Fury: Book One of the Cure (Omnibus Edition) Read Online Free PDF Page A

opens. I’m having trouble looking away from his eyes. “And raise the alarm?”
    That smile again. The twisted one. “It might be fun to run. Really run.”
    “And when they catch you?”
    “They wouldn’t.”
    “Of course they would.” I realize abruptly what is happening here: we are testing each other. In a way, I have been running for most of my life and I have never been caught.
    “Not if I don’t stop running,” he answers, as though he has read my thoughts.
    I shake my head, glancing around. It occurs to me that I might be in danger. It’s lunacy to talk like this out in the open. “There’s nowhere the Bloods won’t find you.”
    “I could go west.”
    I snort. He’s so blasé, so careless with his words, as if it doesn’t mean anything at all to just announce that he will go west. “There is no west,” I say flatly. “Have you forgotten about the drought that wiped everyone out? The disease that followed it? The west is a wasteland.”
    He doesn’t react, just watches me through hooded eyes. “This city is a wasteland.”
    “You’re being ridiculous,” I say, lowering my voice. “You’ll get yourself thrown in jail if anyone hears you talking like this.”
    “You like it,” he tells me bluntly, leaning forward. “I can see it in your face. You love the danger.”
    I stare at him for a long moment, and then I let a slow smile curl my lips. “If this is your idea of danger, Luke, then I feel sorry for you.”
    There is a beat of silence, and then he grins wolfishly, leaning back in his chair and lighting up a cigarette.
    “You can’t smoke inside,” I tell him.
    “Watch me.”
    I reach over and yank the cigarette out of his mouth. “I don’t know if you’re an arrogant prick, or if you’re just pretending to be one, but either way I’ve had enough.”
    He looks at the cigarette in my hand, considering me. Then he slowly produces another one and lifts it to his lips, watching me the whole time.
    I stand up and walk toward the door. He doesn’t stop me. I feel enraged, my heart beating like a timpani drum. I don’t need a bratty child in my life. I don’t need to spend time with an asshole drone.
    Something smashes nearby, startling me. I turn to see that on the other side of the café there are two young men standing over the prone figure of a waitress. A pile of plates and food is smashed beneath her and she’s weeping, but the boys are smiling cruelly at her. The eyes of other patrons glance their way and then slide on, unmoved by the sight. I feel a wave of fury too deep to contain. I want to tear down the walls of this world we live in, I want to make people see that this is sick and wrong—nobody cares for each other anymore, nobody has any compassion, any sense of connection. I see things like this every day, but today I hate those boys like I’ve never hated anything, because within them is the kind of apathy that has destroyed the world.
    I start moving, unsure what I will do. If I show anger, the Bloods will come, and I cannot risk getting captured and cured. But I’ve started moving beyond that thought, way beyond it. The waitress is sobbing and bleeding—I can see a shard of crockery protruding from her arm. One of the boys kicks the mess of food into her face and then crows with amusement. I know it isn’t his fault—this is something that has been done to him, stolen from him—and yet I want to hurt him badly. I want to force some perspective into him.
    I have almost reached them when someone else moves first. It’s Luke. He appears behind the boys, taking them by the ears and wrenching them out the door of the café. Everyone watches silently as he dumps them on the ground. I don’t hear what he says to them, but it is spoken with quiet calm. The boys leave in a hurry, smiles gone from their faces. Luke returns, walking straight past me to the waitress. I watch, transfixed, as he helps the girl up and sits her down in a chair. He pulls the piece of