When she caressed the back of his head, Scott nearly collapsed.
“So where did you end up?” she asked.
He swam back to the gymnasium floor with its dim purple lighting and sea of swaying students. At the beginning of the school year, he would never have pictured himself here, in mid-March, holding the girl of his dreams. He reminded himself that this was a business meeting, not a date.
“Oh, I ended up going to the fallen tree, thinking you might be there. You weren’t, of course, but wait until you hear this. The levee around our neighborhood? The reflectors across the top?”
“Yeah?”
“They’re infrared motion sensors.”
“Oh, right, right!” In her excitement, Janis stepped on his toes. “Nut said something about that. He had to scramble the sensors on the levee to get back in. ‘Fort Oakwood,’ he called the neighborhood.”
“I’m starting to think it is a fort. How have you ever entered or left the neighborhood?”
“The front entrance.”
“Exactly. The only entrance. You couldn’t leave by another way if you wanted to. There’s the levee on both sides of the neighborhood and the houses at the top of the Grove with their fenced backyards slamming right up against one another. Oakwood is one big suburban bottle.”
“I’ve never thought about it that way,” she said.
“That day, February second, a delivery vehicle went to your house.”
“My Grams sent flowers for my birthday.”
“Well, one of the voices on the tape checked the plate numbers with what he called ‘the front.’ I’d bet anything there’s a system at the entrance of Oakwood that photographs plates and cross-checks them with the DMV’s database. Anything unusual or out of the ordinary gets tracked.”
“But why?”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I might have stumbled on a lead.”
“Someone’s been busy.”
A guilty heat washed over Scott’s face. “Yeah, the whole laying low thing lasted for about a week after we talked. Sorry, but I just couldn’t stay sitting on my hands.” He went on to tell her about the housing data, the transactions with Blue Sky Reality, and Oakwood being barricaded for a year.
“So you think Blue Sky is responsible for Fort Oakwood?”
“Only they don’t exist. At least, not according to my mom. My guess is that Blue Sky was a dummy company set up for the sole purpose of clearing everyone out of the neighborhood, then — after the cameras, levees, bunkers, and God knows what else were in place — repopulating it with watchers and our families. After that, the company went poof. I’m even starting to wonder if the name they chose was some kind of inside joke. You know, B.S. Realty.”
Someone might have been able to slide a piece of paper between their bodies, but just barely. That made it that much harder for Scott to say what he was about to say. He pressed his lips together before forging on.
“You may not like this. It will seem to go against what Nut’s telling you, but…” he hesitated.
“What?”
“I’m not so sure we’re in danger. After everything I’ve found, I’m starting to think we’re being protected.”
“Protected?”
Just as Scott had feared, the space between their bodies grew. A couple of inches, maybe, but it felt like leagues.
“Wait, just hear me out. For all of their monitoring and following, these people haven’t done anything to us. And it’s not like they haven’t had opportunities. They’ve had years’ worth of opportunities, and yet they haven’t lifted a finger. The one time one of them did hurt us, the reaction was like a kicked ant’s nest — Agent Steel showing up with her band of Merry Men. To me, they’re behaving much more like government secret service than a squad of hit men. You asked why they’d be tracking visitors to Oakwood? For the same reason, I would think. To make sure no one comes to harm us. I’m not saying Mr. Nut is one of the bad guys. I’m just saying maybe” — Scott winced — “probably he and his partner, lacking perfect information, came to an imperfect conclusion.”
Except for the barest swaying, Janis had almost stopped dancing. “When did you first notice your abilities?” she asked.
“One, two years ago. They came on slowly. I didn’t realize they were anything special at first.”
“I only started having my out-of-body experiences this past summer. The precognition and telekinesis stuff came months later. Which means we both moved to Oakwood well before we discovered our powers. At least five years before. So how would anyone have known to put us here?” she asked. “How would they have known to protect us?”
Scott stopped rocking altogether. It was the most obvious question in the giant puzzle, and he’d neglected to consider it. The question hadn’t even registered as a blip in his mind. He thought Janis had been preparing to ask him how they had all come to live in Oakwood, which was the question he’d been puzzling over all week. But she’d done him one keener. Much keener.
“I… I don’t know,” was all he could think to say.
“So let’s not jump to any conclusions about who’s on the right and wrong side of this. If you had the nightmares I’ve been having…” She paused as though to swallow. “It could be that they haven’t done anything because they don’t know about our powers, not yet. I’m going to meet with Nut tomorrow. He’ll tell me who They are and whatever danger he believes them to pose.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, Scott. I…” When she spoke again, her voice was less defiant, but a certain finality lingered. “It’s hard to explain, but I need to meet with him alone. We’ll compare notes later, I promise. We’ll make it a second date.”
Heat burst from Scott’s core and tingled throughout him like the final glitters of a Disney fireworks display.
You see, pal, what did I tell ya? You’re in like Flynn.
“So where do you suppose Agent Steel fits into this?” he asked after they’d resumed swaying.
“She hasn’t been to see you or anything, has she?”
“No, no, I was just thinking about what you told me in the woods — her interest in how someone got into the basement, how you got out of the bathroom. Also, her investigation of Nut seemed pretty excessive, considering he’s supposedly dead. It also suggests she has a higher level of access, that her authority straddles a number of these so-called compartments.”
“I haven’t seen her around lately, thank God. Or the other creeps who had been showing up around—” She stiffened against him.
“What is it?”
“There’s a man leaning against the pushed-in bleachers, wearing a white suit and hat. He’s staring right at us. I’m going to turn you slowly. Don’t act like you’re looking for him. Just sort of glance up.”
When they made half a revolution, Scott faced a swaying sea of students. His gaze went from seam to seam among the couples, looking for the man Janis had described.
“Do you see him?” she asked.
“No, not yet. Wait…”
The man in the white suit was near the refreshment table, arms crossed, one knee bent back, propping himself against the vertical wall of bleacher seats. His hat, a white fedora with a black band, was pulled low, the brim further hiding his face in the already dark gymnasium.
“He’s one of them,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“You talked about the cars in our neighborhood having a signature, a certain sound they make. Well, people have a signature, too. It’s hard to explain, but they carry their emotions around them in layers, sort of like winter wear. Sometimes I can see the layers, but more often I feel them. With Agent Steel and the strange men, I feel nothing. The thing is, they’re not… naked. It’s more like they’re wearing a void, if that makes any sense. When I reached toward the man in the white suit a few seconds ago, that’s what I felt. A void.”
Scott allowed his gaze to linger on the man a bit longer than he probably should have. But there
was something very familiar in his stance, the line of his shoulders, and the casual tilt of his head. Then the man took something from his mouth, an unlit cigar, and with a thick knuckle pushed his hat up. From the darkness, a row of white teeth shone out.
Scott jerked his gaze away. “I-I know him.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s our yardman, Mr. Shine. Remember him from when we were kids?”
“Of course. But what’s he doing here?”
“He works at the school, too. He’s a custodian. Maybe the school asked him to come help chaperone or something.” Scott’s gaze wandered back to the gleaming teeth for a second look. “He saved me from Jesse and Creed the day they came after me in the tennis courts. He’s the one who told me about Oakwood being closed for a year. I’m pretty sure he’s not one of them.”
But how sure could he be? Scott thought about the way Mr. Shine’s eyes always seemed to twinkle, as though someone far more knowledgeable was peeking through them.
Janis sighed. “This place is so packed, who knows what I’m picking up. He’s probably fine. ‘Nothing is what it seems, and no one can be trusted.’ Maybe I’m taking it to the extreme, though the first part has certainly borne out.” Her words resonated with loneliness.
“Well, whatever he meant by the second part, it can’t have been literal. Maybe it’s better to think about the people you can trust.” Scott rubbed her back before relacing his fingers.
Not the smoothest, said the Bud voice. But not bad, neither.
For the first time that evening, Janis lay her head against his shoulder. Foreigner sang “I Want to Know What Love Is,” and as Scott watched the light playing over Janis’s combed-down hair, something told him that this would be their final slow song. He touched his cheek to the side of her crown, not quite daring to rest it there. Mr. Shine rotated into view again. He held up his cigar to Scott as though to say, Hey, there you are, young blood! as his crescent of white teeth grew broader. Scott raised his own hand and gave a small wave.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Janis said.
“That’s the second time you’ve made me promise.” He jerked with a revelation and tucked his chin so he could see her. “It’s your dream, isn’t it? You’re seeing something in your dream.”
Janis seemed to study the lenses of his glasses for a second before focusing beyond them. When a point of light swept over her eyes, they caught flashes of moisture. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
What would Scott Summers say to Jean Grey?
“Nor I you,” he answered.
Bud groaned, but Scott hardly noticed, for as the final slow song built toward its choral crescendo — “I want to know what love is…” — Janis brought her face up and kissed him. On the lips.
Two seconds passed, three. The sensation was warm and dizzying, and before Scott could figure out what to do with his own lips, it was over. Janis’s face fell away, her eyes opening onto large pupils.
“I missed you,” she said.
Scott licked his bottom lip self-consciously. “I, ah, I missed you, too.” Heartbeats punched through his breathy words, his nervous system only now seeming to grasp the enormity of what just happened. The lights swelled as the song faded. Couples began to separate. Scott cleared his throat into his fist. “Would you like to, um, get a drink?” he asked.
Janis nodded, and they made their way to the refreshment table. Thanks to the patron saint of first dates, Scott found a crumpled dollar in the bottom of his pants pocket and, unfurling it with shaking hands, paid for two Cokes. As he waited for the girl to pour them, Scott looked for Mr. Shine but couldn’t find him.
“So, do you want to tell me about the dream?” He gestured toward a pair of metal folding chairs, then sat beside her, his tie dangling between his knees as he rested his elbows.
Janis took a sip of her Coke. “I haven’t had the dream all week. Not since the change of leadership in the Soviet Union. I’m hoping that whatever future existed before — the future I was having nightmares about — is being replaced by a new future, one where we won’t need that stupid clock counting down the minutes to a nuclear doomsday. One where I won’t have the same nightmares.” She squinted up at him. “Does that make any sense?”
Scott nodded even as he dreaded what he was going to have to tell her.
“With Reagan and Gorbachev planning talks, my parents think the Cold War is all but history.” She smirked a little. “All week, around the house, they’ve been acting like a pair of newlyweds. Not that I mind. It’s just not something I’m used to—”
“Gorbachev is dead,” Scott said.
The color drained from Janis’s cheeks. “What?”
“I heard it on the way over. I had to stop at the corner gas station for air for my back tire. The guy inside had a radio on, and there was a special bulletin. It seems the hardliners in Gorbachev’s party thought he was capitulating to the West. He was shot while giving a speech in Leningrad.”
As Janis brought her hand to her mouth, some new horror seemed to spread over her face. Scott took her cup from her and set it down, afraid she was going to drop it. Her irises turned deep green.
“Janis?” The skin of her forearm felt cool and faraway.
She blinked her eyes as though the room around here were coming back into focus. Then her brow tensed, and she stood. “I-I’m sorry, Scott. I don’t have time to explain, but I have to go.” She touched his cheek.
Scott set his drink down, but Janis was already pushing her way through a crowd of students. He took a step after her just as someone seized his arm.
“Scott Spruel?” a voice said.
He turned and found himself staring into Agent Steel’s frigid blue eyes. The expression around her scarred lip was as resolute as granite.
“You’re wanted for questioning,” she said.
Scott tried to swallow, but his mouth felt like ground chalk. “F-for what?”
“Obstructing an investigation.”
She tugged him to her side and steered him toward the door Scott had come in by. The entire gymnasium revolved around them. Everywhere he looked, lights pulsed over students laughing, pushing out their arms and legs, ties flipping back and forth, dress hems bouncing. Nobody seemed to notice him. They were in their own world, and Scott was in his.
Well, you know what they say, pal, Bud said sadly. It’s not who you take to these things, it’s who you leave with.
Scott twisted his neck around and spotted Janis. He opened his mouth to call to her, but her back was to him, and she was falling away, and she was talking to Blake Farrier. Agent Steel gave him another hard jerk, and the gym door slammed closed behind them.
23
Minutes earlier
Janis shielded her brow and squinted. A chanting crowd surrounded her, but they weren’t Thirteenth Street High students, and she clearly wasn’t in the school gymnasium. The crowd consisted of women and men of all ages, pumping their fists and holding signs aloft that read NUKE THE NUKES and RADIATION KNOWS NO BOUNDARIES.
I’ve had this experience before, when I touched Star on the first day of school.
Janis wasn’t actually there, yet she couldn’t escape the vividness of the bobbing signs and flapping coat sleeves and the way breath steamed from the mouths of the crushing crowd. She turned in the direction they all faced and took in the same steps she’d seen in the last experience, the white columns and dome of the state capitol building reaching toward a blue sky. And there was Star, shouting into a microphone, her spiked head lunging forward like a medieval weapon. Over a long underwear top, she wore her sister’s black NUCLEAR FREEZE NOW! shirt.
Star glanced to where Janis stood. Her eyes widened in recognition. Then Star clenched her face, raised her fist — and a deafening sound clapped through Janis’s awareness, like thunder.
Janis felt herself tumbling out of the experience. After an instant of darkness, Scott wavered into focus. She regarded his face a moment: the handsome
searching eyes, the lips that had felt so warm against hers. Then she remembered what he had just told her: Gorbachev had been shot and killed giving a speech. It was what triggered the vision of Star. She was planning to give a speech at a rally tomorrow in Tallahassee, for the Florida chapter of the nuclear nonproliferation movement. She had been talking about it all week in study hall.
And now Janis understood that the sound she had heard was no thunderclap. It had come from a high-powered rifle.
She stood. “I-I’m sorry, Scott. I don’t have time to explain, but I have to go.”
She caressed his falling face, but her heart was pounding too hard, her mind racing to assemble a plan. Could she call Star’s mother and get the number where Star was staying? But even as she thought this, she knew a phone call wouldn’t dissuade Star from speaking. No, nothing short of going to Tallahassee herself was going to spare her friend’s life.
Which meant she needed a ride.
She spotted Blake farther down the court’s sideline, near the deejay booth. A small group surrounded him. Using her arms like a wedge, Janis began squeezing her way toward him.
Drawing nearer, she recognized several of Blake’s football teammates — and the three A’s. Amy was leaning her head back at something Blake had just said. Then she fell against him, her hands clutching his arm. Blake’s cheeks dimpled softly. Janis hesitated, a jealous knot forming in her stomach.
Blake hadn’t taken Amy Pavoni to the dance, had he?
Janis set her face and strode forward. One by one, the members of the group turned toward her, Alicia’s and Autumn’s smiles souring. Blake straightened as if he’d been caught climbing onto the counter for a package of Nutter Butters. Amy’s hands writhed possessively up his arm. She arched an eyebrow and smiled with one corner of her mouth.
Janis fixed her gaze on Blake. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
XGeneration, Books 1-3: You Don't Know Me, The Watchers, and Silent Generation Page 49
