39
Time to Get Going
“Well, how ’bout that?” Rayfield exclaimed in his baritone voice as he slapped Ed on the back. Ed massaged his shoulder, still rather sore from his injury. “You’ve been snoopin’! You’re not supposed to do that.”
“Snooping?”
“Pokin’ around in other people’s heads. The Guru called it snoopin’.”
“It―” Ed stopped himself from insisting it had just been a dream. He had long since stopped arguing with the others about it. “I didn’t mean to.”
Rayfield laughed wholeheartedly in his contagious way. “Don’t matter. Nobody but the Guru and Rat could ever do what you did. And Nathaniel. We all tried.”
“I didn’t really do anything. I just appeared there, and I touched a tree.”
“So you see ’em as trees.” Rayfield nodded slowly, pondering this bit of information as though it was especially important.
“Sorry?”
“Hmm? Oh, the Guru used to tell us everybody sees things differently in that place. You saw somebody’s mind like a forest, and the trees musta been that person’s memories. Maybe, for you, somebody else’s mind would be another forest, you see what I’m sayin’? Somebody might perceive a person’s mind as, I dunno, a big house, and every object in the house is a memory. The Guru said how you perceive it is a reflection of how your mind works. You see?”
“I guess so.” Ed rubbed his eyes. Something wasn’t quite making sense. “But if it was someone else’s mind, what was my memory doing there?”
Rayfield scratched his broad chin and thought about this. “That gnome was there, you said? He’s the one gave you back your other memory before.”
“Right.”
“Maybe that gnome knows where all your memories are. And he’s tryin’ to help you get them all back.”
“I thought of that.”
“But he can’t tell you where they are, because he can’t talk for some reason, so he’s got to wait till you fall asleep and then take you to where they’re at. So you follow him around, maybe he’ll take you to more of them.”
The front door slammed shut and Geoffrey appeared in the doorway, dressed in dark clothes and carrying a backpack on one shoulder.
“I think I got everything,” he said, plopping the bag down in front of Ed.
“That car still out front?” Rayfield asked.
“They’re still watchin’.” The car had first appeared two weeks ago, parked on a side street where the two men inside could watch the front of the Guru’s house, and had shown up at various times, both day and night, ever since. The driver and his passenger had full heads of hair, which meant they weren’t Arthur’s men. When Ed had brought up the possibility of wigs, Louis had shaken his head and insisted Arthur’s people would never wear hair on their heads, real or manufactured, until their Judgment was over.
Ed got down on his knees and opened the bag. “Is somebody else living there now?” he asked Geoffrey as he pulled out his cardboard box. He opened this and dumped the contents out on the floor, eliciting a low whistle from Rayfield.
“Somebody moved in, yeah,” Geoffrey said. “They changed the locks, so your key didn’t work. I had to get tricky. No sweat, though.”
Ed wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. “What’s that smell, then, Geoff?”
“I don’t sweat,” said Geoffrey, “I perspire. I looked around for the books you mentioned. No sign of them.”
So whoever had moved in had either thrown Ed’s books away or stored them somewhere. All of his father’s old Blake volumes... the thought of them being thrown in the garbage made Ed feel sick.
“How much money you got there?” Rayfield said, poking at the pile of cash with his foot. “S’got to be―” He trailed off when his poking uncovered the other item Ed had dumped out of the box. “That yours too?”
Ed picked up the gun and held it up. “Beats me.”
“The Guru didn’t let us keep weapons,” Geoffrey said quietly.
“The Guru’s dead,” Ed replied. “We’ve got Arthur out there trying to find me, and there’s that car out front. I’m thinking we should change the rules.” He placed the gun in the drawer of an otherwise empty dresser. Geoffrey watched the drawer warily after Ed closed it.
“Where’d all that money come from?” asked Rayfield, still poking at the bills with his toe.
Ed shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable under the stares of the other two. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” said Rayfield, “you oughtta get that gnome to help you remember.”
* * *
Ed floated in the purple emptiness of space. There were stars all around him—not the tiny white points that he was used to seeing in the night sky, but millions of brilliant bursts of color that sparkled at him from all directions. The gnome floated nearby, flickering at random, watching Ed as he took in the sight. Then it looked over toward a nearby star, a pale green one, and sped off in that direction.
At Rayfield’s suggestion, Ed had returned to forest dream every night since he had touched the blue tree at the center of the clearing. The gnome had been there almost every time, and over the last several weeks it had taught him to fly. It was more like levitating than flying, and it took some getting used to. There was always a sense of being off-balance when he left the ground, as if he was about to tip over, and for the first few nights he had fallen back to the ground so many times that he expected to have bruises all over his body when he woke up. But after many tries, and a great deal of visible impatience from the gnome, he had managed to lift himself off the ground and float with the creature up to the treetops, then into the sky, and finally to this silent space among the stars.
Ed followed the gnome as it glided toward the green star. As he came closer, he saw that it wasn’t a star but a planet; it gave off light, but not the way a great ball of hot plasma would have. Ed and the gnome approached it and set themselves down on a rocky plain. Rain was falling, blown on a strong breeze that carried a scent Ed had never smelled before. It carried sounds, too: hints of words and snatches of music from far away. The sound was elusive, and Ed couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just his imagination.
His attention was drawn by what the gnome was examining on the ground between them. Tiny plants grew between the rocks here, thorny things with tiny, spiky leaves. Most were dark green, but several of the plants were the same blue as the tree that had given Ed a memory.
Ed looked at the gnome. The creature rolled its eye at him in a way that said, What are you waiting for? He reached out and gingerly touched one of the spiky leaves. An image popped into his head: he was sitting in a room with a pretty, dark-haired girl and a legless man. The man with no legs said, “Darjeeling would be wonderful.” Ed pulled his hand back from the leaf and the image disappeared.
He looked at the gnome. It faded slowly from sight, then reappeared.
One by one, Ed touched the spiny blue plants and felt his old memories sliding back into his head.
* * *
They visited hundreds of worlds over the next several weeks, seeking out the blue-tinged plants that held Ed’s memories. Some of the worlds were stormy and violent, others peaceful. Some were so full of lush vegetation that Ed needed the gnome to show him where to find the plants that contained his memories. One was a barren desert with no sign of life whatsoever. When they set down on this one, the gnome took a look around, shook its head, and lifted off again without delay.
On the more overgrown worlds, Ed found it impossible to touch the blue plants without coming into contact with some of the others. The memories that came to him from these other plants were not his own. It was disconcerting to have someone else’s memory appear in his head. Some of these were of such a personal nature that Ed felt like a voyeur, but once a memory took hold in his head there was nothing he could do to take it out again. After this happened a few times, he took great care not to touch the wrong plants.
As the weeks passed, Ed gradually found he w
as able to assemble the bits of memory into a fairly coherent narrative of his lost year. Every morning he filled Rayfield and Geoffrey in on what he had learned. Louis showed little interest in hearing about the details, although he would occasionally listen and provide unnecessary comments. By summer Ed had pieced together enough of his past to understand the danger he’d gotten himself into. He spent a great deal of time considering his next move, weighing his options, trying to decide what to do.
Kajdas was at the center of it all. There were things Tom hadn’t told him, and Ed needed to know everything. But approaching an FBI agent was not something to be taken lightly; even after Ed knew what he had to do, he spent several weeks in the safety of the Guru’s house trying to figure out some other way. There was no one he could talk to—really talk to—about it. Only Sarah would truly understand, and she was gone. No one else could help him clarify his thoughts the way she could.
One evening in August, when it had become clear that he was only trying to avoid the inevitable, he loaded his last few rounds into his Ruger and tucked it into the waist of his jeans. He dug into his remaining supply of cash. Some they had used for groceries and other essentials, but most of it was still in the dresser drawer. Leaving a sizeable portion for the others, he stuffed the rest into his wallet and pockets Then he took a shower, brushed his teeth, took a long, appraising look at himself in the mirror (he’d gained enough weight that his ribs no longer stuck out), and went to the kitchen to say goodbye.
Rayfield was leaning against the counter and eating a banana. “Time to get goin’, Ed?” he said through a full mouth.
Ed pursed his lips and nodded.
“You gonna kill him?”
He’d been thinking quite a bit about that. “I don’t know.”
“Think you’ll come back here after?”
“I don’t want to get you guys in trouble. I’ll come back if I can. If no one’s chasing me.”
“Just don’t end up in jail, okay? Or... You know.”
Ed shrugged.
“All right, Ed.” Rayfield smiled sadly. “Hope to see you.”
“Tell Lou and Geoffrey I said goodbye. And thanks.”
Out in the back yard, he found Louis returning from one of his excursions. Louis always came and went through the back door, crossing through the yards behind the house to avoid being seen from the street. He cursed when he saw Ed outside, looking around furtively as he hurried over.
“At least wait until dark,” Louis grumbled. “Running around in broad daylight.”
“Couldn’t wait any longer. I’ve been putting it off too long.”
Louis nodded. “I figured. Don’t matter anyway; those honkies in the car left yesterday.”
This was a great relief to Ed, who had assumed he’d be fleeing the FBI as soon as he set out.
“Don’t relax, though,” Louis added. “I just saw a coupla Arthur’s guys in a brown car around the corner. Easy to spot, you know?”
“I know.”
“Well,” Louis said, “you go do what you got to do. Just don’t get caught again.” With that he went into the house, leaving Ed alone in the back yard. Ed turned away and started across the yard. He would hitch a ride if he could; if no one would give him a ride, he would walk. Either way, it was time to pay a visit to Tom Kajdas.
40
A Surprise for Mr. Jin
“He has to go home sometime,” Wang was saying to Mr. Fu. The old man was sweating right through his expensive suit. “Keep watching his building.”
Ching sat in the chair in the corner as he had for most of the day, listening to his grandfather’s conversations and not really being noticed by anyone. That was fine by him.
Fu, who had taken to fidgeting nervously whenever Danny’s name was mentioned, nodded. His jowls shook dramatically as he did so. “If he goes back there, we’ll get him,” he said.
There was a knock on the door. Wang ignored it.
“And have you looked for relatives like I asked? The boy must have other family around.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Fu. “He has aunts and uncles, but none have seen him.” He shifted from foot to foot as though he had to go to the bathroom. Ching wondered how long the poor man could conceal the truth from Wang.
The knock came again, louder this time. “What?” said Wang with great impatience.
The door opened and the greasy restaurant manager poked his head in. “Mr. Wang, someone is here to see you.”
Wang waved him off. “Tell them come back tomorrow.”
“This one I can’t send away. Can you come upstairs? Please?”
The old man fixed the manager with his hardest stare. “You’d better not be wasting my time.”
Wang labored up the stairs, pausing to catch his breath on the landing. Ching followed close behind as though to provide help if he was needed, although he was really just curious.
It was close to lunchtime and the restaurant was filling up. The manager hurried across the room, bumping into patrons’ chairs and receiving angry looks. Wang threaded his way between the tables after him, pushing people aside with his considerable girth. Fu emerged from the stairway and stood by the door, watching.
A young white man in a Yankees hat was standing in the entryway, looking idly out the window. Ching almost didn’t notice him at all, but the manager went right up to him and whispered into his ear. The man in the hat turned, saw Wang approaching, and smiled. He held his hand, but Wang didn’t shake it; he looked down at the hand contemptuously, then back up at the man’s face.
“I am Wang,” he said curtly. “What do you need?” Ching thought it might be the first time he’d ever heard his grandfather speak English.
The man reached into his pocket. The manager and Wang both tensed, but all he pulled out was a wallet. “I’m Special Agent Kenneth Driscoll,” he said, showing them a badge. “FBI.” He held the badge up and let Wang get a good, long look at it before putting it back in his pocket.
Wang’s shoulders slumped. “Come, come,” he said, sounding very tired. “Sit down.” He plopped himself down at the nearest available table, and Driscoll sat next to him. Ching decided it would be best to keep his distance as they talked.
* * *
Four hours later, after the Greenbaum girl had left her apartment, Driscoll phoned Danny there to tell him the good news. “It’s going to be okay, Danny,” he said. “We’re taking care of things. You can go home and sit tight.”
There was a brief silence. “Home?” the boy asked. “What about Wang?”
“Everything’s all set. The draft letter, Mr. Wang, all of it. Go home, Danny, and you can tell your mother she can go home too. We’ll have your sister back to you in a few hours.”
“What about the guy you’re after? What’s going to happen to him?”
Driscoll sighed. “Terwilliger’s in a lot of trouble. I can’t promise that good things will happen to him. But he’ll be where he’s supposed to be, thanks to you. That map is an important window into Terwilliger’s line of thinking. It shows us where he’s going.”
“You don’t have him yet?”
“Not yet. We don’t know exactly when he’ll go to T—to that place, just that he will.” Driscoll silently berated himself for nearly giving away too much. “All that’s left is for us to send some agents up there to look for him.”
“Thanks,” Danny said, his voice unreadable over the phone.
“Thank you, Danny. I’m proud of you.”
* * *
Alice had been able to glimpse Li’s girls on occasion, mostly during her trips to the bathroom—the only time Jin let her out of the room that served as her cell in Li’s whorehouse. Some of Li’s girls were pretty, others merely ordinary, but all of them had an identical look in their eyes. It was similar to the look Alice saw in the eyes of the man who swept the floor at the library. They did their jobs, earned their checks, and felt nothing whatsoever for the men who paid for their services, just as the maintenance man had no special
regard for people who came into his library and dropped their candy wrappers on the floor. But it wasn’t quite the same look, was it? These girls seemed empty, somehow. Not entirely dead, but not quite alive either.
The customers were fearful-looking creatures, eyes darting about as though their wives might be watching from nearby. About half were lofahn, the other half Chinese. They paid cash, did their business with the girls, and left. Many came back on a regular basis.
The first few days she had been terrified most of all that she would be raped. Her captors had slapped her around a bit, mostly in return for the bites and scratches she gave them at every opportunity, but so far they had not gone beyond that. Li must have instructed them not to. She had a feeling Li’s protection wouldn’t last much longer. Whatever he wanted from Danny, it was clear her brother hadn’t given in. Alice was proud of him.
The room was empty save for a filthy blanket they had thrown down on the floor for her. She refused to use it. The nights were cold on the floor, but breathing the stink of the blanket was worse than being cold. The only use she’d found for it was to hide the project she’d been working on for the last five days.
She heard the key in the lock. The door creaked open, letting in a sliver of light from the bare bulb in the hallway. The noises of the brothel were audible out there for a moment as Mr. Li entered the room. Then he shut the door again and silence returned. This was the first time she’d seen the old man himself in several days. He looked happy and relaxed in his expensive pinstriped suit.
“Miss Chan,” he said politely, showing his teeth, “are you comfortable?” He glanced at the blanket and shook his head. “They haven’t treated you well. I’ll tell them to find you a better room, or at least a mattress. Hmm? You could do with a mattress, hmm?”
Alice faked her best smile. She would not let this man see her cowering in fear. “How about a TV and a phone?” Pretending to shift her weight to relieve sore muscles, she reached behind her back and slid her hand under the blanket.
Forest of the Mind (The Book of Terwilliger 1) Page 37
