Chapter 12: 12

The next morning and afternoon passes in a blur. I fade in and out of consciousness, drowning in pain and fog. I don't know where I am, but occasionally the blurry shapes of people fill my vision, close ups of their boots and legs next to my face as they walk about, voices muffled and making my head throb.

When I finally get a grip on my surroundings, I immediately wish I hadn't. The right side of my face is sticky with partially-dried blood, gluing my eye shut, but the pain is the worst part—burning so intensely I find myself wondering if that alone will kill me. I groan softly, trying to lift a hand to rub my eye. Oily rope bites into my wrist, keeping it in place.

I blink, sending flakes of dried blood falling. Everything has started to clear up—the space I'm in is dim and filled with white noise. Things piece together slowly—I'm lying on a flimsy mattress beneath a lean-to made of a thin sheet of metal. The noise is the sound of raindrops still pattering off the steel roof. My hands are tied together in front of me where I lay, curled up in a fetal position.

I'm facing a tilted steel wall. When I try to roll over to get a better view of my surroundings, I'm flooded by pain.

A footstep outside registers and I close my eyes, forcing myself to go limp again. If whoever just came in thinks I'm still out, they don't acknowledge it.

"You have a lot of nerve."

His voice is harsh, a deep baritone.

"Thinking you could get in here. We have enough to deal with as is."

I don't answer, listening more to the sound of my heart thudding in my chest than his voice.

"I know you're awake."

I sigh, letting my shoulders slump, and force myself to roll over and face him. He's young, maybe twenty, with sharp, malnourished features and a scarred face. He holds a shotgun in a death grip.

I struggle to sit up, biting back a gasp as yellow spots cloud my vision. The rush of vertigo is almost enough to put me back to sleep.

"What do you want?"

"We should be asking you that." He shifts his weight on his feet. "But the boss is pretty sure you come from that carpark. Is that right?"

I exhale slowly, trying not to pass out, and nod. The motion makes my head swim.

He lets out a bitter laugh. "Figures. Couldn't go without revenge, could you?"

"I had to do something before you attacked us again."

"We weren't going to, genius." He crouched next to me, balancing his shotgun across his knee. He keeps his finger on the trigger, tense, like he's waiting for one wrong move so he can put a bullet through me. "Not worth it. We're running out of options, sure, but you showed us that taking your garage wouldn't be worth the lives it would waste."

"Yeah, right," I mumble. My eyelids feel heavy. "What are you gonna do with us now?"

"Don't know. We've been talking about it. Honestly, we'll probably kill you. The boss likes that idea, he just wants to think on it first. Says you might be useful."

"Where's my friend?"

"The kid? He's in a different tent."

At least he's alive. That thought brings me some measure of relief.

"Please don't hurt him." I don't know when I've resorted to begging, but I don't have many other options at the moment. I stare up at him, trying to find some glimpse of mercy. "Please."

There it is. He frowns, brow creasing, stony expression dropping for just a moment.

"Look, I don't know what's going to happen. But you two did kill our friends." He pushes himself to his feet and swings his shotgun over his shoulder. I'm painfully reminded of how naked I feel—no gun, no switchblade, no backpack. No use of my hands. He gives me one last glance, filled with disgust but maybe just in an attempt to hide his pity, before he ducks down to stalk out the door.

—

Staying conscious is hard. When I regain some sense of myself again, the narrow slit in the ceiling where two sheets of corrugated steel meet shows me a glimpse of a black sky. The rain has let up to no more than a quiet drizzle. For a moment, I can almost ignore the pain, still suspended in half-sleep.

Then heavy footfalls fill the shelter. Three people duck inside—two men, one of them the one who talked to me earlier, and a woman. They advance on me without pause, grabbing my arms and hauling me to my knees. I can't help but cry out as my skull pulses with white-hot pain. Blackness forms in the edges of my vision and I close my eyes briefly, knowing I'm on the verge of passing out again.

The other man holds himself with authority, shoulders drawn back and wearing a stern expression. He holds a handgun with an air of confidence. Before I can even try to lift my head, he loads it with a click, pointing it at my head. I flinch, expecting a crack.

"Wait!" I rasp. "Please!"

"You deserve this."

"What about my friend?"

"We'll get to him after you."

"Please don't. He's not a part of this. Please, he's just a kid."

My words—and my lie—fall on deaf ears. He lifts the muzzle a notch higher, pressing the cold medal edge of it to my temple.

That's when someone barges in, then immediately freezes and pulls themself into a respectful standstill.

"Um—Boss—"

The man whirls on him. "What is it now?"

"I'm sorry to bother you but there's—there's someone here."

"What the hell do you mean? Go take care of them."

"She has Lucy with her."

"What?"

My heart surges in my throat.

Lucy.

Who would be coming here with Lucy in tow?

"She wants to talk."

The man curses, sticking his handgun into a holster on his hip. "Fine." He nods at the two who hold me. "We'll deal with these two later."

They let me go with more force than necessary, shoving me back onto the ground. And although I want to know more—I have to know what's happening—the blackness takes over again, and I'm out before I hit the mattress.

—

I wake up again to a hand brushing through my hair, gently working through the tangles and laying the strands neatly over my shoulder. I jerk upright in a flash of panic and pain, grabbing blindly at whoever's touching me.

"Teddy!" The hand falls on my shoulder. "Shh, Teddy, it's okay. Calm down."

My vision clears slowly as I'm pushed back down to the mattress. I must be dead—the face of an angel hovers over me, large, dark eyes glassy with unshed tears. Soft orange sunlight filters in through the crack in the roof. My voice is an uncertain croak.

"Ama?"

She gives me a teary smile, pushing my hair off of my forehead. For the first time since I woke up here, it doesn't stick painfully to the old blood, instead rasping along a patch of gauze. "You're okay now, Teddy. It's going to be okay."

"How—how are you here—?" I push myself up into my elbows, feeling a rush of wooziness. Ama gently lowers me back down.

"I promise I'll tell you all of it later, okay? Lora says there's a chance you're concussed, so you need to rest."

"Wait, Lora? What's she doing here?"

"Teddy..."

"Please, I need to know everything. Now."

"When you're on your feet I'll explain everything, okay? For now, all you need to know is that everything is okay. You're still on the bridge, Noah is safe and being cared for, and things are... well, we've worked it out. Alright?"

"Noah's okay?"

"Noah is fine." She gives me a soft smile.

Everything crashes on me at once and I jerk up straighter.

"Oh, Ama, I can't believe I—I left you, I didn't say anything—"

Her smile falls. "Don't work yourself up right now, Teddy. Please."

"No, I—I'm sorry, Ama. I'm so sorry. You were right about everything, I should've listened to you, and I shouldn't have left without saying anything—"

"Teddy." She reaches for my face, cupping it in her hands. I'm forced to stare into her eyes, dark and brimming with tears. "Please. I..." She hesitates, lashes damp as she drops her gaze to the mattress between us. "I won't lie to you. It hurts. And I was angry, and I'm... I'm still upset, but we have more important things to worry about. We can talk about this later."

I can tell she hasn't forgiven me, so I don't bother asking. It shows clearly on her face—the pain I've caused that she's been trying to hide for my sake. It makes my head hurt worse than before.

"Okay," I say, only vaguely aware of how miserable I sound. "I love you."

She gives me a small, sad smile, stroking the side of my face before tucking my hair aside. "Get some sleep."