The Aftermath Read Online Free Page A

its many windows, and I know it well. It’s the museum in the Park. Once, I’d found a tourism brochure with a picture of this place tucked inside a tin box in a crawl space. The paper was so old that I could barely make out most of the tiny typed print, except for the words “Tour the Parthenon.” I can’t imagine anyone wanting to tour this museum now, though. These days, it overlooks a lake that’s slowly drying up to reveal a makeshift burial ground.
    Dozens of pillars enclose us. Two stories above, light gleams through windows in the beamed ceiling, illuminating splashes of graffiti and blood on the columns. And positioned behind the concrete—with missing heads and appendages—are sculptures that seem to turn accusingly toward me.
    Coward, they seem to say.
    Inside, I wince.
    “I know you said you didn’t want to come here, but it was so close to the other place,” Ethan explains, leaning against one of the pillars. He glances away, and my heart jumps at the sight of the long gash that runs from the nape of his neck to just by his throat. I want to reach out and touch it. Ask him if this is what happened to him on our raid, if he knows what happened to me when I went under. If he knows what happened to the boy who came out of the elevator.
    “I hope you’re not upset,” he whispers.
    I stare at Ethan for a long moment, studying his injuries. I feel as if I’m about to pass out from my own. Did I speak to him deliriously, words I’ve now forgotten? I have no memory of talking to him about living here. And even though I would’ve argued against it because this museum practically screams to be raided, I don’t understand why he’d think I’d be upset.
    I’m not angry. At the moment, I’m just thankful to be alive. I don’t want him to stress over me when he’s so badly injured himself.
    Maybe that’s what’s wrong with him. He’s just worried. That’s why his eyes look so strange—it has to be.
    “You have the survival instincts of a toddler. And you listen like one, too,” I say.
    No, my words are all wrong. The opposite of what I need to say to him.
    He nods quickly and pushes himself from the concrete. “If it makes you happy, we’ll move immediately.” His blank, serene expression is back. Like everything is normal. Like he doesn’t feel the inflamed cut beneath his chin or the bruises that mutilate his face.
    I feel them for him, and I’m creeped out.
    He nods toward the back of the building. His movements are so quick and wobbly, I want to reach out and steady his head. “This is The Save for now. Open areas are a pain in the ass, but the rest of the building is too small to work with. Come on. I’ll show you where we’ve stored the food.”
    I shuffle slowly beside him. Sharp pangs make my stomach tighten. My head feels like a jar and someone is clenching the lid, twisting and wrenching. I twitch. Blink. And once again, I see my body motionless, the long silver device pushing against my scalp.
    This is the first time one of my nightmares has stayed with me outside of sleep, and it terrifies me.
    “Which one?” Ethan’s soft voice brings me back into the museum. He dangles two protein bars in front of my face. “Double chocolate or vanilla milk shake?”
    Chocolate, I think, but a toxic cocktail of frustration and pain, coupled with disgust at the sickening images in my head, suddenly replaces my hunger.
    “Vanilla milk shake,” I find myself saying as I snatch the bar from his hand.
    “Nice, she’s up.”
    Ethan and I both turn to face Jeremy. He perches against the rusted doorway, twirling a butterfly knife like it’s a toy and grinning. “You were gone far too long, Claudia Virtue, but I’m glad you’re finally back. It’s not the same without you. You’re way more interesting than April.”
    What isn’t the same? Raids? I draw a dizzying breath in through my nose. I am dying to demand an explanation. To force them to give me a play-by-play of the events