Page 46 of Savagely Yours
Ana gestured to a chair. “The copies will be a few minutes. It’s after curfew, as you know. For now, you should get off those feet a moment. I know you Class Ones work hard.”
She reminded me of Mae in a way. So, I took a seat, and she sat beside me.
“I know asking this might not be appropriate,” she began, her voice quiet, “but what did my mija do? Can her punishment wait? She’s very sick.”
I turned toward her, momentarily unable to keep up the pretense. “How sick is she? How bad is it?”
“She’s getting fevers again.”
“Is it the infection? That one that’s turning people into…those things?”
“No, I think it’s just all of this.” She motioned to the space around us. “It’s already hard work, and they work her so much harder. Her body, it’s failing. Something is wrong. We entered the raffle for extra fluids and medicine, but she needs something soon before it’s too late.”
I frowned. “A raffle?”
“Yes, for medicine.”
The pretense slipped completely. “Are you telling me that you have to enter araffleto access potentially life-saving medication?”
“These are not things you know over in Woodhaven?”
“No. They’re not.” I exhaled and folded my hands into fists to hide the fact that they were shaking. “Tell me more about her symptoms.”
“Our physician, Tess, says her heart is beating too slowly. Then, she’s getting some swelling in her hands. And sir, I’m not telling you this so you can take pity on her. I’m telling you this because I hope you will show her kindness. She’s a good girl. A hard worker.”
“Ana, I’m not here to hurt Tapley,” I reassured her.
She cocked her head to the side. “Tapley?”
“Yes, it’s her last name.”
“No, it’s not that. There’s a man in her stories. He only calls her Tapley.”
“What stories?”
“Of her time before. Here, we like to tell stories about our lives and how they were before the disease showed up. Larke was a federal prosecutor in Washington with her own security detail. The head of the security detail, he called her Tapley. The way she explains it, they became close friends.”
“What happened to him?”
“She said he’s gone.”
“What information can you give me on him?” I pressed, curious about just how much she knew. “What’s his name? Do you know if he’s here? What did he do before? We’re always recruiting, so if we overlooked someone with private security experience?—”
“He’s not here,” she insisted. “And I don’t know his name. I only know one thing when it comes to him.”
“Which is?”
“That he loved her.”
I glanced at the hallway, knowing I only had a few minutes left in me before Ihadto see Larke. I needed to see for myself what condition she was in.
“Did she say that, or was it implied?” I asked.
Ana scanned my face. “I don’t think she knows, but I’ve been around for a while. From her stories alone, I could tell. A man in love is an interesting thing. It doesn’t take long until it oozes from him, so much so that an old woman like me can pick it up from someone else’s narrative.”
“What about her?” I cleared my throat so loudly that it was almost comical. “Did she...feel the same way?”
“I think?—”
