from Megan’s head.
“Sorry about that,” said Megan, moving her light to the side.
“Thanks.” Poe was overwhelmed. This fighting over a boy, or rather, a great uncle, was silly. She wanted her friend back.
Megan squatted next to Poe and inspected her scratches and mouth wounds with a pen light between her teeth, cleaning them with less-than-moist towelettes.
“Megan,” Poe began, “I didn’t know about you and Sainvire.”
“I know,” Megan answered. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“I guess.” Poe couldn’t leave it at that. “But I just want you to know that it was a mistake, and it’s over between us.”
Megan looked her directly in the face, knowing that Poe would be able to see her countenance clearly through the goggles. “It doesn’t matter, Poe. Whatever happens, you’ll still be my friend, and he’ll still be my great uncle.”
Poe opened her mouth to speak, but Megan stopped her with a gesture. “I’m really sorry about how I treated you before,” Megan began. “You’re right. We should have trusted you enough to let you know about Kaleb and the Plasmacore.”
Poe’s eyes brimmed and everything turned green and hazy. The week had been emotionally taxing for both.
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“I should’ve stood up for you and insisted that Goss and Sister clue you in to what was going on,” she sniffed, her voice breaking. “I should’ve stood up for you as my friend, period. And your eye gear is weirding me out.”
Poe ignored her injured back and sat up. She took Megan’s hand and squeezed. The two embraced. They stayed this way until a humungous rat walked over Poe’s ankle, causing both women to yelp and killing the moment.
“This is a really disgusting place to have a maudlin heart-to-heart,” Megan proclaimed. She hoisted Poe to her feet and wiped away rat droppings clinging to her clothes. Without preamble, Megan unhooked her bottle of holy water and sprayed herself.
“So the objective is to smell like you, and I’ll live through all this unscathed?” she asked.
Poe shook her head. “Well, not entirely unscathed.
But I guarantee you’ll make it. I’m mystical that way.
Keep the squirt gun. I have two more in my pack.”
“Mystical? Where’d you learn such a fancy word?”
“From that crumpled up Madame Elmira psychic poster by your feet.”
“That’s for when the pain really gets bad,” said Megan who placed four tablets on her friend’s dirty palm. “Take one tablet every four hours. Don’t take them all at once, though. They might be expired, but they’re still killer strong.”
Ten minutes later, Morales and cattle comprised mainly of the elderly and the sick arrived bruised but intact. He immediately sought his two friends, giving them wet, lingering kisses on the cheek.
“Sam, you’re going to give me zits, dammit!”
Megan complained, pushing Morales away. She patted his shoulder fondly then left to organize the group. “I 315
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thank you all for your courage – humans, vampires, and everyone in between. There’s still more to go, so we’ve got to book. The uninjured, make sure to find a buddy to support. Let’s cross our fingers that we make it safe and sound to the trains. We all deserve a new life.”
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CHAPTER 11 – JIM KELLY COTTON CANDY
EVERY STEP WAS A spike rammed through each screaming groove of vertebrae. The other injuries she’d endured paled in comparison to the pain in her lower back, so sharp that her twisted ankle didn’t even hurt anymore.
“Even the old geezers are moving faster than me,”
Poe complained.
“Ever heard of the word ‘ageism’?” Morales mockingly asked while holding up his buddy of the day.
“Fine. Be like the rest,” Poe said resignedly. “I know I fuck up a lot, and I’m the biggest politically incorrect moron there ever was.”
“Well what can I say to–”
“That’s why I need you to educate me,” Poe finished her thought to the relief of Morales. The man was nice enough to pal up with the irascible near-cripple during the march.
Not that he resented Poe’s extra weight or the reek of her sticky marinated skin. He just couldn’t stand being the last person. Anyone or anything could pick them off and the group would be oblivious since they were lagging at least fifty feet behind again.
With the help of her night vision goggles, Poe could see the half-mad look Morales sported in the dark. The tenseness of his muscles and the constant 317
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beaming of his flashlight up the ceiling, on the walls, behind his shoulders, and down on the ground were big indicators that he was petrified.
“Has it been four hours yet?”
“Not even close,”