Mind Gap

by Marina Cohen

  “My brother died,” said Drew with controlled fury, “on a Sunday. Ten years ago …” He pulled back his leg and released it into Jake’s side before he calmly continued. “He took the bullet that was meant for me.”

  Jake’s mind and body were disconnected. He couldn’t breathe, let alone string the meaning of his brother’s words together. Bullet? Died? Jake battled to make the words make sense, but the meaning was all wrong. Jake wasn’t dead. Not yet, anyway.

  Thud! Thud! Two more kicks right to his side.

  Jake’s brain was a tangled mess, but one image emerged clean and clear: his hoodie. His black hoodie. Lying folded on his dresser. Torn in the centre and … and … covered in what might have been dried blood.

  “You must be some kind of fool,” Drew said, releasing his leg again and again into Jake’s side. “Disrespecting my brother when tomorrow is the anniversary of his death.”

  It’s me, thought Jake in his pain-induced haze. I’m here. I didn’t die.

  Thud!

  Say something.

  Thud!

  And like a ghostly galleon sailing out of the fog, a memory drifted back to Jake and he found the words. “You may be a black belt …”

  Thud!

  “… but I can still … kick your butt …”

  Thud! Thud!

  “… in Karate … Chaos …”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The beating stopped. The burning continued. Jake wasn’t sure which way was up. The world spun round him as he heaved and gagged. His nose was bleeding. He could taste the metallic-sweet liquid running down his throat. Laughter echoed from all directions. He tried to look up, but his vision was fuzzy — he was seeing quadruple. What seemed like hundreds of guys crowded around him, swaying back and forth, melting in and out of one another. Jake searched the mob wildly until he found his brother.

  Drew bent down, grabbed Jake by the hair, and lifted his head. Their eyes locked a second time, and this time they stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. All noises around them ceased to exist. Everything around them faded to black.

  Jake watched his brother’s expression transform from rage to incredulity and then to something entirely different.

  “Jake?” he whispered.

  Jake nodded once.

  Drew’s jaw trembled. He looked as if he was about to say something, but before he began a dark figure scattered the crowd and smacked Drew on the shoulder.

  “What are you waiting for? Finish him off.”

  There was no mistaking that voice. It was Vlad.

  Drew reacted quickly. He flashed Jake an expression that made Jake think of the caged tiger he’d seen at the zoo. He hauled Jake to his feet and shoved him in the direction of the street. “This trash isn’t worth the effort.”

  Jake stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face, but caught his balance in the last moment. Even though Jake knew what Drew was trying to do, his words still cut Jake right to the bone. He turned around, and with what strength he had left, staggered back toward his brother.

  The crowd went wild.

  “What a loser!”

  “He’s coming back for more!”

  Drew swung around. He took a step toward Jake and shook his head once, ever so slightly. His eyes pleaded. Then he hollered so everyone could hear, “Get outta here, kid. While you still can …”

  Jake swiped the blood from his face. “No,” he said firmly. “I’m not gonna lose you again.”

  “I thought I told you to finish him off,” Vlad said. “Do it. Or I will.”

  Drew grabbed Jake by the scruff of the neck, and just before he hurled Jake toward the street, he whispered, “I’m already lost …”

  Jake felt his body being propelled forward. He landed with a thunk on the cold sidewalk. He couldn’t believe he was responsible for Drew’s involvement with these animals. Jake should never have gotten mixed up with the 5 Kings. He’d led his brother straight to them.

  With all his might Jake hauled himself to his knees. As he struggled to stand, he heard the thunder of an engine rising over the jeers. It was getting louder and louder.

  Then everything happened in slow motion.

  The grey car appeared out of nowhere. Jake saw the crowd on the steps draw their weapons. Shots rang out. Everyone dived for cover — everyone except Drew, who had left Jake lying on the sidewalk and was walking toward the building with his back to the street. Jake screamed. He watched in horror as his brother slumped to the ground.

  “No! Drew! No!”

  Jake lunged forward, but his head struck something and he fell backward. He scrambled to his feet and ploughed forward with full force, but he rammed right into what felt like a brick wall. Jake searched frantically, but there was nothing there. He was trapped in an invisible cage, his eyes trained on Drew’s body lying silent and still amid the chaos.

  “Drew!” he screamed. He pounded his fists on the invisible barrier. “Drew!”

  And then suddenly the world around him began to shrink. Smaller. Tighter. Transforming. Mutating. Closing in on him.

  Jake was on the subway again, pounding on the glass window. He stared at his brother lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, but the image was fading. It got smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether behind the black rush of the tunnel walls.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Energy drained from Jake like water through a cracked cup. He felt numb. “It isn’t real,” he muttered, hugging his chest. “It isn’t real …”

  “Maybe,” said a familiar voice. “Then again, maybe not.”

  Jake looked up. Anaesthetized by grief, he barely reacted to what he saw.

  A few matted clumps of hair were all Short-Shorts had left. His skin was gauze-like, his eyes cavernous. Colour had evaporated from his clothing. Jake glanced around at the other passengers. They had all deteriorated.

  “You’re dead,” said Jake with a voice both indifferent and accepting. “I guess that means I’m dead, too.”

  “Maybe,” repeated Short-Shorts. “Then again, maybe not …”

  A spark of hope flickered within Jake. “What I just saw — Drew — has that happened yet?”

  Short-Shorts took a deep, wheezing breath. “The future is a tricky thing …”

  “Spare me the lecture. Just answer my question. Has it happened yet or not?”

  Short-Shorts narrowed his eyes. “The short answer is, no, it hasn’t happened. Yet …”

  The spark ignited. Flames of hope danced within Jake. “Then it doesn’t have to happen that way, right? It can still change?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not …”

  “Stop saying that!” Jake yelled. He took a step toward Short-Shorts. “If it’s the future, then what if I never show up? He won’t die then, will he?”

  Short-Shorts shook his head. “You saw the spray of bullets. With or without you, good chance he’ll catch one. Besides, look who he’s hanging with. Even you’re smart enough to read the writing on the wall. One way or another, it’ll all end the same.”

  “No,” said Jake. “I won’t let it happen. There has to be a way. Tell me. I’ll do anything.”

  Short-Shorts started to laugh.

  “Come on!” cried Jake. “I can fix this. Let me go back. I’ll go to the coffee shop and take that bullet for him. Then Drew can go home and he can …”

  “Tsk-tsk,” interrupted Short-Shorts. “Drew never does go home, Jake. You die in the coffee shop. Cole cuts a deal and takes Drew down with him. Drew goes to juvie — along with Cole. After that they pretty much end up in and out of jail for the next ten years. And your mom, well, we all know what happens to her …”

  Jake pressed his hands to his ears and shook his head violently. “You’re wrong! I can change this! I
can change it all! Just give me a chance!”

  A smile snaked across what was left of Short-Shorts’ lips. “It’s not that easy. You can’t unspill milk.”

  Jake froze. Someone else had said that. He gave his head a shake. It didn’t matter — they were wrong. He could change things. He did change things. For a moment he saw his father slipping through his fingers and spiralling downward.

  “I already changed the past,” he told Short-Shorts. “And if I can change the past, I can change the future.”

  The lights in the subway car began to flicker like a strobe light in a retro disco. In each second of darkness Jake saw skeletal faces closing in on him. The air was getting hotter by the second. The stench of rotting flesh hung like a cloud over him. The girl at the back of the train stopped rocking. For the first time she turned to face Jake. She held out her blanket, and Jake saw what was wrapped in it. And suddenly Jake understood exactly where he was.

  He was on the train to hell.

  Jake grabbed hold of Short-Shorts, and his fingers sank through the old wristbands and into the guy’s skin. He drew back, gagging and coughing, struggling to force down the bile rising in his throat.

  “I don’t belong here,” said Jake. “Not yet, anyway. You have to let me off. I have to be there to take that bullet. Drew’s life depends on me.”

  Short-Shorts shrugged. “He’s going to die, anyway, Jake. You saw it yourself. You saved him once only to hand him over to the 5 Kings where he’ll die just the same. Life sucks, doesn’t it?”

  Demonic laughter fell like hail from the sky, sending Jake’s thoughts scurrying for shelter. He scrunched his eyes. That hadn’t happened yet. He wouldn’t let it happen. There had to be a way. If only he could change something. Just one little thing.

  As if answering his question, Short-Shorts leaned in, his breath rancid. “There is one thing within your power to change. You might not be able to save Drew, but you could save yourself. You don’t have to die in that coffee shop. You don’t have to take that bullet. Drew’s going to die no matter what. Save yourself, Jake. Save yourself.”

  Jake took a step back, his head dizzy with unwanted thoughts. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No way …”

  “Choices, choices, decisions, decisions,” said Short-Shorts. “Life’s all about choices. Go on. Sacrifice Drew. Save yourself. Why not?”

  “Shut up!” Jake screamed. “Shut up and let me off this train!”

  “Oh, but Jake,” asked Short-Shorts, “are you sure you don’t want to hang around? It’s really one hell of a party …”

  The zombie passengers turned to face Jake. They inched toward him, reaching for him with their bony fingers.

  Is this it? he wondered. Is this how it ends?

  But before he could finish his thought, a deafening blast shook the train as it exploded into the station. The doors behind Jake blew open. He just needed to step off and he’d be safe.

  Turning to face the station, Jake put one foot safely on the platform, relief rippling through his body. He was halfway out when he felt steely talons dig into him from behind. Short-Shorts had him by the shoulder and was dragging him back onto the train.

  Jake struggled to break free from the vise-like grip. Short-Shorts pulled him in close and whispered in his ear, “Last stop.”

  Then, with one foot on the train and one foot on the platform, Jake watched, paralyzed with horror, as the three-inch gap between the train and the platform doubled and tripled in size until it was the great yawning chasm he’d seen before.

  The train began to roll. Jake felt his body being ripped apart. He could step backward and remain on the train — for all eternity — or he could step forward and let himself fall into the blackness below.

  There was only one way to go. Jake tore himself free from Short-Shorts’ grip. The last thing he heard before plummeting downward into the abyss was Short-Shorts’ voice echoing through the emptiness: “Mind the gap, Jake … Mind the gap.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Free-falling, drowning in the shadows of nothingness, Jake felt his body and mind disconnecting — being wrenched in vastly opposing directions. He was losing it. Losing himself. Swirling. Twirling. Falling.

  “Take my hand!”

  A voice sliced through the emptiness and jolted Jake into awareness.

  “Take my hand and rise!”

  That voice! thought Jake. I know it!

  As hard as he tried to focus, he couldn’t seem to move his arms or his legs. Darkness smothered him, squeezing the life out of him as he spiralled downward.

  “Rise up! Rise out!”

  Then something snatched Jake’s hand and held it tight. He felt himself being reeled in through the inky brine, upward, outward, until his head burst through the darkness and into the bright light of the subway station. A familiar face stared down at him.

  “Pull yourself up! A train is coming!”

  With energy born of primordial fear, Jake swung his free hand over the edge and gripped the platform. He could hear the distant rumble of a train and felt the tracks beneath him trembling. With the homeless man’s help, Jake hauled himself up and pulled his legs over the edge just in time for a subway train to screech past him. He lay on the cold concrete tiles, swallowing huge gulps of air as a crowd gathered around him.

  “Did you see that?” asked one lady.

  “Where’d he come from?” asked another.

  One man tried to help Jake to his feet, while another shouted, “Call 911!”

  No one took notice of the homeless man. As Jake stared at his rescuer, once again he saw a familiar glint in the man’s eyes. Years melted from the man’s face, and even through the ragged beard and matted hair and wrinkles, Jake suddenly recognized him.

  “D-dad?” he said, his voice quaking with fear and excitement and exhaustion. “Is it really you?”

  The people gathered around Jake looked puzzled. They seemed to be searching the crowd to see who he was talking to.

  “He’s got a concussion,” said the first lady.

  The homeless man gazed at Jake for the longest time. He peered down at his clothes and his hands as if his mind were emerging from the great darkness, too. He looked back at Jake and nodded slowly.

  Tears of joy and regret welled in Jake’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry I did this to you.” Jake leaned in to throw his arms around his father, then stopped short. The clock on the video screen read exactly twelve.

  “Take it easy, son,” said the old woman. “You’ve had quite a scare.”

  “What day is this?” he said frantically. “Can anyone tell me what day it is?”

  “It’s Sunday,” said a man.

  Twelve o’clock. Sunday. The day Jake was going to die.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Jake pulled out his phone and swore. There was no reception in the subway tunnels. “Come on,” he said, grabbing his father by the ragged coat and dragging him out of the crowd toward the escalator. “There’s still time. I can still save him.”

  Racing down the steps, Jake sped across the hall and onto an eastbound subway train, his father following close behind. As the doors sealed shut, Jake paced the floor. His father steadied himself on a post, observing him.

  For the longest time neither seemed able to break the silence of lost years. Jake’s mind was a disaster zone. There were so many things he had wanted desperately to say to his father. Now that he finally had the chance, he didn’t know where to begin. Ten years. His father had been gone ten years. And yet somehow Jake didn’t feel as if he was the stranger he should be.

  “I don’t know what happened …” said his father. “One day I was heading out to run a few errands, next thing I knew …”

  “It’s my fault,” Jake interrupted, his voice trembling
with emotion. “It’s all my fault. You. Drew. It’s all because of me …”

  His father grabbed Jake’s shoulder and pulled him down into a seat. He put his arms around Jake. They were strong yet gentle arms. Soft, Jake thought, like feathers. Like a pigeon.

  It was a strangely awkward moment filled with both joy and anguish. All the while Jake kept thinking, I’ve got him back. I’ve finally got him back. And all we’ve got are a few hours before …

  “Drew’s in danger,” Jake said. “I need to get to him.”

  His father nodded.

  “We’ll need to move fast.”

  Jake filled his father in as best he knew, but he purposely left out the part where he’d be taking the bullet. Jake’s father listened intently, nodding, his worried expression mirroring Jake’s. As soon as the doors opened at Victoria Park Station, they exited the subway and sprinted toward the buses.

  When the bus rolled onto the street, Jake took out his phone and sighed with relief — he had service. He punched out his home number, but got no answer. He hung up and tried again. Where were they? Were they out looking for him? He tried again and again, and finally left a frantic message. “It’s me. I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m coming home now. If you get this message, don’t let Drew out of the apartment. He’s in danger — real danger. I’ll be home soon.”

  Time was running out. As the bus jostled and bumped its way along, Jake kept thinking, How can I make a change? A change that will save Drew both now and later …

  “Listen, Dad,” he said, choking back his emotions, “if anything happens to me, you have to convince Mom who you are. You have to make her understand. And whatever happens, you can’t let Drew get involved with the 5 Kings. Promise me.”

  His father took a deep breath and nodded. “I made you a promise once, Jake, and I failed you. This time I won’t let you down.”

  The bus lurched to a halt at Jake’s stop. He jumped off and hurried toward the coffee shop, his father running close behind. Jake had made it in time. He swung the door open and froze. Drew wasn’t there. Neither was Cole. It was twenty to one; Jake was too early.