Read Online Remnants 13 - Survival by Katherine Alice Applegate - Free Book Online Page B

again, breathlessly. The glass refilled. Tate took a careful sip. No reaction from her stomach. She concentrated on going slowly and got it all down. This time, it stayed down.
    Tate next asked Daughter for a cup of chicken soup. What appeared looked too dark, too greasy, and smelled vaguely plastic. Tate gulped it greedily.
    <> Yago said. <>
    “My headache feels better already,” Tate said.
    <> Charlie asked.
    “No.”
    <> Yago said.
    Again, Tate had the feeling something was wrong with their plan. She poked at the feeling, probing at her unconscious — nothing.
     
    Charlie and Amelia began to debate whether Duncan could control Daughter in his slime state. They speculated about why he hadn’t attacked yet. Was he somehow aware of their combined nature? Was he scared of them?
    Tate could tell Duncan’s continued absence was starting to rattle. The longer he took to appear, the greater a foe they considered him. Maybe that was part of his strategy. Hiding until their nerves were entirely shot.
    Tate felt pressured, too. This might be the only chance she had to use Daughter. She couldn’t waste any time.
    “Bandages,” she told the computer “Antibiotic cream. Shoes.”
    Amelia and the others fell silent as Tate cradled her burned foot in her lap and gently worked off the destroyed shoe. It was charred around the toe; the plastic was brittle and sooty.
    Underneath, the sock was pink and damp with something that was oozing from her puffy flesh. The smell was yeasty — the odor of bad news.
    Tate hesitated. So far this hadn’t hurt. Removing that sock was going to hurt. Just thinking about it hurt. Besides, hadn’t she learned something in school about not removing cloth from burns?
    <> Yago asked.
    “I’m going to leave it on,” Tate murmured.
    <> Amelia asked. <>
    <> Charlie said ominously. <>
    <> Yago said softly. <>
    “It’s going to hurt,” Tate said fearfully.
    <> Yago agreed. <    “Maybe it won’t get infected,” Tate said.
    <>
    “How do you know?”
    <> Yago said. <>
    “How debonair,” Tate said dryly. Getting advice from Yago felt weird until she realized taking care of her was in his best interest.
    “A bucket of water,” she told Daughter with profound weariness. “Soap, scissors —”

CHAPTER 12
    <> Tate pulled sock fibers out of her charred skin until her foot was a lump of raw steak.
    The pain from her foot was making her entire body ache. Her hand was cramped and sore from holding the tweezers. Her hip was throbbing. Her shoulders and neck were stiff. Her head hurt.
    When the job was finally done, Tate fell into a sleep that was her body’s release after enduring hours of pain.
    Tate dreamed.
    She saw Mo’Steel and Olga, filthy in their ragged clothes. They were standing alone in the desolation, ash drifting lazily over their shoes.
    Tate could sense the rest of the band somewhere nearby. Mo and Olga had slipped away.
    Their movements were furtive and hurried. Whatever they were about to do, it was secret.
    Olga held out her hand, and Mo’Steel took it. The two of them hitched up their pants and got down on their knees. They clasped their hands in front of their faces and lowered their eyes.
    They were about to — pray.
    Tate quickly glanced down. She wanted to get away, but the dream kept playing out before her. There was no way to shut it out.
    She