Free Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1) by Ann M. Noser Page A

smelled like summer, popcorn, and my father. But only the recollection of a scent remains. The past is all we’re left with now. Living in the past while we’re half-asleep in the present.
    I’d like for today to be more important than yesterday. Not that I want to forget my father, I’d just like someone—or something—else to make me as happy as he did.
    It’s time for some new memories to be made.
    Starting tomorrow.



he red dress guides my dreams and cushions my sleep. The next morning, I wake on the floor, clutching the soft, luxurious fabric. Before Mom discovers I’ve been dwelling in the past, I tuck everything back into the memory trunk, pausing to gently fold the dress in half before hiding it away.
    I rush my morning preparations, leaving the apartment before Mom wakes up. I speed-walk toward the 37 th Northwest Street Gym. Thank goodness it’s my day off. I can’t wait to see Plant Production… and Franco. When I reach the last block before the gym, I slow my pace, hoping the sweat across my back dissipates before he arrives. I’m not sure what I’m more curious about: the tour of the Plant Production facilities or the tour guide himself.
    Franco’s nowhere to be seen when I reach the steps in front of the gym. I scan the walking and bike paths but can’t find him. Disappointment pinches my gut. Did he forget about me? Or simply change his mind?
    He strolls around the corner with his bike, and my shoulders relax. He’s wearing the same jean jacket and boots as yesterday along with what must be his typical green scrub top and cargo shorts. My stomach flip-flops. I hope I don’t embarrass myself too much today.
    “You’re on time,” Franco notes. “Good.”
    He’s so calm and collected, the complete opposite of me. My heart’s racing, my palms are sweating, and he’s acting like he’s conducting a field trip for little kids.
    Oh crap, that “little kid” is me!
    I dart over to his side. “I still need to check out a bike.” Why didn’t I do that already? Why did I just stand around like an idiot?
    Because part of me thought maybe Franco wouldn’t show up, and I’d be left standing alone, waiting in vain.
    “Okay,” he says. “But hurry, so we can catch the next monorail.”
    I rush inside the gym, check out a bike, then speed-walk back to Franco.
    “Let’s go. I think we can still make it.” He hops on his bike.
    I take a deep breath and push off on the pedals. As I follow in Franco’s path, I wobble at first then straighten up after a block or two. At the end of the short trip to the monorail station, I’m pretty confident that I can handle this biking thing.
    Even though it’s a Saturday, the station is still busy. We weave through the travelers heading toward the last few cars. We crowd into the train, standing close to each other and holding onto the bikes.
    As the train pulls away from the station, Franco turns to me. “Did you look through that book?”
    “Yes. Where’d you get that, anyway?”
    “I copied it, taking bits from lots of old books and putting them together. Back before the war, people hiked and camped for fun. All sorts of pocket-sized plant guides were written to help identify plants, what was safe or poisonous to eat. There were other books, too, on birds and such. Apparently, staring at birds was a big hobby for some people.”
    The train swerves, and Franco’s arm bumps mine. I’m so distracted by the heat rushing to my face that I can’t think of a reply. We both remain silent for what seems like the longest pause in conversation in history.
    Eventually, my mind clears enough to say, “Gus, my boss in Mortuary Sciences, has lots of state park maps on the wall of his office. I guess he’d be interested in this type of thing, too.”
    Franco glances out the window. “Yeah. Maybe.”
    “So… what exactly are you in charge of at Plant Production?”
    He smirks. “Are you worried I’m going to bore you?”
    Heck, no. Furthest thought from my