“Yes, I’m sorry that happened to you.” He removed his shoes and rubbed his feet, wincing from the blisters. A stench rose, and he lowered his nose to his shirt. “I stink.”
“We both do.” She laughed.
“Why did you take me through the worst part of town? I’ve never seen such slums.”
She took another bite of jerky. “That used to be a nice part of town. One of the best. My neighborhood used to be clean, upper class, respectable. That’s what your NWU has done to people.” Her tone was sharp, bitter.
“You can hardly blame that on the NWU. It was the war, the famine, the quakes and tsunamis, the asteroids and meteors. And all the horrible plagues those two old Jewish men unleashed. It’s been a tough time for Planet Earth.” When she didn’t answer, he added, “The NWU has done a lot of good for people, feeding them, giving them places to live.”
“Really? I’ll show you one of your NWU’s luxury housings tomorrow,” she said matter-of-factly before finishing her jerky and pulling the phone from her sack. Rising, she moved toward the broken window and dialed a number.
“Come on…. come on, pick up. Nyla! Yes, it’s me. Yes, I escaped. Praise God! But I’ve picked up a….”—she glanced his way—“lost puppy.”
Puppy? Thomas frowned. Puppy or not, she’d hardly escaped on her own. But Nyla? Nyla Cruz? Wow. So Tori really did know the location of the largest Deviant hideout.
“Long story,” Tori said. “I’ll tell you later.”
A female voice droned on the other end, but Thomas could not make out her words.
“Can we come?” Tori paused, listening. “Okay. Where can I meet you?” Another pause. “Got it. See you in a few weeks.” She hung up the call, then remained by the window, looking out.
“Who was that?” Thomas asked.
She tsked. “As if you don’t recognize her name.”
“So youdoknow where Nyla Cruz is.”
She faced him. “Yes, and she and Calan are the only ones who will help us now.”
At her harsh tone, Thomas instantly regretted his comment. “Sorry, I’m just…Man, I could use a drink.”
She released a heavy sigh. “I know you’ve been through a huge shock. And you’re probably going to go through withdrawals now.”
“Withdrawals?”
“From alcohol. You drink like a fish, Thomas.” Humor laced her voice.
“Oh, man.” Thomas ran a hand through his hair, the distinct scent of the mousse he’d put in it that morning conflicting with the stench of the place. She was probably right.
She headed toward him. “We should get some sleep.”
The patter of rodent feet filled the room, and Thomas slipped his shoes back on, his blisters stinging. “Can we find someplace better to rest?”
“Sorry it’s not the Hilton,Vice Regent, but you might as well get used to it.” Her tone was sarcastic as she plopped down beside him.
Thomas’s stomach growled. He needed food—real food. His hair was a mess. He needed a shower. He longed for his sleep number bed and his white-noise maker. But he knew he’d have neither this night.
The only good thing about today was that Tori was still by his side. The woman he nearly sent to her death had saved his life. She was stronger than he remembered, tougher, yet somehow filled with joy and peace. Which made no sense. “Thanks for not leaving me back there. You could have ditched me and ran.”
“Never. You’re in this mess ’cause of me.”
Her words touched him. They were true, of course, but he’d rarely met anyone who had any honor or decency anymore. “Tell me about your time in that San Fran Art School.”
She leaned her head back on the sofa. “Not much to tell. I loved the art. I excelled at it, actually. So much so that a graphic design company in LA offered me a job working on graphics for Disney.”
Thomas whistled. “Disney? Wow. That’s big time.”
“Yeah, I was thrilled. At first.”
