Dying Light Read Free Page B

have to separate
them.”
    “ They have you to thank,”
I remind her. “Alice Gallagher, protector of war
babies.”
    She frowns and pulls her hand away. “I
know you think what we’re doing here isn’t important.”
    “ I never said that. I just
hate these people, and I hate that we have to work with
them.”
    “ I know.” Ally sits back
in her chair. “But they have more resources than we do in
Nashville. They are actually doing things to minimize the damage.
We can’t just pretend people aren’t dying and go about our lives
like everything is okay. We have to do what we can to help
until—”
    She stops. She looks almost apologetic
as if what she intends to say next really is the worst thing
ever.
    “ Until I kill Caldwell.
And the sooner the better because that’s fewer babies to find homes
for.”
    She takes my hand again and squeezes.
“He’s your father, but no one holds you responsible for his
actions.”
    Is that supposed to make me feel
better?
    “ But they do expect me to
use my gifts against him.” They expect me to do what they can’t.
“If I don’t try to stop him—if I don’t kill him—then I’m not doing my
part.”
    She searches my face. “Maybe there’s
another way.”

Chapter 3
     
    Jesse
     
    O nce Jeremiah’s medical team stops hovering and Ally says
goodnight, I scoop Winston up and carry him to the elevator. By the
time I reach the silver doors, my back is throbbing. I set Winston
on his feet and he looks up at me as if I’ve just stolen a treat
right out of his mouth.
    “ I’m sorry, but I can’t
carry you. I hurt. Everywhere.” I gesture at all of me and he cocks
his head as if trying to understand. “Come on.”
    The illuminated red numbers descend,
counting down to the hospital ward on the 8th floor, where I stand
with the pug.
    I shift my weight, trying
to relieve pressure from one aching joint to another. I’m clenching
and unclenching my jaw when the doors finally open. Winston follows
me inside the small, warm space and I press the button that will
take us to the rooftop terrace .
    The doors ding open and an icy blast
of cold air hits me. I suck in a breath, taking that moment to
recognize the thinness of my hospital scrubs. I should’ve brought a
coat.
    “ Sweet
gee- zus .” I
squeeze myself and nudge the reluctant pug out of the elevator with
my foot. “Do your business quick, and then let’s go cuddle where
it’s warm, okay?”
    Winston waddles over to
the large patch of grass growing against a brick wall. Most of
the roof looks like a park. I guess that’s what you do when you build
cities. You level all the trees and lay sod on the tops of buildings . The only
problem is that 65 floors above Lake Michigan is way colder than
any park on the Magnificent Mile.
    I go to the edge of
the balcony and
look out over the water. It’s midnight
blue and vast as an ocean. It could be the
ocean for all I know, complete with seagulls, a lighthouse, and
waves crashing against the embankment. Little boats cut waves on
the horizon, probably a patrol, given the white searchlight
splashing over the rocks. In the city itself, Christmas lights have
cropped up on a few of the buildings, blinking like red, green, and
silver stars.
    The icy December wind pulls tears from
my eyes, freezing them against my cheeks.
    I hate being cold.
    It makes me miss home more than
anything. It figures that as soon as I start to think of Nashville
as home, I have to leave. Or maybe it’s the fact that Christmas is
on the horizon, which always makes me a little lonely.
    Ally is usually good about making me
feel special during the holiday season, but this year we breezed
right through Thanksgiving without much thanks and Christmas is on
the horizon with no hint of eggnog, or presents, or
mistletoe.
    I guess this is what happens when you
have shitty parents and no family. Is it too much to ask for a
father that buys me an iPad instead of one that only wants to get
together so he can drug me