“We have to take him out if he’s going to proceed with the plan. Rowan is ready to step in.” This sounded like a third voice.
Abbey could make out nothing in the black shadows of the forest. She started edging back. She’d have to go around them. She didn’t expect they were the kind of men that would take too well to her eavesdropping on their murder plans. Farley followed, a bit confused by the change in direction and pace. He veered into a bush and stepped on a tree branch, alerting the men, who started yelling and moving in her direction. Abbey broke into a sprint and yanked the dog along with her, as the three men flared a torch and began to pursue.
It wasn’t long before Abbey could hear crashing in the bushes directly behind her. She had a stitch in her side and her breath came in ragged gasps. Farley’s leash kept getting tangled around trees and branches as they chose opposite directions around obstacles. Abbey dropped the leash and prayed that Farley would stay with her. He did at first, then the crashing parallel to her stopped. Abbey turned back. In the faint light cast by the men’s torch, Abbey could see Farley’s leash hooked on a snag, and the dog thrashing furiously to free himself.
“I see them!” the man behind her yelled.
Abbey leapt through the air and unhooked the dog. The man was only about six meters away now and Abbey could see his burly frame in the animal-skin guard uniform from the camp. His left eye drooped precariously and the left side of his face was distorted, like it had been badly burned. A claw-like arm dangled on that side, while his right arm carried a blazing torch.
“I’ve got them!” he hollered, reaching out his clawed arm.
Abbey ran as hard as she could, clutching Farley so close his muzzle and leg smacked against her side. She expected to feel the claw in her hair any second.
But then the light vanished, and she felt a strange whoosh, like the wind had picked up and was blowing her away. Something came out of nowhere and smacked into her so hard she fell backward, pulling Farley with her. She closed her eyes and braced for her own death.
“Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” A flashlight shone in her face. As she looked around, Abbey realized she’d returned to her own woods and Caleb was the right age again.
Chapter 8
A Story with No Words
Abbey staggered to her feet. The fur blanket she’d been carrying was gone. She must have dropped it while she ran through the forest—away from the clawed man. Her backside felt bruised and her cheeks bore the scoring of the forest branches.
“Where were you?” The words came from her and Caleb’s mouth at the same time. Except that Abbey added, “Where’s Simon?” onto the end of her question. Then she launched into her twin and wrapped his torso in a hug. Caleb patted her back awkwardly and gave her a noogie on the side of the head.
“Simon’s down looking around the Forresters’ house for clues. We were pretty worried. We thought you’d been kidnapped by the same people that took Mark and Mrs. Forrester. Where have you been?”
Abbey’s words came out stuttered and torn, as she tried to remember what she could and couldn’t tell Caleb. “Mantis showed up at the Forrester house just after you left. I followed you through the stones. But you weren’t there. I walked toward a fire. There was a big camp of people. Then some men chased me through the woods. I thought they had me for sure, and then all of a sudden I was back. Where did you and Simon go? Simon shouldn’t be down at the Forresters’ alone; Mantis was there.”
Caleb had scrunched his eyes up while she spoke, as if sensing her dissembling. “Mantis is gone now. The Forrester house is still empty. You were gone for over an hour… Did you go into the camp?”
Abbey hesitated. She almost never lied to her twin. “I lost the stones, so I wandered around in the woods for a while before the men started to chase me. Then suddenly I was back. It was like when we were in Bubble City and we didn’t have to go back to the desert to come home. I think the stones move, or there might be more than one set.” What had the older Caleb said? “The stones are alive.” Livingstone, living stones. What was that strange pull she always felt when she was near them? “But you still haven’t told me where you were.”
Caleb’s eyes remained narrowed but he relented. “We only stayed for fifteen minutes, like we agreed, just to see how I felt. We hadn’t gone very far from the stones when we heard voices. Men. We didn’t dare turn on our flashlights or they would’ve seen us. It was so dark there we couldn’t make out anything.” He stopped and nodded down the hill. “We’d better go get Simon. Mom and Dad will be home any second.”
They started walking and Caleb continued talking. “The men were talking about getting rid of the light. Why would they want to get rid of the light in a place that’s already blacker than black?” Caleb shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled at the ground.
“And?” probed Abbey. She could still see the hand of the clawed man reaching for her.
“And what?”
“Did you feel anything? Like it was your future?”
Caleb frowned. They’d almost reached the Forresters’. He pulled at a loose thread hanging from his shirt. “I guess. But it wasn’t a good feeling, not like you and Simon seemed to feel. I didn’t recognize things, or feel like things made sense. I just felt like the darkness was totally oppressive. I had to get out of there. We’re going to try again when it’s daylight.”
Simon was on the Forresters’ porch when they arrived, his toque pulled low over his eyes and his mouth set in a tight line. He almost ran when he spotted them. His grip on Abbey’s arm bordered on sharpness.
“Where’ve you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. You didn’t go through those stones alone did you?”
Abbey pulled back. “Yes, I did. Mantis arrived at the Forresters’ a few minutes after you left. What else was I supposed to do?”
Simon dropped her arm and strode away. “Okay, rule number one is that none of us go through the stones alone. It’s either at least two of us together or not at all.”
“Good then.” Abbey fought her tears of fury at the harshness in Simon’s tone. “I vote for not at all.” But she wasn’t sure if she meant that. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure that those men were trying to kill the older Caleb. And she had to stop them.
“We’d better get home,” she said. “Mom and Dad will be arriving any second.”
They walked in silence toward their own house. Caleb wore a brooding look and stared off into space, stripped of his usual exuberance. Abbey barely heard Simon when he spoke.
“The glasses are gone.”
“What?” asked Abbey.
“The glasses that were on the table at the Forresters’ are gone. Someone took them.”
****
Mark had counted the lines that crisscrossed the burgundy and green floor three times already, going north-south and east-west. He’d multiplied them by three and then counted every third line. The lady behind them kept moaning from behind the curtain. Mark placed his hands over his ears and rocked to get himself through it. He could only imagine the number of germs crawling over all of the surfaces. The machines around his mother hummed and beeped. Wires ran from the machines to white circles pasted to his mother’s head and chest. Her breath emerged as a whisper, and her closed eyes sat deep in her eye sockets. Why hadn’t he noticed that her hair had grown silvery and her body ever so infinitesimally smaller in the last few years? When had the fine hair that covered her cheeks become downy, reminiscent of a garment of faint gauze? He didn’t know.
A stroke, the doctors had said. They were lucky they’d gotten to the hospital early enough for her to receive the appropriate injections (although the trip to the hospital had been harrowing). She might have a full recovery. She might.
The ICU was bright. They couldn’t turn off the lights, the nurses had said, when he started thrashing and pulling at his hair. They needed to see the machines to help the patients. He’d been ordered to stop thrashing
or he’d be sedated.
He couldn’t go home alone, they’d told him. Not that he would’ve known how to get there anyway. Buses contained a whole host of potential disease vectors, he didn’t have the schedule, and he didn’t have any money. It was too far to walk. Social services had been called—the older nurse, a small blond woman, had told him—and he might be sent to a group home. This had made him want to thrash and pull at his hair again. But he restrained himself and remained sitting on his hands, counting the lines on the floor, so he wouldn’t, by accident, touch anything. Maybe if he stayed quiet they’d let him stay. He held his breath every time the woman two beds down coughed, although he knew this offered little assurance of germ-transfer prevention. His full bladder fought against the confines of his stomach and had reached a point where moving sent prickles of pain up and down his legs. Mark feared he wouldn’t be able to hold it, and the yellow liquid would emerge and spill over the edge of the seat and onto the crisscross lines on the floor.
He needed the comfort of his maps and his bedroom. His time was running out. He still had to figure out how he was going to stop things. He only had one more day.
Carefully, he re-crossed his legs.
****
Abbey flipped listlessly through her chemistry textbook. Her parents had been tired and they’d all dispersed to their rooms with limited discussion. She pulled a sheet of pale pink paper from her stationery drawer, paper on which she’d written many hopeless first drafts of letters to Sam Livingstone. Retrieving a pen from the tidy collection on her desk, she wrote:
Observer effect
Rules – Don’t change the future
Stones Alive?
Light = The Light = Caleb?
Her handwriting had become tentative when she’d inscribed Caleb’s name next to ‘The Light’. It was a hypothesis, one she couldn’t test unless she went back. She didn’t want to think about it, because those men were talking about killing the light. She couldn’t talk to Caleb about it. The future Caleb had been adamant that she not tell the present Caleb anything. Could Simon be trusted to keep it secret? She didn’t know. She went to her bed and pulled the picture out from underneath her pillow, the dog-eared one of just her and Sam. Maybe Sam believed in quantum physics and alternate timelines. Maybe he wouldn’t think this was all craziness.
Her door opened and Caleb strode in holding the two jars of amber fluid they’d taken from the Forresters’.
Abbey shoved the photo under her papers. “Don’t you knock?” she asked.
Caleb looked unperturbed by the sharpness of her words. “Couldn’t. I had these in my hands and couldn’t wait for you to open the door or Mom and Dad would’ve seen me. Who’s the dude?”
“What dude?”
“The geek central dude in the photograph you were mooning over before I came in.”
“Before you barged in, you mean?”
Caleb winked, his good spirits evidently restored. “Whatevs. Let’s get this into some test tubes.”
Abbey watched as he took the jars to her desk and poured the fluid into two test tubes.
“What do you want me to do with those?” Abbey asked.
Caleb waggled his eyebrows almost comically. “Test them for poison, of course. We should have grabbed the glasses, too, to dust for fingerprints.”
Abbey squinted at her brother. “What do you think I am? CSI? You have to know what you’re testing it for. I can’t just test for some undifferentiated poison.”
“Why not test it for common ones? Rat poison. Strychnine?”
“Testing for poisons isn’t covered in The Principles of Chemistry.”
Caleb ran his fingers through his hair until it was standing aloft, like wild tufts of red straw. “Couldn’t you figure it out? You’re pretty good at that kind of thing.”
“Do you really think something happened to the Forresters?”
“Well, it’s pretty suspicious, don’t you think? Especially with Mantis going into their house and then the glasses going missing…” Caleb trailed off. “I guess we’ll know tomorrow if they don’t show up back at home.” He plunked himself down in her desk chair and there was a trace of an unhinged look in his eyes. “I always thought I’d be rich and live in a city…maybe go into politics.”
“Maybe all those things will happen,” Abbey said. “It was night. You couldn’t see anything. Maybe it wasn’t even your future.”
Simon ducked his head around the doorframe, clutching a piece of paper. “I found another email,” he said. “It was sent today to Mantis, who uses an IP address registered to Salvador Systems.” He strode into the room and passed it to Abbey.
Envelope-to: [email protected]
Date: Tues, 20 October 2012 04:10:45 -0700
From: flykid
Subject: Re: agreement
To: [email protected]
Sinclair will be taken care of after the Holding the Light event in two days. Meet me on the hill tomorrow at 10:00 pm.
Fly Kid
A twitch of energy had returned to Caleb’s demeanor. “The ‘Holding the Light’ event. What the heck is that? Do you think it’s now or in the future?”
Simon sat on the bed. Abbey could smell the faint tang of sweat from his armpits. “Didn’t you see the Twinkle-Free Air poster? ‘Holding the Light’ was their catchphrase. Maybe they’re having some marketing event or something.”
Caleb pulled his brows together. “Wait a second. I just remembered something.” He bolted back to his own room and returned with a crumpled piece of cream and green paper.
“What is that?” Abbey said.
Caleb smoothed out the wrinkles. “It’s a brochure from Livingstone Labs. I grabbed it while we were in the waiting room. I’d forgotten I had it. Look.” Abbey and Simon peered at the brochure. Underneath the Livingstone Labs tree insignia, in fancy green script, the brochure read: Perfecting Techniques in Holding the Light.
Abbey snatched the brochure and opened it. The brochure outlined how Livingstone Labs had pioneered the creation of the membrane from the Madrona tree. The membrane made life possible in the bubble by filtering the damaging rays of the sun but allowing in enough light for the plants to grow. Madrona, Mother, life-giver, Abbey said to herself.
“Whoa. That changes things. What if Abbey’s the target?” said Simon. “The email messages only say Sinclair. Then again, the Greenhill kid was in my future.”
Or it could be Caleb. Caleb, the Light, Abbey thought miserably. She watched as Wallace hopped around on the cedar chips on the floor of his cage in front of the window, the darkness of the night sky an eerie backdrop to his playful leaps. Abbey quickly pulled her blinds down, imagining all sorts of rifles trained on them from outside. Two days. What if she only had two days to live? What if Caleb or Simon only had two days to live? She swallowed against the solid lump that had lodged itself in her throat. Nowhere had this possibility factored into her career planning, life planning, or anything.
“What do we do then?” Caleb asked.
Simon pushed his toque back further on his head, his pupils almost indistinguishable from his irises. “We skip school tomorrow and go to Granton to find Salvador Systems.”
Abbey suppressed a quiver of dismay. She didn’t want to see Mantis again. But she couldn’t see any alternative. “The stones are dangerous.” Caleb’s words echoed in her mind as if on an infinite loop.
“Maybe this has gone far enough. Maybe we need to tell Mom and Dad,” she said. But even if they could get their parents to believe them, which was unlikely, their parents would insist on handling it themselves, and Abbey and her brothers wouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere near the stones ever again, which meant she’d have no chance to save Caleb. And, realistically, telling their parents would lead to months of psychiatric treatment.
“Hey, is there a party going on in here? Isn’t it bedtime?” Their father’s voice floated in through the open door. The voice was immediately followed by the appearance of P
eter Sinclair, his red-checked tie loosened and askew over his creased white shirt. His eyes had tired lines around them, and the gray hairs at his temples had strayed from their usual tidy script. He looked, Abbey realized with a start, much like Caleb would look in thirty years in the shadows of the teepee—without the scars and animal skins. But his eyes had that same furtive sadness in them. How long had her father’s eyes looked like that? Why had she never noticed it before? Caleb thrust the email and brochure behind him. Abbey prayed her father couldn’t smell the alcohol in the test tubes.
“Just discussing homework,” said Caleb.
Their father’s eyebrows arched. “Since when do you three work together?”
“We’re working together on a directed studies computer science project,” said Simon. “We have to go to Granton tomorrow to visit Salvador Systems to get some information.”
“Hmm. Interesting. Just make sure you’re home for dinner. Tomorrow night’s the party, remember. You need to be here looking presentable by six.”
“Yup, we know,” said Caleb.
“All right. Your mother and I are going to bed soon. Make sure you’re quiet. And I don’t know which one of you did it, but the basement door was wide open when I went down there. I know this isn’t a high crime area, but you have to remember to close and lock that door.”
Abbey darted a look at her brothers. She had closed that door. She was sure of it. And the lock was always on. Circles of sweat the size of quarters formed on her palms. Simon shook his head at her so fractionally it could have been mistaken for a twitch. They all nodded gravely at their father, who nodded back and departed in the direction of the master bedroom.
“Someone broke in,” Caleb whispered, echoing Abbey’s thoughts.
Abbey padded out of her room a few minutes later to distract her mother while Simon and Caleb snuck down to the crypt to see if anything was missing—or worse, to see if anyone was still there. Her mother lay on the couch in the dim light of the living room lamp, her eyes closed. Abbey paused in front of the family photo taken at Great Sand Dunes National Park last summer. Abbey, Caleb, and their father lit up the foreground of the photo with their fiery hair and goofy grins, their faces freckled from the sun. Her mother and Simon, already a half a head taller than his father, loomed more darkly in the back with serious expressions, secretive smiles, and shadowy eyes. They’d also gone hiking in Moab on that trip. Her mother had spent the day making wild gestures and calling family conferences regarding safety, as Caleb had run full tilt from the edge of one canyon wall to another to peer into the depths below.
A Pair of Docks Page 12
