by R. A. Nelson
I frowned disgustedly. “One thing’s for sure, they’ll know we’re on to them now. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“Maybe it’s good,” Sagan said. “If it makes them uncomfortable, knowing, hey, we can hit them too if they aren’t more careful …”
I looked away at a long stretch of green no-man’s-land between the middles lanes of the interstate. I was thinking about the jogger. Other innocent people who would be in danger. Six vampires.
“There has to be something more we can do,” I said. “The longer this goes on, the more people they will—”
“Maybe there is,” Sagan said.
Sagan put down a sleeping bag—a clean one he’d brought from home—next to the tower stairs and walked back to the Jeep. He returned several times with his arms loaded with a Coleman lantern, a gym bag full of clothes, and other things I didn’t recognize in sacks and boxes.
“Night vision Webcams,” he said, taking one out to show me. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.”
I was surprised by how small they were. Five of them, one for each side of the tower and a fifth for the top. They weren’t much larger than a handheld digital camera. Each came with a four-foot “stalk” that we plunged into the ground around the base of the tower and tested for the best viewing angles. The last one we strapped to the little airplane beacon on the roof.
“Wireless,” Sagan said. “My dad knows some people who are into tech like you wouldn’t believe. This will give us more eyes to even the odds. All I have to do is watch from my laptop, and—”
“I’ve been thinking about this,” I said. “It’s different now that we know there are more. It’s crazy what I’m asking you to do. It’s … it’s stupidly dangerous.”
“Stupidly, huh? You saw what we’re up against. You need help now more than ever. Around-the-clock help. That’s me. They’re too close, Emma.”
“But … Sagan …”
“What did you think? That you could call me up and I would come running? They might have you dismembered before I even put my foot on the gas.”
“You want to know the truth?”
“Sure.”
“You’ve done so much already. Now that I’ve seen how close they are … I don’t want you anywhere near this place when they come.”
“Pulling a Clint Eastwood, huh?” Sagan said. “The lone gunman fighting off the band of murderous cutthroats—no pun intended. But in the end he wasn’t alone, remember?” He put down the box he was carrying and took my face in his hands. “A little faith?”
“I’m just trying to be realistic. You think I want to watch something horrible happen to you?”
“Who says it will? Look, it’s stupid arguing about this. They’re close, Emma. I may not be an Auge. But I have a little intuition of my own. He’s coming soon.”
“What if I kick you out?”
“I’ll just keep coming back.”
“This is crazy,” I said.
He picked up the box again and headed up the stairs. “Maybe so. But from now on, it’s our crazy, not just yours.”
“An iPod docking station?” I said, fishing through his stuff. “What are you going to do, recharge the Verloren to death?”
Sagan looked thoughtful. “Electrocution … hmmm … now there’s an idea.”
“Sorry, fresh out of transformers,” I said.
I held up his white iPod shuffle. “So, whatcha got on here we can listen to?”
“My playlist is off the proverbial chain,” Sagan said. “Stephen Hawking. Brian Greene, The Elegant Universe. Membranes and Other Extendons.”
“Yuck. I take it back. That’s assault with a deadly weapon. Hope you remembered your earbuds, Bud.”
“Don’t leave home without ’em.”
“So … what’re your parents going to think?”
Sagan leaned back again, putting his hands behind his head. “What they don’t know won’t kill ’em.”
“Won’t they wonder where you are?”
“In that house? Half the time I don’t even know if they are there. I’ll check in from time to time. It’ll be fine.”
After we had finished unpacking, we climbed up to the roof of the tower to watch the surrounding forest turn golden in the fading sun. I could see the runway lights of the nearby jetport.
“No lavender lights,” I said. “That’s always a relief.”
“I wonder if we need to set up a wider perimeter,” Sagan said. “To give us a little more notice. Something like motion detectors. I bet we could score some at Radio Shack.”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
We stretched out on the air mattress and watched the sky turn different colors, holding hands.
“Man, what a view,” Sagan said. “I should have brought my rich field telescope for later.…”
I sat up.
“What?” Sagan said.
“I need to show you something before it gets dark.”
Sagan made a face. “In there?”
We were standing deep in the bunker where I bathed, all the way back in the shadows where the steel net hung over the opening.
“That’s the deal. Besides, I thought you liked caves.”
“I do. But why can’t I be up there with you when they come? Helping to hold down the fort.”
“Because you can’t fly.”
“Neither can you.” He grabbed the steel mesh and shook it. “So you think this would slow them down?”
“I don’t know, you tell me.”
“It’s pretty stout. And stuff like this that’s a little flexible is often tougher to defeat than a solid wall. But I think I’d rather die out in the open.”
“Sorry, nope.”
“But what if …”
“Sorry, Sagan. Those are my terms. We can’t mess this up. You don’t get a do-over.”
“I wasn’t … trying to make fun about it,” he said. “That’s just me. I can’t think doom and gloom all the time. It’s not the way I’m wired.”
“Who’s thinking doom and gloom? If we do this right, we’ll—”
“Kick some serious bloodsucker butt?” he said.
“That’s the plan.”
“Did I really just say that?”
We spent the rest of the evening stashing supplies behind the net. Afterward Sagan brought in some dinner from a local pizza place called Terry’s. I had practically forgotten how good hot, greasy, bubbly pizza was. I was in ecstasy hauling each delicious bite to my mouth and lifting the strands of cheese from my chin.
“Heaven, complete heaven,” I said, picking up another slice.
“Huntsville’s claim to fame.”
“Not the space program, huh?”
“Well, that too.”
When we had finished eating, we lay back on the air mattress counting the stars as they came out. A slight breeze was flowing across the top of the test stand. Sagan pulled off his shirt and I played my fingers across his bare chest.
“My biggest fear is that we won’t get enough warning,” I said. “That you’ll be up here with me, on top of this tower, when Wirtz and his buds drop in.”
Sagan turned over onto his stomach to look at me.
“Okay, you’re the strategist,” I said. “We’ve got plenty of stuff to fight them with. But what else can we do?”
“Well … in the classic battle sense, you try to divide and conquer. You know, somehow get them separated so they aren’t all coming at you at once.”
“What’s the best way to do that?”
“If we hit them hard enough as a group … that might force them to separate, try to surround you coming from different angles. If that doesn’t work, we could use me.”
“You?”
“Yeah. If I’m down there in the bunker, I could be a kind of bait, draw some of them away. That would split up the group.”
“You’re kidding, I hope.”
“I wish I was,” Sagan said. “Do you still have
that toothbrush?”
When we finally settled down to sleep, Sagan touched me on the nose, then took me in his arms. Started kissing my eyelids. I adjusted my body to be closer to his. I loved the warmth coming off his skin. I kissed him.
“It’s still not … completely registering,” I said. “We have to—”
“Quiet.”
I shut up and for a long time that’s all we did. Talked with hands and mouths without words.
Now he was on his back again, arm crooked under his head. I wondered how I could possibly sleep with him lying next to me.
“You know what we need?” I said.
“More pillows?”
“Nope. A rope to tie you off. I bounce, you splat. Remember?”
I was dreaming.
Sagan was with me and we were walking beside some railroad tracks. The tracks ran up a little hill, then back down again. At the top of the hill we came to a group of smooth boulders that surrounded a place shaped like a funnel. I wondered where the funnel went. A strange orange light came up from below. Sagan went over the edge first to look and …
He was gone. Just like that.
He had slipped into the stone funnel, which was really an endless chasm shaped like a tube that dropped straight down. I could still see him because the entire chasm was lit with orange light. I saw Sagan falling the whole way, his body twisting, getting smaller and smaller.
The worst thing was knowing that he was changing on the way down. The fear caused by the endless falling was changing him. He was strange and different to me before he was even dead.
I woke up sometime in the night when I heard my grandfather speak.
“Emma.”
That’s all he said, but I heard it so loud and clear, just as if he were sitting right beside me, that I sat straight up looking wildly over the forest. The only thing moving was a truck whining up a grade in the distance.
“A phone,” I said, shaking Sagan’s arm.
“What’s up?” he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his hair.
“I’ve got to get to a phone. Now!”
We flew up the driveway to the Solar Observatory and ran inside.
“Just pick any of them,” Sagan said, hustling me into one of the offices. “You have to dial nine to get out. All it will say on his redial is ‘Government’—”
“God, Sagan.” My hands were shaking so bad, it was hard for me to dial.
He stayed in the doorway watching for security. Papi’s phone rang and rang. I hung up and dialed his number again. No answer.
“He’s not there,” I said. “I can’t get him! I’m calling my mom.…”
“Hello?” Manda’s voice ripped into me.
“Manda! Oh my God, Manda. It’s so good to hear your voice!”
“Emma! Emma!” She was squealing and screaming so much, for a while that was all I could hear.
“Manda, where is Mom? What’s going on!”
“Oh, Emma,” Manda wailed into the phone. Several seconds passed before I could get her to calm down enough for me to understand. My heart pounded. Papi’s hurt. He’s sick. He’s dead.
“Mom … Mom is at work,” she finally managed to get out. “She made me stay here and Ms. Peterson checks on me. It’s … Papi, Emma! It’s Papi! Where are you, Emma! Why don’t you come home? Please … I don’t know what to do.”
I felt as if a bucket of ice water had been tipped over my head. Oh God. “Manda, Manda, what’s wrong with Papi?”
“I don’t know! Emma, I don’t know! He’s in the hospital, they said.”
“Who? Who said?”
“The man! The man who called. Papi … he’s in … he’s in the hospital!”
“Is he okay? Where? Which?”
“Huntsville,” she said. “I don’t know. I don’t know! He’s in Huntsville. But, Emma, I …”
“Manda, calm down, sweetie.” Tears were running down my face. “Calm down and tell me, does Momma know? Have you talked to her?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know! I’m supposed to keep the door locked and call Ms. Peterson if I can’t get Momma, but they’re not there! Emma!”
“Look, Manda, it’s going to be okay! Everything is going to be okay. I’ll take care of it. All right? I’ll go see about Papi. You go back to sleep. Everything is all right. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“But, Emma!”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’ve got to go.”
I hung up and we ran back outside.
“Hey, wait up, I’ll drive you,” Sagan said.
“There’s not time for that.”
“You’re telling me you can run faster than a car?”
“Yours, yeah. Besides, I can run in a straight line.”
“Okay, so I’ll follow you.”
“Stay here.” I said it with so harsh a tone, with so much weight on the words, he stopped and stared at me.
“Are you okay, Emma?”
“No.”
“I can’t just hang around here, worrying about you.”
I took him by the shoulders. “Look, Sagan … I can’t worry about both of you at the same time—”
“Since when do you have to worry about me?”
“Since we trashed their HQ. They’re out there somewhere. I can’t deal with this if I have to deal with worrying about you too.”
“So do it in the morning.”
I glared at him. “He could be dying, Sagan! And you want me to wait? I have to see him. It’s my fault, you know that, don’t you?”
“I don’t know that, and neither do you. It could be anything. Besides, you only did what you had to do.”
“He doesn’t know that!” I said. “He’s lying up there thinking something awful has happened to me, and it’s killing him. I have to go show him, don’t you understand? I have to do this for him. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Sagan sagged with resignation. “I don’t like it. Do you have your headset?”
“I’ll get it. I’ll get it right now. But I’ve got to go.”
“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
I nodded at the observatory. “Go work for a while. Find a new comet and name it after me. It’ll take your mind off things and I’ll feel better with you in there.”
“Be careful.”
I crossed my finger over my chest. “You got it. I swear. Now let me go!”
“Emma …”
“What!”
“You know.”
“Yeah. I do.”
A light rain had started to fall. It just seemed to make me run faster. I cut through neighborhoods, stomped over the tops of cars, buzzed between trees. The hospital was somewhere downtown, that’s all I knew. When I ran out of directions to try, a guy at a gas station set me straight.
I took mostly back roads, moving through neighborhoods and industrial sites as the crow flies.
When I found the hospital, the first entrance I saw said EMERGENCY. I ran up the walk and through the sliding doors. Thank goodness it looked to be a slow night. A handful of people were in the waiting room, most of them older. One young guy with a crew cut had an arm wrapped in bloody bandages and was leaning against a Coke machine. I ran up to a counter where three women waited behind computer monitors.
“He’s in room 332 in the cardiac unit,” one of the women said. “But visiting hours were over at eight. There’s really nothing you can do tonight, hon. You can come back tomorrow morning, sit with him at breakfast.”
“Thanks.”
I knew better than to just blaze through the doors and get security hunting for me. I asked my way to the parking garage, and halfway there I found a service elevator—one of those big ones they used to bring people up and down in gurneys. I hit the button for the third floor.
The elevator opened onto a long hall and just outside an empty waiting room full of drink machines, plastic chairs, and a TV no one was watching. The room numbering didn’t make sense. I had to double back twice. At last, there it was: 332.
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The door was open and a soft light was glowing in the corner. My heart went up into my mouth … Papi looked so small. The thin sheets were drawn up under his armpits, his chest barely rising and falling. He had one of those thin transparent tubes with the two nostril plugs hooked into his nose. His eyes were closed.
Off to one side was a gently beeping monitor that looked like it was registering vital signs. Whatever he was doing, it was rhythmic, which almost scared me more than if it had been spiking and dropping all over the place. Brain dead. I hated it when thoughts like that popped into my head. But Papi’s lines were steadily blipping, if weakly. A little bag like a cylindrical accordion was hanging from a metal post, periodically expanding and contracting. The room smelled of old people and some kind of antiseptic.
I went to the side of his bed. Papi’s mouth was slightly open and I could see his crooked teeth and the tip of his whitish tongue. His arms were outside the sheets, running exactly alongside his body as if … As if he’s ready for his coffin.
One of the reasons I was freaking was because I had watched too many bad hospital dramas on TV. I knew just enough to scare myself.
I took his hand in my hand; his fingers were cold.
I didn’t know if I should wake him. I didn’t know if he was even asleep. Wires ran from some machine up under his hospital gown through the curly gray hair of his chest. Had he lost weight? I was used to thinking of him as barrel-chested, but he looked almost emaciated.
“Papi?” I said softly, wondering if he was awake enough to hear me.…
I touched his arm and shook it very gently. “Papi, can you hear me?”
I sat on the edge of the bed and waited that way a long time. The sounds in the room were creepy, the little periodic soft beep from the monitoring equipment, the patter of rain on the glass, the “breathing” sound the little accordion bag was making. I had always hated hospitals as long as I could remember.
