Read Online No Dawn without Darkness: No Safety In Numbers: Book 3 by Dayna Lorentz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dayna Lorentz
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frozen . . .
Something crashes outside the stockroom. It could just be the building, maybe the ceiling cracking some more.
“Dammit!” a voice yells.
Not the building.
This notebook has to get to the HomeMart. It’s the only thing that matters.
If I head straight between the rows of beds back there, I’ll hit a door that must lead into the service halls. It takes a few tugs, but I pull the IV pole off the gurney and tuck it into my waistband across my back—it’s no gun, but it’ll have to do. I close the laptop, drowning the room in darkness, and shove it and the notebook into a computer bag I found on the table, then start walking.
Preeti’s friends will be fine. No one bothered me while I slept; no one will bother them. The ceiling will hold.
I feel the first bed. It should only be twenty more steps or so to the door. More beds, more bodies.
My fingers brush the door, which opens into more darkness. I find the wall, and keep going down the service passage. The floor is, for the most part, clear, littered in places with what feels like paper, then my foot hits something solid.
A hand clasps my thigh. “Help me,” a voice wheezes.
I could stop, help this one man, a man who’s done nothing wrong, isn’t even hurting me. I could help him back into the med center, find him a bed, get him water.
“Please,” he says, and pulls on my bag.
“I’m sorry,” I say, tugging his fingers from the strap. “Please let go.”
“Don’t leave me,” he cries, gripping harder.
I pull out the IV pole and smack. The hand goes away.
Helping one person helps no one.
I keep the IV pole in one hand, place the other on the wall, and keep walking.
G
I
N
G
E
R
ON THE WAY TO THE BOWLING ALLEY
Y ou know that black sweater?” Maddie asks.
We’ve stopped on our way to interrogate Marco to give Maddie a chance to catch her breath. It’s concerning because we’re still on the first floor, only halfway across the courtyard in front of Harry’s.
“You are not allowed to start giving away possessions,” I say, nipping that morbid conversation in the bud.
“Like I’d give that one away,” she says, then takes a pull on her inhaler. “I want to be buried in it. Or at least with it.”
“Even in death, you remain jealous of how amazing I looked at Jake’s party?”
“I’m just saying.” She takes a sip of water. “If I catch you in the sweater, my ghost is totally haunting your skinny butt.”
I want to say, Please, promise? But Maddie’s not going to die, so it’s a moot point.
“We need to keep going,” I say, glimpsing her face mask under the flashlight. Its outer surface is coated in a fine mist of black, and soot sparkles in the beam. “The air has gone from bad to glittery.”
“Only in this place is glittery worse than bad.” Maddie refits her mask over her face.
“Put on two,” I say, handing her a mask from my hoard, and she does.
• • •
The escalators have not been claimed by lunatic toll-takers, thank god, but Maddie and I climb up them as fast as possible all the same. The bowling alley looks abandoned. If a whole gang of headlamp kids were inside, wouldn’t there be guards or something?
“Did that book light asshole lie to us?” Maddie whispers.
“Maybe they’re in the back?”
I walk ahead, pulling Maddie by the sleeve. Off to the side of the main bowling area is a hallway with the bathrooms and offices and stuff. If I were running a gang, I would set up camp somewhere down that easily defendable hallway.
My instincts are confirmed. The instant we step into the hallway, we are grabbed.
“Get off me!” Maddie yells. I hear clothing rustle, then something (Maddie?) kicks me in the leg.
“We’re here to see Marco!” I shout, hoping this serves as a kind of password. Someone—a very strong someone—is wrestling my arms behind my back.
The attackers say nothing. One person wrenches my arms while another hoists my legs so I am dangling like a human
Something crashes outside the stockroom. It could just be the building, maybe the ceiling cracking some more.
“Dammit!” a voice yells.
Not the building.
This notebook has to get to the HomeMart. It’s the only thing that matters.
If I head straight between the rows of beds back there, I’ll hit a door that must lead into the service halls. It takes a few tugs, but I pull the IV pole off the gurney and tuck it into my waistband across my back—it’s no gun, but it’ll have to do. I close the laptop, drowning the room in darkness, and shove it and the notebook into a computer bag I found on the table, then start walking.
Preeti’s friends will be fine. No one bothered me while I slept; no one will bother them. The ceiling will hold.
I feel the first bed. It should only be twenty more steps or so to the door. More beds, more bodies.
My fingers brush the door, which opens into more darkness. I find the wall, and keep going down the service passage. The floor is, for the most part, clear, littered in places with what feels like paper, then my foot hits something solid.
A hand clasps my thigh. “Help me,” a voice wheezes.
I could stop, help this one man, a man who’s done nothing wrong, isn’t even hurting me. I could help him back into the med center, find him a bed, get him water.
“Please,” he says, and pulls on my bag.
“I’m sorry,” I say, tugging his fingers from the strap. “Please let go.”
“Don’t leave me,” he cries, gripping harder.
I pull out the IV pole and smack. The hand goes away.
Helping one person helps no one.
I keep the IV pole in one hand, place the other on the wall, and keep walking.
G
I
N
G
E
R
ON THE WAY TO THE BOWLING ALLEY
Y ou know that black sweater?” Maddie asks.
We’ve stopped on our way to interrogate Marco to give Maddie a chance to catch her breath. It’s concerning because we’re still on the first floor, only halfway across the courtyard in front of Harry’s.
“You are not allowed to start giving away possessions,” I say, nipping that morbid conversation in the bud.
“Like I’d give that one away,” she says, then takes a pull on her inhaler. “I want to be buried in it. Or at least with it.”
“Even in death, you remain jealous of how amazing I looked at Jake’s party?”
“I’m just saying.” She takes a sip of water. “If I catch you in the sweater, my ghost is totally haunting your skinny butt.”
I want to say, Please, promise? But Maddie’s not going to die, so it’s a moot point.
“We need to keep going,” I say, glimpsing her face mask under the flashlight. Its outer surface is coated in a fine mist of black, and soot sparkles in the beam. “The air has gone from bad to glittery.”
“Only in this place is glittery worse than bad.” Maddie refits her mask over her face.
“Put on two,” I say, handing her a mask from my hoard, and she does.
• • •
The escalators have not been claimed by lunatic toll-takers, thank god, but Maddie and I climb up them as fast as possible all the same. The bowling alley looks abandoned. If a whole gang of headlamp kids were inside, wouldn’t there be guards or something?
“Did that book light asshole lie to us?” Maddie whispers.
“Maybe they’re in the back?”
I walk ahead, pulling Maddie by the sleeve. Off to the side of the main bowling area is a hallway with the bathrooms and offices and stuff. If I were running a gang, I would set up camp somewhere down that easily defendable hallway.
My instincts are confirmed. The instant we step into the hallway, we are grabbed.
“Get off me!” Maddie yells. I hear clothing rustle, then something (Maddie?) kicks me in the leg.
“We’re here to see Marco!” I shout, hoping this serves as a kind of password. Someone—a very strong someone—is wrestling my arms behind my back.
The attackers say nothing. One person wrenches my arms while another hoists my legs so I am dangling like a human
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