Read Online Wired (Skinned, Book 3) by Robin Wasserman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robin Wasserman
Tags: Fiction, General, Family & Relationships, Science-Fiction, All Ages, Children's Books, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 10-12), Social Issues, Friendship, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Social Issues - Friendship, Mysteries; Espionage; & Detective Stories
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"Remind me to explain to you why you're never saying that again." I was stalling. Thinking. Waiting for him to see the obvious.
"Wait, if you didn't send that message, then what are you doing here?" he finally asked. "And who were you waiting for?"
"Jude," I admitted. The best lies start with a kernel of truth. "I got an anonymous message to meet here. I figured, who else would want to mess with me like that?"
78
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Why didn't I? "I didn't want to get your hopes up."
"Too late." He grinned, and I wouldn't have been surprised to spot a wagging tail poking out of his jeans.
"I can see that."
"I knew he'd show up eventually," Riley said.
"Yeah. Can't keep the Three Musketeers apart for long." He was too excited to notice my tone. "Let's go," I added, eager to get out of our place before the specter of Jude spoiled it for good.
The car drove us away from the memorial, away from my house and BioMax and anything even remotely resembling civilization. It navigated over increasingly bumpy roads and unpaved gravel until, finally, we had to override the automatic controls and drive manually. Riley took the wheel while I called out the turns, using my ViM to map the coordinates because the car refused to help. It felt like the Dark Ages. Which was appropriate because, it soon became apparent, that's exactly where we were headed.
In the end, three hours out, there were no more roads. Not official ones, at least. Nothing but weed-ridden stretches of concrete and the occasional barren field, its earth flat and dead enough that we could drive over it with ease. It wasn't until the jagged skyline appeared on the horizon that I understood where we were going, and even then it was hard to believe. But
79
we drew closer and closer, finally coming to the mouth of the tunnel that would lead us inside.
Nothing looked like I expected.
I'd seen images of it on the network, of course, but after a while one dead zone looked pretty much like another. They all featured the frozen parade of abandoned cars choking their escape routes, some doors flung open by long-ago passengers who'd desperately decided to get out by foot, others locking in bloated bodies of the unfortunates who stayed in their cars, trusting the traffic laws, trusting the highway flow, trusting the radio reports of a quiet, orderly evacuation, trusting right up until the moment the toxic cloud or tidal wave or flesh-eating supergerm gave them a final escape.
Not this city.
It was just empty. The bombs had flattened half its buildings and much of its population. The lingering radiation had taken care of the rest. I'd only been in one city before--unless you counted the underwater ruins--and that had been teeming with life. Even the emptiest streets had festered with rats, roaches, gutter rivers of piss. But here nothing moved. There were no bodies in sight, and I wondered if some unfortunate corp crew had moved them out, one by one--how such a thing could be possible when the deaths numbered in millions--or if they had lain fallow all these years, gradually returning to the earth. I wondered how the city would smell, if I could smell.
80
I couldn't have handled bodies. I'd seen them in the ocean, of course, but that was different. The pale, preserved corpses that floated through the underwater city were dreamlike wraiths--nightmarish, but unreal. Bodies lining the streets, decomposing, swarming with maggots or flies or whatever hardy scavengers could survive nuclear war ... that was a reality even I wouldn't have been able to deny.
Jude was waiting for us, just beyond the mouth of the tunnel. He lounged on a bench at the center of a small concrete plaza, proud ruler of a broken skyline and a city of ghosts.
We stopped the car.
Opened the doors.
Greeted our long-lost friend.
Jude stood. "Riley." He gave his best friend a once-over, taking in the new body, the new skin, the face that was molded as closely as possible to a face from old
"Wait, if you didn't send that message, then what are you doing here?" he finally asked. "And who were you waiting for?"
"Jude," I admitted. The best lies start with a kernel of truth. "I got an anonymous message to meet here. I figured, who else would want to mess with me like that?"
78
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Why didn't I? "I didn't want to get your hopes up."
"Too late." He grinned, and I wouldn't have been surprised to spot a wagging tail poking out of his jeans.
"I can see that."
"I knew he'd show up eventually," Riley said.
"Yeah. Can't keep the Three Musketeers apart for long." He was too excited to notice my tone. "Let's go," I added, eager to get out of our place before the specter of Jude spoiled it for good.
The car drove us away from the memorial, away from my house and BioMax and anything even remotely resembling civilization. It navigated over increasingly bumpy roads and unpaved gravel until, finally, we had to override the automatic controls and drive manually. Riley took the wheel while I called out the turns, using my ViM to map the coordinates because the car refused to help. It felt like the Dark Ages. Which was appropriate because, it soon became apparent, that's exactly where we were headed.
In the end, three hours out, there were no more roads. Not official ones, at least. Nothing but weed-ridden stretches of concrete and the occasional barren field, its earth flat and dead enough that we could drive over it with ease. It wasn't until the jagged skyline appeared on the horizon that I understood where we were going, and even then it was hard to believe. But
79
we drew closer and closer, finally coming to the mouth of the tunnel that would lead us inside.
Nothing looked like I expected.
I'd seen images of it on the network, of course, but after a while one dead zone looked pretty much like another. They all featured the frozen parade of abandoned cars choking their escape routes, some doors flung open by long-ago passengers who'd desperately decided to get out by foot, others locking in bloated bodies of the unfortunates who stayed in their cars, trusting the traffic laws, trusting the highway flow, trusting the radio reports of a quiet, orderly evacuation, trusting right up until the moment the toxic cloud or tidal wave or flesh-eating supergerm gave them a final escape.
Not this city.
It was just empty. The bombs had flattened half its buildings and much of its population. The lingering radiation had taken care of the rest. I'd only been in one city before--unless you counted the underwater ruins--and that had been teeming with life. Even the emptiest streets had festered with rats, roaches, gutter rivers of piss. But here nothing moved. There were no bodies in sight, and I wondered if some unfortunate corp crew had moved them out, one by one--how such a thing could be possible when the deaths numbered in millions--or if they had lain fallow all these years, gradually returning to the earth. I wondered how the city would smell, if I could smell.
80
I couldn't have handled bodies. I'd seen them in the ocean, of course, but that was different. The pale, preserved corpses that floated through the underwater city were dreamlike wraiths--nightmarish, but unreal. Bodies lining the streets, decomposing, swarming with maggots or flies or whatever hardy scavengers could survive nuclear war ... that was a reality even I wouldn't have been able to deny.
Jude was waiting for us, just beyond the mouth of the tunnel. He lounged on a bench at the center of a small concrete plaza, proud ruler of a broken skyline and a city of ghosts.
We stopped the car.
Opened the doors.
Greeted our long-lost friend.
Jude stood. "Riley." He gave his best friend a once-over, taking in the new body, the new skin, the face that was molded as closely as possible to a face from old
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