Outcasts (Badlands 3)

Chapter Nine

A faded green sign welcoming people to Rivermouth rose up on our right. It was marked with the Sigil of Baphomet, an inverted pentagram with the horned head of a goat. I knew the counterclockwise Hebrew characters spelled out Romero’s name. He truly was the devil in the flesh. To think I’d once been terrified of meeting him or any of his satanic acolytes…They’d wound up being my closest friends, my extended family.

Life was most certainly a pretentious bitch, but she had her moments. I shifted on the seat so I could have a better view.

I’d heard every other city had been abandoned, which was hard for me to believe when I took into account that the population of Centriole didn’t house that many damn people—not to mention the fact that I’d also heard that others were still managing to thrive. Not on a scale such as The Kingdom, but still: they were active.

Grimm didn’t slow like I expected him to; if anything, he sped up the second he flicked his high beams off, whipping past moss covered buildings, a car left in the middle of the street, and avoiding a large pothole. How the hell could he see so well in the dark?

I squealed when he took a corner so fast I thought we were going to tip. I could’ve touched the asphalt if I’d wanted to—easily.

I felt him vibrate with laughter as I hid my face in his back, snuggling down in his long hoodie.

When I dared look back up, it was to see him coasting into the parking garage of a huge brick building with pointed arches.

He went up to deck C and swung the bike into a parking space in a darkened corner nearest a steel door.

Soon as the engine was cut, he was off the bike and gently lifting me down to the ground, supporting me until he was sure I was steady on my feet.

Moving with fluid vitality, he detached the largest bag from the back of his motorcycle and took my hand. I stuck close to him, looking all around the expansive space, expecting somethin to jump out at us at any second.

“Why are we here?” I asked in a low whisper.

“Didn’t trust you to stay awake the full length of the ride, and I don’t think you’d like falling off the back of the bike.”

I wasn’t tired.

When he pushed open the steel door, I was even more awake. Why did he pick this of all places to make a pit stop?

I wasn’t sure if my curiosity was in full effect because I’d been stuck in the same environment day in and day out, or because I’d never seen anything like this.

The curved moon was the only thing trying to light our way, and there’d only been one window at the top of the stairwell.

Obviously the old elevator didn’t work—not that I would trust it in the first place—so we walked. I held onto Grimm, hoping I didn’t trip over somethin right in front of me, and because I wasn’t touching the railing beside us.

He pushed open another door and we entered a super long hallway, lit only a little better.

That’s when I realized we were in a gigantic hospital. It looked like somethin straight out of a horror film.

I was immediately more intrigued. The air was dusty, the paint on the walls so chipped they looked layered in mulch.

He continued down the hall with me in tow, maneuvering around an old wheelchair I would have run right into.

Our boots crunched over sheets of paper, grime, and some trash littering the floor. A few reinforced windows lined the wall on our left, but they were so dirty it was nearly impossible to see out of em.

I was going to ask why we were there again when he abruptly turned, just as we reached the end of the hall and entered a room. When he dropped my hand, I grabbed his shirt.

If he minded, he didn’t voice it. He silently pushed the door shut and unzipped his bag.

A second later, a soft florescent glow lit up our surroundings. He’d pulled out what looked like a kiddy lantern.

“Have you been here already?” I asked, noticing how tidy the room was. I answered my own question when I saw the semi-clean patient bed with a fresh floral blanket on it.

“When I had a general idea of where you were, I began planning out a route there and back. This hospital was the best place. It’s more than fifteen buildings, empty, as you can see, and ideal to hole up compared to the abandoned, roach-infested motel around the corner. I sent one of the acolytes out to make sure it was clear and set up a place you could sleep,” he explained.

I think that was the most words he’d ever spoken to me in one go. His voice was deep, but also a little gravelly. I’d say very manly, but I hadn’t ever been around any men of his caliber to make such a statement.

He turned to face me, and I was able to hold his gaze for a full four seconds before I pretended there was somethin else more intriguing to loo