The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer, стр. 61
“It’s a work room. They’re preparing for an exhibit on insects of the world or something,” Noah said as he opened the door.
I hated the idea of killing anything, but at least bugs reproduced like—well, like roaches—and no one would miss a few.
“How’d you work this out?” I asked, looking behind us. My skin prickled. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched.
“My mother’s done some volunteer work here. And gives them an obscene amount of money.”
Noah flipped on the lights, illuminating the long metal table in the center, and closed the door behind us. Metal shelves lined the walls, holding bins and plastic tubs. Noah walked around, his eyes scanning their small labels. I was rooted to the doorway, and couldn’t read them from where I stood.
Finally, Noah held up a translucent plastic box. My eyes narrowed at him.
“What are those?”
“Leeches,” he said casually. He avoided my stare.
A wave of disgust rolled through me. “No. No way.”
“You have to.”
I shuddered. “Pick something else,” I said, and rushed to the far side of the room. “Here.” I pointed at an opaque tub with a label I couldn’t pronounce. “Somethingsomething scorpions.”
“Those are poisonous,” Noah said, studying my face.
“Even better.”
“They’re also endangered.”
“Fine,” I said, my voice and legs beginning to tremble as I walked over to a transparent box and pointed. “The big-ass spider.”
Noah walked over and read the label, still holding the box of leeches close. Way too close. I backed away. “Also poisonous,” Noah said evenly.
“Then that will be plenty of incentive.”
“It could bite before you kill it.”
My heart wanted to escape from my throat. “A perfect opportunity to practice your healing,” I choked out.
Noah shook his head. “I’m not going to experiment with your life. No.”
“Then pick something else,” I said, growing breathless with terror. “Not the leeches.”
Noah rubbed his forehead. “They’re harmless, Mara.”
“I don’t care!” I heard the insects in the room beat their chitinous wings against their plastic prisons. I began to lose it and felt myself sway on my feet.
“If it doesn’t work, I’ll take it off immediately,” Noah said. “It won’t hurt you.”
“No. I’m serious, Noah,” I said. “I can’t do it. They burrow under skin and suck blood. Oh my God. Oh my God.” I wrapped my arms around my body to stop it from shaking.
“It will be over quickly, I promise,” he said. “You won’t feel anything.” He reached his hand into the tank.
“No.” I could only croak this in a hoarse whisper. I couldn’t breathe. Multicolored spots appeared behind my eyelids that I couldn’t blink away.
Noah scooped up a leech in his hand and I felt myself sink. Then …
Nothing.
“Mara.”
My eyes fluttered open.
“It’s dead. Unbelievable,” he said. “You did it.”
Noah walked over with his palm open to show me, but I recoiled, scrambled up against the door. He looked at me with an unreadable expression, then went to discard the dead leech. When he lifted the bin to replace it back on the shelf, he stopped.
“My God,” he said.
“What?” My voice was still nothing but a shaky whisper.
“They’re all dead.”
“The leeches?”
Noah put the bin back on the shelf with an unsteady hand. He walked among the rows of insects, eyes scanning the transparent tubs and opening the others to inspect them.
When he reached the spot he started in, he stared at the wall.
“Everything,” he said. “Everything’s dead.”
55
THE STENCH OF ROT FILLED MY NOSTRILS, AND a voice buzzed in my ear.
“Biologists are reporting that the fish kill in Everglades City was most likely due to oxygen depletion in the water.”
Images of bloated, belly-up alligators appeared in my dark consciousness.
“A startling number of alligator corpses are thought to be the culprit.”
I had done that. Just like I’d done this.
Noah surveyed the destruction with empty eyes. He couldn’t look at me. I couldn’t blame him. I wrestled with the doorknob and bolted into the darkness. An assault of screeches and howls and barks met my ears. At least the slaughter was limited.
I was disgusted by myself. And when Noah followed me outside, I saw that he was too.
He avoided my eyes and said nothing. The sight of his hands curled into fists, of his revulsion, stung my heart and made me cry. Pathetic. But once I started, I couldn’t stop and didn’t really want to. The sobs scorched my throat, but it was a good kind of pain. Deserved.
Noah was still silent. Only when I dropped to the ground, unable to stand for a second longer, did he move. He grabbed my hand and pulled me up, but my legs trembled. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Noah wrapped his arms around me but as soon as he did, I just wanted them off. I wanted to run.
I struggled against his grip, my thin shoulder blades digging into his chest.
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“Please,” I choked.
He loosened his grip by a fraction. “Only if you promise not to run.”
I was out of control, and Noah knew it. Afraid I’d do even more damage, he had to make sure I didn’t ruin anything else.
“I promise,” I whispered.
He turned me to face him, then set me free. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, so I focused on the pattern of his plaid shirt, then at the ground.
“Let’s go.”
We walked wordlessly amid the snarls and shrieks. The animals were all awake, now; the antelope had herded together at the edge of their exhibit, stamping and shifting in fear. The birds flapped, frantic, and one pelican dove straight into an out-cropping of rock as we approached it. It fell to the water and emerged, dragging its broken, limp wing beside it. I wanted to die.
The second we reached Noah’s car, I lunged for the handle. It was locked.
“Open it,” I said, still not meeting his gaze.
“Mara—”
“Open it.”
“Look at me first.”
“I can’t handle that right now,” I said through clenched teeth. “Just open the door.”
He did. I folded myself into the passenger seat.
“Take me home, please.”
“Mara—”
“Please!”
He started the car and we drove in silence. I stared at my lap the whole way but as we slowed down, I finally looked out the window. The scenery was familiar, but wrong. When we passed the gated entrance to his house, I shot him a steely glare.
“What are we doing here?”
He didn’t answer, and I understood. Since my confession, Noah had only been humoring me. He said he believed me, and maybe he did really believe that there was something off, something wrong with me. But he didn’t get it. He thought I’d been dreaming when I kissed him and he almost died. That Rachel, Claire, and Jude were killed when an old, decrepit building collapsed on them. That Mabel’s owner could have fallen and cracked his skull open, Ms. Morales could have died of shock, and the whole thing might just add up to a series of terrible coincidences.
But he couldn’t think that now. Not after tonight, after what I’d just done. That could not be explained away. That was real. And now, Noah was ending it, and I was glad.
I would figure out the next step by myself.
He parked the car in the garage and opened the passenger door. I didn’t move.
“Mara, get out of the car.”
“Can you do it here? I want to go home.”
I needed to think, now that I was completely and utterly alone in this. I couldn’t live this way, and I needed to make a plan.
“Just—please.”
I got out of his car but hesitated by the door. The dogs sensed something wrong with me the last time I was here, and they were right. I didn’t want to be anywhere near them.
“What about Mabel and Ruby?”
“They’re crated. On the other side of the house.”
I exhaled and followed behind Noah as he entered a corridor and climbed a narrow staircase. He reached to take my hand but I flinched at his touch. Feeling him would only make this harder for me. Noah kicked the door open and I found myself in his room. He turned to face me. His expression was quietly furious. “I’m sorry,” he said.