Lost: The Novels

by Catherine Hapka

  As he climbed over a beam lying in his way, the buzzing chorus of flies momentarily gave way to another sound—scritch, scritch, scratch.

  Dexter paused, his heart thumping as he listened intently for a repeat of the noise. Was he hearing things, or was there something up ahead in the dark? He told himself it was probably just more insects or perhaps rats. The thought of rats skittering in here among the dead bodies was repulsive, yet also much more comforting than some of the alternatives that popped into his head.

  Don’t spook yourself, Dexter told himself firmly. There’s nothing alive in here except me, about a million flies, and maybe a few rats or mice or other creepy-crawlies.

  He stepped forward again. The floor angled upward slightly, and as he climbed over more wreckage he had to hold onto the hanging seat backs for leverage. The fabric of the cushions felt damp and slightly gritty, and he let go as soon as possible.

  Scritch, scratch.

  The sound came again, a little louder this time. Or was it only closer?

  Dexter froze in place once again. His heart was pounding so loudly that it made it even more difficult to hear the faint scratching sound.

  He shone his flashlight here and there, though its tiny beam barely penetrated the darkness just a few feet ahead. Its weak white light showed crumpled sheet metal, a broken restroom sign, miscellaneous garbage. Everything he expected to find.

  So why was he holding his breath, as if waiting for a mysterious figure to step out of the darkness? A figure with angry eyes in his own face…

  He shuddered, trying to banish the image. This wasn’t the time or place to worry about his mysterious doppelganger. He was here to look for Daisy, nothing more.

  That reminded him…He flicked his light around again, forcing himself to look directly at several bodies lying here and there beneath the rubble. Several times the resulting sights brought bile into his throat, but he choked it down each time and moved on. Trying not to think about what his girlfriend might look like if he were to find her here, he kept looking, row by row.

  Scritch, scritch, scratch.

  Dexter gritted his teeth, determined to ignore the sound this time. Then, suddenly, something bumped against his head and he jumped, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest as he imagined a greedy hand clutching at him, dragging him off somewhere into the darkness.…In his panic, he tripped over his own feet and fell heavily onto a pile of rubble, sending a cloud of choking dust upward. Shining the flashlight upward through the dusty air, he saw what had grabbed at him—it was only the dangling metal end of a seatbelt.

  Thump.

  The last noise, louder than the rest, made him jump again and almost drop his flashlight. That hadn’t sounded much like a rat.…

  “H-hello?” he called out softly, feeling slightly foolish even in the midst of his fear. He climbed slowly to his feet, waving away the dust with his free hand. “Anybody in here?”

  “Nobody but us chickens,” a low voice spoke from somewhere ahead in the darkness.

  Dexter bit back a scream and the impulse to run for his life. “Who is that?” he demanded sharply, ashamed to note that his voice shook as he said it. “Who’s up there?”

  He aimed his flashlight toward the source of the voice. Suddenly a much stronger beam shone out, blinding him for a moment. He squinted, stepping aside to try to escape from the merciless glare and nearly tripping again.

  A man scooted out from his position over one of the open overhead bins. He was tall, lean, and blond, with a sardonic smile, and Dexter recognized him right away. His name was Sawyer, and Dexter had overheard him offering to sell cigarettes to one of the other castaways earlier that day.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Dexter said, almost collapsing with relief. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I might ask you the same question,” Sawyer drawled. “Jack send you in to spy on me or something?”

  “Jack?” Dexter repeated. “What do you mean?”

  Sawyer shrugged lazily, dragging a bulging knapsack out into view beside him. “You can tell the doc I came back for more if you want,” he said. “Doesn’t make no difference to me. I’ve got as much right to this stuff as he does, and he knows it as well as I do.”

  Dexter had no idea what Sawyer was talking about. “Okay, whatever,” he muttered, backing away. “I’ll just leave you to it, then.”

  Sawyer was staring at him curiously. “So you know what I’m doing here,” he said. “But you still didn’t tell me what you’re doing here. Lookin’ for something?”

  Dexter didn’t bother to tell him that the first part of his comment wasn’t exactly true. He also didn’t feel much like enlightening him on the second part. Something about the way Sawyer was watching him made him very uneasy.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Just, uh, looking for someone, that’s all.”

  Not waiting for a response, he turned and went slip-sliding hurriedly back down the tilted metal floor/roof. He dodged the fallen snack cart and jumped over a pile of unrecognizable debris, finally bursting out of the dark, smelly, buzzing interior into the relatively cool and fresh twilight air outside.

  He didn’t look back as he hurried away from the plane. Still, he couldn’t quite seem to shake the image of Sawyer, his eyes glittering in the flashlight’s beam as he watched Dexter warily, sizing him up. The selfish, naked cunning in the man’s eyes reminded Dexter of someone—though he couldn’t for the life of him recall who that might be.

  16

  DEXTER STARED STRAIGHT INTO his aunt’s cunning gray eyes, trying to avoid giving away his latest lie. “…and so I have to head back to campus a day early to make up that part of the exam.”

  He was a little surprised by how casual and ordinary the excuse sounded. Not sure whether to be impressed or disturbed by his increasing proficiency at lying, he waited to see if she bought it.

  Aunt Paula shrugged, turning away to glance at the TV, which was blaring out her latest soap opera. “You gotta do what you gotta do,” she said. “Guess you’ll just have to make it up to us at spring break, eh, Dexy?”

  “Sure,” Dexter said, relieved that she didn’t seem suspicious. His mother had accepted his excuse without question as well.

  Guess I’m getting pretty good at lying, he thought as he hurried out of the room. Must be all the practice I’ve had lately.

  He felt a familiar twinge of guilt. As much as he tried to pass it off in his mind as “creating his own new reality,” it really was just lying. It didn’t bother him much at all to deceive Aunt Paula, and deceiving his mother only troubled him a little—he suspected that not only would she forgive him if she knew, but she might even understand.

  But the more time passed, the worse he felt about the other person entangled in his lies. Daisy.

  What choice do I have? he thought, picturing her laughing face. If I hadn’t done it, there’s no way we’d be together now.

  As soon as he was back on campus, he felt a little better about the whole situation. This was why he was doing it, after all. Someday perhaps he would figure out a way to blend his two worlds without ruining everything. In the meantime, he just had to keep all the balls in the air and hope that his luck would hold.

  And his luck was about to undergo its next big test—Daisy’s family. Dexter took a deep breath and straightened his shirt collar as he paused in the lobby of an expensive Italian restaurant located just off campus. He was supposed to meet Daisy and her parents there. While he couldn’t wait to see Daisy again—the three weeks without her had felt like three years—he was nervous about facing her family. What would they think of him? Would they see through him immediately, know that he wasn’t good enough for their daughter?

  “Can I help you?” A tired-looking middle-aged waiter wandered over, interrupting his anxious thoughts.

  “Yes,” Dexter said uncertainly. “Um, I’m supposed to meet someone here.…”

  “Name?” the waiter asked, sounding bored.

  “Dexter Stubbs.” />
  The waiter raised an eyebrow. “That’s the name of your party?”

  “Oh! No, sorry, I thought you meant my name.” Dexter smiled apologetically. “I’m meeting the Wards.”

  “Oh! Right this way, sir.” Immediately the waiter’s attitude shifted. He straightened up and shot Dexter an ingratiating smile.

  Dexter followed the waiter into the dining room. He spotted Daisy right away. She was sitting with a broad-shouldered man with steel-gray hair and an elegant-looking blond woman who looked exactly the way Daisy herself probably would in about thirty years.

  “Hello,” Dexter said weakly as he approached.

  “Dexter!” Daisy leaped out of her seat and rushed around to give him a hug. “I missed you,” she whispered into his ear, her warm breath tickling his neck. Then she grabbed his hand and dragged him the last few steps to the table. “Daddy, Mother, this is Dexter Stubbs.”

  “Ah, Dexter.” Mrs. Ward smiled graciously. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Daisy talks of you so much I feel I know you already.”

  “Thanks. Nice to meet you, too,” Dexter said.

  Meanwhile Mr. Ward had climbed to his feet. He was very tall and, when he spoke, his deep voice boomed out across the restaurant. “Mr. Stubbs,” he said, extending his hand. “Pleasure, young man. Have a seat and let’s get to know each other, shall we?”

  After a few minutes of small talk, Dexter felt himself relaxing slightly. The Wards were a bit intimidating, as he had expected, but they were also gracious and friendly. Best of all, they seemed ready to accept him at face value, giving no signs of suspicion or disapproval.

  “So Daisy tells me you’re thinking about med school, Dexter,” Mrs. Ward said as the waiter arrived with their entrees. “That sounds very exciting.”

  “Uh, actually that plan has changed a little,” Dexter said, feeling awkward. “I—I’m planning to declare Psychology as my major.”

  Daisy glanced over at him in surprise. “Really?” she said. “That’s cool. When did you decide that?”

  “Over the break.” Dexter shrugged. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you yet—it sort of just happened.”

  “Psychology, eh?” Mr. Ward looked up from salting his pasta. “That’s not a bad field to be in these days. Can be very lucrative in its own way.”

  Dexter smiled weakly. “That’s what I hear.”

  “I keep telling Daisy she ought to major in something more practical than English Lit,” Mr. Ward went on, setting down the salt and expertly spinning a few strands of linguini on the end of his fork. “Finance, Econ, even Marketing—something she can use.”

  “People do use English, you know, Daddy,” Daisy protested, looking slightly embarrassed. She glanced at Dexter. “Sorry, Dex. Daddy gets a little obsessive about this stuff sometimes.”

  “Somebody has to remind you about the hard facts of life, sweetheart,” Mr. Ward told her. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know. It’s important to think ahead, even if you don’t think you’ll ever need to worry.”

  Dexter felt uncomfortable. Mr. Ward’s comments sounded almost like something Aunt Paula might have said.

  No, not really, he told himself. At least Mr. Ward knows what he’s talking about—he earns his money. He doesn’t bilk people out of it like Aunt Paula does. It’s totally different.

  “So, Dexter.” Mrs. Ward turned and smiled at him, obviously anxious to change the subject. She reached over and patted him on the back of the hand, her heavy diamond-studded wedding band lightly rapping his knuckles. “You haven’t talked much about your family. Who are your people?”

  “Um…” Dexter swallowed hard, his nervousness returning in a flash. But he did his best to answer coherently, spinning out the usual stories about his fictional parents’ law practice and educational background.

  “Oh, and guess what, Daddy?” Daisy put in. “I just recently found out that Dexter’s cousin is an investment banker. Isn’t that cool?”

  “Interesting.” Mr. Ward glanced at Dexter with a raised eyebrow. “What’s his name? Maybe I know him.”

  Dexter gulped. “Um, it’s a her, actually,” he said, wishing he’d never invented that particular detail. “And she lives over in Switzerland. So you probably wouldn’t know each other.…Her name’s Pauline Smith.”

  “Pauline Smith in Switzerland.” Mr. Ward thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Doesn’t ring a bell. You should tell her to drop me an email sometime if she wants to move up to the big leagues. I could probably get her in at our Paris office, or maybe London if she prefers.”

  “I’ll be sure to mention it to her, sir,” Dexter said, relieved that he hadn’t let himself get tripped up by something so minor. He was going to have to be a little more careful about his stories from now on, or he was likely to lose control of what he’d already put out there.

  The rest of the meal went smoothly. As he watched the waiter bring the check, Dexter could hardly believe he’d pulled it off. It was as if he’d just taken a particularly daunting midterm on his new life and passed with flying colors.

  Outside the restaurant, they all huddled together in the chilly January wind to say good-bye. The Wards had already dropped off Daisy’s things at her dorm, and their Mercedes was waiting at the curb to take them back to Virginia.

  “It was lovely to meet you, Dexter,” Mrs. Ward said warmly, grasping his hand between her soft leather gloves. “I do hope we’ll see you again soon.”

  “Yes, yes,” Mr. Ward agreed. He’d had several glasses of wine with dinner, and his cheeks and nose had taken on a ruddy glow. “In fact, I have a terrific idea. Why don’t you join us for the next school break? We’ve been talking about taking a family trip somewhere—probably either Tokyo or Sydney, depending how my business plans shape up.”

  Daisy gasped. “That’s a great idea, Daddy!” She turned to Dexter with bright, eager eyes. “What do you say?”

  “Um, that’s so nice of you,” Dexter stammered, taken unprepared. “I—I’ll have to check with my family and let you know.”

  Mr. Ward nodded, glancing at his watch. “Come, Alicia,” he told his wife. “I want to get back on the road before it’s too late for me to call in to the office.…”

  The next few minutes passed in a flurry of hugs and good-byes. Dexter stood back out of the way for most of it, watching and worrying over Mr. Ward’s invitation. How was he going to handle this one?

  Finally the senior Wards were gone, leaving Dexter and Daisy on their own. Daisy tucked her arm through his, huddling against him with her teeth chattering.

  “Come on, let’s hurry up and get back to campus,” she said. “I’m freezing.”

  They started walking. “So your parents are nice,” Dexter offered.

  “Oh, they loved you, too! I could tell.” Daisy tilted her head up and smiled at him. “Daddy definitely did, or he wouldn’t have invited you on the trip.” She shivered, though whether it was from the cold or from excitement he couldn’t tell. “Won’t that be incredibly fun? I hope we end up in Australia—I’ve never been, and I’m dying to go! Oh! And you’ll probably get to meet my big brother, Jason, then, too. He works for Daddy, so he’ll definitely be able to get enough time off to come along.” She giggled. “You’ll love him—he’s totally wacko.”

  Dexter cleared his throat. “Yeah, sounds great,” he said. “Like I said, though, I still need to check in with my family first. They probably have something planned for me then, too.”

  Daisy’s eyes widened as she glanced up at him again. “Oh, but you have to work it out this time!” she insisted. “Don’t forget, though, we might have to take a few extra days off from classes. Daddy likes for us to spend at least two full weeks wherever we go.” She squeezed his arm more tightly in her own. “So will you talk to your family about it?” she wheedled. “Soon?”

  “Don’t worry,” Dexter promised, not sure what else he could say. “I’ll definitely figure something out.”

  That seeme
d to satisfy her—for the moment, at least—and Dexter quickly changed the subject to the upcoming school semester. But half his mind kept returning to the other topic, worrying it like a dog with a bone. Coming back to campus a day early had been tricky enough. How was he supposed to pull this one off?

  And my family isn’t the only problem this time, he reminded himself as he and Daisy strolled back toward campus. What about hers? Sure, so I managed to stay in character and convince them that SuperDexter is the real me for an hour over dinner. But spending a couple of weeks in close quarters is another story.…

  “Oh, and I almost forgot—don’t worry about expenses for the trip,” Daisy said, abruptly interrupting her own description of her new class schedule. “Daddy will probably pay for just about everything. So you can tell your parents they’ll actually be saving money by letting you go.” She giggled, seeming pleased with her own observation.

  Dexter gulped, realizing he hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his new problem. He would never be able pay even part of his own way on a trip like that. For that matter, he didn’t even have a passport.

  Okay, he thought grimly. So how is SuperDexter going to deal with this?

  For the next couple of weeks the new semester kept both of them busy enough that Dexter was able to avoid the subject of the Ward family trip most of the time. Daisy pestered him about it now and then, and he always managed to put her off, but he still couldn’t seem to come up with a good solution.

  One day he slid into his seat in Intro to American Literature, which they were both taking that semester, to find that Daisy had beat him there for once. She leaned over to give him a kiss as he dropped his backpack at his feet.