The Collective

Chapter Twenty-Five

     I shook my hands dry over the sink. No paper towels. None of the waystations and gas stations we'd used in the last 24 hours had any paper towels. Seriously, how hard was it to put them in the box, or just leave a roll of them on the counter?

     I fought off the urge to cough. I didn't want to breath in this place any more than absolutely necessary. It rated a 0.5 on the cleanliness scale. I rushed out, touching as little as possible. I slid into the car. At least this place had a decent fast-food place attached. The place we'd gone to for breakfast... we'd ended up skipping breakfast.

     Sarah snatched the bag full of tacos and these fried cinnamon things off my seat as I got into the car. I grabbed a water bottle as she dug in.

     "Are you sure you're not hungry?" She held out a taco.

     I waved it off. "I'm fine." I flashed her a smile, stomach roiling at the sight of the food. Being in the car always made me queasy, and we hadn't left the car for the last three days. We'd been staring at this apartment for over 36 hours. Couldn't give it up now. Sarah was convinced Max would be back here. She said it was inevitable for him to come back to the place he failed.

     A yellowy, silver car pulled into the parking lot. Two people with baseball caps got out, heading towards Ethan's apartment. I nudged Sarah. She dropped the tacos. She snagged the small gun out of the glovebox. I stumbled after her.

     The door to Ethan's apartment was wide open. The people in hats stood over his desk, talking quietly.

     Sarah crept up behind the shorter one. She put the gun right up against the hood. A gloved hand reached out, and twisted Sarah around onto her knees, snagging the gun, in one fluid motion.

     The taller figure turned, gun trained on me the whole time. "You good?"

     Huh, Max. Sarah was right.

     The shorter figure nodded. "You?"

     Oh, goody. Regan.

     Max lowered his gun. I punched him.

     "I deserved that." He took a step towards me.

     I hit him again, splitting his lip.

     He licked the blood off his lip, his expression darkening. "Okay, that just wasn't necessary." He kicked me. The air rushed out of my lungs. "Yeah, doesn't feel so good, does it?" He dragged me to my feet, pinning my arms against my body. He threw me into the couch. "Sit down."

     Regan let go of Sarah.

     "I brought her here. Where's Chase? Where's my brother?"

     "Not so fast. Call Ethan. Bring him here, and then we'll talk."

     "That wasn't the deal."

     "Call Ethan. Bring him here." She held out a phone.

     Sarah snatched it, walking into the kitchen. She paced in a tight circle. She came back, shoving the phone at Regan. "He'll be here soon." She turned towards me. "Annie?!" She rushed for me, but she missed. My head bounced on the ground. Max hovered above me. Except he was blue. And Sarah was pink. And Regan was just standing there.

     When I came to, Ethan sat stiffly in a chair next to me.

     He was notably not blue.

     My hand rested in his, his thumb moving back and forth over mine. His attention was on the door.

     Sarah slept in a chair in the corner.

     I shifted. My throat and head competed for attention in an unholy cacophony of malcontent.

     Ethan's attention snapped onto me. He jerked his hand away. He sat on the bed, hand hovering above my hair. "Hey. Hi. How do you feel? Can you hear me?" His hand dropped.

     I tucked my hair behind my ear, nodding. I wanted to tell him not to worry, but the thing that came out of my mouth was not words. I must've swallowed sandpaper.

     "Shh. Hey, don't talk. Here." He slipped one arm under my shoulders.

     My lungs screamed. I coughed, sounding like I was trying to hack them up.

     "Shh. I know. Hold on." He slid a pillow behind my back and let me go. He waited for the hacking to subside before holding a straw to my lips.

     The water burned on the way down, settling in my stomach like a ton of bricks. Ethan blotted the edges of my lips with his sleeve. He put the water on the dresser. His voice was almost too soft to hear. "Can you talk now?"

     "I think so." Lo and behold, it worked. The words actually made it out.

     He slipped his hand into mine. "You feeling okay?"

     Yes? No? I shrugged. I felt fine, just off.

     He nodded, cleared his throat. "I need to ask you something. Please answer me and then you can hate me forever, yeah?"

     I blinked away the hazy, blue light that was pressing towards him on all sides. I nodded. All the blue light and then some came back.

     "Sarah said you guys were with Sam. Did you kiss him?"

     Him, too? Had Sam suddenly become the world's most eligible bachelor or something? And, even then, Sam wasn't really my type. He was a bit too rugged, and impulsive. Not to mention he had a girlfriend. I happened to like her, too. Ethan knew all this so why the questions?

     I pressed a hand against my eyes, groaning. My arm felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

     Ethan squeezed my hand gently. "I need to know, sweetheart, okay?"

     Why?! "I didn't kiss him. I do not want to kiss him. All he did was give me a candy bar and it's not like we haven't done that for each other hundreds of times before! You've been there. Never bothered you before and why would—" I doubled over, coughing. I pulled my hand out of Ethan's, covering my mouth. I sank back. My throat was on fire.

     "You bit the candy bar after he did?" Ethan asked, readjusting my pillows.

     I shrugged. The memory was fuzzy, but I didn't think he ate it. He mighta coughed on it, but it'd been ages ago.

     Ethan paled. He gnawed on his lip, which was already broken and bloodied. He tried to smile as he rubbed my arm gently. He pulled the comforter up. "I think we should take you to your dad. I'm gonna get us a ride." He pushed himself to his feet.

     No, no, no. He couldn't do that. We couldn't go back there. I would die before I let myself drag them any further into this mess. Catch him!

     My hand shot out, fingers closing around his wrist. They slipped right off, but it didn't matter.

     He turned towards me. Stopped walking away. "You're really sick, Alex. I don't know," he clenched his jaw, shaking his head. "I don't know that I can help you."

     Didn't matter. Didn't care. Over my dead body would I drag my father into this. "No parents. Promise me, Ethan." My throat had never hurt so much in my life.

     He glanced at the door, and for a second, I thought he was going to argue. But he didn't. He sat down, taking my hand in his. He nodded quickly.

     I shuddered, falling asleep with his hand on mine.