Dead End

by C. P. Rider

  "Best years of my life, amor." Abuelo winked at Grandpa Holli, who smiled shyly.

  Yet another way Dead End had it over my world. Forty-one years ago, on my side of the Divide, they would have had to hide their love or be persecuted for it. And that would have been impossible. Their love was too big to hide, too awesome. It was in the way they seemed to know what the other was thinking, in the glimmer in Abuelo's eyes and the spark in Grandpa Holli's smile.

  When my mom told me stories about her parents, she told me her one dream was to find a love like theirs. She and Dad had loved that way, but they didn't get forty-one years together. I wish they had.

  I took a bite of something that looked like broccoli, but tasted like potato. "What do you know about the earthmover who opened the first ripper?"

  Abuelo Emilio took a sip of water before responding. I half-suspected he was the one who had opened that ripper so long ago, but he didn't react in any way suspiciously. Just sipped his water and set his glass down. "What do you want to know?"

  "Was he related to us?"

  "You assume it was a he?"

  "I think everyone does. Cindy said that's how she heard the legend."

  "Legend? That's an odd way to put it."

  "Oh, you know how people love to talk, Emilio," Grandpa Holli said. "Why make up a story when you can create a legend?" He jabbed his fork into the thing I'd thought was celery but now believed to be in the legume family. "The whole thing was blown out of proportion."

  Now that was odd. Abuelo Emilio was as calm as a sleeping kitten, but Grandpa Holli appeared rattled.

  "Do my questions bother you?" I asked.

  "No." Abuelo took another bite, chewed. "You can ask anything you like. We may not always be able to answer, but we'll try."

  "Thank you."

  He nodded. "May I ask you a question?"

  "Of course."

  "What sort of mother was our daughter?"

  I hadn't expected that. A jolt of pain went through me as I tried to explain. It hurt to remember her, but it also hurt to forget, and I'd rather have the sting of remembrance than the empty sadness of forgetting.

  "She was always smiling. There was this positivity around her, like a forcefield. Like you." I indicated Grandpa Holli with a tilt of my head.

  Tears filled his eyes, but he looked away before I saw them fall.

  "Dad said she was brilliant. So smart he had to work to keep up with her beautiful mind." I smiled at Abuelo, because I was pretty sure he was like that, too.

  "Your father loved her."

  "They were very happy together. I think he would have chosen to die with her if it hadn't been for me. Taking care of me became the focus of his life. He never dated anyone else as far as I knew."

  My grandpas seemed happy with my response. "It was our fondest wish that she would know love. Although she didn't have it for long, at least she had it." This time, Abuelo Emilio gave me a broad smile, the first one since I’d arrived. I was embarrassed by how much it meant to me.

  "Yeah. I hope I find a love like theirs someday. Like yours."

  Grandpa Holli reached across the table to pat my hand. "We wish that for you, too."

  "Digging the black polish. It looks good against your pretty brown skin."

  I dropped the urban fantasy book I was reading and let out a gasp, my heart thundering in my chest. "Aedan."

  "The one and only."

  My ghost ex-boyfriend—pseudo-ghost boyfriend? —was glowing in the dark like a real ghost.

  "Are you dead?"

  "Wow, could you at least look sad while you ask that?"

  "Uh, sorry. I'm sort of used to thinking of you that way." I leaned out of my bed and scooped up my book. "And then, after you sold me out, wishing you that way."

  "Brutal. No, I'm not dead. I'm just getting really good at this astral projection thing. I think it has something to do with this place."

  "Dead End? Or Sanctum?" I asked.

  "Your bedroom." He grinned.

  "I liked you better dead." I turned away from him. "Go away."

  "Can't. When I'm astral projecting myself over here, I can only be where you are. You're some kind of anchor for me." His smile widened. "Hey, how about you take me on a tour of the town?"

  "At—" I glanced at the analog clock on my nightstand. "—2 a.m.?" Uh oh. I'd lost track of time while reading again.

  "Yeah. Don't be afraid. I'll protect you."

  "Seriously? You're incorporeal. And you just told me that if something were to attack me, you couldn't even leave me to get help."

  "I can scream really loud."

  "Go away. I hate you. Goodnight." I pulled the covers over my head and flopped onto my pillow.

  The bed didn't depress beside me, but I felt him there anyway.

  "Get off my bed."

  "Let me lie here with you for a while. It's not as if I can get you pregnant in this form."

  I threw the covers back and came face to face with him. "That was rude, and you are disgusting."

  "I know. I meant it to be. It's the only way I know to get you to listen to me."

  His voice sounded different tonight. Sadder, softer. I didn't trust it.

  "What's the matter? Long day at the office trying to kill people like me?"

  "I would never have let them kill you, Maria."

  "And I'm supposed to believe you."

  "I wish you would." He sighed. "Let me lie here, please? I promise I won't be rude anymore. I just want to be here with you."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm tired." He grinned. "Why? Were you hoping for something else? What were you thinking?"

  "Stop wiggling your eyebrows like that. It's not sexy, it's pervy. I'm asking why you want to lie here, with me. You could just stop projecting and go to sleep in your own world."

  "I rarely sleep in my world."

  It wasn't a lie or exaggeration. I felt it in his tone.

  I moved over, gave him room. "Why not?"

  He curled up on my pillow, crossed his arms. "It's hard to relax when you're a prisoner."

  "You didn't look like a prisoner to me. You looked like a jailer."

  "There are different kinds of prisons, Maria. You of all people should know that." He rolled over, gave me his back. It was weird having a guy in my bed. He was a projection, so it's not as if there was anything happening, but it still felt like something Dad would freak out about.

  But then, he wasn't here.

  "Aedan?"

  "Hmm?" He sounded sleepy.

  "Who are you, really?"

  He rolled over, bringing himself nose to nose with me on the pillow.

  "Just a boy lying beside the girl he likes."

  "Stop it. I'm tired of games, Aedan. Tell me who you are."

  "Really?" He propped his head on his crooked arm, reached out as if to touch my hair.

  "Yes."

  "I'm the son of a devil and a saint. I'm a nomad in the world, too different to be fully understood by anyone here, and unwilling to hide myself away, so I keep moving. I pray for the day I find a place where I can rest. Running is exhausting."

  "You sound like you're in the middle of a mid-life crisis," I drawled.

  "Yeah. I'm nineteen, but I'm aging in dog years. I wish I could touch your hair. It looks so silky." He leaned closer, rested his forehead against mine. I pretended I could feel it. "Will you run your fingers through it, Maria? Tell me what it feels like?"

  I should have refused. Told him to stop being a perv.

  I didn't.

  Because the embarrassing truth was, although I didn't trust Aedan, I really, really liked him.

  Slowly, I stroked my hand over my hair. Sifted the loose strands through my fingers. "It's soft right now. It's always soft after I condition it."

  Aedan reached his hand out, put it through mine. "What does it smell like?"

  "The shampoo Grandpa Holli bought me."

  "Be more specific."

  "Fine." I sniffed the ends of my hair.
"It smells kind of like these flowers my mom used to love. Sweet peas. They died fast and the petals were like tissue paper, but while they lasted, the scent filled the entire house."

  "Nice."

  Tears filled my eyes. "It's been a long time since I remembered the sweet peas." Guilt filled me up. I'd forgotten about my mom's favorite flower.

  "Gardenias," Aedan said, a minute or so later.

  "Huh?"

  "They're these fragrant flowering bushes. My mom used to plant them every place we lived. She smelled like sunshine and gardenias." He smiled. "I'd almost forgotten that."

  I laid back on the pillow. "I don't trust you."

  "I know."

  "I don't forgive you, either."

  "I know. But you feel it, don't you?"

  For a few seconds I didn't say anything. The only sound in the room was my heart beating in my ears. "Feel what?"

  "Whatever this is between us."

  I didn't bother lying. "Yes."

  "I've had girlfriends, Maria. Probably too many. But I have never felt like this about anyone. And I've only been near you in the flesh one time."

  "When you led the Kilshaw Agency to me, you mean? Nearly got me killed?"

  "I apologized for that. Explained…"

  "Aedan, if you hadn't told your bosses where I was, I'd be with my dad right now instead of crying myself to sleep every night because I miss him so much." Instead of plotting to do something incredibly dangerous to try and find him again.

  "You really believe that if we hadn't tracked you down that day at the café, you'd still be with your dad?"

  "Of course."

  "It never once occurred to you that the café where we found you was the place he'd been heading toward, though I admit by a circuitous route, all along? Could it be possible that I didn't tell anyone where you were, but that the Agency anticipated your destination?"

  It had occurred to me, all right. But I wasn't admitting it to him.

  "This place, Dead End, was your destiny, Maria." Aedan stood, hesitating by the bed. "I think you know that somewhere deep inside."

  "What I know is that the first guy I ever liked betrayed me, and now my dad is gone. That's what I know."

  "I'm the first guy you ever liked?" He grinned, completely missing the point—probably on purpose. Ugh. I wish I'd kept my mouth shut.

  "Go home, Aedan."

  For once he did as I asked, and disappeared.

  15

  "I've never ridden a motorcycle before," Cindy yelled in my ear.

  Having grown up in the desert, I had experience with quads and motorcycles, so I was driving. Plus, Cindy was terrified of the thing.

  "This isn't a motorcycle," I yelled back. "It's an ATV."

  We hit a bump and she locked her hands tighter around my waist, but didn't move her chest any closer to my back—which I thought was odd given how nervous she seemed, but understandable. Some people were particular about how they were touched by others.

  Either that, or she'd stuck snacks in her sweatshirt pocket and didn't want to crush them. I was hoping for the latter, because I'd forgotten to bring any and it had been four hours since lunch.

  "ATV?"

  "All-terrain vehicle." I came to a halt close behind Samuel's quad. His was midnight blue, while ours was highlighter yellow and looked newer.

  "If you mess up that quadricycle, I will lose my mind," Samuel said.

  He'd told us the same thing three times before we left. His face had been all stern and solemn, his shoulders stiff as he patted the seat. "This is Mica's ride and she never lets anyone on it—not even me."

  "Why is she letting us now?" I asked.

  "She doesn't know."

  That didn't sound good. "Why not?"

  "Because she isn't here. Let's go. Hurry up."

  "It's Mica, isn't it?" I narrowed my eyes. "She's the person you're looking for. She's who is on the other side of the Divide."

  "Mica is his older sister," Cindy said.

  Samuel's jaw hardened as he regarded her. "Let's get going."

  That had been twenty minutes ago. Now we were standing at the top of a sand dune, staring at a wavering mirror image of ourselves. I glanced at Cindy. She had both hands tucked in her sweatshirt pocket and didn't look all that impressed. Samuel wore the same expression.

  I was low-key freaking out. All I could think of to say was, "Whoa. Wow. Wow."

  This was the Divide. It wasn't what I had imagined at all. Nothing like the borders between countries or continents back home. This was a real, touchable … thing.

  The sand was warm dusty powder beneath our feet. Trudging through sand dunes was a bit like what I imagined walking through fresh snow would be like—if I wasn't careful where I stepped, my foot would sink down and slide out from under me. Since I'd never seen snow except on TV, I had to guess.

  "What are those?" I indicated a pile of bleached white bones.

  Cindy craned her neck. "Looks like mostly chupacabra bones."

  "Wait, back up. Chupacabra? The Chupacabra?"

  "A chupacabra. They travel in swarms." Cindy continued as if we were discussing what grasshoppers eat or where swallows nest and not the bones of a fictitious blood-sucking monster. "They like to hunt out here. Lots of food."

  I kept waiting for the punchline. She couldn't be serious—could she? "But chupacabras aren't real."

  "You really need to get it through your head that things are different here than they are in the Other," Samuel said.

  He had a point. I mean, I'd seen giant worms, bug people, aliens, a merman, and a mayor so tall he lived in two different dimensions at once. Compared to that, a chupacabra didn't really seem that far-fetched.

  "Those, though," Cindy pointed to a six-by-ten-foot stack of carcasses. "I don't know what those are."

  "Cattle. Cows." My breath caught. "Sliced in half."

  "Those are cows?"

  "Yeah." I recalled the news on the radio in Dad's truck. "Apparently they're finding the other halves of them on my side of the Divide. No one knows how it's happening."

  Samuel side-eyed the cows, said nothing.

  Cindy pulled a grotesque, worm-like creature out of her sweatshirt kangaroo pocket. It wriggled in her grip, drooling slime all over her hands.

  "That's what you had in your pocket? Gross. I thought you'd brought snacks," I said.

  "You need to see what you're getting into." Cindy's pretty, normally carefree face tightened with worry. "This seems like a good time for a demonstration."

  "Demonstration?" I scrunched up my nose at the odor. It smelled a lot like that putrid worm that had tried to kill Toby. "With that thing?"

  "That's the plan."

  "Hey, she doesn't need to see that." Samuel tried to snatch the slimy creature out of her hands. Cindy sidestepped him. She was faster than she looked, something that surprised me—Samuel too, if the look on his face was any clue.

  "I knew you weren't going to tell her." Cindy scowled. Under other circumstances, the dirty look would have been cute on her pink-cheeked face, but she was dead serious.

  "Tell me what?"

  "How bloody dangerous this is."

  Whoa. I'd never heard Cindy curse before. Even if it was a British curse and didn't sound as bad as my own swear words, it was probably the equivalent of the F-word to Cindy.

  "I intended to tell her. I just wanted to ease her into it. Hand over the limpid worm larvae, girl."

  "My name is not ‘girl.'" Cindy drew herself up to her full height. She was small, but she was formidable when furious. Prettier, too, which I don't think I found as interesting as Samuel did.

  "Cindy, then. Hand it over." He did a "gimme that" gesture with his right hand.

  That was a mistake. Samuel had vastly underestimated how pissed off Cindy was.

  "Go jump into a chupacabra swarm." She pulled her arm back and chucked the larvae into the nearest shimmery spot on the Divide.

  It exploded with a wet splat. Half of it slithered down th
e barrier to land in a pile of what looked like raw hamburger meat on the sand.

  I plopped on my butt. Slid about three feet down the dune. "Oh my God."

  "That's why I wanted to come with you today, Maria." Cindy stood over me, hands on hips. "I wanted you to see firsthand what a dangerous idea this is."

  "It's not dangerous," Samuel said. "Not for her."

  "It is dangerous. You just don't care as long as you get what you want."

  Samuel's dark brows formed a vee between his eyes. He took a menacing step toward Cindy. "You don't know me."

  "I know what I see," she replied.

  "You only think it's dangerous because you don't know what it's like to have an ability. How can you possibly understand us?" Samuel took another step. "Someone like you—"

  "Oh, just say it. Someone like me." Cindy spoke through gritted teeth. "A lesser."

  They both stopped talking then. Samuel's face softened a little and he took a step away from her without breaking eye contact. "That's not what I meant."

  Two bright red spots formed on Cindy's pale cheeks. "I know what I am."

  "I'd never use that word. It's a stupid slur," Samuel said.

  My head whipped back and forth. I felt like I was watching a tennis match at twice the speed. Obviously calling someone a "lesser" was a huge insult.

  "It's the truth, though, right?" She shrugged like it didn't hurt her feelings, but I knew Cindy well enough by now. It hurt. A lot. "Your family was one of the Elites. The powerful, the chosen. While my family—"

  "My family was also one of the first in the revolution." He thumbed toward himself while he spoke. "Some of the first to join in the fight against the abusive Elites. So don't give me that. Besides, all that stuff happened forty-something years before we were born. Why are you so mad?"

  "It's funny." Cindy wasn't laughing. "How you all think the revolution solved the problem. Elitism is alive and well, Samuel Bekker. I'm proof of that."

  I could tell Samuel wanted to argue, but he was staring into Cindy's eyes as if she were some new and interesting lifeform he was attempting to communicate with for the first time, and he couldn't seem to put together words.