Seeker

by Veronica Rossi

  Travis Low is dead.

  Dead, but constantly appearing in my head. Joking around, and then yelling in fear. Unstoppable, and then in shreds.

  I should know how fast it happens, after my dad. How quickly you can lose someone. But I don’t feel any more equipped to handle this.

  “I don’t want this. Here, take it.” I hand the bottle to Marcus. My stomach’s churning—it hasn’t stopped churning since the second I caught up to Low and saw that I was too late.

  “No,” Marcus says.

  “Yes. Take it.”

  “Don’t want it.”

  “Why so difficult, Marc?”

  “Who’s Marc?”

  “You are.”

  “Yeah? ’Sup, Gid?”

  “If you’re gonna shorten it, use Deon.”

  Marcus laughs. “Ohhh my God. You are messed up.”

  He’s right. At this point Jack Daniel’s has as much to say about what comes out of my mouth as I do. “Why aren’t you messed up?”

  He’s quiet for a second. “Not a good idea.”

  I understand. On top of everything else, seeing the silver Mustang in the Rift got to him. Some things are better left in the past—and for him that’s one of them.

  What I don’t understand is how it got in there. How did Daryn’s Wyoming cabin or her mother, for that matter?

  There’s a whole part of this that we’re not even tapping into yet.

  I draw the cool night air into my lungs, filling them. All the stars in the universe are out tonight. Stars by the billion. It could’ve been a perfect night under different circumstances.

  “Suarez is going to Texas, huh? It’s the right thing,” I say. He knew Travis for fifteen years. Better than anyone. They’ve been on the same track since boot camp. Low’s ex-wife will be hurting. His kid, who’s only three, will feel the loss for the rest of his life. Jared needs to be there for them. I didn’t know Travis as well as Suarez but we went through plenty together these past months.

  The stars start to blur and my throat goes raw.

  Shit.

  Jode sighs. He rubs a hand over his head. “What were we thinking, taking everyone in there?”

  “Nuh-uh. I ain’t lookin’ back, Jode,” Marcus says. “Why didn’t we do this and why didn’t we do that?” He shakes his head. “It happened. It’s done.”

  I agree. But Jode just wants to understand. Processing information is how he copes. I’ve seen this before.

  A phone buzzes. Jode pulls his mobile from his pocket, the screen illuminating the look of relief on his face. Jode’s not close to his family. He has a pretty distant relationship with his parents and his sister. The only person who gets that reaction out of him is my sister.

  “We’re not supposed to take personal calls here,” I say, like an asshole. I don’t know why. Yes, I do. Maybe I want what they have.

  “Cordero made an exception today.”

  “Makes sense. Enjoy talking to the person I share the most DNA with.”

  He smiles. “I will.” He hops up and walks away. “Anna? Yes, I called. No, no, no, everything’s fine. Only wanted to talk.” He sells it pretty well until the very end. On the last comment, emotion makes his voice crack. “I do? No, it’s nothing. Just a sore throat coming on. Tell me how you are.”

  His voice fades away as he climbs down the ladder and disappears into the RV. It’s weird to hear him lie to my sister but it’s part of the job. Part of what we promised we’d do. Still, I feel bad for him and I feel bad for Anna. My sister’s too smart to be fooled. And today isn’t a day for hiding things from the people you care about.

  “You want to know something? This is the only time I’ve ever wanted them to actually be physically together. I mean in the same place. Not physical with each other.”

  Marcus smiles. “You want them to get physical, Blake?”

  “This isn’t the time, man. Really.”

  He laughs.

  I grab the bottle from him and end up just staring at it, getting lost in a memory of the time Low toasted a piece of bread over Riot’s mane. Big idiot.

  “I’ll see you, G.” Marcus stands. “I’m gonna go see Daryn.”

  I launch to my feet. “What?”

  “Were you goin’?” Marcus acts like he’s surprised, but he’s not. He’s a terrible actor. “My bad. Didn’t look like it.”

  “Dude, why? You could’ve just said, ‘Go see her.’”

  “Go see her.”

  “I’m going.”

  He steps aside. “Get it done, Deon.”

  I climb down and walk to Daryn’s RV, not sure this is the right move, considering everything. But I want to see if she’s okay. Except she won’t be, because today no one’s okay.

  Why am I going to see her?

  So she can act like she wants me, then change her mind and act like I’m the biggest mistake she’s ever made?

  Keep moving, Blake. Forward march.

  I get lost for a while in the maze of RVs and trip on air a couple of times. Either the earth’s having an earthquake or I’m having trouble walking. But I find Daryn’s RV and knock.

  Sophia answers the door. Her eyes are red from crying. Everyone’s eyes are red. We’re like a new subspecies of human.

  “Hey,” she says. Sad smile. She looks toward the kitchen, where Daryn’s sitting at the table. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  “Sure. Thanks,” Daryn says.

  Sophia leaves and I step inside.

  Daryn is sitting at the booth, slumped forward, her chin resting on her arms. She’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt and her hair’s wet, like she just got out of the shower. The smell of her shampoo or lotion or something else amazing hits me as I sit in the bench across from her.

  “How are you?” she says.

  She has red eyes, too. Puffy red eyes. She still looks amazing. “Pretty shitty. You?”

  “I cried for twenty minutes straight,” she says. “I timed it by the microwave clock.”

  Why wasn’t I here? Why didn’t I come sooner? “I maxed out around five. But it was intense. I threw up.”

  “You did?”

  I shrug. “It was more like heaving. I had nothing to give back, but you know my stomach. Any excuse to get attention.”

  “I know you cared about him.”

  “Do.”

  She nods. “Do.” She brushes her hair behind her ear and reaches across the table, taking my hand. Her fingers are soft and cool. Much smaller than mine. Then her other hand comes to my prosthetic and she takes that, too.

  It surprises me that I don’t care. Right now my hand hang-up seems stupid, so. I just focus on how it looks. Her pretty hand holding my bionic hand.

  It looks okay. Not as bad as I’d imagined. I adjust the gesture for a better position, but the whirring sound of its inner gears seems loud and makes me feel self-conscious. And stupid. I guess I do care.

  Too late now. We’re holding hands.

  “What can I do to help?” Daryn asks.

  Somewhere in camp a generator cranks on.

  “This is good.”

  “Should we pray for Travis? For his family?”

  This surprises me. “Sure.”

  We do that, silently but together. For Low. For his ex-wife and his son, who’s got it much worse than me. I got eighteen years with my dad. Low’s little kid—Austin, I remember—only got three.

  Out of nowhere, I remember Suarez and Low a few days ago in the warehouse, talking over boxes of pizza.

  Hey, Low. You missed it. Blake just made a joke.

  He did? Man, that’s inspiring. He’s been trying for so long.

  Low. There was no one else like him in the world.

  Another one of the day’s huge swells of emotion sweeps over me. I drop my head in my arms and count backward from a thousand.

  Nine hundred and ninety-nine.

  Nine hundred and ninety-eight.

  Daryn slides into the bench next to me and lays her hand on my shoulder
. The light pressure quickly becomes the only thing I feel. I want to face her, hold her, but that seems insane and like it could go bad, so I count.

  She starts to run her hand up and down my back. It has a totally different effect than what I think she’s going for so I just keep counting, feeling hot and jumbled up, all haywire and like I’m just an animal reacting to everything—life and death and lust.

  I get to nine hundred and eighty before I feel confident enough to sit up.

  I should leave, but I can’t make myself. I want to stay, but my emotional brakes are burnt out. I look for distraction, something that doesn’t mean anything. My eyes drop to the journal on the table. My name jumps out at me. It’s in Daryn’s handwriting.

  “Wait, does that say—” I bring it closer and read it. Then I read it again. “How’d you get a picture of my butt? And when? And why?”

  Daryn winces. “Give me that.” She grabs for the notebook but I hold on and we jostle for it. “Gideon, give it! It’s embarrassing.”

  “‘Reasons’?” I laugh, reading the title of the list. “What kind of reasons are these exactly?”

  “I don’t know exactly. They’re just reasons. Reasons to be happy. Reasons to keep going. Reasons to live, laugh, love. To me, they’re all kind of the same.”

  “Not to me. Are you laughing at my ass? Or loving it? Big difference.”

  “Do you really need to ask?”

  I let go of the notebook and sit back. Instantly sober. No, better than sober. I’m bulletproof.

  Daryn takes the notebook, but she doesn’t close it. She slides it in front of us, smiling. “Great.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you saw this.”

  “It was open. I couldn’t help it. But, like … it’s awesome. I honestly didn’t expect anything good to come of today.”

  She looks at me, her blue eyes going softer. “Glad I could help. Go ahead. You might as well read the rest.”

  I don’t even hesitate. I dive right in.

  The first few are great—they’re exactly how I’d start my own Reasons list. Then I slow down. “Marcus’s smile? It’s that good?”

  “Yes. He has a gorgeous smile. Stunning.”

  “Okay, easy. Take it easy.” I keep reading. “Jode’s weird Britishisms?”

  “So good.”

  “I’m with you there.” Her mother is on the list, of course. Her dad and her sister. Isabel. As I move down, it becomes apparent it’s a mixture of people and keen observations. None of it surprises me much, which is cool. I know this girl. She tries to keep her distance, but I know her.

  Then I get to another item with my name in it and my head explodes.

  Is this for real? My lips have “limitless power”?

  I’ve kissed her twice. Both times I was so shocked it was happening that I didn’t even give my best effort. And this is my starting grade?

  I can’t even process. This tops everything. Out of everything I’ve ever accomplished, this is the best thing.

  Daryn is giving me a level gaze, waiting for my reaction.

  “This is a really good list, Martin. Really good. I especially like number fourteen.”

  “I was being hyperbolic. Exaggerating for literary effect.”

  “Just own it. No shame.” She smacks my arm. I laugh. “I’m not kidding. Fourteen is the best item here by far. Except it also says that I look at you ardently, which isn’t true. Whatever that even means.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No way.” Do I? I remember my face in the airport bathroom mirror. “Nah.”

  “You’re doing it right now. It’s your eyes. They speak the truth.”

  “I’m just tired. It’s been a bad day.”

  “Ardent.”

  I look back at the notebook before my eyes tell her she looks perfect right now, with her sleepy eyes and sexy smile. “There are sixteen items here. How many Reasons are there going to be?”

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe a hundred?”

  “Nice. Can I add one?”

  Her eyebrows rise. “Of course.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. I want you to. Add as many as you want. It kind of feels like it’s our list now.”

  “Well, I am all over it.”

  “Write, before I change my mind.”

  I take the pen she offers. Then I remember I’ve been left-handed my entire life until last year. “Daryn, my handwriting’s not—”

  “It’ll be perfect. Go for it.”

  So I do.

  17. Daryn’s actual butt—not a photo of it, the real thing

  Daryn laughs. “Seriously?”

  “Very seriously. Have you seen it?”

  “My butt? Not really. It’s kind of behind me.”

  “Well, it’s a damn good Reason, and fair’s fair.” I move to the next line and write the entry I really wanted to add. It’s shorter than the one I just wrote but it takes me longer because my eyes keep trying to wash out again. I get it done, though.

  18. Low

  I sit back and take a tight breath and then another and another until I’m breathing normally again.

  Daryn rests her head on my shoulder. We stay like this. Staring at Low’s name.

  The memories come. I keep thinking of all the things I’ll miss about him.

  I’ve done a lot of this.

  I do this almost daily, with Dad.

  Around the time he died, he was still laying into me regularly about leaving my dirty clothes on the floor of my bedroom. He wanted me to make my bed every day and screw the toothpaste cap back on and always stop to hug Mom or Anna anytime I walked through the door. Even if I just went out to pick up a pizza. It seemed insane to me, doing all that. Huge waste of time. I do it all now. He’ll never see it, though.

  That’s the thing about death. You miss everything before and everything after, too. You miss everything that should’ve been.

  Daryn yawns and glances at the microwave clock. “It’s almost three a.m. Are you going to try to sleep?”

  “Probably.” It’d be better than thinking depressing thoughts all night.

  “Do you want to sleep here?”

  Whoa.

  “Yes.”

  She stands and I follow her, thinking we’re going to the bedroom in the back, but she stops at the twin cubby into the hallway that’s probably made for little kids or garden gnomes.

  “The bedroom is Maia’s. She’s with Suarez right now, but she might come back tonight.”

  “This is great.”

  “I don’t know.” Daryn looks at me like she’s measuring my height. “Are you sure you’ll fit in here?”

  “Yep. I’ll just sleep in a cannonball position.”

  She laughs, hits the lights, and climbs in.

  I knock my forehead as I climb in after her. Easy, Blake. Settle down.

  Right away I realize the only way to accomplish this is as a team. “You should turn sideways. It’ll give us more room.”

  “Like this?”

  “Yes. How’s your back? Can I put my arm around you?”

  “Better—yes. Can I put my leg over yours?”

  “Sure.” Pour yourself all over me. Really, I won’t mind. “And come closer. Bring it in, Martin. All the way in.” We end up pressed together, me on my back, her resting her head on my shoulder. I can’t straighten my legs so I hang my feet out into the hallway.

  Since there are cabinets above and below us, the roof is really low. Wood paneling surrounds us on all sides, except along the hallway. I’ve never felt claustrophobic before but I do right now. I’m incredibly uncomfortable—and incredibly turned on.

  Her hair smells amazing. Her body feels amazing. I feel her heart beating fast, like mine, and I’m drowsy but awake. Wired. Wishing we weren’t both fully dressed. And that this situation was more bedlike instead of like we’ve been thrown into solitary confinement together.

  “Gideon…” Her voice is so close to my ear it almost makes me shiver. �
��Are you comfortable?”

  “No. Are you?”

  “No. Want to move?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Me either.” She shifts around against my chest, and any chance of me sleeping tonight vanishes. Game over. It’s just not going to happen. “I keep thinking I should’ve stopped them from going into the Rift. I had a bad feeling about it from the start.”

  Maybe I will sleep tonight. “Yeah. I know you did. I should’ve listened to you.” I peer down at her. “I should’ve trusted your judgment. You were right.”

  “I wish I wasn’t.” She blinks. “And I wish I weren’t so wrong about other things.” I wait for her to keep going. There’s obviously more coming. “Gideon, what you said to me last night after we, um … in the RV?” She sighs, and then comes right out with it. “After I mauled you?”

  “It was mutual mauling. Actually, I think I had the edge.”

  She smiles. “Debatable. Anyway—the things you said afterward. Do you remember?”

  “Yes.” I told her I wanted her. That, from my side of the equation at least, we’re a go. “I was just trying to understand, Daryn. I just wanted to understand what’s in our way. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “I want to tell you. But not tonight. Some other time. Soon.”

  “Okay. To be continued.”

  “To be continued,” she agrees. “We should probably get some sleep.”

  “Sure.” But nothing changes. We lie there, our faces only a few inches apart. It’s awesome. Just watching her blink. Feeling her breath. But after a little while my eyes won’t stay open any longer. I let them close.

  “Good night,” she says.

  “Night.”

  “I hope I dream about this … this exact moment.”

  Amazing thing to hear. Amazing. “I hope I dream about reason number fourteen. Pretty sure I will.”

  “Showing you that list was such a mistake.”

  “Martin, you have no idea.”

  CHAPTER 17

  DARYN

  The sound of Velcro unstrapping wakes me.

  In the darkness, it takes a second for the disorientation to wear off. I’m on my bed in the RV. Creases of amber light frame the drawn shades in the kitchen area, warm with the desert’s morning glow.