The door creaked open and a girl’s face leaned into the crack. “Oh, hey,” she said, now opening the door just enough to reveal the rest of her.
It wasn’t Gaia. Zan, Gaia’s spacey housemate, leaned lazily against the door frame. She looked out of place. A night creature caught in the light of morning.
Her eyes peered up at him between thick streaks of eyeliner, and her long dirt-blond hair hung in near dreds, spilling over the shoulders of her black Mickey Mouse T-shirt.
“Can I please speak with Gaia?” Jake asked.
“She’s not here,” Zan replied, a wry smile curling her red, bloodstained-looking lips. “In fact,” she added, watching Jake closely, “she hasn’t been here all night.” She curled her left leg around the doorway, her stockinged foot tracing figure-eight patterns on the porch planks.
So she’s still with Skyler. A white-hot rage welled up inside him, but he somehow managed to steady his features. He had been hoping, even praying that Gaia would be here, but deep down, he’d known she wouldn’t be. So far it had been his only instinct that proved right.
“Do you know where she is? Did she leave a number?” he asked, wincing at the chime of desperation in his voice.
Zan grinned. Impish sparks glimmered behind her bloodshot eyes. “I don’t know anything. But then, sometimes people don’t want to be found, right?”
Jake didn’t answer. His jaw clenched reflexively.
“But you’re welcome to hang out with me.” She crossed the threshold onto the porch, her hands toying with the doorknob behind her back. “I know some cool places. And I can get some great stuff.” She reached out her foot and slid her toes up his shin. “I could make you forget about Gaia.”
“No. Uh, thanks anyway,” Jake said, resisting the urge to kick her foot away.
For a split second Zan’s sultry bad-girl facade fell away, revealing the face of a pouty child. Even the thick black makeup couldn’t hide it. She looked like a doll someone had kicked around and colored on.
Then, as quickly as it appeared, the look was gone. The sullen teenager returned, even more sullen than before. “Whatever,” she snapped. “Your loss.” She headed back into the house.
“Wait,” Jake called.
Zan turned back, a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes.
“If you see Gaia, would you tell her to call me?” he asked. Watching her features harden, he smiled and added, “Please?”
“We’ll see.” She flashed one last ironic grin and then shut the door in his face.
Jake descended the steps and looked down the awakening street. His worst fears had now been confirmed—Gaia was still gone. Still off frolicking with the King of Face Creams. And he was still left with no leads. His cosmic bargaining didn’t seem to be working out.
He took a deep breath of muggy morning air and slowly massaged his temples. His stomach churned with a frothy brew of emotions, made even more bitter by lack of sleep. Could he have brought this on himself? Maybe this was punishment for something terrible he’d done. If only he could remember what it was.
If he ever saw Gaia again . . . No, when he saw Gaia again, he would hold her close and promise to listen to her—even her paranoid delusions about Oliver turning evil. He would be the most attentive, least argumentative, best boyfriend on the planet.
That or he’d kick her ass.
Snakelike Tentacles
POST-RAIN NEW YORK WAS SMELLIER than usual, but it wasn’t without its charms. The foliage looked fresh and dewy. The sidewalks gleamed as if freshly waxed. And the buildings seemed stripped of a layer of grime, their graffiti shining bright and colorful.
No rainbows today, though. On a whim Gaia had glanced into a nearby puddle, but all she saw was mud.
She was walking briskly down the street, toward the corner where she was pretty sure she’d seen a bakery, when all of a sudden she felt something grab at her ankle. Gaia hopped sideways and shook her leg. Glancing down, she realized it was only her shoelaces flapping about her leg.
Jeez, what a spaz, she thought, stepping to the far side of the sidewalk to retie her sneaker. Will I ever stop freaking at every little thing?
As she crouched over the slick cement, something white caught her eye. Looking closer, she saw it was a dead baby bird lying in a small pool of rainwater, the fragments of its tawny shell all around it. Gaia felt her despair returning, its cold, snakelike tentacles coiling around her organs, darkening her thoughts.
Poor thing, she thought, staring at the lifeless bird. It was such a tiny, exquisite corpse. She was struck by the detail on each downy feather, the twisted pink twig of a leg.
The storm must have knocked it out of the nearby tree. Little guy hadn’t had a chance. For weeks he had been snug and safe in its perfect oval sanctum and then bam! All he had gotten to know of the world outside was pain and death.
She understood such suffering. She herself had recently burst out of her fearless cocoon into the real live world. And so far, most of what she’d come to know was agony.
Gaia wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t leave the bird like this, dumped unceremoniously onto a grimy sidewalk. In a way, she felt like this could be her own demise she was glimpsing. It wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine herself lying dead in a ditch, with clueless pedestrians flinging cigarette butts and hocking loogeys on her as they passed, too busy to notice or care.
As tenderly as she could, she scooped the frail figure into her hand. He looked so cold and wet and alone. Gaia pulled a wad of Kleenex out of her jacket pocket and carefully wrapped him in it. Then she folded the ends until he was completely shrouded.
Now what? She peered down a nearby alley and saw just what she was looking for. Midway down, next to a large gray Dumpster, lay a spot of fresh earth between broken bits of asphalt. She walked over and dug her fingers into the damp dirt until she’d hollowed out a small grave. Then she laid him inside and covered him up.
Should I say something? she wondered as she pressed the dirt level with the street. After all, it was a funeral—impromptu and slightly ridiculous, but still a funeral.
She rummaged through her mind for something appropriate to say, something philosophical and uplifting.
“Life is hell, isn’t it?”
The voice had come from somewhere nearby, a little farther down the alley. Gaia ducked behind the Dumpster and listened. She was quite sure she didn’t know the person behind the voice, but there was still something recognizable about its restless, energized tone.
“Make him scream, John. I wanna hear him scream,” came another, more keyed-up voice.
Gaia peered through the triangular gap between the Dumpster and the alley wall. They were just a few yards down. Two guys were menacing another who was backed up against the wall. Their jerky movements and the way they were practically panting with excitement were all the clues she needed to figure out what was going on.
No, no, no! Crap, no! She did not want to deal with this again. What the hell were Droogs doing in this part of town?
She rose up for a closer look. They weren’t Droogs. At least, not the ones she usually battled. These were Columbia students, judging by their Gap outfits and leather laptop cases. But they were clearly hopped up on the same stuff that fueled the IV heads she knew and loved.
I should just run away. I should just sneak down the other way and race all the way to the bakery without looking back.
But even as she thought it, she knew she wouldn’t do it. By now the more hyper of the Columbia Droogs had bounced to the left, revealing the pair’s intended victim. It was a homeless man, small and disheveled, his age unknowable. The skin of his hands and face was so weathered and rough, it was hard to tell where the weave of his brown coat ended and his skin began. Gaia thought of the delicate detail on the body of the bird. . . .
She stood up straight and took a few shaky steps toward the trio.
“Aren’t you scared? Aren’t you scared out of your freaking mind?” the calmer
of the two was demanding of the vagrant.
The man just stood there, mumbling to himself, his eyes focused but unseeing.
The bouncier guy bent down and picked something off the ground—a piece of gleaming green glass. “Use this, John. This will make him scared.”
The other one, John, grasped the glass and turned the point toward the vagrant’s face. “How do you like this? Isn’t it pretty?”
The man tensed but otherwise remained in his hunched stance, chanting under his breath.
“What’s he saying, John?”
“I don’t know.” John grabbed the man’s chin with one hand and kept waving the jagged piece of glass beneath his nose with the other. “Speak up! Speak up or I’ll cut you!”
“Leave him alone!” Gaia’s voice seemed to blend with the breeze and fly away.
It wasn’t quite the warning she’d been hoping to communicate, but at least she’d announced her presence.
The guys turned and looked at her. Their smiles widened.
“Oh, goody! A girl!” exclaimed the more hyper one. “Get her, John! Let’s make her scream!” They turned from the homeless man, who slowly slid down the wall.
“Look how scared she is,” John commented as they walked toward her.
Gaia immediately jumped into a fighting stance, which only made them laugh. “Run!” she shouted at the vagrant, but he remained in his crouched position, mumbling and rocking slightly. “Run, dammit!”
“How come you don’t run, girlie? Aren’tcha scared?” The big, oafish one danced in front of her, giggling and making erratic grabbing motions with his arms. “We’re gonna get you!” he sang out. “We’re going to cut you up!”
He walked toward her, putting his hands on either side of his face and wiggling his fingers. “Boo! Raaah! Oof!”
Gaia kicked him in the stomach. He doubled over and fell to his knees.
John burst out laughing. Then he too raced toward Gaia, his hand with the glass shard leading the way.
Gaia steadied herself, suppressing the overwhelming urge to run away. As soon as he was in range, she deflected his arm with a chop block, then followed with a roundhouse kick to the groin.
The guy crashed to the ground, gasping from both effort and laughter. His fist had inadvertently closed around the shard, burying it halfway into his palm. He held up his hand and studied it, blood running in stripes down his arm. Then he burst out in a fresh spate of giggles. “Gordy,” he called, waving his bloody hand. “Hey, Gordy! Look!”
The other guy was on his feet again. Before Gaia could turn around, he’d grabbed her from behind. She planted her feet and head-butted him backward as hard as she could. The force sent the back of his skull crashing into the wall behind him.
He let go of her and staggered around stupidly, his eyes bleary and his mouth still halfway curled in a smile. Finally he crumpled forward in a lifeless heap.
Something hard collided with Gaia’s shoulder. “Ow!”
She turned around in time to see something else go flying past her. It crashed into the wall with a dull, shattering sound. John had found a crumbled bit of masonry and was using his good hand to fling bricks at her.
He launched another right at her head. Gaia dodged it and hit the ground. She tried to roll out of the way, but there was nowhere to hide. All she could do was shield her head and twist this way and that while John continued to pelt her with bricks, laughing as if he were playing a two-dollar carnival game.
Her forearms bruised and throbbing, Gaia somersaulted forward until she was right next to the guy, his arm raised for another throw. She quickly grabbed his wrist and forced it back, feeling the snap of a bone. The brick slid out of his hand and fell to the ground.
“I see it! I see it in your eyes!” he panted gleefully. “You’re scared!”
The truth of his words hit her like another brick, and Gaia hesitated. In that instant he lunged forward and tackled her to the ground.
“Yep. Scared little girl,” he continued babbling as he lay on top of her. His hands near useless, he crawled forward on his elbows until he was face-to-face with her. “I can feel your fear,” he rasped, practically foaming with morbid delight.
Gaia felt panic rising inside her. It threatened to overtake her. But somehow she managed to force it back down. With a grunt of exertion she slammed her fist against the man’s chin. His head shook from the impact. Then he opened his mouth and laughed out loud, blood trickling from the corner of his lips.
She punched him again and again, each time gaining more trajectory as the force of her blows slid him sideways off her. His face became a distorted mess of blood and spit and swollen flesh. But still he laughed harder and harder.
It was intensely freaky, but also annoying as hell.
Finally, after one last strike to his temple, his eyes rolled back into his head. His body gave a massive jerk and then flopped forward, completely motionless.
Gaia wriggled out from under him and lay on her back, panting heavily. A noise cut through the sound of her breathing—a low murmur growing louder and louder. It was the vagrant, who was still crouched against the opposite wall.
“Yea-though-I-walk-through-the-valley-of-the-shadow-of-death-I-will-fear-no-evil,” he chanted, the words gradually growing faster and louder. “Yea-though-I-walk-through-the-valley-of-the-shadow-of-death-I-will-fear-no-evil.”
Gaia rolled to her knees and staggered upright. “Are you all right?” she asked breathlessly.
His eyes snapped onto hers and he slowly rose to his feet. “Fear no evil!” he shouted, pointing at her. “Fear no evil! Fear no evil!”
She staggered backward, shaking her head. “Stop,” she said. “Please stop.” Everything around her seemed to sway and shimmer. She was passing out. Only she didn’t want to. It was the creeping darkness she’d felt under the bed the night before. It was closing in on her, suffocating her.
Images swirled in front of her. The etched face of the vagrant. The bloody forms of her attackers. The tiny mound where the dead bird lay. The alley walls stretched and converged, then bent forward as if pinning her down.
Suddenly Skyler’s face appeared in the mix. Only it wasn’t Skyler. It looked just like him, but his fore-head was creased in rage. And his eyes. His eyes were flaying her, ripping into her flesh.
“Gaia!” said a voice. “Evil!” said another.
Then, as if a thick black sheath had been pulled over her, everything went dark and silent.
Pitiful Form
GAIA OPENED HER EYES AND TRIED to focus. All she could see was the fuzzy outline of something above her, like the splayed figure of a giant, five-legged spider. She blinked and refocused. It was a ceiling fan—the one in Skyler’s bedroom.
She tried to rise up but only succeeded in tensing the sore muscles in her back and neck. Her limbs felt encased in lead; her stomach seemed to be simmering something. And judging by the intense throbbing, she wasn’t entirely sure her skull was completely intact.
Eventually she managed to flop her head to the side. Skyler was slouched in a chair beside her bed. His eyes were fixed on an invisible point in front of him, barely blinking, and his mouth was pursed, creating a small pocket of flesh right above his chin.
Flashes of memory flickered in her mind. She remembered the bird, the fight, the etched face of the vagrant. Skyler had been there, too. She could picture him standing over her, a look of intense fury contorting his princely features. She’d never seen him so angry. It was almost as if he hated her.
Gaia opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a croaky, rattling sound.
Skyler immediately jumped out of his chair and bent over her. “Gaia?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
Gaia stared at him. He looked and sounded genuinely concerned. No trace at all of the scary Skyler. “You . . . you’re not mad at me?” she asked. For some reason her lower lip was trembling, and her voice had a chirpy, birdlike quality.
“No! Of course not,” he said, pus
hing stray blond strands off her face. “I’ve been worried sick. I mean, Jesus God, what happened? I came out of the shower and you were gone. Then I go looking for you and find you grimy and bloody in the middle of some alley. What the hell happened?”
“I went to get bagels. For you.”
Skyler’s cobalt blue eyes drooped with compassion. “Gaia, you didn’t have to do that. You needed to rest.”
“I wanted to surprise you. Then there was this bird. It was dead.” Her voice quavered as she remembered the small, pitiful form in her hand. “I went to move it and that’s when I saw those guys picking on that man. I had to stop them.”
“But that’s not your responsibility,” he said, stroking her forehead lightly. “You could have called someone. You could have come to me.”
“There wasn’t time.”
“Gaia, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Don’t get me wrong—you’re amazing—but even you can’t take on the whole city. I mean . . . who’s going to look after you? It was a good thing I came along when I did. God knows what could have happened to you in that alley.”
Gaia thought back to the crazed stare of the vagrant and shuddered.
“Promise me,” Skyler murmured, grabbing up her right hand and holding it in both of his. “Promise me you won’t ever leave here again without telling me where you’re going.”
A renegade tear stole down the center of her cheek, but Gaia didn’t have the strength to stop it. “I just . . . wanted to surprise you.”
“I know,” he said, wiping her cheek with the back of his fingers. “It’s okay. It just freaked me out is all.”
Gaia felt a wave of shame. What the hell was I thinking? she scolded herself. Skyler goes out of his way to keep me safe and help me recover from that fight, and how do I repay him? I sneak out and get into another one.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sobbing. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Shhh. It’s okay.” He continued stroking her hair as he talked, his voice a series of soft notes, like a lullaby. She could feel herself relaxing, crumbling under his kindness. How could she have ever thought him scary? Her vision of him had probably been just that—a crazy vision.
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