs his pistol into Nora’s back and says, “Into the ditch, please.”

“Just let her go!” Julie shouts, her eyes beginning to glisten. “They don’t even want her, she has nothing to do with this! Just take us and let her go!”

“You’re . . . new, aren’t you,” Parker chuckles. “Axiom doesn’t let go.”

Nora steps down into the ditch, into the congealed muck of the gas station’s oily runoff. Parker goes around behind her, perhaps to keep his eyes on us, perhaps to ensure that we get an unobstructed view. Julie stares at Nora, speechless, helpless. Nora’s face is stone, but she gives Julie a small nod, as if to absolve her of responsibility for what’s about to happen.

And is this really about to happen? Did the path of Nora Greene’s life weave through so many dangers and heartbreaks and long, lonely miles just to terminate in this ditch because a man she’s never met saw a fish on television? My mind refuses to accept it, even as Parker raises the pistol to her head. Even as Julie lunges toward her, screaming, and the soldiers slam her back against the car. Even as my vision begins to blur.