Dread Nation (Dread Nation #1)(40)

He sets the lantern on the desk. “You got a hairpin?”

I touch my hair and pull one out, thankful when the weight and mass of my hair stays put. Jackson starts to work on the lock, glancing up at me, his expression nearly unreadable in the dark. “You look real pretty tonight.”

I don’t say anything, my heart thumping in my chest. Never once did Jackson ever tell me I was pretty before things went bad. I think he always took me for granted. Even when I was throwing bottles at his head and telling him what a louse he was he still seemed surprised, as though he never thought I’d get mad enough to tell him things between us were over.

“That getup really does something for you, Janey-Jane. I can see why you take your training and all that so serious. You belong to this life. You’ll be a brilliant Attendant.”

The drawer pops open, saving me from having to answer him. Jackson reaches in and pulls out a thick ledger book.

“Look,” I say, tapping the front. SUMMERLAND is written there in gold embossed letters. “What’s ‘Summerland’?”

“I have no idea.”

I open the book, but before I get very far there’s the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking. “Summerland is a town in Kansas. Nice place, bit of a work in progress, like most frontier towns. And I get the feeling you’re going to get to see it firsthand.”

The room brightens, Miss Anderson lighting a gas lamp on the wall, a macabre grin on her face. The light reveals Mr. Redfern in the doorway, a nice pair of six-shooters leveled at me and Jackson.

“Miss McKeene, Red Jack,” he says, drawing room–polite. “I do believe the mayor is expecting you.”





I must apologize: this letter has gotten much longer than I expected it to be. Please give the aunties my love, and tell Auntie Eliza that I’m expecting a pecan pie when I return! I love you, Momma, more than anything on earth or in the Lord’s heavens above. Please stay safe. I shall be home soon.





Chapter 15


In Which My Fate Is Decided


Miss Anderson strips me of my weapons before she claps me and Red Jack in irons and leads us down a back staircase to a lower part of the house. Jackson’s face is impassive, and I try to mimic his calm demeanor. I’m afraid I fail miserably. My stomach is all angry butterflies and nerves, and I feel like I’m going to lose what little control I have at any moment. I also still need to empty my bladder, which is not helping the situation at all.

I’ve been in trouble before, but somehow the gun pointed at my back and the heavy irons on my wrists make me think that this is much worse than stealing a pie from the kitchens.

The staircase is steep, and just when I wonder if it will ever end we enter a long corridor lit by gas lamps. The flames flicker, making the deep shadows on the stone walls dance drunkenly. From down the hallway comes a long, low howl. The hair along my arms stands on end, and Miss Anderson gives me a wide grin.

“You hear them, don’t you?” she says.

“The mayor keeps shamblers?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. That’s his dogs. The kennels are at the end of this corridor. You’re even stupider than I thought,” she says with a sneer.

I’m beginning to think she truly doesn’t care for me.

Miss Anderson stops and knocks on a fancy door carved to depict Adam and Eve fleeing the Garden. The angel casting them out looks a mite bit like the mayor.

That does not help my nervousness one bit.

Someone calls, “Enter!” Miss Anderson opens the door and leads the way in, grinning like a kid on Christmas.

“We got them, sir!” she crows, all but doing a little jig as she presents us like trophy bucks. “They went right for the office like I said they would.”

Behind a large desk sits Mayor Carr, puffing away on a cigar, a glass of port in his hand. He leans back in his chair, a massive beast of a man. This close it’s easy to see why people stand in awe of him. He radiates power, his dark eyes shrewd and intelligent. The man possesses quite an imposing air, one of barely repressed violence. Not many people stand in the mayor’s way and live to tell about it.

He puffs on his cigar, leisurely blowing smoke rings. “I do believe it was Mr. Redfern who said that, given the opportunity to snoop, Miss McKeene and her companion would find themselves hard put to contain themselves. So the kudos must go to Mr. Redfern, not you, Miss Anderson.”

Miss Anderson’s face goes stormy, and I smile to myself despite the danger we’re in. Looks like the mayor ain’t so keen on her, either.

“Any way, we caught them, sir. Want us to cut them? They’d make fine shambler bait, and we’ve quite the issue with a roaming pack out toward the waterfront. Or we could add them to Professor Grooten’s experiment. Election season is coming up and no one ever misses a few darkies.”

Rage swells in my heart, and my composure breaks. “You vile woman,” I yell, unable to contain myself. “I should’ve let that shambler eat your miserable hide at dinner!”

“SILENCE!” The mayor leans forward, placing his cigar in a crystal ashtray and setting his glass of port down as well before hauling himself from the chair. He walks over to me and Red Jack, a look of careful consideration on his face. “This is your problem, Miss Anderson. You are all passion, no sense. I suppose it’s not your fault, being a woman and all.”