by L. E. DeLano
Rudy makes a face. “If it goes unchecked, chaos. Widespread and potentially uncontained chaos.”
“Here’s my theory,” Mario says. “A Traveler—a very well-seasoned Traveler—has seen some of this splintering and reported it to their Dreamer, who would, of course, know the prophecy. Someone may be taking it upon themselves to make their job a little easier.”
Finn’s jaw drops. “You think there’s a Dreamer behind this? They’re trying to simplify by cutting out all the other reality streams?”
“But who?” Rudy asks. “I’ve been very thorough in my research regarding this rogue Traveler. My investigations haven’t turned up anything.”
“Yet,” Mario qualifies. “If there’s a Traveler, there has to be a Dreamer, which means someone is pulling the strings.”
“Or it means someone has cut the strings and is working without a tether,” Rudy says pointedly. “Either scenario is a disaster in the making.”
“So what happens if there’s a convergence?” I interrupt.
Mario gestures to the whiteboard, where thousands of intersecting lines begin to splinter, then morph together, condensing into one solid line. “If the convergence is allowed to occur, we reset. New reality streams would begin from the origin as before, but in a smaller and much more easily controlled fashion.”
“But millions of people—”
“Billions,” Mario interrupts me. “Billions upon billions. All gone. Vanished in an instant, as though they never existed at all.”
I turn to look at Finn, and his eyes carry the same sick knowledge as mine. He will not survive this. He will be one of the billions, because he doesn’t belong in my reality.
“They’re all at risk,” Mario says, as if reading my thoughts. “And you are the one who can save them all.”
33
Together
I shake my head frantically. “You’ve got to be wrong. I’m not a savior. I can barely travel. I don’t know the first thing about stopping a convergence!”
“We’re in luck,” Mario says. “Because whoever is behind this, I don’t believe they yet know the first thing about starting the convergence.”
“So it has to be triggered?” Finn asks.
“Oh, yes,” Rudy says. “It won’t occur spontaneously. There are certain tools that must be used, but without knowing the origin reality, they couldn’t be easily found.”
“I’ll keep that from general knowledge,” Mario says. “And don’t discuss that anywhere that you can be overheard,” he cautions the both of us. “Until we know who this Traveler is, we can’t risk that information getting to them.”
“Aren’t they risking destroying themselves?” I ask. “If they’re not from my reality? Why would they do that without knowing for sure?”
“Martyrs have existed since time began,” Rudy reminds me. “Someone willing to perish for a cause they believe to be right can be virtually unstoppable.”
“Rudy’s right,” Mario agrees. “Until the Traveler or their Dreamer slips up, we’ll be one step behind, and they’ll be closing in. You need to get off the radar.”
“You mean travel,” Finn clarifies.
“Yes,” Mario says. “We need to throw them off your trail.”
“What do you suggest?” I ask.
“Let me think on it,” Mario says. “We’ll do the transfer on Sunday, and I’ll debrief you tomorrow, after I’ve had a chance to do some more research.”
“I should look into options as well,” Rudy offers. “Perhaps if we send the two of them to a reality that Jessa has never existed in, the Traveler won’t think to look there.”
Mario nods. “That’s a good idea—not much chance of discovery when the Traveler won’t know where to begin looking.”
“I guess we’ll just sit tight,” I say, not really liking the sound of that.
“We won’t leave Jessa’s house,” Finn agrees.
“If we’re finished here…” Rudy gets to his feet. “I have work to do. We’ll meet again this evening.” With a nod to Mario, he steps through the red door and shuts it behind him.
Mario follows him, opening the door for us. “Go on,” he says.
We start to step through, but Mario holds us back. “Wait,” he says. “Before you go … I’ve just had a thought. I know exactly where to send the two of you.”
“Someplace where Jessa doesn’t exist?” Finn asks.
“No—she most definitely exists there. You don’t, however.”
I’m confused. “I thought we were deciding for the other way around?”
“We were, but … I’m working on a hunch. Trust me.” He holds my eyes a moment. “You need to look for a girl wearing a black Ramones T-shirt.”
“You’re not going to walk me through a preview?” I ask.
“Not this time. You’ll find her.” He holds the door open. “I want you both to leave at nine this morning. I’ll fill Rudy in. You two just stay until I give you instructions for a new location, if we need it.”
“Wherever it is,” I say, “at least there’s good music.”
Mario looks at me strangely.
“What?” I ask.
He shrugs and then gives me an odd smile.
“Nine, Jessa. Be prompt.”
“I will,” I promise. And then we step through the door.
Sometime before seven a.m. I help Finn sneak back out, and by the time I get my shower, my dad has taken Danny to the library for his volunteer shift. Then he’s planning on driving over to Manortown to some electronics store there, and he won’t be back till the afternoon. The timing will work out perfectly.
I’m scrambling eggs when a knock sounds at the door.
“Long time, no see,” I say, smiling at Finn as I open the door.
“I waited till they were gone,” he says, stepping inside.
“Are you hungry? I’m making breakfast.”
“Yeah.” His eyes light up. “I’d love some breakfast.”
“It’s only eggs and toast.”
“Sounds delicious.”
I wonder when Finn last had a home-cooked meal. The thought of the life he’s probably lived squeezes at my heart.
“You ready to be a fugitive?” he asks, as I scoop out a large portion of eggs onto his plate.
“Truthfully? No.” I grab the toast and put it on a plate in front of him before I sit down to join him at the table.
“It’ll be fine, Jessa. You’ll still be here, you know. Your parents and Danny won’t suspect a thing.”
“I’m not so sure about Danny,” I say. “And what happens if this Traveler finds the other me? I’ll never see my family again.”
“It’s not like he can go after you every hour or something,” Finn explains. “He has to arrange events that end badly for you but have the least number of ripples as a consequence. The Traveler can’t just assume getting rid of you takes care of everything. He’s got to get rid of you the right way.”
“Is that why he’s been using you?” I ask.
“Probably. My guess is he’s trying to frame me to throw suspicion off him. Only that didn’t work so well when it was obvious I kept trying to protect you.”
“Really?” I wonder why Mario didn’t tell me that. If the killer is after Finn, too, or doing his best to put the burden of my death on Finn, then Mario knows I’m going to do my best to prevent that. That is, if I can see it coming.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, reaching out to take my hand.
“I’m thinking that Mario didn’t tell me that because he knows I’ll try to protect you.”
I take his now-empty plate and walk it over to the dishwasher, and he gets up to follow me.
“That’s not your job, Jessa,” he says. “I can take care of myself.”
“Me too.”
“I know,” he says. “But I’m going to watch out for you anyway.”
“Me too—for you,” I answer stubbornly.
“There’s no point in trying to talk you out of it,
is there?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“Come on,” he sighs. “It’s nearly nine.”
I give him a nod. “Let’s do this.”
He grasps my hand and leads me up to my bedroom to stand in front of the mirror.
“Remember,” he says. “We’re in this together.”
“Together,” I repeat, and the word causes a spreading warmth within me. Whatever is waiting for me on the other side of the mirror, I can face it. We can face it.
Together.
34
Silent
We transfer through into her bathroom. I mean my bathroom. The first thing I notice is that it’s cold. The second thing hits me a moment later, and I stand frozen in the middle of the bathroom, my feet rooted to the floor in shock.
Finn grabs me by the arms, instantly sensing something is very wrong.
I have the memories now. I struggle to find my voice, but it’s not something this Jessa’s brain does easily.
“Finn.” My mouth struggles to make the words. “I’m deaf.”
He’s startled. I can see it on his face even though I can’t hear a word he’s saying as he replies to me. I make out my name as he says it, but that’s all. I nod my head and say it again.
“I’m deaf.”
It really is hard to speak, even though I know how to do it. This Jessa’s brain has no use for speech, so it’s like trying to use a door that’s rusted shut at the hinges. I shake my head at Finn, letting him know I don’t know what he’s saying.
And then he surprises me. Finn knows sign language. And apparently, so do I, because I understand perfectly what he’s trying to say to me.
You understand me? he signs.
Yes.
Smart Mario. The Traveler would never think to look here.
I would never think to come here.
Where are we?
I look around. In a bathroom.
I know. He rolls his eyes. Is that snow?
I look past him, out the window. Yes.
We make our way out into the bedroom and cautiously down the stairs. It’s odd, trying to be stealthy when you have nothing to judge by. No footsteps to tell you if you’re being too loud, no sounds from another room to tip you off—it’s kind of freaking me out.
Finn holds up a hand and signs, I hear Danny.
We turn off the staircase into a living room that’s a lot nicer than mine. The furniture is new and there is all sorts of fancy artwork on the walls. The room is lovely, but it looks like it’s being used as a toddler playground at the moment. There are toys scattered everywhere, and Danny sits in front of the TV, rocking.
I walk around between him and the TV and try to sign. We taught our Danny some sign language when he was younger and not as verbal. Maybe we did the same here.
He pushes me away angrily and goes back to rocking. And rocking. And rocking.
I say his name and he jumps back. I’ve scared him. He immediately starts crying, and according to Finn, he’s doing it loudly.
My mother comes tearing down the stairs, giving Finn a startled glance before wrapping her arms around Danny and rocking him back and forth to calm him. She signs over his shoulder at me.
What are you doing? Who is this?
I can tell from the way she’s gesturing that she’s angry.
This is Finn. I know him from a project through school.
You need to clear out! You know how Danny is around strangers.
I nod, pulling Finn along as we make our way through the house and out into the front yard.
He’s nonverbal, I explain. It must be so hard for him. He’s a lot more disabled here.
What project at school? Finn signs. In case she asks?
I attend an online school. Sometimes, we do group projects and have meetups. If she asks, say it’s science.
An online school? Over the computer? Not a classroom?
I nod. Is that where you learned sign language? School?
My mother was deaf. She taught me.
He pauses a moment, and his eyes show a flash of pain.
They killed her, along with my little brother. She didn’t hear them coming. I was gone, looking for food.
I’m sorry, I sign. I don’t know what else to say.
It was a long time ago, he signs back. As if that makes it better, somehow. Not as horrifying, somehow.
I slide my arms around him and hug him tight.
He slides his arms around me in return, and I can feel the solid strength of his heartbeat against my hand on his chest. It’s snowing and the falling flakes land on his hair and stick to his eyelashes, and he’s looking down at me and his eyes are shining.
And then I suddenly remember that I’ve got a boyfriend in this reality.
I’ve got a boyfriend named Ben.
35
The Getaway
I feel my phone vibrate, and the smile hits my lips before I can stop it. My hand reaches for the phone out of habit, and I feel warmth spread through me as I read the text message.
We’ve been here six days. Six days of trying to adjust to a world of strange feelings and an entirely different lifestyle.
Finn glances over at my phone as I stare at it.
You need to answer him, he signs.
I know, I sign back. Just give me a minute. I set the phone down on the couch next to me, and then I sigh and pick it up again.
This is so hard. Ben is texting me a few times a day, and I’m yearning to see him. The minute I feel my phone vibrate, I light up like a Christmas tree—until I remember that this isn’t me. Not really. I can’t play this part, even if I feel like I know the lines. So I’ve told him I have mononucleosis and he can’t see me in person for a few weeks because I’m contagious. It’s the best I can do to preserve their relationship and keep it from playing havoc with me and my feelings.
I look down at the phone again, and I’m simultaneously wishing he’d leave me alone and really happy to know he misses me. My mind and my heart feel like they’re being tumble-dried.
I laugh at his suggestion, my face wreathed in smiles until I glance up and catch the look on Finn’s face. It hits me right in the chest like a ten-pound weight.
Sorry, I sign. It’s rough. Having her memories.
His face softens. I know, he signs.
I turn my attention back to my phone, reining in the nearly unrelenting urge to take Ben up on his offer.
I look up from my phone again, feeling a weird mix of guilt and happiness. This time, Finn is making an effort to concentrate on the TV, I guess to give me some privacy. I still feel like he can read every emotion running through me, though. I’d better end this conversation.
This week has been such an emotional roller coaster. In addition to adjusting to a world without sound, I’m having a really hard time living in my house.
My mother is rarely around. She’s got a good corporate job in this reality—one that pays for this lavish house and a team of therapists and aides who cycle in and out of Danny’s day, but her job keeps her working late almost every night, and by the time she gets home, she just wants to have a glass of wine and go to bed.
My dad in this reality is a complete nonentity. He walked out on us when I was three, and we haven’t seen him since. This is unlike any version of my father that I could ever imagine.
Danny is surrounded by caretakers most of the time. I haven’t been able to really interact with him much, and I get the feeling that like my Danny, he knows I’m an imposter. He just can’t verbalize it, and he’s keeping his distance because of it.
All in all, I feel like I’m not interacting much with my own family. The final cherry on top of this is that I’m warring with my own feelings on a daily basis. Finn and I are growing closer, and I know he feels it just as much as I do. He understands exactly what I’m going through in a way that Ben could never comprehend.
But this Jessa has been dating Ben for nearly a year. They met at her Mugsy’s, and she taught him sign language
. They’re nearly inseparable, and they are in love.
They’re really, honestly in love. She loves him—I love him—and the memory of it is so strong, it’s wreaking havoc with my insides because I also want to spend more time with Finn, but I have to be discreet because I don’t want to blow anything for my counterpart.
All this has made me edgy and emotionally raw. I feel like I can’t share too much of it with Finn because it involves Ben so much, but I can’t exactly tell Ben about all of this, either. Every time he texts me to check on me, I feel like I bleed a little.
Mario has been absent on the overnights, so I guess he’s busy. Finn’s hasn’t had any contact with Rudy, so he’s not getting any answers, either. I am ready to burst.
On Saturday, Finn meets me for a walk in the park and I just completely lose it on him.
He doesn’t try to tell me it’ll get better. He just tells me he’s sorry, because he knows that sometimes, that’s all you can say.
We are standing in the park by a pond, snow is falling all around, and I am cursing myself for not remembering to bring Kleenex, because I’m crying all over the front of his shirt. I feel him lift my chin, and he wipes my face with his fingertips.
Thanks, I sign.
I’m not blowing your nose for you, he signs back.
I laugh, and I’m sure it sounds as awkward as it feels. He doesn’t seem to notice, though. He pulls me into him and I rest my face against his chest. He’s warm and real and the only anchor I have in this swirling sea of feelings and frustration.
He pulls back and I feel him laugh.
What? I sign.
You’d better stop crying before you freeze to my shirt, he signs.
Right, I sign, stepping back.
He looks around, which is kind of silly, considering we aren’t going to be overheard. Not unless somebody knows sign language.
Hey, he signs. How would you like to get away from here for a little while?
You mean away from the park, or “away” away?
He grins conspiratorially. “Away” away.
Won’t Mario get mad? I don’t want us to get in trouble and end up getting night terrors or something.
We’ll only be gone half an hour. Besides, I have permission. Rudy and I talked last night and he suggested that I take you away for a little while. He thinks you’re under too much stress. He’ll handle Mario for you.
