“What about your life?” His voice is even softer than a whisper, and if his mouth wasn’t pressed against my hair, I wouldn’t be able to hear him. “What about your family?”
“We’ll be each other’s family.”
His arms tighten around me.
I wait, but he doesn’t say anything else. His breathing changes, deepens, and I shut my eyes. I am almost asleep when I hear him say, softly, “Okay. We’ll go.”
I smile into the dark.
CHAPTER 18
Wake up.”
I crack my eyes open. I am lying on the couch alone; Wes is no longer tucked in behind me.
But Nikki is there, standing over me and holding out an orange.
“What do you want?” I groan, turning away from her.
She pokes me in the shoulder. “I brought you food. You could at least be grateful.”
I slowly rise to a sitting position, and I rub at the hair that has plastered itself to the side of my face.
“I’m grateful. Though I’d probably be a lot more grateful if you let me sleep.”
She shrugs and tosses the orange at me. I don’t even attempt to catch it and it lands heavily in my lap. “No one’s here, and Tag just left to go tag some trains uptown. I’m bored.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Tag went to tag?”
“You know, graffiti. He’s always been into tagging. It’s how he got the nickname in the first place.” She gives me a “duh” look.
I grab the orange and stand up. “Where’s Wes?”
“I have no idea. He’s been gone all morning.”
I frown, wondering where he could have gone. Maybe to follow McGregor, though there doesn’t seem to be much point to it now. We’ve basically solved the mystery of why he lost the election. “What time is it?”
“Ten.”
“Aren’t you hungover?” I ask her.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
I toss the orange back at Nikki and reach for my blue dress. It’s starting to smell a little. I pull it on anyway.
“What are you doing today?” Nikki sits down at the table and bites into a green apple.
“I don’t know.” Wes and I didn’t talk specifics about our plan, but I can’t leave with him until I know that my grandfather is safe. And I also need to find out where that disk came from. Could the Resister have given it to Grandpa? Does it have something to do with this mysterious rebellion?
It’s time to tell my grandfather the truth about who I am. He may have freaked out before, but if anyone’s going to believe I’m a time traveler, it’s him. And maybe once he knows I’m his granddaughter, he’ll trust me enough to give me some answers.
Which means that as soon as Wes gets back, we need to go back to Bellevue.
“Actually, I do have plans,” I say to Nikki. “Wes and I have something we need to do. I guess I’m waiting for him.”
Nikki smiles. “We could hang, if you want. I have cards.”
I smile back, wondering if she remembers telling me about her parents, and making me promise to never give up on Wes. “Sure.” She stands up to get them, but I stop her. “Have you seen LJ today?”
She nods. “He left a few hours ago, said he needed to walk around or something. He was really quiet.”
“Isn’t he always quiet?”
“Not like this. I saw Maria with him last night; she probably rejected him or something. He’s been chasing her for years.”
Her words make my stomach twist. Poor LJ.
I watch Nikki get up from the table, and her curly brown hair bounces around her shoulders. There is something lighter about her, softer, and I wonder if telling me that stuff last night took a weight off her. Sometimes you just need to talk, even if it is to a relative stranger.
Poor Nikki.
The only way for LJ to make it through this is to go into hiding, which probably means leaving Nikki behind. She’ll lose another brother, and she’ll never know the reason why.
I guess she was right—it can always get worse. I just pray this won’t be the thing that makes her finally give up.
I hang out with Nikki for an hour. Then two. Then four. Wes still doesn’t come back, but LJ does. He gives us both a dark look before disappearing into his bedroom. Nikki just rolls her eyes.
I want to help him, but I’m starting to worry about Wes. Why would he be tailing McGregor for this long? It doesn’t make sense. I watch the sun fall toward the horizon. If I don’t leave soon, I won’t be able to see my grandfather before visiting hours end.
“I’m booored,” Nikki says from the couch. “Let’s go out.”
“I can’t. There’s something I need to do.” I walk to the door. “I’ll be back later. If Wes comes by, tell him . . . that I went uptown. To see my uncle. He’ll know where I am.”
“Where are you going?” She narrows her eyes.
“Just tell him.” I am about to leave the squat, but something makes me detour into LJ’s room. He is sitting at his computer. Not typing, just staring at it.
“I’m going out for a bit,” I say softly. “But I want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”
He looks up at me. “How do I survive this?” he whispers.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “But you have to try. You know when they’re coming. They won’t expect you to have that information. You already have a head start.”
“So I just run for the rest of my life?”
“Maybe. But you can also fight, LJ. Find out who this Resister is, and what he means by the rebellion. Fight against your fate.”
He twists in his chair until he’s facing me. “Is that what you’re doing?”
I smile a little. “I’m trying to. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“I don’t want to lose everything.” His voice is quiet. “Nikki . . . it will crush her.”
I think of Mary, laughing as she splashed in the ocean in Montauk. Of Hannah, making a face at me over a plate of fries. Of Saturday mornings around the breakfast table with my mom and dad and grandpa. “If they love you, I don’t think you can ever really lose them,” I say thickly. “Even if you’re not in the same place.”
“I hope that’s true.” He turns around again. “I’ll see you soon, Lydia.”
I stare at his thin shoulders. Even though he’s almost fourteen, he looks too small for the burdens I heaped on top of him. “Yeah, soon.”
I pause at the door. “Don’t let them win, LJ.”
He doesn’t answer, and I leave the room.
I make it to Bellevue just in time. A woman at the front desk directs me to the psych ward again, since I can’t remember how to find it myself. As soon as I’m outside the heavy, fortified door, I lay on the buzzer, waiting for a nurse to let me in.
It takes a few minutes before the door opens a crack. A face peers out at me. It’s the same bald male nurse from two days ago. “Hi,” I say a little breathlessly. “Do you remember me?”
He looks confused for a moment, but then nods and smiles. “Bentley’s niece. You made it in the nick of time, didn’t you?”
“It’s still visiting hours, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but that’s not what I mean. Didn’t you hear? Your uncle is getting moved today.”
A flicker of alarm shoots through me. As far as I know, Grandpa never left Bellevue in this version of the time line. “Getting moved to where?”
“The long-term patient care facility at Rockland Hospital. I told you about it last time, remember?”
“Yes,” I respond slowly. “But I didn’t think it was happening so soon.”
The nurse shrugs. “The people from Rockland showed up today. Said they’re ready for him now. It was a little out of the blue, but these things happen.” He gestures over his shoulder. “They’re in with him, if you want to go say good-bye.”
The flicker grows into a sharp, nervous pang. “I want to see him.”
The nurse lets me into the ward and leads me down the hall again, but halfwa
y there another nurse stops him. They murmur for a while, and then the bald nurse turns to me. “I’m sorry, I need to go take care of something. You remember where his room is, right? The Rockland transport team is highly trained, so there shouldn’t be a repeat of last time.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He smiles and walks back down the hall.
I slowly approach my grandfather’s room. There’s a rustling sound from the partially open doorway, and I hear a female voice bark out an order.
I creep closer and peek through the crack in the door. There are three people in the room. One is older, male, and dressed as a doctor. The other two are wearing orderly uniforms. I realize that one of them is a girl around my age. She has pretty, delicate features and light brown skin. “Move him,” she orders the two men. “We’re running out of time. Doctor Peters is expecting us soon.”
The doctor and the other male orderly walk to the head of the bed and lift up the prone figure of my grandfather. As they dump him onto a waiting gurney, I see that he’s unconscious, or drugged maybe, and wrapped in a thin white sheet.
“Careful,” the girl snaps. “He’s not supposed to be harmed.”
The nurse didn’t mention that my grandfather was going to be drugged for the transport. And why are two older men, including a doctor, taking orders from this young girl? There’s something about her voice . . . something robotic and flat that reminds me of how Wes spoke in the beginning. No inflection. No emotion.
The girl moves to one of the freestanding closets in the room. She stands on her tiptoes in order to reach a blanket on the top shelf. When she does, the short sleeve of her pale blue uniform rides up her arm. I gasp out loud. There, against her skin, is a white, raised bump. The Mark of the Traveler. No wonder the other men were taking orders from her; she’s a recruit for the Montauk Project, and they must be guards sent to help her kidnap my grandfather.
Grandpa wasn’t supposed to disappear for another three days, but clearly the time line has changed again. Only this time the Montauk Project must be aware of it. Why else would they be kidnapping him? Have I done something else to alter history?
The girl suddenly turns her head toward the hallway and our eyes meet. I half expect her to smile and start pretending she’s a representative from Rockland; I know from experience that the recruits are supposed to maintain cover at all times. But her eyes narrow and she begins walking quickly toward the door—toward me. “Watch the main target,” she says over her shoulder to the men, not even bothering to put any inflection in her voice. “I have to take care of this.”
I don’t like the look in her eyes. She knows me somehow, and her gaze has turned predatory and fierce. I whip around and sprint down the hallway.
I run straight into the bald nurse and grasp the front of his shirt in both hands. “Give me your key,” I pant.
“What?”
“Your key! I need to get out of here.”
“I don’t—”
I don’t have time for this; the girl is headed right for us. She can’t run without drawing too much attention to herself, but I can still feel her quickly approaching. I grab the key that hangs around the nurse’s neck and yank as hard as I can. The thin clasp that connects it to a braided cord snaps neatly in half. The nurse sputters behind me as I run for the exit.
My hand slips on the metal and I almost drop the key twice. From farther down the hallway, I hear the recruit and the male nurse exchange words, and then the sound of rapid footsteps coming closer.
Concentrate, Lydia.
I manage to fit the key into the lock and pry the door open. The corridor in front of me is empty; the rest of this hospital floor seems practically deserted. I run blindly down the beige-colored hallway, looking for a way out. In the background, I hear the door to the psych ward slam open and the sound of someone’s feet swiftly pounding on the floor. The recruit is chasing me down.
There’s a red exit sign up ahead; it’s hanging above a door that connects to the stairs. I throw it open and take the steps two, three at a time. The stairwell is empty and sterile, lit with an artificial, grayish light. I make it down one flight before I hear her on the stairs above me. Now that she’s out of the ward she is gaining speed. I push forward, even though my lungs and legs are starting to burn.
I whip around a corner, but I’m not quick enough. She barrels into my side and we both crash into the far wall. My head bounces on the concrete.
It hurts, but the fear is worse than the physical pain. I’ve seen Wes fight; I have no shot against someone like him.
The girl grabs my arm and yanks me forward. I twist away and try to hit her with my left hand. She blocks it easily and locks her arm around mine. She angles my body in front of hers, holding me with one arm while she reaches into her pocket for something.
We’re about the same height, but she’s smaller, thin and wiry, and I use the difference in our size to my advantage. Throwing my body forward, I knock her off balance. Whatever was in her hand crashes down to the ground as she tries to keep her grip on me.
“Why are you doing this?” I speak through clenched teeth as we struggle against each other.
“Quiet.” She squeezes harder, and I gasp as the breath leaves my body. This girl may be small, but she has the strength of a bear. I twist and turn and somehow manage to get one of my arms free. But even though I scratch and pry at the hand she has locked around my waist, she doesn’t let go. Remembering that I have more than two limbs, I lift my right leg and kick backward into her knee. She wobbles slightly but doesn’t go down.
What is it you’re supposed to do when a bear attacks? Play dead?
I go limp in her arms. She makes a small, surprised noise right before we both tumble onto the ground.
She never breaks her grasp, but I manage to roll onto my hands and knees with her attached to me like some kind of oversized barnacle. I try to crawl forward, but she knocks my legs out from under me and I fall onto my side. One of her hands leaves my waist and I see her reaching for a syringe that’s lying on the floor near our heads. It must have been what she dropped earlier; she’s going to drug me like she did my grandfather.
One of my arms is still free and I drive it behind me, elbowing her hard in the gut. The arm around me loosens. I scramble away, but she launches herself onto my back again. This time her entire weight is pinning me down, and she secures my arms and legs in a wrestler-style hold. I can’t move a muscle.
I hear her reach for the syringe again, and I struggle even harder, but it’s useless. I open my mouth to scream and realize in horror I can’t even do that; I have no breath for it, not with the girl perched on top of my lungs.
My head is turned to the side, and I see that we’re right next to the edge of the stairs. Then I feel the needle prick into my arm. Terror floods through me and I use all of my strength to heave onto my side, tilting my body in an effort to buck her off.
The movement shifts the girl off balance. She doesn’t have time to stop herself before she tumbles headfirst down the stairwell, hitting each step with a sickening thud.
I stagger to my feet. The syringe has sunk all the way into my skin, but I don’t think she had time to release any of the contents. I pull it out with a wince and throw it onto the ground. The girl is immobile at the bottom of the staircase. I grab the banister and ease my way down the stairs until I’m standing over her body. I can’t tell if she’s dead, so I kneel and put my fingers on her neck. She has a pulse, thank god. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for killing someone, even if she was trying to drug me. In the end we’re all just victims of the Montauk Project.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stick around waiting for her to wake up. I stand up again, using the banister to steady myself. My feet feel thick and heavy, but there’s a weightlessness to my head that’s unsettling. Did I hit it harder than I thought? I try to take a step down the stairs, but I only slide along the side of the wall. My knees give out, and I sink onto the floor.
> I have one moment of clarity, one moment of panic as I realize that I must have been injected with some of that drug. But then my thoughts dissolve, and the stairwell spins in a hazy circle. I fall over to the side, my head resting on the ground next to the recruit. If her eyes were open, we would be staring at each other.
I close mine too. The black behind my eyelids is endless.
CHAPTER 19
I come to slowly and blink in the artificial light. I am lying on my side on a hard bed, facing a dull gray wall. I carefully stretch. My fingers feel like the bones have welded together, and I hear them pop as I move my hands out in front of my body.
What happened at Bellevue rushes back, and I sit up quickly. I close my eyes and wait for the world to steady. As soon as the nausea subsides, I open my eyes again. I am in a small room with no windows and only one fortified door.
I hear a low moaning noise, and I turn to see my grandfather lying on the white tile floor, tucked in next to the low cot I’m sitting on.
I scramble off the bed, falling to my knees next to his hunched figure.
“Grandpa,” I whisper, and lay my hands on his shoulders. When I touch him, he flinches away from me with a shriek. “Grandpa.” The word is broken this time, a low, fractured sound.
I don’t try to touch him again. Instead I slowly stand up and look around the room. It is clearly a cell, though it doesn’t look like the ones they threw Wes and me into in Montauk. We must still be in New York City, in the holding area of the Center.
Did they attack me when they discovered I wasn’t Seventeen? That I was somehow responsible for the rift in time? Or were they after my grandfather and the information he had on that disk? Maybe I was just a casualty of his abduction.
But as soon as the recruit saw me, she attacked. It was too personal to be a coincidence. They wanted me for some reason. But why? Have they finally decided to bring me in, to force me to become a recruit?
This Strange and Familiar Place Page 17
