“Don’t start,” I said and waved her away.
“Jake’s dead and it’s all your fault,” she said. “You killed him and everyone knows it.”
“I did not,” I said. “I tried to stop him and he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Prove it!”
“I can’t,” I said. “There’s a guy in a weird hazmat suit who might vouch for me, though.”
She pointed her finger in my face. “You killed him. He wouldn’t have gone out there had he not been so obsessed with proving your stupid view wrong.”
“That makes no sense. He wanted to help out those in need,” I said wearily. “Clearly he was too good for this world.”
“You should have stayed away,” she said as tears brimmed in her eyes. “We were happy together. We were going to get married and have lots of children in Texas. I was never going to work at Hooters again!”
“That’s a very specific life plan.”
She jabbed her finger in my face again. “It is specific. Because it was perfect. We had a lot planned. I had a lot planned.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sure you were really happy, and you’re one of the few who had a really bright future. But face it, he did something really stupid.”
“You just wanted him back!” she shouted. “And you made sure no one else would ever have him.”
I shook my head. “We’re both grieving. Can’t we just bond over that?”
“We could have been the ones to bring back order to the world,” she said. “The kind God wants everyone to have.”
I took a step back as I read another card on the Tweet Board. “She lets bad things happen to everyone else,” I read out loud to myself. “Hashtag Bitchsoup.”
The card seemed to be staring at me through the eyes and into my heart. Which really hurt. I got to survive and this was my legacy. Maybe I should have followed Robert, after all.
“You’re right,” I said, stuffing the card down my shirt. “Everyone here is right.”
She wiped tears away. “What?”
“I’m getting out of here,” I said. “I probably have family somewhere looking for me and hoping I’m not chasing stupid boys as usual.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I hope you die,” she said. “The future has no place for you.”
I nodded. “I’ve made it this far,” I said. “So maybe you’re wrong.”
CHAPTER 8
Prioritizing Can Hurt
WHEN I THINK BACK ON IT, I didn’t intend for anything to be so dramatic, it just came out that way. But it was sort of those classy “fuck you” send offs I’d always wanted to be capable of making, just never had the inspiration.
Apparently, Robert was right—new civilization, new rules. Next time I saw them, I made a mental note to thank fake nurse, Rebecca.
I strode up to the covered security guard, thinking it was the same guy from earlier who’d blocked me from saving Jake and tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. He spun around, then immediately folded his arms.
“Hey,” I said forcefully. “Everything that happened is your fault.”
“Excuse me?” asked a muffled woman’s voice.
I drew back. “Sorry,” I said. “You all look alike.”
“That’s just hurtful. I am a beautiful and complicated human being,” she said, then tapped another guard on the shoulder. “I think she’s talking to you.”
“You,” he said. “Come to check how many moral codes you violated today?”
“I didn’t violate anything and you know it,” I said.
He took off his helmet. “Hashtag Safety Code Violater,” he said. “I put that on the board.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He pointed to the Tweet Board.
I rolled my eyes. “Not you too.”
“I heard you practically pushed him into danger with your lies and seductions,” he said.
I incredulously stared at him before I just folded my arms. “Okay,” I said. “I officially can’t take it anymore. I’m out of here.” I marched toward the main exit, but the man grabbed me, this time around the waist. “Hey!” I said. I pushed and slapped his hands away. “Stop that!”
“Think again,” he said. “I can’t let you leave. I hear you’re going to be tried by a jury.”
“Let me go,” I said. “This is highly inappropriate.”
His hands went lower. “I don’t know,” he said. “We live in a new world. You can’t see it, but I’m winking at you.”
I wriggled out of his grasp and then kneed him in the gut. “Knock that off,” I said. “And let me go. I’m getting out of here.”
He gasped and panted hard, in obvious pain. “You don’t know what’s out there,” he said.
“Neither do you,” I said. “But if my boss and his new wife can leave, then I can too.”
He folded his arms. I gestured to the Tweet Board.
“Everyone hates me,” I said. “If I’m trending over blanket fails and soup of the day tweets.”
“Now that’s not true,” he said. “Someone here drew a nice selfie of themselves.”
He pointed to a crudely drawn figure of a girl scrawled on a napkin with a ballpoint pen. “I don’t even know who this is.”
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I said.
He snorted as I went to pass him, but he tried to hold me back, keeping a safe distance between his groin and my knees.
“Still can’t let you go out there,” he said.
“What are you going to do? You can’t stay by that door forever,” I said. “You’ve got to leave sometime. What if they have more sandwiches?
He braced himself. “No one leaves, no one comes in,” he said. “I took a vow to protect anyone in this tent and that means you.”
“What about Jake?” I asked. “What about last night’s massacre?”
“That was a slight oversight.”
“What if you have to go to the bathroom and need to leave your post?”
“That’s a nonissue.”
I stared him down for a moment. I backed up slightly until he took a more relaxed stance. Then I bolted for the door, but he was too fast for me. His arm came out at me and knocked me down. I hit the dirt floor, feeling pain all over.
“That’s uncalled for,” I said, struggling to get up.
“Hit her harder!” someone called out. “She deserves it.”
“You should mind your own business!” I yelled back.
“Times are harsh,” he said, helping me up. “I’d say I was sorry, but I’m not. Enjoy your trial.”
“Who’s going to try me?” I asked.
“Girl named Destiny,” he said. “She’s in charge of the disciplinary procedures.”
“Who gave her that job?”
He shrugged. “Who gets any job around here? I walked in here last night and found a suit to put on.”
I backed away, looked around and saw a line forming around food.
“Fine, I’m getting a sandwich,” I said. “It’s going to be delicious, and I’d get you one, but you’re mean.”
“Have fun,” he said. “They all hate you over there, so good luck getting one.”
I headed to the line and approached a now different woman distributing food. She had a stony face, long straight hair and a no-nonsense sensibility around her. I tried to take away her serving platter.
“Hey,” I said. “Today’s your lucky day. I’ve got it from here.”
She sneered at me and jerked the plate away. “What, so you can send me to get murdered too?”
The line cheered and threw whatever they had on hand at me—sandwiches, garbage and projectiles of bodily fluid. Dejected, I walked away and stood at the end of the endless sandwich line. I felt as though I was being eyed with contempt, so I kept my gaze to the ground.