by Simone Pond
“You did good, Morray.” He smacks my back like we’re old chums.
“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I keep looking around for my father.”
He ignores me and leads us toward the hotel. The front doors have been shattered and large metal slabs are bolted in its place. Zach enters a combination and the door unlocks. The lobby is eerie without people swarming about. Casino chips, chunks of glass, and loose change scatter across the burgundy carpet. No use for money when there’s no economic system to back it up. We follow Zach through reception toward the back stairwell. No electricity means no elevators. We’ll have to trudge up fifteen floors.
Not even halfway up, I’m exhausted and dripping sweat. I stop for a minute.
“You okay?” Dru waits for me.
“Yeah. Just feeling dizzy from whatever they pumped me up with.” I fake a smile. I’m far from fine. Mini shockwaves are shooting up my arm and it feels like there’s a traffic jam at the back of my neck where blood’s trying to get into my brain.
“You don’t look so good, and your neck is bulging out.” Dru puts down her bag and comes over to help sit me down on the stairs.
“I don’t feel so great.” My vision gets murky.
“Hey, guys, something’s up with William.”
“Help me, Dru.”
“I’m right here.” She wipes my forehead with her sleeve. “You’re okay.”
“Dru…”
I sink into darkness.
*
I’m dreaming about my eleventh birthday…
Mother was getting ready for some event. I remember her cream-colored pantsuit and matching shoes. “Are you sure that’s what you want for your birthday?”
“Yes, I want to see van Gogh’s work.”
“But you can see it in Amsterdam, darling.” She dabbed some perfume on her neck, filling the air with the scent of gardenias.
“But the Getty’s only ten minutes away, it’d be dumb not to go.” I looked at her to make sure she was really listening. “And there’s one more thing I want.”
“What is it, dear?”
“I want you and Father to come with me.” I had been practicing those words for weeks; saying them to her was a lot harder than in front of the mirror.
She took out her compact and applied some red lipstick, then stood up and patted my head. “Getty it is.”
“You and Father are coming too, right?”
“We’ll see, darling. Now, I really must go. I’m late for an appointment. Have a good day at school. Don’t let those bullies get to you.”
The morning of my eleventh birthday I woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon. Old Martha came over and set down a tray of food: breakfast in bed for my special day.
“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday, dear William,” she sang with her crackly voice.
“No breakfast downstairs today?”
“Today’s your day, so you get extra-special treatment,” she said.
Leaning against the tall glass of orange juice there was a card with my mother’s handwriting. I ripped it open, not sure what I was expecting, maybe something about the Getty. Instead it was a letter.
Darling William,
Your father and I hope your birthday is simply wonderful! You are a gift to the world and we know one day you’ll do great things. Next weekend we’ll have a gala event to celebrate! We apologize we cannot be present for your actual birthday. Father has work in Switzerland and he has requested I join him. Enjoy this most important day, darling! And please get a haircut before next Saturday.
Mother
Inside the envelope there was a stack of hundred dollar bills. I crumbled up the letter and pushed away the tray. Old Martha, the trooper she was, picked up the tray and sat down.
“It’s just a day, William. You’ll have plenty of them in your lifetime,” she said, brushing back my bangs. “We can still have one of the drivers take you to the Getty.”
“But I wanted to spend the day with my parents.”
“Sometimes we don’t get what we want, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.”
“Why don’t they like me?”
“They love you, in their own way. Now, get up and get dressed.”
Loving someone is a lot different than liking them enough to want to spend time together. Before going to the Getty, I had the driver take me to a shop in Santa Monica where I bought the most expensive skateboard on the shelf. I skated around the smooth cement of the Getty all afternoon, ignoring the families yelling at me whenever I zipped by…
*
A stream of sunlight comes in through the gap between the heavy curtains, cutting across my face and blinding me. It’s already morning. Something bad must have happened because they’ve got me strapped down to the bed.
“Dru,” I call out.
A shadowy figure leaps up out of the bed next to mine and comes over.
“Oh, good, you’re okay,” says Dru, sitting next to me and touching my forehead.
“What happened?”
“We almost lost you. I hope I never have to see you go through that again.”
“What?” I try to wriggle free. “Why am I strapped down?”
“That microchip has a mind of its own. It started messing with your brainwaves and muscle reflexes. Sarah tried to control the frequencies, but you went berserk.”
“Can you undo these straps? I have to piss.”
She unties the straps and I run to the bathroom and piss out the entirety of Niagara Falls. I knew this chip was going to be a major problem.
Dru has pulled back the curtains to let in some sunlight. My eyes aren’t used to the natural light yet.
“It’ll take a few minutes to adjust.”
“So what happened? Convulsions and stuff?”
“It was scary. You were twitching and flopping around all over the place. We couldn’t figure it out, but thanks to Sarah we were able to stabilize you.”
“What’d she do?” I can’t imagine Sarah wanting to ease my pain.
“She thought maybe the boost juice would interfere with whatever the chip was doing to your neurological system. It worked.”
I think about the extra bottles I had tucked into my bag before we left. “Where’d she get the juice?”
“Come on, William. Where do you think? We all knew you packed a few extra.”
“Am I that obvious?”
She doesn’t say anything and kisses my forehead. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Please try to fight off whatever that thing is doing. Be stronger than it.”
I spot a pad of paper and a pen next to the bed and I almost trip making my way over to grab them—I haven’t touched either in almost a year. I roll the pen between my fingers and smell the paper. Words flood over me, all at once, and I need to write them down.
“You planning on writing something?” Dru’s voice breaks into my moment. I almost forgot she was in the room with me.
“Yeah…” I know exactly what I’m going to write: a poem for Dru I’ll probably never give her. “So what happened? Why’d the juice work?” I change the subject.
“You went into a trance-like state. She also figured out how to set the digi-pad to autopilot so she doesn’t have to monitor it every second. She needed some sleep.”
“Where’s Zach?”
“He’s next door talking to Sam and Dan, the two guys who are joining us.”
“When are we leaving?”
“Soon, but we need to find some more fuel. That’s going to be tough in this place. It’s nuts out there, like Apocalypse Now, or something.”
We both laugh at the reference. I want to hear the details, but I’m having trouble keeping my head up. I’m exhausted. “Why am I so tired?”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
“Did I say that out loud?” I mumble.
“What?”
“I need to rest my eyes for a minute…”
*
It’s the middle of the night.
A lone candle burns on my nightstand. I sit up and grab the paper and pen and begin writing. The words flow out of me like a river and I fill the front and back of every page. I scrounge the drawers for more paper, but it’s gone. I’m left paperless with an ocean of thoughts. I find a book of matches and open it up. Inside I write a poem:
clouds wander through the sky
a breeze focuses its attention on the small flower
birds perch and sing
their song
waking up each petal
the frost will not thaw without them
Chapter 13
“Look how fast his eyes are, like, moving.” A female’s voice soaks into my bleary sleepy state.
“He’s struggling to stay one with himself,” says another female.
I’m groggy and can’t figure out why I’m hearing voices I don’t recognize. Am I dreaming?
Someone touches my forehead. “He’s, like, way hot.” Her hand feels like a block of ice against my blistering hot skin, catapulting me awake.
“What the hell’s going on?” I blink, trying to adjust my eyes to the dim light.
“Your ch’i is totally out of alignment. You have two energy systems fighting against each other,” says the girl with jet-black hair.
“Yeah, it’s like your vibrations are, like, all over the place.” The other girl has yellow hair and speaks with the high-pitched squeak of a five-year old.
Energy Seekers.
“What are you doing here?” I push away her hand. “Please stop touching me.”
There’s a circle of candles on the floor. The flames flicker across the faces of the two figures sitting cross-legged on my bed. Both girls have long stringy hair and the same starry-eyed look of all Energy Seekers.
“It’s okay, William. We’re overseeing you.” The girl with jet-black hair could be pretty if she didn’t have layers of ink smudged around her pale blue eyes.
“We’re, like, making sure your energy, like, gets back into one flow.” The girl with yellow hair hands me a bottle of water.
My throat is so parched, I chug it back in two gulps. “How’d you get in here?” I ask.
“Dru asked us to keep watch while they went out to search for fuel.” Jet Black gets up and holds a candle close to my face, examining my eyes. A drop of hot wax drips onto my cheek.
“Be careful with that thing.” I nudge her away and scoot to the edge of the bed. “How long have I been out?”
“A day and a night,” she says.
“What? That can’t be true.”
“You’ve been racing,” squeaks Yellow.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? I don’t speak Energy Seeker.” I’m too annoyed to be polite.
“That thing they, like, put inside you is, like, messing with your mind,” says Yellow.
“Yeah, no kidding.”
“Are you hungry?” Jet Black holds out a cheese sandwich packaged in one of those white plastic containers you’d find in a vending machine. The cheese has a tinge of mold around the edges, but I’m starving and wolf it down in three bites.
“Where’s Sarah?” I ask.
“She’s resting,” says Jet Black. “She’s been sick.”
“Is she okay?”
“Her heart is hurt,” says Yellow, looking at me with disapproval.
“Her vibrations are incredibly low.” Jet Black pats my face with a damp cloth.
I grab it and wipe off my own forehead. “Low vibrations?” I laugh. “You all are nuts, you know that?”
“Everything is energy, William, and I don’t like yours, like, at all.” Yellow gets off the bed and leaves the room, taking her upset vibrations with her.
Jet Black sits on the opposite bed. “You’re acting rude, and we’re just trying to help.”
“Sorry. I’m not myself.”
“How could you be? You have conflicting energy streams.”
“What time is it?”
“About ten,” she says.
“Morning or night?”
“Night.”
I don’t like knowing Dru’s trekking around Vegas at night; it’s sketchy out there. I’ve seen the footage on America 2.0—lots of throat slicing and shootouts, people murdering each other for supplies. I’ve seen men wrestling down women and children for a bottle of water.
“Will they be okay out there?” I ask.
“They have weapons,” says Jet Black.
“Guns?”
“Sam and Dan.”
I don’t know who she’s talking about, but it’s safe to assume these are the men Zach wanted to pick up along the way. “When did they say they’d be back?”
“They didn’t.”
“What about me and Sarah?”
“You’ll be safe here. Stragglers don’t journey this far up the Strip. Not worth the risk.”
“How many of you are here?”
“About nine of us. We’ll stay until the dying is done.”
“I really need to talk to Sarah.”
“Alone time is best for her fragile state. She must conserve her ch’i for the journey.”
“Man. Can you chill with the energy speak?”
“You know, you might get better results if you were a little more polite.”
“We’re in the midst of the world ending, and you want me to say please and thank you? Look, if you tell me where she is, I’ll give you something better than manners.” I plan to barter some of my boost juice for an escort to Sarah. If anyone loves hallucinogens more than me, it’s Energy Seekers.
She perks up. “Like what?” She touches my cheek.
I bat her hand away and hold back from gagging. “Not that. I have some top-notch drugs. They’ll blow your mind.”
“I don’t need my mind blown.”
“You won’t just feel energy, you’ll become it,” I tell her.
She closes her eyes and meditates on the proposition. I get up and rummage through the bags, searching for the bottles. There’s only one left and it’s half full. I should conserve this stuff in case the chip acts up again. I pour out a cap full and shoot it back. The liquid feels like lightning going down my throat and heats up my veins.
Jet Black comes out of her meditation and walks over. “Your energy just shifted to high intensity.” She rubs my shaved head, causing prickles of light to beam down each hair shaft.
“Ahh, that feels so gooood,” I whisper.
“Okay, give me some.”
“You promise you’ll take me to Sarah?”
“If you promise not to upset her.”
“Promise.”
She drinks a cap full and sits on the bed. She’s laughing and crying, and batting away at stuff that’s not there.
“Don’t fight it. You have to breathe through it, like you’re riding a wave. If you resist it, it’ll knock you down.” I sound like one of them now.
Jet Black looks like a glowing jellyfish morphing into different shades: pink, yellow, and violet. Her stringy hair fans around her like branches of a tree. “Wow,” she whispers.
Her voice reaches the inner cortex of my brain. The sound waves stab me like a laser and electricity jolts across my temples. The pain grips my neck and I fall to the floor and roll around, trying to stop the throbbing. My insides are on fire and the flames sear each nerve ending. “Get Sarah! Hurry!”
Jet Black disappears.
The door busts open and Sarah stands over me, grabbing my face and looking into my eyes. Her mouth is moving, but I can’t hear her words over the buzzing.
“They’re doing something to me. Make it stop!” I scream.
She runs around the room, digging through drawers while I’m melting into the carpet fibers. She comes over and injects me with something and Jet Black dumps freezing water over my head. The fire inside my brain smolders out and the buzz tapers down to a low hum.
“What were you thinking, you idiot?” Sarah shakes me.
“I wanted to see you, so I bartered some juice.” I rest my face
on her lap.
She shoves me off. “That was stupid.”
“You’ve been giving it to me the last couple of days.”
“One, you were being monitored. And two, something’s changed. I don’t know how it’s happening, but the chip is morphing. Clearly the juice isn’t going to work any more. I’ll have to figure out something.”
“I want this thing out of me. Please get it the hell out of me, Sarah.”
“It might be too late.”
“Too late? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know enough about it yet. And it keeps changing with your body chemistry. It’s becoming a part of you and I don’t want to risk your life removing it while it’s still integrating with your system.”
“Integrating with my system?”
“I don’t know what to do, but…” Sarah rubs her temples.
Jet Black takes her hand and helps her up. “Let’s get you back to your room.”
“What’s wrong, Sarah?”
“She must rest now,” says Jet Black.
“Stay off the boost juice,” says Sarah.
“What about Denver tracking us down?”
“I’ve got the frequencies under control. Try to keep yourself under control.”
Jet Black helps Sarah toward the door and turns back to me. “Get that thing out before it changes you,” she says.
I remember the angel with the long auburn hair who came to me in my dream. What did she tell me? Remove it. She was talking about this chip that’s imbedding into me. I dump the rest of the juice down the sink and go around the room, blowing out the candles. I climb back into bed and try to sleep. I don’t want to think about anything except complete darkness. Letters and sentences begin to formulate inside my mind, as though someone’s trying to communicate with me from somewhere else. I get out of bed and start doing pushups. Whatever’s happening isn’t right. I need to get this thing out of me.
Chapter 14
“William, wake up,” Dru’s voice comes over me. She’s next to the bed with a candle. The soft light flickers across her face. She’s a beautiful sight to wake up to.
I’m sleepy and smiling like a fool. I’d love to forget everything that’s going on in the world and spend a few uninterrupted hours in this hotel room with Dru. “Hi.” I yawn.
