Betrayed

Chapter Seventeen

I awake with paperweights on my eyelids. My tongue flubs in my mouth, a thick cotton against my teeth. I can barely swallow without my throat rasping like sandpaper. Obnoxious car horns blare in the distance, and I almost swear I hear a couple of men shouting nearby.

Ugh.

I roll over. Both of my arms shiver as if I've dipped them in ice. There's a warm body beside me. I snuggle closer, craving the warmth.

Except... why is there a warm body beside me?

I reluctantly crack an eyelid, forcing my eyes open despite the sleep gunk. Erin lays next to me, her arms flopped at her sides. She stares at the ceiling.

I frown. My brain feels fuzzy. Where in the Community are we? I sit upright and then sway as a wave of dizziness splashes through me. I close my eyes to steady myself. The last thing I remember is stumbling through the field of poppies on a hot, dry day before everything ran together like sand on a beach being poured into the ocean between my fingers.

Yet now I'm sleeping in a bed?

The comforters are rough, but fluffy. A boxy window unit provides way more air conditioning than necessary. A domed glass crowns a light on the ceiling. Yellowed paper covers the walls with intricate floral designs, and a simple TV hangs on the wall across from the window.

My stomach rumbles, my throat tight, as if I haven't eaten in days.

Hesitant, I push myself from the bed. My feet wobble, and I hold out my arms to balance myself. I wait until the room stops spinning before I limp to the window. Everything aches, and my throat throbs from the lack of anything to drink.

I peek between the curtains.

My heart skips a beat. There are skyscrapers out there.

And cars, each a different color. Some shiny and new, some rusty and unfit to be on the road. People walk by in such an array of outfits that I might be hallucinating. Some wear long skirts or tunics and keep their heads covered. Others have their arms bare from t-shirts with weird designs on the front. A person rides by on a bike with a basket and handlebar loaded with plastic bags, and they swerve through the crowd without slowing.

This isn't the Community, this isn't the Kariz, and it's definitely not the wasteland David described. If everything was destroyed, what is this? Are we in one of the territories Roy mentioned?

I let out my breath, my hands shaky, and turn to face Erin. She still stares at the ceiling. She doesn't blink for a long time, long enough that I'm about to prod her in the ribs to make sure she's still alive.

Or that I am.

"You feeling any better?" I ask softly. Outside our room, those voices keep arguing. I don't want their attention. At least, not yet.

Erin's eyes flick toward me. Her lips move, but she doesn't speak.

"Erin?" I crawl onto the bed and press my fingers against her forehead. She's no longer as pale as she was after the goat incident, but her head is hot, especially for how cold the room is. I slide from the bed, turn down the air conditioning a couple notches, and then return. "How are you feeling?" I repeat.

"Blank." Her head lolls as she returns to staring at the ceiling. "I didn't like having my powers because nothing felt real. But now everything feels empty. Like you made a banana smoothie and someone else ate it and washed the blender before you got to try any."

Odd analogy, but okay. I stroke the rough covers below my fingers. "Do you remember what happened before you passed out?"

Her throat bobs as she swallows. "I turned that... that beastie into a goat. I think it was a goat." She blinks. "Not sure. I turned him into a goat, a little goat... a baby goat, hopping through the poppies. Do you think it hurt? Now I feel bad. He was human before he was a monster. Did I make him into more of a monster?"