by Gwenda Bond
4.
Terry rolled over in bed to see Andrew staring at her. “Was I drooling in my sleep?”
“You know I think that’s adorable.”
“Adorably disgusting.”
“Your words.”
They smiled at each other. “What time is it?” Terry asked.
“Early.”
Terry reached over and cupped a hand to his cheek. She preferred to wait for kisses until they’d both brushed their teeth. Morning breath was not a turn-on for her. Andrew was well aware.
“Why are we awake then?” she asked. “Should we go back to sleep?”
Lately she could fall asleep anywhere as if on command. Did she sit down in class? At the diner for a break? Did no one bother her for a few minutes? Bam. Out. She was developing a theory it was the lack of natural sunlight.
“Babe?” Terry asked, because Andrew was staring at her with his hesitation face on.
“Nothing. You’ve been talking in your sleep again.”
What have I been saying? “I’ve always been a sleep-talker. I believe Stacey warned you about that when she introduced us.”
He gave a half smile. He remembered. “She did. You’ve been telling me not to go, in your dreams. To stay.”
“And?” She was afraid she might have said something about Brenner being behind Andrew’s departure.
“You’ve also been talking about Kali and Dr. Brenner.”
He didn’t elaborate, so it couldn’t be that. “So?” she prompted.
“We need to talk. About the first part.”
Terry removed her hand from his cheek and sat up, cupping the sheet to her where normally she might have let it fall. “Okay.”
“Don’t do that,” Andrew said, sitting up against the headboard. “Sometimes even Frodo and Sam have to have tough conversations.”
She could feel the tears at the backs of her eyes, waiting to spill out at the drop of a stray word from him. That couldn’t happen. She had to be strong for Andrew. Her dad had always been strong for her mom, her mom strong for the rest of them, and Terry had always quietly resolved to do the same.
Now’s your chance, don’t screw it up.
“I appreciate that your feet aren’t as hairy as Sam’s.” She was amazed she kept her voice normal, level. “Hit me.”
She memorized him, sitting in profile beside her. He turned to look at her. His brown-green eyes were so serious. His hair mussed from sleep. “All right. I want to preface this by saying, I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this. If I could go back…”
“If you could go back, would you really do anything differently?”
He took a second to consider it. “Probably not. I don’t want to be the kind of person who doesn’t do things because they’re afraid of the consequences.”
“I know.” Terry was the same. He didn’t even need to explain it.
Andrew smoothed the sheet beside his leg. A nervous tic. “I talked to my mom. She wants me to come home, before I get called up. Spend time with my folks and my grandparents—they’re getting up there, and they don’t understand why I’m not home since I’m not in school.”
“You’re working.” He’d gotten the job at the motel.
“But I don’t need to be, not right now. I’m here for you.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “And that feels selfish. That’s what my mom said, and it felt like she was right.”
Emotions and thoughts flooded Terry. She’d expected something like this at some point, if not today, but not this. Not Andrew telling her it was selfish to act as if they might not have much time. Because they might not.
Anger at his mother blazed through her. Didn’t she know how in love they were? Didn’t she know why they needed to be together?
But she also got it. On a level she wished she didn’t.
If she and Becky had known their parents would never come home again when they were still so young, Terry would have done things differently. She’d have spent more nights at home instead of studying with friends or at slumber parties. She’d have proposed endless games of Scrabble and even more endless games of Monopoly.
Every parent of a child eligible for Vietnam must live in that state of mind. And, on paper, there was no reason for Andrew to be here. He should go home and see his family.
“She is right.”
“Terry?”
“She is,” Terry said. “You should go home.”
“You mean it?” he asked.
“But if you leave without coming back to say goodbye, I will be forced to come to Vietnam and kill you myself.”
“Dark,” he said. “I love you.”
“I’m glad we got this selfish time together…” She leaned over, letting the sheet drop, morning breath be damned.
“And I’m glad it’s not over yet,” Andrew said.
5.
Gloria took a seat behind her mama, who remained at her usual front counter perch. The flower shop had at last calmed down after a post-work rush. The delivery boy was out running a slew of arrangements to the funeral home. They had the place to themselves.
Their house was a short walk away on West Seventh, but her parents insisted they keep work and home separate. Work, therefore, had always been the best place for Gloria to bring up sensitive topics. No one argued in public. Or even spoke loudly.
“I forgot to tell you, my glorious girl,” her mama said, rotating on her stool to half face her. “That comic you asked for came in—your dad set it back over at the gift shop.”
“The new X-Men came in and you’re just telling me?” Gloria shook her head.
It hadn’t been selling that well, so her dad had reduced the order. The Fantastic Four and Spider-Man sold more issues for them, and those Katy Keene books. Her dad hadn’t consulted her first and she had gently demanded that he at least get her a copy. Jean Grey as the telekinetic Marvel Girl was her absolute favorite character. Maybe someday there’d be a Marvel Girl who looked more like Gloria, but for now she made do with Jean.
“You and those comics.” Her mother’s voice was affectionate, not judgmental.
Gloria knew how lucky she was in that regard. Her parents encouraged her to follow her interests, to believe she could do or be anything. As long as she did, she’d be representing the Flowers name well. They were a central part of the community. That was important to her parents. It had always been important to her…
Which was why she stayed where she sat, instead of running for her comic book.
“I’ve been thinking,” she started.
Her mama sniffed with good humor. “That’s nothing new. You’re always thinking.”
“Mama,” she said, “this is something serious.”
She turned to face Gloria then, immediately concerned. “What is it, honey?”
“I’m not saying I’m going to do this, I’m just exploring it,” she said.
“All right, now you’re worrying me.”
The bell over the door jingled and Mr. Jenkins rushed in. “Alma, have you got a romantic bouquet by chance? I forgot our third-date anniversary.”
He was a widower, recently dating some of the single women at the church. Apparently he was not getting the hang of the demands of single life.
Gloria hopped up. “I’ll get it. I know just the thing.”
She picked out a bunch of violet tulips, wrapped them in tissue paper, and tied them with a ribbon. Her mother rang up Mr. Jenkins and he rushed out as quick as he’d come in.
“Now,” her mother said, “continue.”
Gloria had almost decided to let it go. She was certain enough how it would turn out—but she wanted some way to gauge how closely Brenner was watching them. How hard he’d push back if they tried to leave the experiment.
&
nbsp; A school in California had tried to recruit her as part of their effort to cherry-pick students of color with excellent GPAs in the sciences. Even though she had no intention of going anywhere, it felt like a safe way to get a feel for his reach. She already felt confident that Dr. Brenner was no Professor Xavier to mentor anyone, but was he the full-on villain she suspected?
“You know that school on the West Coast that’s been sniffing around? I’ve been thinking about asking for more information on what a transfer would look like.” Gloria just said it. She had to give her parents a heads-up, because at a minimum someone in the office would know one or both of her parents and they’d end up getting a phone call.
Her mother frowned. “But don’t you have that laboratory credit over in Hawkins again this semester? Why would you want to transfer?”
“I’m not sure I do. That lab’s not what I thought it would be.” She hurried over that, not wanting to explain. “I’m just looking at my options.”
“Okay,” her mother said, after a long pause. “If it’s what you decide you have to do, baby girl, to make your mark, then it’s what you have to do.” She nodded to Gloria. “I can help you with getting started on the paperwork later. If I know my daughter, you’ve already got it at home, don’t you?”
Gloria nodded. It had come in the dorm’s mail the day before.
“Now, go on and get your funny book.”
“Thanks, Mama.” Gloria touched her hand and went off next door to see her dad. Her mother would fill him in, soften him up on the idea if he had any protests. And she wasn’t really going anywhere…
Not that there wasn’t a small piece of Gloria that found the prospect exciting, of moving out to California to one of the schools pushing the envelope to allow women, and in particular African American women, into the sciences on a more equitable level.
But.
She didn’t want to have to leave her home to make her mark on the world. And she shouldn’t have to. That was part of her fight, too.
This was her private form of reconnaissance. Men like Dr. Martin Brenner got you in their clutches and didn’t let you go, especially if you made enemies of them. They could fight him, and they would, but they might lose. She wanted to know how hard he’d work to keep them under his thumb.
She’d never expected her comic books to be training for life, but then she’d never expected to have a friend who wanted to share visions via a homemade electroshock machine. It turned out the comic books had one thing right. Having powers put you in danger. Even being near people that had powers put you in danger. And being discovered by people who wanted to control those powers put you in even more.
Of that she was certain.
6.
Terry eased her foot onto the brake to slow down. She’d volunteered to drive, figuring her car was the least noticeable. No one who saw it parked at the edge of the woods would question the thought it had quit and been left there while the owner went for help or a tow truck.
“That looks like a decent spot.” Jittery Alice pointed out the front windshield to a wide gravel spot at the shoulder of the road. Beyond it, trees and darkness. But beyond that?
Chain link. Security lights.
Hawkins National Laboratory.
Once Terry parked, they got out as quickly as possible, Ken and Gloria piling out of the back. They shut the doors softly.
Terry unlocked the trunk. Before she could ask how best to carry the equipment, Alice had scooped it up. The irregular shape of her machine was covered by a patchwork quilt.
The machine that would—literally—shock Alice.
“Flashlights?” Alice asked.
“All for one and one for all,” Ken said, and picked them out from inside the trunk. Everyone but Alice got a light.
“Notebook?” Terry asked.
“And my favorite pencil,” Gloria said.
Ken flicked his light on. “I can lead,” he said, the beam cutting a path through the woods ahead. “Alice, go in front of me and I’ll light your way.”
“I could carry a flashlight in my teeth,” she said. “Saw that in a movie once.”
“I’ll shine the light for you.” Ken didn’t put a question in it. Alice gave in and they started forward.
“Nervous?” Terry asked Gloria as they followed, turning on their flashlights only when they got past the first line of trees. The branches brushed against the arms of her winter coat. Her breath fogged in the cold air.
“Beyond,” Gloria said.
“Me too.” Terry felt lit up by electricity herself, like she’d been struck by lightning and it coursed through her veins.
Terry peered ahead past the beam of her light, and saw two forms waiting. They reached Ken, and a few steps past, Alice.
“How far are we going?” Ken asked.
“You don’t know?” Terry joked, but didn’t give him a chance to get snippy. “I’d say another ten feet or so.” She nodded up to the canopies of the trees. “There’s already a glow from the perimeter lights in the sky. We’re close.”
They trekked on, the foolhardiest of fools. Terry couldn’t help, as her sleeve caught on another branch and she had to pry it free, thinking of the Old Forest and the evil willow tree that had nearly killed the hobbits (Andrew had been right about skipping the Bombadil/Goldberry section, if only she’d listened). Leading her fellowship into danger didn’t seem exactly right, but where else did fellowships go but toward it?
And you’re not even in the lead.
She spotted a slightly wider space through the trees ahead of Ken and Alice, and whisper-called, “That should work.”
Alice heaved down her machine, then wiped her brow. The load must be heavy. “Good. I mean, not good, but you know what I intend to say.”
Intend to say. Terry smiled in the dark at Alice. She switched her flashlight off. “We should probably keep things as dark and quiet as we can.”
“We’ll leave on one light,” Ken said, showing an organizational leadership side tonight that Terry hadn’t expected but appreciated.
He sat it on the ground so it illuminated Alice’s blanket lump. She pried off the blanket around the edges.
And there it sat. Terry got her first look at the contraption they were hooking Alice up to.
“Should I be so glad it’s too dark to see it well?” Terry asked.
“Oh, Terry,” Gloria said, and her headshake was in her voice. “Never insult the work of an inventor.”
Alice propped her hands on her hips. “I tried to make it so it’ll work, not so it’s pretty.” Terry moved closer and thought she heard Alice mutter, “Though I do think you’re pretty. Don’t listen.”
There was a miscellany of parts of machines joined together in a Frankensteinish way. It was beyond Terry to tease out in this dim light what the parts were and how they worked. But she recognized the low hum of a motor engine when Alice started it up. There was a slight vibration to the metal amalgamation.
“Let’s do this,” Alice said.
“Slow down,” Ken said. “You’d probably better give the acid a bit to kick in first, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Alice said.
Gloria reached into her purse, unwrapped a handkerchief, and presented the stolen acid to Alice. Alice plucked it up and popped it into her mouth. In the flashlight, her hand had trembled.
Terry realized that despite her bravado, Alice was as nervous as the rest of them. “We’ll be right here,” Terry said, and wished it didn’t remind her of Brenner’s words to her the first time they’d put her in the sensory deprivation tank.
“Stop making me more nervous,” Alice said.
They were in this together, though, unlike Brenner and…anyone. Alice had been having electroshock for months and she was fine. Still Ali
ce. It would be okay, and hopefully they’d learn enough to make the risk worth it.
Terry prayed.
Alice set to work on the machine. “I’ll show you what to do.”
She teased out some electrodes that extended from the center of the contraption. “I stole these from the lab.”
“How?” Terry would never cease to be amazed by her.
“When I was taking apart their machine to see how it works.”
Alice tapped a finger to each of her temples. “They go here.”
Terry reached out to accept them and felt the plastic, cold as her fingers. She had a sense of disassociation like she’d taken acid, as if she hovered above her body watching this madness.
Gloria took over, lifting away the electrodes and placing them carefully on the sides of Alice’s forehead.
Alice walked Gloria through the steps for administering the electricity.
“We’ll be shocking you twice at most, at a low level, for safety’s sake.” Gloria hesitated. “How often do they do it in your sessions?”
“That’s a good question,” Terry said when Alice didn’t answer. She shook out the blanket and sat down, gesturing for Alice to join her. Ken would follow Gloria’s directions on running the machine and take the notes. Terry would be Alice’s steady hand-holding presence.
“Depends. You should do it twice tonight.” Alice plopped down beside Terry. She reached out and dragged the blanket around both their shoulders.
“I already feel it working,” Alice said. “The trees are whispering. I say you give it five more minutes and then zap me.”
“Nice terminology,” Gloria said. But she checked her watch by the flashlight.
“In the meantime, someone tell me a story,” Alice said. “What about a ghost story?”
“No way,” Terry said. “No ghost stories when we’re in the woods with you hooked up to a car engine. Someone tell a good story.”
“What about both?” Ken asked. He stood beside the machine, but now he lowered to his knees.
