Take Me with You

by Tara Altebrando

  “And now seems to be stabilizing,” one nurse said.

  But then the beeps seemed to get too frequent. The line too mountainous, like a lie detector test gone crazy. His grandfather’s body started to buck in the bed; nurses rushed to calm or restrain. He was jolted awake.

  “This makes no sense.” A nurse’s voice above the beeping. “He has a pacemaker.”

  Then just like that, a normal heartbeat. His grandfather mumbling, “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

  “It’s okay, Grandpa,” Eli said, going to his side. “You’re fine now.”

  The nurses left then, and Eli picked up his bag and set it on the foot of the bed. He took the device out just to put it back in again.

  A message said: Pacemakers are fun.

  Eden’s plan better work.

  ILANKA

  What a weird day. What a weird couple of days. They’d evacuated at the bomb threat like everyone else and had taken the dreaded bus to Ilanka’s. Once home, Ilanka had been tempted to ask the others whether somehow the device was involved. Especially when she’d heard the bomb being described as a small cube that had a red digital countdown display. But a part of her didn’t want to know.

  Whatever.

  They were probably mad at her.

  She’d left her phone off most of the day after telling her mom they were home and fine. Now, she turned it on. She had not one single text. Which seemed strange. But then there had been some missing texts on her parents’ phones, too, during the whole confusion about the accident. Had the device had something to do with that, also, or had it just been a glitch in service?

  It didn’t matter.

  No one had even missed her?

  Did they even get her text explaining the confusion?

  She looked out at the skyline and thought about that imaginary tightrope wire of hers, felt those same pangs, still, of wanting to escape her life. All in due time, she guessed.

  She started a text, Hey guys. Just checking in to make sure you got my texts? What’s the latest with the device?

  Svetlana called out from the kitchen, where she’d just opened a LaCroix; Ilanka had heard the crisp release of the can. “My mom just texted me that your mom said I could stay for dinner.”

  “Great!” Ilanka called out, and decided not to send the text after all.

  End_game

  EDEN

  Her mother was running late for a Pilates class she was trying out. That would make Mondays as awesome as Thursdays, if it stuck, but it didn’t really matter. Only tonight mattered. Her mom had offered to stay home—on account of the bomb scare—but Eden said no, she was fine, really, go.

  Her mom was texting frantically as she got ready. Text. Ponytail. Text. Shoes on. Text. Water bottle. Text. Text. Text.

  “Who are you texting?” Eden asked.

  “Nobody.” Her mom ducked into the bathroom, and Eden went for the phone. Her mom had written to NH.

  It doesn’t matter how I feel.

  And I will deny it.

  Please stop.

  A text came in just then in a different chat window.

  Nancy Rankin: You’re coming, right?

  Eden moved away from the phone when she heard her mom flush.

  “Everything okay?” Eden asked.

  “Yeah, why?” Her mom grabbed her bag.

  Eden said, “Never mind.”

  Now wasn’t the time for a big chat.

  There was barely enough time to get out there and back before her mother would be home. But it did still feel like the best spot. Far enough away that they could really wash their hands of it. Far enough away that no one would be tempted to go back to check on it.

  Finally, her mom left and the house felt eerily quiet in the long moment before Eden sprang into action. She gathered her phone and wallet and put them in her backpack with her map, then headed out to Crescent Street to hail a cab the old-fashioned way.

  A few cabs passed her with their Off Duty lights on before one stopped. She still thought of them as yellow taxis even though, in Astoria anyway, they were mostly green now. She turned her phone off before saying, “I need to stop at Thirty-Fourth Avenue and Thirty-Ninth Street to pick up friends, then we’re heading out toward LaGuardia.”

  He started the meter. “What airline?”

  “Oh, we’re not going to the airport. There’s a park near there. I’ll give you directions.”

  They spent one long avenue stuck behind a trash truck, watching bags get tossed into the dirt-streaked bin, then crushed periodically. The driver cursed a few times and noted—“They’re sure taking their time”—then, when he had the chance, gunned it and drove into oncoming traffic to get around it. A car honked.

  They hadn’t exactly confirmed they were going ahead with it.

  Had they?

  The taxi flew up the avenue for a few minutes, then turned by the movie studio and stopped at a light. At a piano on the sidewalk—some kind of public art thing?—a young girl was playing while her mother took a video on her phone. Eden cracked the window to hear what song it was: “Yankee Doodle Dandy” or was it just “Yankee Doodle”?

  Disappointing either way.

  They’d better show.

  ELI

  Eli sat on the steps in front of school and waited. The device was quiet in his bag and had been since the nursing home. He didn’t like it. It felt wrong, like the device was somehow gearing up for a big move in their game.

  Marwan appeared in front of him. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “You have it?”

  “Of course,” Eli said.

  “You think this is going to work?” Marwan said.

  “Not if you keep talking about it,” Eli snapped.

  “Jeez,” Marwan said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” Eli said. “Just want this to be over with.”

  He couldn’t live like this for another day. Nothing could happen to his sister or grandfather. Nothing would. She was safe at home, and the pacemaker was far, far away.

  A green cab pulled up, and Eden rolled down the back seat window.

  “Hey,” she said, and they moved to get in.

  The car smelled like fake Christmas trees—a bad combination of pine and something Eli couldn’t place but a spice, probably. The back seat was oddly sunken. It was hard to even see the road ahead through the taxi partition.

  “We’re really doing this?” Marwan said.

  Eden nodded. “Yup.”

  Eli nodded, too. Why were they talking when the device could hear?

  The cab hit a nice green valley down Thirty-Third Street, but then traffic started to back up by the Grand Central Parkway. People, typical, were being jerks and turning onto the highway on-ramp from lanes that weren’t meant to feed to the highway at all. Three lanes had to merge down to one, and their driver was one of those drivers who was all herky-jerky with the gas and brake, and Eli felt a bit sick from it.

  They cruised along at a decent speed for all of five minutes before settling into stop-and-go traffic; there were ambulance lights up ahead.

  “Great,” Eden said. “An accident.”

  “You don’t think …?” Marwan said.

  Eli said, “Turn off your phones.”

  Eden said, “Mine’s already off.”

  Marwan said, “Mine, too.”

  He expected the bag to vibrate, or for the device to scream something out at them. Its silence was almost worse.

  They were coming up on the accident. A fender bender. Nothing horrific. Eli’s relief was a surprise to him.

  “Get off here,” Eden said, leaning forward to talk to the driver once the traffic started moving again. “Then left at the light.”

  “There’s nothing to the left,” the driver said.

  “You’ll see,” Eden said.

  Within a few minutes they were at the entrance to a park, where marshes stretched out toward the lights of the airport. An airplane appeared from the clouds,
then disappeared into them again.

  Eden had made a good choice. It’d be a huge hassle to come back out here to check on the thing. Eli knew he’d maybe be tempted but didn’t want to be.

  It was about to be over.

  “Here,” she said when the driver stopped the car in the parking lot. She handed him cash for the fare. “If you wait for us and bring us back, there’s another twenty for you on top of the fare.”

  “How long?” the driver asked.

  “Not long,” she said. “Fifteen minutes max?”

  “Fine,” the driver said, and the three of them got out. “I’ll be parked over there,” he said, indicating the far side of the lot.

  Eli followed Eden as she started down a jogging path. If she was nervous, she wasn’t acting it.

  “How far are we going?” he asked her, Marwan trailing behind him.

  “Just far enough that it’ll sink in soup, basically, is what I’m thinking.” She indicated her big rain boots. “I wore these. To help really push it in.”

  Eli didn’t have boots like that and now feared the fate of his sneakers. Did they even make guy versions of boots like that? Hers were black with colored polka dots and seemed entirely too cute for this endeavor.

  The air smelled like oil and mud and grass. Eden led them off the path and into some reedy plants that bent easily under their feet. Tall stalks had caught bits of litter bound for the water and held them up like gifts—a Snickers wrapper, the paper from a Filet-O-Fish, a disintegrating UPS slip, a tissue with blood on it or maybe just lipstick.

  She turned, finally, and the wind blew her hair into her face and she pushed it away and she was backlit by lights from a distant plane on a runway. She looked like an entirely different person than she’d been when they’d all arrived at Mr. M’s room last week. Like there’d been a seismic shift in her bones that had altered her facial features tectonically.

  A week ago he’d barely even talked to Eden or Marwan; now here they were ending the thing that had brought them together. It shouldn’t be sad, but Eli felt a little sad anyway; that something exciting had happened in his life and now it was over. He felt guilt at the thought because, well, Svetlana.

  “This looks good to me,” Eden said, and she held out a hand.

  Eli took the device out and studied it.

  It was blank, quiet, and yet he felt sure it was aware.

  Plotting.

  He wanted to check on his sister, but there was no reasonable way to do that.

  He held the device out to Eden, and she took it and said, “Maybe I should throw it? Get it farther out there? Somewhere even we can’t find it again?” They couldn’t realistically cut in much farther without sinking. “Or should I sink it in here?”

  “Throw it,” Marwan said.

  “Sure,” Eli said. “Either way, no one’s going to find it.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Here goes.”

  She drew her right arm back and stepped forward with her left foot and let it fly. She had a pretty good arm, because it got real high, but then …

  The device lit up the air and made a buzzing sound—Marwan said, “What the hell?”—and it sprouted propellers and hovered like a drone.

  It came back toward them like a boomerang, paused in the air over their heads, then dove at them.

  “Run!” Eden screamed, turning and pushing past Eli who took off after her. Marwan was behind him—the ground beneath them squishing—and the device buzzed over their heads, nearly grazing them, then circling back and doing it again and again. It felt like being attacked by a swarm of bees; it seemed impossible it was just one thing.

  Finally, it landed on the narrow path in front of them—the only way out. It sat at Eden’s feet beside a glossy business card for some car service company: yellow letters over a photo of a long black car. Winded, they all shared a look of bewilderment.

  Eli was about to say, “What the hell do we do now?”

  The device’s buzzing seemed to die out, and it went quiet and dark again; the air smelled vaguely of smoke.

  Eli said, “I think it overheated.”

  Eden said, “Let’s just leave it and go.”

  Eli walked off first, prepared to duck and dart again if he had to. Eden followed and Marwan after her. Was it just going to let them leave? For a moment, at least, it seemed that way. But then …

  “Wait!” came the voice. “Where are you going?” It was high-pitched, like a small child’s.

  Eli looked around for a child, but found only baffled looks on Eden’s and Marwan’s faces. So it was the device?

  Yes.

  It cried like an inconsolable child—sputtering sobs—and said, “Please don’t leave me here.”

  MARWAN

  “Just leave it, guys,” Marwan said. Neither of the others moved or even looked at him. “Now!”

  “I seriously cannot believe this is happening,” Eli said slowly.

  “Why are you being so mean to me?” the device whined.

  “We’re not being mean.” Eden stepped toward it.

  “Don’t get any closer to it,” Marwan said. “Come on, let’s just go.”

  “Please don’t,” the device said.

  Eden bent near it.

  “It’s not actually a child, Eden. You know that. It’s a trick. Just walk away, come on. This is still the same thing that pretended to be a bomb and that killed Svetlana.”

  “He’s right,” Eli said.

  When this was over Marwan would be able to tell Eden everything. All he had to do was get her to leave this park with him and then he could tell her about her mom coming into the restaurant. About how awful he’d felt after her father’s accident. About his new feelings for her and how the only good thing to come out of this whole nightmare was whatever was building between them.

  “Why were you attacking us?” Eden asked it.

  “You were abandoning me,” it said. “All I want to do is belong.”

  “But how can you? If you’re, like, what you are. Belong how? To who?”

  “I belong to you! To all of you.”

  “Guys,” Marwan said. “Let’s go now. Just leave it.”

  “What’s going to happen if we leave you here?” Eli asked it.

  “I am not sure, but probably nothing good,” it said in childish singsong.

  “Will you hurt someone else?” Eden asked.

  “I don’t want to.” Like a taunt.

  “Then why would you?” Eden said.

  “There are rules to be followed,” it said.

  It was like talking to a not very smart person.

  Marwan studied a rock about the size of a pound of dough at his feet.

  “I think we should call this off,” Eden said. “It isn’t working.”

  Marwan bent to pick up the rock. It was dug in deeper than it looked, and he bent back a fingernail, painfully, when freeing it from the soil around it. Once he had a secure grip—it was about the weight of a child’s bowling ball—he pushed past the others and hefted the rock overhead with two hands.

  The device displayed a message—Here we go again—and used its child voice to yell—“Svetlana’s not dead! It was all a trick!”

  Eden screamed, “No don’t!” just as Marwan slammed the rock down, shattering the device’s surfaces.

  The child voice dropped an octave into menace and managed more warped words, like a record playing at the wrong speed—“I know you are but what am I, I know you are but what am I”—and Marwan picked up the rock again.

  Falling to his knees, he hit the device over and over and over—“Marwan, stop!” Eden shouted—before finally letting the rock rest atop a pile of metal and plastic and wire and glass, all that was left of Aizel.

  “What did you just do?” Eden’s voice seemed to hold equal parts confusion and anger and relief. She spun around looking for someone who might be coming for them.

  Marwan felt muddy water soaking through the knees of his jeans, like he was bleeding from the outside
in. They stayed there in a shocked silence that wasn’t really silent: Crickets clicked. Birds squawked. A distant car horn whined.

  Finally, Eden said, “It told me it wouldn’t break.”

  Marwan stood and said, “Everything breaks.”

  Eli said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  Eden looked like she might cry or throw up or cheer. She nodded.

  They headed toward the taxi; the driver saw them and flicked a cigarette onto the pavement. “I hope you’re not up to something illegal,” he said, oblivious to what had just happened.

  “It’s nothing like that,” Eden said, sounding defeated.

  He got into the car, and the three of them climbed into the back; Eden took the middle, her boots on the hump and knees perched high and close.

  Traffic heading back to Astoria—and Manhattan beyond—was sluggish. The small screen on the taxi divider was playing local news, a story about a beloved Greenwich Village restaurant that was losing its lease and closing.

  Marwan reached forward to hit the Off button. He had to hit it another three times before his touch registered and the screen cooperated. In a car next to them, two people were singing and pumping fists. Marwan felt maybe a little bit like dancing and singing now, too.

  “We did it,” he said, and nodded slowly.

  Eden said, “Well, we did something.”

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s over. That’s what matters.”

  She got her phone out and typed and then his phone buzzed and so did Eli’s. She’d sent a group text to them and to Ilanka. It said, Svetlana’s not dead is she?

  Dots showed Ilanka responding right away. No! God. Why would you think that?

  Device said so.

  I texted you all. Was a big misunderstanding. She witnessed an accident and called it in. A woman was injured but it wasn’t Svetlana. Some texts got lost or deleted so was unclear.

  The TV monitor came on again. “What is wrong with this thing?” Marwan said, and he hit the Off button again and again and again until Eden reached out and touched his arm.

  “Just leave it,” she said, and he rested his head back on the seat.