Now That You're Here (Duplexity, Part I)

by Amy K. Nichols

  “Can I do the honors?” Darwin’s Dog asks.

  “Sure,” Warren says. “It’s yours now.”

  Suddenly I feel very third wheel. I don’t have a fancy code name. I have nothing to trade. I’m just an accessory. Innocuous, as Mastermind said.

  If I did have a secret code name, what would it be? EV, like Danny painted under the bridge? I like that, except it sounds just like my real name. Not much of a secret.

  With delicate hands, Darwin’s Dog opens the envelope flap and slides out the contents: cardboard. Then she lifts the top piece of cardboard and a smile consumes the part of her face not covered by the sunglasses. “Unbelievable,” she whispers. She picks up the plastic-encased comic book for a closer look. “Strange Tales, number 110.”

  “First appearance of Doctor Strange,” Warren says for my benefit. “Mint condition.”

  “Where did you find it?” she asks.

  Warren’s face hardens. “You don’t name your sources. I don’t name mine.”

  “Right,” she says, remembering herself. “Of course.”

  “It’s a trade, then?” Warren asks.

  “Absolutely.”

  He picks up the fabric, folds it to fit in his backpack and closes the zipper. The Star Wars Cantina song fills the kitchen. Darwin’s Dog and I look at each other, confused. Warren pulls out his cell phone and looks at the screen. “Voyager One is ready for departure.” He slings the backpack over his shoulder and extends his hand to Darwin’s Dog. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

  She nods and walks us to the door. “See you online, Mastermind.”

  And like that, our mission is complete.

  “How much was that comic book worth?” I ask Mastermind as we walk back to the car. I half expect to see a white van waiting for us. But there’s only Mrs. Fletcher with the engine running and a pleasant look on her face.

  “It was a fair trade.”

  “Really? Seems like the comic book would have been worth a lot more than fabric.”

  “Metallic weave can be very pricey, especially the kind made with copper.” Warren shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, though. I have an even better copy of Strange Tales 110 back home in the vault.”

  I stop and stare at this friend I’ve known for so many years. What other secrets does he have locked away?

  There’s a boy in the front yard poking the dirt with a stick. He looks up when I get closer. Smiles huge. Runs over and wraps his arms around my legs.

  “Danny.” He squeezes like mad.

  “Hey, you.” I muss his hair and try to remember if he was in the pictures hanging on the fridge.

  “Why’d you go away?”

  My heart caves. I crouch down and he wraps his arms around my neck. “Sorry, little man. I had some stuff to do.”

  “Work stuff?”

  “Yeah.” I hug him back. “Something like that.” He’s super skinny. I can feel his ribs.

  He won’t let go, so I stand up and we walk into the house like that, with him hanging around my neck, squealing.

  The place stinks like onions and mildew. The screen door slams and a woman steps out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She looks pissed. I lean down, but the little guy won’t let go.

  “Get off him, Ben.”

  Ben. I poke him in the armpits and he squirms away. Runs over and grabs a toy airplane and zooms it around.

  “Where the hell have you been?” the woman asks. “What is it, Tuesday? Haven’t seen you in more than a week.”

  “Had some stuff to figure out.”

  “Oh. Well, how nice for you.” She sniffs and walks back to the kitchen. “Sam called. Fired you for not showing up. Way to go.” She picks up a knife and pulverizes an onion.

  “I’ll, uh, go talk to him. See if I can get it back.”

  “Him?”

  “Her?”

  She stops chopping and glares at me. “Are you hanging out with that Neil again?”

  Who? “No.”

  “Better not be.” The knife pounds the cutting board. Ben orbits around. She points the blade at me. “If we find out you are…”

  “I’m not. I swear.” I hope I’m not lying.

  She sniffs again. Scoops the onion into a pot and puts it on the stove. “Brent’ll be home soon. Better make yourself invisible until dinner.”

  I walk down the hall toward Danny’s room. One of the other doors is open. A girl with headphones sits cross-legged on a bed. She doesn’t look up. I close Danny’s door behind me.

  Coming here was a bad idea. The bastard is going to show up and beat the snot out of me.

  Right. No point in sticking around for the show.

  I rifle through the dresser. May as well take what I can and get the hell out.

  I’m looking under the bed when I hear the door open. Ben walks into the room, zooms the plane around, buzzing his lips for engines. I sit up on my knees. He sits on the bed. “Wanna play?”

  “Sure, Ben.”

  He looks at me, his brows scrunched. “You call me Benny.”

  “I do? I mean, right. Benny.” I make an airplane with my hand and fly it around. Crash it into the mattress and make explosion sounds. Benny cackles like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. He crashes his plane into the bed and explodes spit all over the place. I think about Brent and my stomach clenches.

  “Hey, Benny?”

  His airplane is in the air again. Zoom. Zoom.

  “Does Brent ever get mad at you?”

  His eyebrows scrunch down for a split second. Then he crashes the plane and explodes it and laughs. Raises the plane up again.

  “Benny? Does he ever—”

  “I don’t want to play.” He hops off the bed and runs out the door.

  I punch the bed, then the wall. I can’t leave knowing my having been here will piss Brent off. There’s no way. Better to stay and take the hits.

  There’s a phone on the nightstand. I dial Eevee’s cell but her voice mail picks up. “Hey, Eevee. It’s me.” My voice sounds strange in my ears. “I’m going to stick around here for a bit. Through dinner at least. Just to make sure things are cool.”

  I set the phone down and think of what she’d said. About making things better for Danny. Maybe she’s right. Maybe there’s a way.

  I find Benny in the backyard, already over our conversation. We run races. Blow bubbles and chase them around the dead grass. Swing on the rickety set. Ben laughs himself into hiccups.

  The woman—I don’t even know her name—drags a garbage can out the back door. I leave Benny on the swing set and run over to her. “Let me.”

  She looks shocked, but nods and goes back inside.

  I empty the garbage into the dumpster in the alley and walk the can back to the kitchen. Whatever she’s cooking covers the stink of the house. I peek inside the cabinets, not sure where to put the thing back.

  “Here.” She opens the door next to the sink and I slide it in place.

  “Anything else I can help you with?”

  She looks at me hard. “No,” she says. And then, in a quieter voice, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  When I find him in the sandbox, Benny’s still hiccuping.

  We’re sitting around the table when Brent walks through the front door. He takes one look at me and laughs. Not a fun kind of laugh. A laugh that stops everyone at the table cold. Marta—the girl with the headphones—drops her fork. It clangs on the plate and everyone jumps.

  “Sorry,” she says under her breath.

  Brent throws his hat on the counter and grabs a brew from the fridge. Sits at the table and cracks open the can. He never takes his eyes off me.

  “How was work?” the woman asks. The kids—there are five of us—eat in silence.

  “Don’t want to talk about that. When did he show up?”

  “After school,” she says.

  I scoop up the chili and pretend not to hear him. Deflect attention. Nothing to see here.

  “D
anny and me did bubbles,” Ben says, but the woman shushes him and he pouts.

  Brent takes another swig and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Belches. “Where you been?”

  I chew to buy time. Remind myself this is for Danny’s sake. Benny’s, too. And Marta, and the twin boys with their white-blond hair and haunted faces. “At a friend’s house.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t think you know her.”

  “Her?” He laughs and spit dribbles down his chin. He wipes it on his shoulder. “A girl?”

  They all look at me. “Yes, sir.”

  He nudges the woman with the back of his hand. “Did you get that? Sir.” He raises the can to drain it. “Get me another one, Sooz.”

  Sooz goes to the kitchen and returns with another brew. Before she sits, she opens it for him.

  “Got yourself a girlfriend, eh?” His stomach shakes as he laughs. “What would any girl see in a loser like you?”

  I breathe in, breathe out.

  “She must be a real basket case.”

  My hand goes tight around my spoon. I look at Ben. Focus on his fuzzy mop of curls. “Actually, she’s really nice. Smart, too.”

  “Right.” Brent scoops up his chili. A pig guzzling slop.

  “She is.” I take a sip of water. “One of the smartest girls at school.”

  “Don’t take that tone with me.”

  Sheesh. “I’m sorry.” I keep my voice as blank as I can.

  “Yeah.” He wipes his mouth again and sits back in his chair. “You are.”

  “May I please be excused?” Marta asks. Sooz nods and the girl slips away from the table without a sound.

  “Can you do us all a favor, Danny?” Brent says. “Don’t get this girl knocked up. We don’t need any more little losers in the welfare line.”

  I imagine taking the spoon and scooping out his eyes. Really slow. But instead I take a bite of chili and look at Sooz. “This is really good.”

  She nods and gives me a confused look.

  I want to tell her—tell both of them—that I know this game. That he’s baiting me. Wants a fight. Wants it more than anything else.

  But I’m not playing. Not tonight.

  I scrape the bowl. It really is good chili. Eevee’s probably having dinner with her mom right now. I wonder if she told Sid I wouldn’t be there. I hope she got my message.

  “May I please be excused?” I ask as politely as I can.

  “No.” Brent’s laugh is like a rake up my back. “You can sit right where you are and tell us where you’ve really been.”

  “I told you.”

  “What’s this girl’s name?”

  “Eve.”

  His laughter explodes and the boys flinch. “This gets better by the minute. Does she live in a garden?”

  I sit on my hands so I don’t wring his neck. “She lives on—” I stop myself. “Down off Thunderbird Road.”

  “You’re telling the truth,” Sooz says, like she can’t believe it.

  “I am.”

  But Brent won’t let up. “Call her.”

  Really? I tighten my jaw to control my face. Force a smile. “Okay.”

  It takes me a minute to find the phone with all the crap cluttering the kitchen counter. I dial Eevee’s number, hoping she doesn’t pick up, but knowing if she doesn’t, I’m toast. It rings. Rings. Rings.

  And she answers.

  I swallow. “Hi.” Brent watches me with his eyes half-sunk in disgust. Or a beer fog. Can’t tell which.

  “Hey,” Eevee says. “I got your message. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I keep my voice low. “Just wanted to say hi.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Brent gets up from his chair, hoisting up his pants. “I want to talk to this girl.”

  Unbelievable. “Um, Brent wants to talk to you.”

  “Who?”

  He takes the phone from me before I can answer. Or warn her.

  “Is this Eve?” He looks at me like he’s caught me in a lie, and then his face drops. “Oh. Well.” He winks at me. “Danny here tells me you’ve got the hots for him. Is that true?”

  Breathe in. Breathe out. Keep cool.

  “Aw, just friends. Sorry to hear that. He thinks you’re a real piece. Says you’re smart, too. Didn’t know Danny liked the brainy type. Well, here’s your Romeo. Nice talking to you. Don’t bite any apples.”

  He hands the phone to me like he’s won some kind of victory, then he smacks both hands on the table so the plates rattle. “Clean this up,” he barks. Sooz and the twin boys jump out of their chairs and get to work.

  Eevee yells in the receiver. “Danny?!”

  I put the phone to my ear. “I’m here.”

  “I don’t think you should stay there.” She sounds panicky.

  “I can’t really leave yet,” I say low, watching Brent. I’m sure he’s still listening. Gathering ammunition.

  “He scares me. Be careful.”

  “I will.” I make my voice cheery. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school, okay?”

  “Leave as soon as you can.”

  “Okay,” I say. “See you later.”

  I hang up the phone. Dodged that land mine. But how many more will Brent set? It’s going to be a long night.

  I take a stack of plates from Sooz and we walk into the kitchen. At the sink she whispers, “Is she nice?”

  “Very.” I smile, but all I can think is, just friends?

  “Honey?”

  How long have I been standing here listening to dead air? I put my cell phone down on the counter.

  “Everything okay?” Mom pulls a pan from the oven and closes the door with a one-two of her knee and elbow.

  Is he in danger? Should I go over there and help him? Why did that Brent guy want to talk to me? This is Danny we’re talking about, though. If anyone’s a survivor, it’s him. “Everything’s fine.”

  Mom dishes out lasagna onto two plates and hands them to me. “Anyway, the Carsons loved the house. They want to compare it with a couple others, but I think they’re going to put in a bid. Isn’t that great?”

  It takes all my strength to sit through dinner. I eat my lasagna, pass the butter when asked, and listen to Mom talk about stuff I don’t care about while my imagination runs wild with what might be happening to Danny. When we’re finally finished and the dishes are clean, I head over to Warren’s to work on the EMP device.

  I find him high up on the ladder, attaching Darwin’s Dog’s fabric to the Faraday cage. Now, rather than a chicken coop, the thing looks like a contraption in a magician’s set. A big box draped in shiny cloth with a little door, perfect for going in through and never coming back out.

  “There you are, Solomon.” Warren’s words are muddled by the nails he’s holding with his lips. “Wondered if you were coming.”

  “Sorry. Dinner took longer than I expected.” I see Danny’s work gloves on the table and swallow down my nerves. “Tell me what to do.” Quickly, say anything to distract me.

  Warren places the next nail and bangs the hammer, making me jump. “Instructions are on the worktable,” he says, preparing to strike again. “You should review them.”

  I smooth the pages of the printout and read through the steps, identifying the parts Warren has arranged on the garage floor. Circuit board. Capacitor. Steel block. And more copper wire than I’ve ever seen in my life.

  Warren sets the hammer and several unused finishing nails on the table. “Questions?”

  Questions? Yeah, I’ve got questions. Like, what in the world have we gotten ourselves into here? “Directions are pretty straightforward.”

  “Okay. Let’s get started.”

  Warren switches on the overhead lights and closes the garage door. Before it’s all the way down, I take a quick look, hoping to see Danny walking toward my house. He isn’t.

  “Here.” Warren hands me a spool of wire and the first two pages of the plans. “You do steps one through three. I’ll go build t
he timer circuit.”

  I check the instructions again, just to be sure. I can’t believe we’re doing this.

  “What’d you say?” Warren asks.

  “I said, I can’t believe we’re doing this.” I didn’t realize I’d been thinking out loud.

  “We’ll keep it contained. Don’t worry.”

  I lift up one end of the steel block and begin wrapping the wire around it to create the copper coil. The block is like a heavy shoebox. If I drop it, my fingers are toast. I pull the wire around it, trying to make the coil as tight as possible. Soon my index finger begins to sting where the wire rubs, even with the work gloves. “I was thinking,” I say, taking off my glove and rubbing my finger, on which there’s a painful red line. “After the test run, we should go see if Mac is home.”

  Warren doesn’t look up from his work. “Good idea.”

  We continue on in silence for who knows how long. The coil done, I measure out the remaining wire. Three feet. Warren stands and brushes off the knees of his pants. He flips through the directions again. “Timer mechanism is done. Let’s connect the coil.”

  We carry our halves of the device to meet in the middle, then connect them into one dangerous unit.

  “You know what’s scary about this?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “How easy it is.”

  We stand back and look at our work. Doesn’t seem like much really—a bunch of wires, circuitry, and a simple switch to turn it on. Still, it should be enough to generate a substantial pulse.

  “What if it doesn’t work?” Warren asks.

  I think about what Danny said last night, under the tree. About leaving. About me. “What if it does?”

  “I guess we’ll find out. Let’s move it onto the platform and put it inside the cage.” He scoots a wooden flat over to our workspace. We assemble the parts on top first, then carry the whole thing over to the cage. The door is narrow, and we have to tilt the platform to squeeze it through. Then we’re standing inside with our terrible creation and I’m trying not to imagine Danny in here.