“Matilda is on it. I’ve already given the order,” Nicholae said. “And perhaps we’ll have good news when we return.”
“That would be a nice change.”
“She’ll be safe. Don’t worry.” Nicholae then turned back to the group. “I think we’ve discussed enough for tonight. Let’s all get some sleep. We leave at dawn.”
As Erik and Cassandra left, Nicholae pulled me aside. “Don’t mention this to your mother. I want to talk with her first.”
I nodded in understanding and went back to my room, not knowing if I would be able to sleep tonight. Another plane. Each one has challenged everything I believe. What would this one be like? With each plane being a step in the evolution of its creator, I imagined some new Eden-like oasis. Lush forests. An abundance of animals. Natural perfection. But what if I was wrong?
“How are you dealing with what happened today?” Mom asked, exiting the bathroom in a plush robe, drying her hair with an oversized towel.
I didn’t want to keep reiterating I was fine, but that was all I could say.
“We’ll all have to be more careful,” she said. “We stupidly had our guard down today.”
“It’s no one’s fault.” I walked straight to my bed. “I’m gonna turn in for the night.”
We were the only ones in the room. I didn’t know where Logan and the others were and wanted to be asleep before they returned.
Mom sat on the edge of the bed. “I can’t lose you,” she said somberly. “Not you, too. You’re all I have left.”
“You have Nicholae,” I said.
“I know, but you know what I mean.”
I did. Nicholae was technically family, but not part of a family we were used to anymore. I still couldn’t call him anything but Nicholae—especially with how youthful he currently looked.
“We’ll be more careful,” she said again. “Starting right now.”
I nodded, thinking of the new adventure I was committed to tomorrow.
Nicholae quietly entered the building as if to save me from accidentally revealing tomorrow’s agenda. Only the sound of the door clicking shut gave him away.
“Helen, can I speak with you,” he asked, but didn’t use the inflection of a question, and then added, “Outside.”
He ushered her out the door. “Good night, Oliver. I’ll see you at dawn,” he said and turned off the light.
13
Gifts
I was awake when Mom came back. She didn’t turn on the light, but sat at the table in the corner of the room for a long time. I was still awake when Logan and Autumn returned, a few hours later. While whispering to each other, I realized Darius was with them. I pretended to be asleep—but I never actually got there. I lay still, changed sides occasionally, but slumber remained elusive.
Once the room was quiet, and once I knew I would never get to sleep, I silently slipped out of the room. I stepped down to Provex City, then one more plane, to Los Angeles.
The city never slept, so it wasn’t overly difficult to hail down a cab. I gave the driver Desiree’s address and he glared at me skeptically in the rearview mirror.
“How old are you kid?” he asked.
“Old enough. I’m good for it. Just drive,” I insisted and handed him a twenty.
“It’s gonna be more than that.”
“I’ve got more money at home.”
He reluctantly pulled away from the curb and headed for the freeway. The hour drive to Desiree’s house left me with too much time to think. About Desiree. About Jeremy. About almost having my throat slit open this morning. About what was in store for me tomorrow? I couldn’t clear my head, which was the one thing I needed to do most.
I couldn’t suppress the nostalgia when we exited the 5 freeway and made our way through the neighborhood streets to reach her house, or my house—the place I called home before my life got turned upside-down, chewed up, and spit out. When we reached her house, it was a two-minute run to my house, but there was nothing left for me there but ghosts and regrets.
I opened the door of the cab and said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“You owe me fifty-two bucks, plus tip,” he said, his eyes glaring like ice in the rearview mirror. He never wanted to look at me directly. “Don’t make me come in after you.”
“You got my word; I’ll be back—two minutes tops.” I strolled up Desiree’s driveway, making my way for the front door, when I realized he’d be watching me. I glanced back and turned toward the backyard. There I could pass through a door or wall safely, without rousing suspicion.
I padded my way up to Desiree’s room. Her mother and Melanie were fast asleep. I peered into each one of their rooms just to make sure and wished I could have reassured them somehow, but there was nothing I could say or do—all I could do was keep her safe, get her back. Rummaging through her room, I found what I was looking for without too much effort. I exited through the front door so the driver could see me leave. And he was watching me like a hawk. I plopped into the back seat and tapped on the Plexiglas.
“Back to where you picked me up,” I said.
“What? Are you kidding me, kid?” He turned around in his seat for the first time to see me with a bulging backpack set next to me. “Where’s the money you said you were gonna get? Look at the meter. I’m not leaving until—”
“Right here,” I said, stopping him midsentence, reaching into my coat, and pulling out the handgun tucked there for every future occasion.
We have to be more careful.
“I know this isn’t bulletproof,” I said, pointing the barrel at the back of his head, tapping it twice against the Plexiglas like his own personal doomsday clock. “Now fucking drive!”
He dropped me off where I originally got in, without any further payment. He didn’t even request it. The cab sped off the second my feet hit the pavement. The city was as asleep as it would ever be, hung over and dreading the new day.
I was back to the compound in minutes, back before dawn and damn proud of myself.
I found Nicholae in bed with my mother, which surprised me after seeing her return from their talk, and caused me to lose my words, and my nerve, for a breath.
“Oliver,” they both said, startled by my intrusion. I guess I was lucky Nicholae didn’t simply attack me out of reflex.
“Just you,” I said to Nicholae, wanting to get out of the room as soon as possible. They had just been sleeping, but—but I had enough trouble sleeping.
Nicholae joined me outside wearing only a pair of black sweatpants, the elastic bottoms pushed up to just below his knees. “What’s this about?” he demanded.
“I need you to wake her up,” I said, already heading to the door-less building. “Just for a short while. Before dawn breaks.”
“Too late,” he said, pointing at the purple sky.
“I just need a little bit of time with her before we go. That’s all.”
“You couldn’t have done this yesterday? Last night? What’s in the pack?”
“Some of her things,” I said, reaching Desiree’s building, quickly scanning the nearby paths, and entering through the wall.
“You went to her house?”
“Yes. Are you gonna help me or not?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Okay.”
“Then I will need you to get ready,” Nicholae said, reemphasizing the command I had given him. He marched over to the bed with bare feet and placed a hand on her forehead.
Desiree stirred, sighed softly, and readjusted her body beneath the covers like she was waking from a dream.
I kept my distance so as not to startle her too much. Nicholae was gone before she opened her eyes.
Desiree took in the bright room around her, searching her brain, trying to recall her last memory.
“Where’s the other boy?” she finally asked.
It took me a moment to realize she was talking about Nicholae.
“He left,” I said.
“What did you giv
e me—drug me with?”
“Nothing,” I said, though I knew she wouldn’t believe me, nor understand what Nicholae had actually done to her. I knew I had to give her something else, so I added, “A strong sedative.”
She scanned the walls, presumably looking for the closest door, but only finding the door to the bathroom.
“I brought you a few things. Think of it as an early birthday present to make you feel more comfortable while you’re here.” I removed the backpack from my shoulder.
“That’s mine, isn’t it?” she said, noticing the Elliott Smith button clipped to the small front pocket.
“It’s all yours,” I said and tossed it onto the bed for her to rummage through on her own.
She pulled out a folded pair of jeans, a few tops, some socks and underwear, the Elliott Smith sweatshirt I’d found in Provex City, a pair of headphones, a micro-USB wall charger, and a cell phone. Desiree brought up the home screen on her cell phone.
“It won’t have a signal here,” I said, stamping out her glimmer of hope. “I didn’t bring it here to taunt you, but so you could listen to music. I know how much you love it.”
“You’ve been in my house. You went through my things, invading my privacy,” she said softly.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I just thought you’d like to have some of your own things to—”
“Make me feel more at home?”
“To make you feel more comfortable,” I corrected. “I might not be back in time for your birthday, so I wanted to give you this stuff now. Can I sit next to you?”
She nodded. “Who’ll be looking after me? The other boy? The woman from the hospital?”
“No one,” I said and took a seat on the bed next to her pile of clothes.
“Are you at least gonna bring me some food and water?”
“I’ll leave you with everything you need. I know it doesn’t mean much right now, but happy early birthday.”
“Do you at least know how old I’ll be?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious for my answer.
“Of course,” I said. “Sixteen.”
“Thank you,” she said and placed a hand on my thigh.
I flinched internally and wanted to use that hand to pull her into me, but I didn’t move—sitting still as a statue.
“You seem tense,” she said. “I thought I was the one that’s supposed to be nervous.”
“It’s—it’s just what you do to me, even after all this time,” I replied, electric shocks shooting up my leg from where each one of her fingertips touched my pant leg.
After a short silence of letting her hand linger on my thigh, I placed one over hers. My palms were sweating, but I didn’t care. I had to touch her.
Without lifting her hand, Desiree leaned in as if to hug me. I opened my arms to her—and she reached one hand into my jacket and pulled out my handgun.
“Back the hell up!” she yelled, rising to her knees on the bed, leveling the gun in my face.
I shot up, hands raised, and retreated a few steps.
How could I be so stupid! I hadn’t even seen her notice my concealed weapon. I hadn’t been paying close enough attention.
She kept the barrel aimed at me while she stuffed her belongings back into her backpack.
I wasn’t going to fight her for possession of the gun. She wouldn’t really hurt me—other than my pride.
“You can’t get out of here by shooting me,” I said, begging for her to retain some sense of rational thought.
“Says you,” she growled, straining her voice. “Where’s the door hidden?”
“That’s just it. There isn’t one. You can’t get out without knocking down the steel reinforced wall, and I don’t see that happening.”
“Well, you and the other boy seem to be able to come and go as you please.”
“True, but I can’t take you.”
“SHOW ME THE WAY OUT!” she screamed. “I have the gun now. I’m not staying here another minute. I’m not screwing around. You have ten seconds. Ten...”
“Desiree, don’t do this.”
“Nine...eight...seven—I will shoot you.”
“This isn’t going to get you out of here.”
“Six...five...”
“I would never hurt you.”
“Four...three...two...”
“This is your last chance. Give me the gun.”
“My last chance?” Desiree scoffed. “Are you going to show me the way out?”
I shook my head, deciding whether I was going to let her shoot me or wrench the gun right out of her hands with one focused thought.
“One.” The gun was shaking in her hands. From her new perspective, she’d never shot one before.
“You’re not a murderer,” I said. “You’re a good person. Do you remember what it felt like when you heard that TJ had shot himself? With his father’s handgun. In his room after school.”
She was crying now, first the tears, leading to great air-sucking sobs. She didn’t drop the gun, but she dropped her aim.
“I’m sorry, Desiree,” I said, reaching a hand out—for the gun, for her hand—I didn’t know.
She wiped her nose with her free hand, slung the backpack on one shoulder and bolted past me, straight for the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. Her crying had turned into a horrible wail, nearly bringing tears to my eyes.
“I’m sorry for bringing up such a bad memory,” I said through the door.
“Just leave me alone,” she said in a strained, muffled voice from her new sanctuary.
I sat on the floor, back to the door, and hugged my knees. I turned my head to look over my shoulder, at the closed door—to look through the door and into the bathroom. I wouldn’t go in after her, but I needed to see her.
Desiree was sitting on the toilet with the lid down, both hands clasped around the grip of the gun, which hung limply between her knees. She stared at the tile floor just beyond her feet.
“I’m just trying to help you,” I said. “We were so happy together.”
“We are not together,” she said, and her words slammed into me like a shovel. “You can’t be my captor and my friend. It doesn’t work that way. All you had to do was show me the way out. Is this what I have to look forward to? Celebrate the rest of my birthdays in this dreadful one-room prison?”
“No,” I said too soft for her to probably hear. “This will be the only one. I—I just want you back.”
“Maybe you’re not supposed to get me back. I don’t know what it is you think we had, but that’s gone. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. You seem to think you do, but you don’t. And now you’re just another obsessed lunatic trying to hold onto what doesn’t belong to him. Please—let me go.”
“I can’t,” I whispered, even softer, not wanting a reply.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my cell phone. I opened the music player app and let the melancholy voice of Elliott Smith pour from the small speakers.
“I do know you. Not just from going through your room, but from all the time we spent together. I know and I’m sorry you don’t remember right now,” I said and let the nostalgic song take me to a happier place for a few minutes, with the hope that it would reach her, too, and maybe trigger some locked memory.
We listened to several songs without saying a word. She didn’t move from her seat on the toilet, but her crying subsided. The lines of tears streaking her cheeks dried up.
“You introduced me to him,” I finally said. “And every time I hear one of his songs, it reminds me of you.”
“TJ introduced me to Elliott Smith back when I was in seventh or eighth grade,” she said. “Back before—before everything got messed up.”
“I know,” I said. “Don’t say anymore; I said enough.”
“Some new family moved into his house. It was too painful for his parents to stay there.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. Have you met the new family?”
“No,” she said, and I believed the co
nviction behind that one syllable word.
It felt good to finally have a partially calm conversation with her again, giving me a glimpse of what we once had, even though there was a gun and a closed door between us now.
My time was quickly running out and I was hoping to see her—really see her—one more time before I left.
Matilda would find Desiree’s mirror while we were gone and all would be back to normal, as normal as my life had become.
“I have to get going,” I said, looking at the time on my phone and closing the music player app. “One day this will all make sense, hopefully sooner rather than later.”
“Are you going to bring me some food before you go?” Desiree asked. “I’m getting awfully hungry.”
“Of course,” I said. “I won’t leave you here to starve. I’ll be back with everything you need momentarily.” I ran my hand along the grain lines of the wood, looking at her through the door as if it were one-way glass. She looked up at the door from inside the bathroom like she could actually see me, and it made me smile—a slight pained smile, but a smile nonetheless.
I left through the wall and found Nicholae walking toward me.
“I just wanted to check up on you,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” I said, though my weak response did little to mask the lie. “You can put her back under now. But just so you know, she has my gun and is hiding out in the bathroom.”
“That sure doesn’t sound like progress,” Nicholae said and disappeared into the building.
I stood by the outer wall and listened. All was quiet.
Kafka (6)
Eli stood with Kafka and the remainder of his half of the Lorne family—Lazarus, Malakye, Tomarah, and Icarus—in a Doria backyard a block away from Lorne Tower on the plane below. Malakye and Icarus both had shovels, digging a coffin-sized hole in the yellowing lawn. They were now both stationed within the hole, tossing shovelfuls of dirt up to the surface.
“Shouldn’t the newbie be digging his own grave?” Icarus asked. “You’re getting soft in your old age.”
“Maybe I am,” Kafka said, cracking a small smile. “But don’t go getting any ideas.”
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