Read Online Subject Seven by James A. Moore - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James A. Moore
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but torn papers and leftover wreckage. Whatever they were doing to the building around her, it looked like most of it was destruction, not construction.
She found a duffel bag a little deeper in the debris and figured out that was where sheâd apparently been sleeping. A look at the pattern on her leg told her it matched the texture of the military green material. Inside she found clothes. They were too big, but with a little work she managed to make them fit. There was a menâs shirt that looked like it was made for a giant and a pair of baggy painterâs-style jeans that worked if she held them in place.
The sticky stuff on her skin was irritating, but she could wait until later to get to that. Right now she had to figure out where she was and try to get home. Her mom would be worriedâ Yeah, if sheâs even woken up yet âif she didnât get back soon.
When she was done dressing, she pulled the duffel bag with her. It was heavier than she expected, but she hoped maybe she could find some shoes to go with the clothing.
She pushed and pulled at the duffel bag until she got outside and then, winded, she sat on the package for a few minutes to catch her breath.
The day was bright but hazy, with a lot of glare from up above but no sign of the actual sun. Her stomach rumbled at her and she did her best to ignore it. Sheâd lived her entire life in Camden, New Jersey, which was not a place known for having a lot of extra food lying around.
Camden was a slum, pure and simple. She knew people who went out of their way to avoid Camden, like it was a bathroom with a broken toilet or something. She couldnât really blame them. Most of the people she knew who lived there wanted to get out as fast as they could, before the drug dealers or someone even worse got to them. She tried not to dwell on that part of her world, but it was there just the same. It was always there, like an anchor trying to drag her down. She hated the city almost as much as she hated having to live there.
No. Food wasnât really that big a deal. Sheâd gone hungry before.
Tina looked down at her hands. Underneath the rusty gunk that covered them, they were thin and delicate. Most of her was that way. Not eating much had given her a body that looked like it belonged to a twelve-year-old, which wasnât so bad, back when she was twelve. At fifteen, she figured she should have been developing bigger boobs by now.
She tried not to let it get to her. One more thing on a long list of complaints that she couldnât do a thing about, not really.
She looked at the stuff on her hands and frowned. Whatever it was, it coated her like a thin layer of paint, but it was flaking away now. She tried wiping it off on the jeans, but the stuff liked to stick a bit.
She brought her fingers up and sniffed at them and immediately pulled them back. The odor wasnât that bad, not really, but it was strong, and she recognized it.
âBlood. Iâm covered in blood.â Her skin slipped into a thick wave of gooseflesh.
She was pretty sure it wasnât hers, but that didnât do too much to make her feel better. It wasnât a little blood, not like from a busted noseâMommy hits when sheâs in a moodâor even from a big scrape like she got along her leg once when she was a kid and a car hit her.
No, this was a lot of blood, like enough to fill a person.
Tinaâs skin crawled again at the thought. She bit her lip to stop herself from panicking. Panic too much and people think youâre easy prey. People think that way about you in Camden, and you donât live long. That was a lesson she learned a long time ago and one she never intended to forget. You couldnât be a coward if you wanted to survive in her hometown.
So, she was covered in blood. But at least it wasnât hers. That was a bonus.
On the other hand, she could be in serious trouble if she didnât figure out who the blood
She found a duffel bag a little deeper in the debris and figured out that was where sheâd apparently been sleeping. A look at the pattern on her leg told her it matched the texture of the military green material. Inside she found clothes. They were too big, but with a little work she managed to make them fit. There was a menâs shirt that looked like it was made for a giant and a pair of baggy painterâs-style jeans that worked if she held them in place.
The sticky stuff on her skin was irritating, but she could wait until later to get to that. Right now she had to figure out where she was and try to get home. Her mom would be worriedâ Yeah, if sheâs even woken up yet âif she didnât get back soon.
When she was done dressing, she pulled the duffel bag with her. It was heavier than she expected, but she hoped maybe she could find some shoes to go with the clothing.
She pushed and pulled at the duffel bag until she got outside and then, winded, she sat on the package for a few minutes to catch her breath.
The day was bright but hazy, with a lot of glare from up above but no sign of the actual sun. Her stomach rumbled at her and she did her best to ignore it. Sheâd lived her entire life in Camden, New Jersey, which was not a place known for having a lot of extra food lying around.
Camden was a slum, pure and simple. She knew people who went out of their way to avoid Camden, like it was a bathroom with a broken toilet or something. She couldnât really blame them. Most of the people she knew who lived there wanted to get out as fast as they could, before the drug dealers or someone even worse got to them. She tried not to dwell on that part of her world, but it was there just the same. It was always there, like an anchor trying to drag her down. She hated the city almost as much as she hated having to live there.
No. Food wasnât really that big a deal. Sheâd gone hungry before.
Tina looked down at her hands. Underneath the rusty gunk that covered them, they were thin and delicate. Most of her was that way. Not eating much had given her a body that looked like it belonged to a twelve-year-old, which wasnât so bad, back when she was twelve. At fifteen, she figured she should have been developing bigger boobs by now.
She tried not to let it get to her. One more thing on a long list of complaints that she couldnât do a thing about, not really.
She looked at the stuff on her hands and frowned. Whatever it was, it coated her like a thin layer of paint, but it was flaking away now. She tried wiping it off on the jeans, but the stuff liked to stick a bit.
She brought her fingers up and sniffed at them and immediately pulled them back. The odor wasnât that bad, not really, but it was strong, and she recognized it.
âBlood. Iâm covered in blood.â Her skin slipped into a thick wave of gooseflesh.
She was pretty sure it wasnât hers, but that didnât do too much to make her feel better. It wasnât a little blood, not like from a busted noseâMommy hits when sheâs in a moodâor even from a big scrape like she got along her leg once when she was a kid and a car hit her.
No, this was a lot of blood, like enough to fill a person.
Tinaâs skin crawled again at the thought. She bit her lip to stop herself from panicking. Panic too much and people think youâre easy prey. People think that way about you in Camden, and you donât live long. That was a lesson she learned a long time ago and one she never intended to forget. You couldnât be a coward if you wanted to survive in her hometown.
So, she was covered in blood. But at least it wasnât hers. That was a bonus.
On the other hand, she could be in serious trouble if she didnât figure out who the blood
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