by A. M. Rose
“We have to continue on foot.” I unbuckle my seat belt.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Maddox sounds irritated. “How do you even know where you’re going?”
I spin around in my seat, but my body is itching to get out and start moving. “I don’t know, but I do. Can’t you just trust me?” I put on my jacket.
Dylan opens his door. “We came this far. Let’s just go.” He climbs out of the car.
“Whatever.” Maddox pops off his seat belt, grabs a hoodie from his bag, and slips it on.
Dylan is already waiting for us with a bag slung over his shoulder as we climb out. “Have to be prepared for anything,” he says, like he was anticipating the question.
We hike along single file through towering redwoods and tangled brush, the scent of pine swirling around. Every now and then the icy wind reminds me of its strength and whips against my face, and I have to shove my hands deeper in my pockets. A few times my pants or jacket get snagged on a branch, and Dylan helps get me free so we can keep moving. The only sound is our feet crunching against the ground and the call of a few birds who are either brave enough to withstand the cold or have already flown home from the winter and didn’t get the memo it’s still freezing up here. Without a real hiking path it’s difficult to navigate. Occasionally, I glance around to make sure no one is following us. After an hour of walking I stop when a burst of heat races up my legs. This is it.
“Why did we stop?” Maddox sounds breathless.
“We’re here.” My stomach rolls, and for a moment I can’t move.
A giant sequoia tree stands in front of us. Giant actually doesn’t do it justice. It’s ginormous, wide enough for a car to drive through.
I slide my fingers along its rough bark, and a salamander scurries away. My body leads the way as I walk around the massive tree and take five steps from it to the west.
Heat penetrates through my shoes up to the top of my head. “Here.” I draw an X in the dirt with my finger. “Whatever we’re looking for is right here.” Days in the car, chases and near escapes from the Green-eyed man, all come down to whatever is under my feet. Staring at the ground I can’t image what could be under there.
Dylan paces back and forth, but he doesn’t say a word. He nods to himself, walks over, takes the bag off his shoulder, opens it up, and pulls out a camping shovel. Have to be prepared for anything, he said. I should’ve expected it. He kneels down and digs.
I can’t believe we’re here. And whatever is under there must be something big—something important. Or why go to all the trouble to bury it way out here, in a place it doesn’t look like any people would ever dream of going? The grade’s too steep for camping, and the ground too uneven for hiking, and then there were the signs warning people to stay away.
My body shakes. Maddox must see it, because he moves closer to me, but when I wrap my arms around myself he stops next to me. My stomach tightens.
“I’ve got something.” Dylan shovels more dirt out of the hole, and my pulse increases.
Maddox and I step in closer. Dylan puts the shovel down and struggles to pull out a metal box, then sets it on the ground in front of me. I stare at it. The surface is still covered in dirt and dust, but besides that its matte silver encasing looks pristine. No rust or dents or scratches. Like it could’ve been put here yesterday except the ground was packed so tight it wouldn’t have been possible. Anything could be inside. The sound of my heart pounding echoes through my ears. As much as I am dying to open the box, I’m scared to death. This could change everything for me.
Maddox tips his head forward to look at me. “It’s going to be okay.”
I wish I could believe him. Maybe if Dylan said it I’d think it was possible, but right now nothing feels like it’s ever going to be okay again.
Dylan tries for several minutes turning the box over and over in his hands, trying to pry the lid off, but it won’t budge. “It’s stuck or locked or something. I can’t get it open.” He sets it on the ground and lets out a huff.
Maddox crouches down next to Dylan and inspects the box for himself. “Here, let me try.” They hand it back and forth to each other mumbling ideas. Dylan pulls out screwdrivers and pliers from his bag. My eyes follow along with what they’re doing, but my mind isn’t paying attention. Answers I need are in that box. The explanation to what’s wrong with me. I’m trembling, with excitement or fear I’m not sure.
“Wait a second.” Maddox uses his sleeve to wipe dirt from the side.
“What?” Dylan asks. “What is it?” He leans over to get a look for himself.
I check to make sure no one else is around, then kneel down next to Maddox, and he rests the box on my lap. My eyes lock on what he was just talking about and the answer comes to me so clearly. “It’s a fingerprint scanner. It’s so only one person can open it.” My voice is soft, but steady. Me. It’s my box, so I’m the only one who’ll be able to get inside. A warm feeling grows in my belly. Finding this box was meant to be.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Dylan asks.
I push my shoulders back. “I need to do this by myself,” I say with so much confidence I almost surprise myself. But my gut tells me this is something I need to do alone. This isn’t about Dylan or Maddox. This is about me. “Can you guys give me a minute?”
The boys exchange a quick glance. Maddox nods and walks away.
“I’ll be right over there if you need me.” Dylan points and heads in the opposite direction of Maddox.
This is it. I pull my hands out of my pockets, rub them together, and try to blow some warmth into them. I’ve been waiting for this moment and now that it’s here I’m terrified at what I’ll find. If someone went to all this trouble, there must be something of paramount importance in this box.
As soon as I turn it over I’m sure what to do. I grab it from the bottom and position both my thumbs on the pad at the same time. Five–four–three–two–one. The box clicks open, and my breath catches.
I move from my knees so I’m sitting on the ground in front of it, with my legs crossed and the box in my lap. Slowly, I open the lid. It doesn’t creak or groan; it lifts with ease. Inside is another locked box. This one is lightweight, not big and heavy like the first. This lock is different, too. But just like the one before, I know exactly how to open it. I take a deep breath of cold air, remove my locket, and slip it into a slot. The top of the box slides open, dropping my locket inside.
The taste of blood fills my mouth from chewing my lip as I take a peek. A small metal orb the size of a walnut, and a piece of paper are all that are there. I stop breathing for a moment and stare. This can’t be it. This can’t be what I’ve been waiting for.
Maybe it’s a map or a clue. My hand shakes as I pull the paper out and unfold it. A series of numbers, letters, and symbols—a code of some sort—is written on it. As soon as my eyes scan over them, I understand what it says. Like what happened in Spanish, but different. I rub my hands together and lick my lips.
Dear Alexandrea,
I address this letter to you this way because I know it is the name to which you now answer. First, I want you to know, as impossible as it may seem, I love you with all my being. It was never my intention for us to be separated. Simply being away from you is pure torture. When I found you after the accident, I knew it was safer for you to stay where you were. I have kept a watchful eye on you from afar all these years. As a precaution, I came here and buried this box. The simple fact you are here and able to read this letter, written in a language I created only for you, tells me the virus I implanted in your head to protect you is failing, and now you are in grave danger.
If this has happened, you must be well aware by now you are different. These differences make you both valuable and a threat in the wrong hands. So I am going to ask you to do something that is going to be difficult, but you must do it if you want to live to see another day. Enclosed at the bottom of this letter is a list of accounts for you to access. It will gi
ve you more than enough money to live on for the rest of your life. Take them and create a new identity for yourself. You cannot tell anyone about this or take anyone with you. You cannot trust anyone, even those you think you can. Keep the orb with you at all times and do not tell anyone about it. It will become apparent what to do with it soon enough. This might seem impossible to you right now. Know I would not ask this if I thought there was any other way to keep you safe. Always remember, my love for you is a constant, without any beginning or end.
Eternally yours,
Your father
My eyes scan down to the bottom of the letter, and the list of accounts imprints in my mind. The paper stares at me from my shaking hands. My biological father left this for me. He went through all this trouble to leave me this message. But why? It doesn’t answer anything about what is going on with me, just that there’s some kind of virus in my brain that’s meant to protect me somehow. And that I have to go away and leave everyone I know and love. It doesn’t make any sense.
This letter answers nothing.
I gasp for air. Everything around me spins. This can’t be. I lean back, staring up at the canopy of trees above. Nothing feels right. Even the air I’m breathing hurts. My chest is heavy as the world pushes down on me.
“What does it say?” Dylan stands above me, Maddox at his side.
Tears roll down my cheeks. I glance back at the piece of paper in my lap. What does it even say? It doesn’t explain anything, that’s for sure, and I’m not about to tell them I could be some kind of threat. At least not yet. “Nothing… It says nothing.”
Dylan bends down and picks the paper up. It’s light yellow, not white. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice that before. As soon as it’s plucked from my fingertips I want to grab it back, keep it all to myself, but what does it matter? He won’t be able to read it anyway. It was written just for me and that thought forces me to catch my breath. What does this mean that I could figure it out?
He crinkles the paper and flips it over in his hands. Even if he could read it, it doesn’t say anything but to run away. And right now I’m not going anywhere; my butt is glued to the ice-cold ground.
As both Maddox and Dylan inspect it, I steady my shaking hands, clasp my locket back around my neck, and slip the metal orb in my jacket pocket.
“I’m so sorry, Drea.” There’s something so sincere in Maddox’s voice it hurts.
Dylan bends down next to me and puts his arms around me. I want it to feel like it normally does, warm and strong, but it doesn’t. It’s just an arm. “Are you sure you can’t read this? Maybe if you try really hard, like what you did with the computer.”
I don’t look up at him. Instead, I stare at the ground. “I tried. I don’t know what it means. I know you’re trying to help, but it’s no good. I don’t understand it.” It’s not a lie. Not exactly. I don’t really know what it’s trying to say. Or maybe it’s that I don’t know if I want to listen to it. Either way, I can’t do this right now.
Dylan folds the paper back up and puts it in my hands. “Maybe it’ll come to you. I’m sorry, Drea. I know how badly you wanted answers.”
The concerned look in Dylan’s eyes, and the way Maddox can’t seem to look at me at all, is crushing. They’re probably disappointed. I’m disappointed, too. We came on this journey expecting to find something and all we got was an old metal ball and a piece of paper.
I wipe my face with the sleeve of my jacket. “Let’s just go.”
Dylan helps me to my feet and holds me close to him. I wish I could find the comfort I normally do in his arms. But it’s too much. And we still have a long way back to the car, so I pull back from Dylan, wrap my arms around my body, and start walking, leaving the box behind.
Chapter Thirty-One
We’re driving back down the dirt road when Maddox asks, “So what now?”
“I guess we find a hotel for the night before we start heading back home.” There’s disappointment in Dylan’s voice. He wanted this so badly for me. “If that’s okay with you, Drea?”
I shrug. I wanted it so badly, too. “Sure—fine. There’s a little town west of here. We could stay there tonight.”
“How do you—never mind.” Maddox shuffles around.
After that, everyone is silent. Which is perfect. The last thing I want to do right now is talk. Or listen. I’m too numb. So I lean my head against the window and close my eyes.
When I open them, it’s dark, the car is parked, and Dylan isn’t in the driver’s seat. The window in front of me is starting to fog up. Anxious fear bubbles in my chest, and I clench my eyes closed and open them again, like this will make Dylan appear.
“I don’t understand you,” Maddox says.
I jump around in my seat, pulling in a big gulp of air. Maddox is staring at me, lips curled, eyes cold.
“Holy shit.” I press my hand against my chest. “You scared the crap out of me. Where’s Dylan?”
“He ran in to get us a room.” Maddox nods toward the motel. “But like I said, I don’t understand you.”
I try to steady my rattled nerves but can’t manage it. “What are you talking about?”
“Why did you lie to us back there?” He sounds accusing.
I might’ve just been asleep, but I’m awake now. “Lie to you? What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice is sharp.
“Back in the woods, you said you didn’t know what that paper said, but I know you could read it.”
I glare at him. “And how do you know that?” I could deny it, but what does it matter anyway? Just because I read it doesn’t mean anything.
“I was watching your eyes. I could see you reading it. You might be the smartest one here, but it doesn’t mean the rest of us are stupid, you know?” There’s anger in his features, jaw tight, eyebrows drawn.
I should’ve known he was watching me. They both probably were. Waiting for my response, my reaction, to celebrate I got my answers, but that didn’t happen. Still, it doesn’t give him any reason to be mad. “I never said you were stupid.”
He lets out an exasperated huff. “Not in so many words, but you implied it when you lied and said you didn’t understand that paper.” His voice keeps getting louder.
I crinkle my brow. That wasn’t what I was doing. “Just because I could read it doesn’t mean I lied.”
“So you admit it; you admit that you could read it,” he yells.
The car shifts as I turn more in my seat. “Yes, I could read it. I never said I couldn’t. I didn’t lie. I don’t understand a single word it says.” Now I’m yelling, too. Stupid, worthless letter. It might as well say I need to hitchhike to the moon, because I’ll never be able to do what it does say. How could my father do this? He left me behind and now he expects me to do the same. I take the paper out from my pocket, crumple it in my hands, and throw it at him. “It might as well not say anything at all! It doesn’t answer a single question of why I’m like this—why I’m some sort of freak,” I scream at him, panting hard.
He’s quiet for a moment. The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Is that what you think you are? A freak?” His voice is softer now as he leans forward. “Drea, you’re a gift. You have the ability to create great change. You just have to believe.”
My breath catches. My jaw drops. No. It’s not possible. How did he? I swallow hard. That’s the same thing the girl who sold Dad my ring said. This can’t be a coincidence. I get up on my knees, leaning my body into the back seat toward him. “What did you say?”
“No one is like you, Drea. And maybe no one will ever be again. You’re special. Your abilities allow you to see things others can’t. Don’t you get it? Your mind is like a computer. Your body a machine. But you are all human. Full of feelings and emotions with the ability to empathize.” He sounds so sure of himself. So sure about me.
My heart is beating so fast it might burst. “For someone who isn’t supposed to know a whole lot about me, you sure seem to.” Hollywood, the things I think I remember.
He must’ve lied. He must know more than he’s letting on. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’ve already said too much.” He shuts his eyes and leans back.
“What is that supposed to mean?” My blood starts to boil, and I dig my nails into the seat. “I don’t think you’ve said enough! How is it you know or think you know so much about me?” My breath comes faster and faster. My voice louder and louder. I’ve been ignorant to the signs, the ones that seem so clear now. The drawings, L.A., my dreams. Why did I ever believe him? “Have you been using me this whole time? You get me to trust you and you make me think you really are my friend—is that why you kissed me?”
“I kissed you because I’m falling for you!” he yells. But he isn’t angry now. His jaw is slack, his eyes are wide, and his hands are trembling.
I jerk back. My heart leaps in my throat. I have to swallow three times to push it back down, but it doesn’t want to budge. This is all too much. Why would he say that? The way he’s staring at me, intense gaze, sapphires blazing—cheeks flushed—I almost believe him. But look where that has gotten me. And it still doesn’t answer why he’s here and what he wants. A chill goes through me. All the hairs on my body stand on end. My mouth won’t work. Questions I need to ask can’t find their way out. Not that I even know how or where to start.
“I’d tell you more if I could. You have to believe me.” His tone is pleading and his eyes well up.
Believe him? I don’t think I can. And although it’s stupid, I want to. Something inside tells me he’s being sincere, which is even more confusing. I like Maddox. A lot, even. But am I falling for him? Is that why I haven’t wanted to see what’s been right in front of me?
The air is so thick I can’t breathe. I jump out of the car rather than say anything and let my head fall against the side, staring up into the sky. But it’s dark up there. The clouds have rolled in and there isn’t a single star, even the moon’s light can’t seem to fight its way through.
