A Little Undead Read Free Page B

My feet
shifted nervously as I pondered the politeness of encouraging some
haste in whatever it was she was doing. “Found it. Here's
your key for room number nine. If you need another it's thirty
credits to replace.”
    “ Thanks.” I moved to
escape the growing darkness but her voice made me pause.
    “ You should be more
careful, the city isn't safe after dark anymore.” I gave a
confused nod in response. ' Since when in the past sixteen years
has anywhere been truly safe?'
    Giving the batty old woman no
further mind I ran by the rooms, backpack bouncing on my shoulders as
I searched for the correct room. Finding it on the second floor I
caught one last lick of sunlight before locking myself inside. I
flicked on the solitary bulb in the room, watching hopefully as it
flickered and finally steadied, holding clear. The bulb was dim,
casting the room half in shadow, but my eyes had grown adept over the
years at seeing in darkness. As quietly as I could – for even
inside one's own house it was unwise to draw attention to oneself
during the night – I crept through the apartment, making sure
each of its three windows was properly secured.
    The
apartment wasn't much. Small, dark, dusty, with a closet-sized
bathroom and low-flow shower, but it was mine! I
could make a life here, no adoptive parents looking in on me or
superstitious frontiersmen half shunning me. I could make friends,
throw (small) house parties... maybe even have a boyfriend? The
opportunities Boston was offering left me nearly drunk with
anticipation.
    However, there was one drawback
that made me draw my paper-wrapped knife from my backpack. I'd had
it ever since I could remember, one of the belongings given back to
me when I awoke with amnesia in the refugee-built village of Haven.
It was almost like a teddy bear to me after all these years, a
fragment of a forgotten past. Clutching it to my chest I fell
backwards onto the sheetless bed, flopping around til I found a semi
comfortable set of springs. Staring at the ceiling I contemplated
the distance between this apartment and my sister's. It was probably
best we grew apart for a while. Sometimes I worried I was a little
obsessed with my little physics-genius sister.
    She'd stuck with me from the
start, helping me remember how to speak, how to wait in line and not
snarl at anyone besides her that came too close to me, cute little
five-year-old that she was. Many of her tales of our travels
together were dismissed as childish exaggerations or fever dreams
from the illness we had on our arrival to the village. Still, I had
apparently kept us both alive somehow, and even deprived of my
memories she felt like a piece of me I never wanted to give up. I'd
grown perhaps a tad overprotective of the little tyke. Even now that
she looked older than I did my stomach tensed up a little when she
was out of my sight.
    Well, like she said, she was a
college girl now – even if she was two years younger than the
norm. Besides, I still had my ants to keep me company. Drawing out
a soda bottle half full of sand and absolutely buzzing with ants I
tsked and dropped in a bit of stale bread. As upset as they were at
the moment from the rough traveling I knew they'd have their nest
right as rain in a day or two. Other people might find them creepy,
but they were remarkably relaxing to watch once you got used to them.
Almost like a living lava lamp. Besides, they cost an awful lot
less to feed than a dog.
    Looking at the bare walls I
found myself suddenly stymied. As excited as I was to have my own
apartment, putting it all together tonight was a bit daunting, even
if all my napping on the bus left me sleepless. Relegating the task
to the following day I threw a few shirts on top of the bed as a
pseudo-sheet and tucked my backpack underneath my head. Pillows,
after all, were not an easy thing to pack. Drawing out my textbook
on Boston's laws and regulations for police officers I settled in for
one last read-through. It was