Dexter glanced over his shoulder just in time to see an elbow flying at him. He ducked, avoiding the worst of the blow, but it still cracked into his cheek and sent him reeling. For a moment he felt woozy, and as he struggled to stay on his feet he was only vaguely aware of the sound of angry shouting from Jason and frightened screams from Daisy.
By the time his head cleared a few seconds later, it was all over. “Which way did they go?” Jason blustered, his fists at the ready. “They better run if they know what’s good for them!”
Meanwhile Daisy was clutching at Dexter’s shirt and stroking his face lightly. “Dexter! Are you okay?” she sobbed. “Can you hear me?”
“I—I think I’m okay.” Dexter shook off the last lingering effects of the hit. “What happened?”
“That guy came up behind us and grabbed my purse,” Daisy said. “I think he was going for your wallet, too, but you saw him just in time.”
“He must’ve been working with that beggar guy,” Jason put in. “They both split as soon as I started fighting back.” He scowled at the empty streets around them, but his expression faded into concern as he glanced toward his sister. “You okay, Daisy?”
“I’m okay.” Her voice already sounded a little calmer. “I guess for a first mugging, that actually wasn’t so bad.” She gave a slightly forced-sounding laugh. “The important thing is we’re all still in one piece, right?”
“Your passport wasn’t in your purse, was it?” Jason asked.
Daisy shook her head. “Thank God, it’s back at the hotel,” she said. “But all my cash and credit cards were in there.” She shook her head, looking annoyed. “What a pain. I’ll have to cancel the cards right away.”
Jason shrugged. “Yeah. Good thing you brought your boyfriend along to pick up the slack for the rest of the trip. Otherwise we’d all have to hitchhike to the airport tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?” Dexter’s whole body suddenly went cold despite the balmy air.
Jason grinned sheepishly. “I was counting on Daisy to buy me breakfast and pay for the cab and stuff,” he admitted. “After buying that last round of drinks tonight, I’m totally tapped out.” He clapped Dexter on the shoulder. “You don’t mind fronting me a few bucks, do you, buddy? You know I’m good for it.”
Dexter weakly returned Jason’s grin, but he felt like throwing up. After buying himself nice new luggage for this trip, along with the passport fees and all the other little incidentals he’d had to cover himself, he barely had any money left to his name.
As the three of them started the long walk back to their hotel, he frantically ran the numbers in his head, trying to figure out whether he could cover the cab fare to the airport and other expenses. After all, they were leaving tomorrow.
No, he finally had to admit, his heart sinking. I just don’t have enough. Not for these two. They spend like money means nothing. There’s no way they’re going to understand if I try to keep them on a budget. Not unless I come clean…
He glanced up at their hotel, which had just come into sight on the next block. As Jason surged forward eagerly, muttering something about calling the police, Dexter felt the all-too-familiar sense of defeat settle over him. He held Daisy back.
“Listen,” he said slowly. It felt kind of like he was back in high school, knowing the rich bullies had cornered him and he might as well just relax and take the inevitable beating. Knowing he had no other choice. “I need to tell you something.”
“Can it wait a sec?” she asked, distracted. “I should probably go with Jason so I can tell the cops what was in my purse.”
“No. This can’t wait.”
Something in his voice must have convinced her, because she stopped and stared at him curiously. “What is it, Dexter?”
He took a deep breath. “It’s about the money thing,” he said softly. “See, I’m not exactly who you think I am…”
Once the first few words were out, the rest poured out of him in a rush—his aunt’s windfall, his pathetic background, the SuperDexter plan, all of it. It almost felt good to let it go, to get it all out in the open.
Almost.
“You—you lied to me?” Daisy just stared at him when he finished, her expression shifting uncertainly between anger and heartbreak.
“I’m sorry,” he said, desperate to chase away that haunted look. “But it really doesn’t change anything between us. I’m still the same person, I—”
She shook her head, tears already running down her face. “No, I think I really don’t know you at all,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “Or maybe it’s you who doesn’t know me. See, I wouldn’t have minded you being poor, Dexter. I wouldn’t have cared about that at all. It’s the lying I can’t deal with…”
Breaking off with a sob, she turned and raced toward the hotel. He took a few steps after her and then stopped, feeling hopeless. What good would it do to try to explain? She’d already made up her mind that he’d betrayed her trust.
And she’s right, he thought miserably. That’s the worst part. She’s absolutely right.
21
ONCE HE WAS SURE nobody was following him, Dexter slowed to a walk. Glancing around the rapidly darkening jungle, he wished he’d stopped to pick up a flashlight on his way out there. Luckily the moon and stars gave just enough light to keep him from crashing into the trees.
He stopped in a small, starlit clearing and leaned against a tree. Dropping his head into his hands, he let out a small moan that blended with the groans still faintly audible from the direction of the beach.
How could I have forgotten? he wondered bleakly. It’s like I tricked myself into believing my own lies.…
“Maybe that’s because you wanted to believe them.”
“Who said that?” Startled, Dexter dropped his hands and blinked out into the darkness. “Who’s there?”
A figure stepped out of the trees on the far side of the clearing. For a second Dexter thought it might be Boone, and his heart soared. Did that mean Boone had come after him to bring him back; that Dexter wasn’t going to be an outcast from camp from now on?
Then the figure took another step and Dexter saw that he was a little younger than Boone, and a little shorter. His hair was a little lighter, his eyes a little darker, his nose and chin not quite the same.…
Dexter’s heart pounded. “Is that—is that you?” he stammered. “I mean, me?”
He had a lightheaded feeling, as if his mind was floating off over the treetops, untethered to reality. But the figure looked solid enough—the twigs crunched beneath his feet; the blades of grass bent as he moved across the clearing.
“You know who I am.” The figure stepped into a shaft of moonlight.
Dexter stared at him. Once again he noticed that the other Dexter’s clothing was a bit shabbier than his own and that his hair looked slightly different. Different, and yet somehow familiar.
“You’re me,” he whispered. “The old me.”
“The real you,” the other Dexter said, his eyes and tone accusatory. “The one you left behind the day you got that money. The one you’re still ashamed of, even though I did nothing wrong.”
Dexter shook his head. “But I’m not—I didn’t,” he protested weakly. “I—I only did what I thought would help us. Me.” Once again his head spun crazily, and he wondered if he’d ever really woken from that last bout of delirium. Maybe he’d only imagined being rescued by Boone and Shannon and tended by Arzt. For that matter, who was to say that any of it was real? That he wasn’t still sitting on that Oceanic flight as it plummeted out of the sky? For all he knew this could all be the desperate workings of his doomed mind.
Oddly, that thought made him feel a bit braver. “What do you want?” he challenged the other Dexter.
“To remind you where you came from. Who you are.”
“I already remember that.” This time Dexter’s voice was a little stronger. “I think about it every damn day. How could I possibly forget?”
“Yo
u forgot about me.”
“What?” Dexter put one hand to his forehead. It felt clammy and a little shaky. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you, Dexter Cross.” The other Dexter’s tone was contemptuous. “You forgot that Dexter Stubbs ever existed.”
“That was just the dehydration,” Dexter protested.
“Right. And was dehydration the reason you never told Daisy the truth? She trusted you.”
“I know…” Dexter whispered, suddenly feeling choked up as he remembered the hurt look in Daisy’s eyes when he’d finally leveled with her.
“You didn’t deserve her, and you know it.”
Dexter didn’t have an answer for that. Suddenly he felt very tired. “Look, I mean it,” he said wearily. “What do you want with me?”
“I want…” The other Dexter paused. “I want…”
BANG!
Dexter jumped and spun around. Had that been a gunshot? Whatever it was, it had come from the direction of the beach. He stared intently in that direction, even though at least a hundred yards of thick foliage separated this spot from the shoreline.
“Did you hear that?” he asked. “What do you think it—”
He cut himself off as he turned around and saw that his doppelganger was gone.
“Hey,” he called. “Wait!”
Had the figure been there at all? Suddenly the answer to that question seemed of paramount importance—far more important than returning to the beach to see what had happened. Rushing to the spot where the figure had stood, Dexter dropped to his hands and knees on the ground.
Footprints, he thought feverishly. There should be footprints.…
He peered at the ground, but in the faint sprinkling of starlight from overhead he couldn’t see a thing. Pressing his fingers against the slightly moist ground, he felt around for indentations.
What am I doing? he thought after a moment, abruptly stopping his frantic search and sitting up on his heels. What am I looking for here, anyway?
Feeling foolish, he climbed to his feet. Just then he heard the crashing and snapping sound of someone moving quickly through the jungle. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the return of his doppelganger.
Instead, Kate stepped out of the trees. She was wearing a billowy white overshirt that glowed under the pale light of the moon and stars.
“Oh!” she said, obviously startled to see him. “Dexter, is that you? Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was…”
Her voice trailed off, and she looked away quickly. Dexter felt his face flush with shame. Had she heard about him already? Had the gossip traveled around the camp so quickly?
Then he blinked, realizing she was sniffling. “Are you okay?” he asked, momentarily forgetting his own problems.
“It’s nothing,” she mumbled. “The Marshall…”
“The what?”
“That guy in the tent.” Kate’s voice sounded choked up. “He…”
Dexter glanced in the direction of the beach, putting two and two together. “Oh. That gunshot I heard—the tent guy—is he…”
Kate glanced up just long enough to nod. Even in the dim light, he could see that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
Dexter hadn’t even realized that Kate knew that guy any better than the rest of them. But whether she had or not, it was clear that whatever had happened had upset her deeply.
“Anyway,” she said, sniffing sharply and swiping at her nose with the back of her hand, “I just needed to get away for a few minutes. See you.”
She stepped across the clearing, heading deeper into the jungle. For a moment Dexter was ready to let her go. After all, Kate seemed like one of the smartest and most capable people on the island. What help could he expect to give her, especially when he was such a mess himself?
Still, something inside of him couldn’t resist trying to help. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
22
DEXTER WAS PANTING AS he entered the air-conditioned lobby. The beginnings of a sparkly aura danced at the edges of his vision, and he knew he was dehydrated—the alcohol, the warm night, and the adrenaline rush were all working against him. But he didn’t have time to stop and worry about that at the moment. First he had to find Daisy.
I can’t lose her, he thought, desperate tears burning the corners of his eyes. I can’t. We have to talk about this. She has to listen to me.…
His initial passivity had dissipated, and now all he could think about was convincing Daisy to give him another chance. Too anxious to wait for the elevator, he took the stairs three at a time. A few minutes later he burst into the Wards’ suite.
“Daisy!” he shouted hoarsely, rushing over and pounding on her bedroom door. “Daisy, you have to—”
He stopped short as the door swung open before the force of his fists. Stepping forward, he glanced around the room.
“Daisy?”
It was obvious that she’d already been there. The dresser had been cleared of her jewelry and cosmetics, and the neat line of shoes she’d kept against the wall near the window was gone as well. The closet was standing open, a few of the empty hangers still swinging slightly. He must have just missed her.
Dexter sank down onto the bed, breathing hard. So she was gone. He didn’t bother to check Jason’s room; the silence was enough to tell him he wasn’t in the suite, either.
Lying down on the bed, Dexter clawed back the spread and buried his face in the pillow, hoping for some comforting trace of Daisy’s scent. But the hotel maids had done their job well, and all he could detect was a faint whiff of detergent and bleach.
For a moment he felt the crushing weight of his old hopelessness returning, settling on his shoulders like a leaden suit of armor. Now what?
The flight.
His eyes popped open and a tiny spark of hope flared up in his heart. He’d almost forgotten—they were leaving Australia tomorrow to make the long flight back to the United States. Mr. Ward had already secured their boarding passes before he left, which meant Daisy would be stuck sitting right beside him for the better part of a day.
That should give me just about enough time to get through to her, Dexter thought wryly. I hope.…
He closed his eyes, still hugging the pillow tightly. Tomorrow would be a long, difficult day. He might as well try to get some sleep.
“Thanks for choosing Oceanic, sir. Have a nice flight.”
“Thank you.” Dexter accepted his ticket stub from the smiling, dark-haired gate agent, then stepped onto the jetway. He had arrived at Gate 23 early, not having anything better to do on his last morning in Australia. Sitting there in one of the uncomfortable seats in the waiting area, he had watched other passengers arrive, from the balding man in the wheelchair to the young woman who looked too pregnant to be flying to the Middle-Eastern-looking guy who kept getting suspicious glances from everyone else.
But in all that time, there had been no sign of Daisy or her brother. Dexter had hung back even after his row was called for boarding, hoping to spot them hurrying in from the airport aisleway. Finally, though, he’d gone ahead and joined the line to board.
Maybe I missed them when I went to the bathroom, he thought as he nodded politely to the flight attendants greeting people as they boarded the plane. Or when I went to buy that bottled water. They were already pre-boarding when I got back from the snack bar—talk about stupid timing.
For a second he dared to hope that, when he reached their assigned row, he would find Daisy and Jason already seated and waiting for him. But that didn’t happen. The row was completely empty. He bit his lip, glancing around as he shoved his carry-on into the overhead compartment. Flight 815 was a large plane, and from where Dexter was standing, he couldn’t really see the people already seated in the rows toward the back.
What if Daisy and Jason changed their seating assignments to avoid me? he thought. After all, they obviously found a different hotel to avoid me. And the plane d
oesn’t look completely full, so they probably could’ve made the switch easily enough even at the last minute.
He sat down in the center seat, automatically leaving the window seat for Daisy. Drumming his fingers on the armrest, he stared blankly at the folded-up tray table on the seat back in front of him and tried to decide what to do.
The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that Daisy had insisted on changing seats. It just seemed like something she would do. All he had to do was walk down the aisle toward the back of the plane, and he’d almost certainly find her.
But by the time he’d psyched himself up to give it a try, the flight attendants were already snapping shut the doors on the storage bins and reminding people to fasten their safety belts. Any searching Dexter wanted to do would have to wait until after takeoff.
As the main door swung shut, Dexter settled back into his seat. Suddenly his stomach let out a grumble so loud that the man sitting across the aisle glanced over in surprise before returning his attention to his book. Dexter grabbed his bottled water, which he’d set on the aisle seat, and took a long gulp of it. He hadn’t dared to spend any money on food that day, knowing he would need his last few dollars to pay for the cab ride to the airport. Instead he’d made do with the half-eaten bag of chips Jason had left behind in his otherwise empty bedroom.
I’ll get up and check the rest of the plane right after takeoff, Dexter assured himself, screwing the cap back on the water bottle with slightly shaking fingers. She’s got to be on board somewhere—they said there wasn’t another flight out until tomorrow.
Just then he noticed a flurry of activity near the main door. As he glanced that way it opened again, and Dexter’s heart soared. Daisy…he thought eagerly.
Instead, a very large, very sweaty young man entered. His breath was coming in labored gasps and his curly hair was frizzed out wildly in all directions, but he was grinning as broadly as if he’d just won the lottery or something. Even in his worried mood Dexter couldn’t help smiling a little himself as the latecomer lumbered down the aisle, shooting a thumbs-up sign to a kid sitting in the center aisle a few rows away from Dexter.
Lost: The Novels Page 27
