Kyle went still and silent, his eyes on me like a cat watching a mouse. Suddenly, being anywhere but under his gaze seemed like a really good idea. I shot to my feet, about to blurt out that I really really needed to go to the bathroom. His eyes followed me, and he spoke in a voice so soft there was barely any breath behind it. “Why do you want to know, Angel?”
My throat tightened. Was everything a touchy subject with this guy? “I . . . I was curious,” I said, baffled. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply anything.” Not that I had any idea why I was apologizing or what I could have possibly implied. All I knew was that everything I said triggered this you-went-too-far scary reaction. I turned away. “Nevermind. I’m sorry I asked.”
“Angel,” Kyle said quietly.
“I swear, I wasn’t trying to start any shit.”
“Angel,” he repeated.
Out of nowhere, my vision got all blurry with tears. Totally embarrassed, I swiped at my eyes, keeping my back to him. “What?”
“Angel, please. It’s me, not you. I’m sorry.”
I pivoted to face him, utterly bewildered and out of my depth. The uncertainty and craziness of the day seemed to crush the breath out of me, and the tears spilled over for real. “I don’t understand anything, and I keep doing the wrong thing or saying the wrong thing, and I’m scared to death here.” I swept a frantic gesture toward the city beyond the window. “I’m slowing everyone down. Now I’ve stepped into shit again with you—”
“Whoa whoa whoa,” Kyle said, thankfully putting an end to my word vomit. “Here. Sit down.”
I sank back to the sofa and bit my quivering lower lip. Why was I such a weenie?
A faint smile played on Kyle’s mouth. “This is about me, not you, remember?” The smile faded as he drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “Saberton and origins,” he said with a shake of his head. “Both hard topics for me.”
Wiping the tears away on my sleeve, I did my best to push down my own stupid insecurities. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my business.”
“No, I don’t, and no, it’s not,” he said. He picked up a slice of pizza, took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “But things are different after these last couple of days. And since Brian . . .” As he said the name he hurled the slice of pizza back into the box. “He left. The fucker left. For Saberton.” His fist clenched, and he spat out the words, though his eyes reflected deep sadness.
“Yeah, it sucks. He fucked us all over. Why does that piss you off so extra much?”
Kyle remained quiet for an endless moment, then spoke softly, “He’s the one who turned me.”
That was not the answer I’d expected. “Oh,” I said as a delaying tactic while I tried to figure out a way to ask what happened without sounding super nosy. I gave up. “What happened?”
“I was dying,” he said, a new intensity in his voice. “So very close. And he turned me.”
“Um. That’s usually how it works,” I said. “Dying. Get turned. Become zombie. I’m sensing there’s more to the story.”
“You don’t always have to be dying,” he corrected with a shrug. “But I was. Saberton had about killed me with an experimental combat stimulant. It caused an aggressive lymphoma, and I was in the final stages.”
When he paused, I filled in, “And Brian saved you.” That didn’t sound like a bad thing to me. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”
Kyle’s shoulders curled forward, and he looked away. “I didn’t want to be saved, Angel,” he said, voice low and shaking with emotion.
“You mean you didn’t want to become a zombie.” I totally got that.
“No, I didn’t want to live at all.”
That slowed me down. “Then why did he turn you?”
“He was under orders to recruit me.”
Speechless, I could only stare as I processed his words.
“Angel,” Kyle said, his voice tight. “I’d waited my whole life to die.”
I licked dry lips and found my voice. “I don’t understand.”
He brought his eyes back to mine. “Nobody does. Nobody.” Sad emptiness filled his posture, his eyes, his words; thick and cloying, it sucked me closer.
“Kyle. Give me a chance to try, okay?”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “Have you ever wanted to be dead?”
My gut clenched, and my fingers went cold. “Yeah,” I said, barely able to force the word out.
Kyle gave a little nod. “That was me as long as I can remember.”
I drew my legs up, wrapped my arms around them. “Why?”
He shook his head, eyes focused on nothing. “I never felt as if I belonged. Not anywhere. Not even in my own skin.” He leaned forward, planted his elbows on his knees. “I was ten years old, dreaming about leaving.”
“And when you finally were,” I said slowly, “Brian took it away from you.”
“I’ve never been suicidal,” he told me. “There’s a difference between wanting to leave and being suicidal. I know it’s hard to see the difference, but—”
“No,” I said. “I get it.”
He let out a soft breath. “I was ready. I hated Dr. Kerazny for how it all came about, but I was more than ready to go. Everything was set.”
We sat in silence for a time as the full magnitude of the violation sank in. “Sonofabitch. He turned you against your will and put you to work.” I shivered.
“I tried to kill him during the process. Tried to kill myself.”
“But why did you come work for Pietro? I mean, shit. What he and Brian did to you was awful.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t have,” Kyle replied. “But once Mr. Ivanov understood enough, we spoke at length. He needed me, and I agree with his goals. I decided that if I had to stay on this goddamn planet, I didn’t mind working for someone at odds with Saberton.”
“You really do hate Saberton, don’t you?” The level of emotion in his voice was impossible to fake.
“I hate what Saberton has become in the last decade, ever since Richard Saber teamed with Dr. Kerazny and set up the Dallas lab. Mr. Saber withdrew after that. A few months later the zombie intel came in from Naomi.” He met my eyes. “I brought in their first zombie test subject for the Dallas lab four years ago. A man from Portland.” He gave a sharp shake of his head as though to clear a bad memory. “Then came Mr. Saber’s battle with cancer and his sudden death.”
I processed that. “You think his cancer was related to the lab shit?”
“I don’t have proof of anything, Angel,” he replied.
“But you suspect it.”
He nodded.
“Thanks for being willing to share all that with me.”
His gaze drifted to the window. “Naomi doesn’t understand,” he said. “About me wanting to leave.”
“No,” I said after brief consideration. “She wouldn’t. She’s too into life and excitement and new experiences. She’s probably convinced that if you could see the world the way she does, you’d be all right.”
“Mr. Ivanov accepts it. Brian knows.” He ground his teeth. “Even though I could never forget what he did, he always had my back. We’d come to an understanding. Then he goes and turns traitor, just like that.”
I had a feeling the two had a strong tie despite the rocky surface. “We don’t know the whole story of what happened with Brian,” I said, though I had no idea why I was defending him in any way. “What he did to us sucks ass but, shit, maybe he was blackmailed or something. I don’t know.”