by Cady Vance
“Well, that’s a serious case of denial if I’ve ever seen one.” Florence brushes greasy hands on her black skirt. “Obviously, he’s thought about this before and is now in freak-out mode because he thinks it might be true. I think the magnetic thing was the kicker.”
“And you?” I ask, dropping my half-eaten dumplings into the trash. “Do you really think we’re robots?”
She sighs and looks straight up through the fire escape ladders. Patches of night sky shine through the slats. “There’s not much about us that makes sense. But this fits together if you think about it.” She laughs a soft, bitter laugh. “I don’t want to be a robot though, Thora. It would mean all of this, all of my life, isn’t real.”
I suck in a whistling breath through my teeth and hold myself steady against the trash can, not even caring what nasty things are leftover from years of tossed food. Not human. Not even real.
“This is for you.” I jump and look up at the dumpling house cook who has appeared at our side. He hands me a piece of folded notebook paper. I know without looking who it’s from, but that doesn’t stop the fire from roasting my cheeks.
Meet me out back. - L
Seventeen
Nocturnal panic attacks may occur in Stage III and IV Insomniacs, a characteristic sign of such attacks being an intense fear of impending doom.
- The Chronic Insomnia Handbook for Patients
It’s from Lucas.” I fold the paper back into a tiny square and drop it into my bag. The cook hovers in the doorway, watching. “He wants me to meet him out back.”
“Out back?” Florence’s eyebrows shoot halfway up her forehead. “Interesting. Go see what the cheshire cat wants. I better go make sure Aiden’s not sulking his way home.” She flicks her eyes the direction he strode. “I can’t see him from here.”
“Yeah, go make sure he’s okay,” I say. “I’ll find you after I get this over with.”
“Get it over with? Like a chore?” Florence laughs. “Right.”
She takes off down the street while I turn to the cook still waiting in the doorway. I guess he wants to escort me out back, and I wonder how Lucas managed to arrange this “meeting” in the first place. Every time he pops into my life, I get more questions.
I follow the white-clad cook through the crowded restaurant, behind the counter, and past an incessantly-ringing telephone manned by a harried man scribbling down orders. He leads me into a back room that smells of disinfectant, mops and grease. A couple young guys aggressively kneading dough give me a quick glance before returning to their kitchen prep. We reach a back door. He points and walks off without a single word.
I find myself patting down my windblown hair and wondering if I look as frazzled as I feel, wondering if my breath reeks of chive dumplings. Stop being a moron, Thora. When I push open the door, a blast of cool air rushes at my face. I step one foot into the alley, then the other. The door booms shut, zapping all light away. A drainpipe drips heavy droplets, and I can’t help but jump at each splash. They sound like shotguns in the silence. My heart goes cold. This could be a trap. Maybe the note wasn’t from Lucas at all.
“Thora.” Lucas steps from the shadows. His dark fluffy hair is falling into his eyes. Eyes so blue, they still seem bright in the darkness. Eyes I have to glance away from because they seem to have a serious effect on my judgement.
“I don’t know whether I should be happy to see you or worried. Something bad always happens when you’re around.”
“Is that my yoyo you’re wearing as a necklace?” A small smile plays at his lips, and I can tell he’s trying hard to hold back a full-blown grin.
“Florence did it.” I pull the sleeves of my shirt down over my hands, hoping to warm them up from the chilling night air.
“It’s cute.” Lucas takes a step closer. “Are you cold?”
“I’m fine.” I’m not sure what I should do, standing here with my hands stick straight at my side. I probably look tense and stiff. Like a robot. “So, why did you want me to sneak out the back of a Chinese restaurant and into a dark alley? I’m assuming it’s not for idle chit chat or more yoyo toys.”
“Right.” He moves a step closer so he’s now only inches away. It’s hard to avoid looking at him when he’s this close. “Have you given up on finding the Insomniac Cafe then?”
“No.”
“Then what, may I ask, are you doing eating dumplings when you’re meant to be on your way to the dream house?”
“We don’t know where to go next. The clue doesn’t make any sense, and those assholes took our phones so we can’t Google anything.” I finally meet his eyes. “And we were hungry.”
“Good then. I was rather worried to think you’d given up.”
“Well, would you blame me? After all the shit that’s happened so far? I probably should give up, Lucas.” I’m the one who steps forward this time. “But I can’t give up because I have nowhere else to go. My brother is gone. My parents would take me back to the place that killed him.”
Lucas nods with a sad smile. “You’re angry now. Good.”
“Anger isn’t going to keep me alive.”
“It might.” He sighs. “Here’s a hint about your clue.” And that’s when I notice our noses are practically touching. My breath catches, and I hate myself for it. “Might be best to focus on the dream house.”
“Is that what you came here to tell me? That’s very helpful, thanks.” I prop my hands on my hips. “We couldn’t figure that out from the clue, even though they said, ‘house of dreams’ in their song. I guess it takes an Oxford scholar to unravel that mystery.”
He grins, dimples creasing his cheeks. “You nugget. I actually came here to help you, but if you’d rather me not, I’ll be on my way.”
As he starts to turn away, I hold out a hand to stop him. My fingers brush his arm. “Wait.”
“I can’t tell you where to go or tell you what you are. But I can point you in the direction of an internet cafe. That should get you back on track if you hurry.”
“An internet cafe.” I can’t stop the grateful smile from forming on my lips. “Where is it?”
“New Hunter Internet Cafe on Eldridge Street and Grand. Only a block away really.”
The dripping of the drainpipe grows louder as a hush falls over us. I know I should feel an urgency to figure out this house of dreams and get to the next clue, but as the seconds tick by, my entire world is consumed by how few inches separate me and Lucas, by how easy it would be to lean forward and let our noses brush…
He suddenly steps back, snatching the moment away with him. “Get going then.” He takes another step, already falling into shadow. “I know I frustrate you and you want answers. I can’t give them to you now, but after you find the Insomniac Cafe, we can have a proper chat. I’ll tell you loads of things, I promise.”
I watch him walk away from me again, and a part of me wants to follow after. I know he has answers, but I also know he won’t give them to me even if I chase him all over Manhattan. Besides, now that I have a lead, the hope of finding the Insomniac Cafe is more consuming than ever. I need to get there, and I need to get there soon, before the Sleepers find us again.
No one pays me any attention as I go back through the restaurant and out the front door. I take a sharp left outside and walk quickly down the street to where Florence and Aiden headed before we split up. When I reach the end of the block without a sign of the long-blond-haired music addict or the clear-gray-eyed storm cloud, I feel a seed of worry blossoming into a venus fly trap ready to bite me into pieces.
“Thora!” a girl calls. I spin to see Florence and Aiden huddled on the front stoop of an apartment building down the side street. Relief warms every inch of me. As I make my way to them, Aiden looks up, and I’m surprised to see a grin relaxing his face. I glance to Florence again, and I can see the satisfaction practically radiating from her pores.
“So, what’d he want?” Florence asks when I reach them.
Out of the co
rner of my eye, I see Aiden’s smile vanish like Lucas into the night.
“He told me where an internet cafe is so we can look up the dream house.”
She grabs my arm, and I can feel the excitement coursing through her like an electric shockwave. “I knew that boy wasn’t bad news. I knew it.” She twirls her finger in the air. “I had this feeling about him. The way he showed up when we were attacked. He looked at you like he was going to tear the moon from the sky if he thought it was going to hurt you.”
I let out a choked laugh. “I doubt that.”
“He fancies you.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “I can’t wait for him to show up again. Don’t you think it’s romantic? A pretty mysterious British boy saving you?”
“Maybe he’s not saving her,” Aiden says. “It seems more like stalking to me.”
“Pshaw.” Florence grabs her bag from the ground and slings it over her shoulder. “So, where we going?”
“Lucas said it was on Eldritch Street and Grand. Which is that way.” I point back to where we came and start clomping the way in my stupid Clinic slippers, glad we don’t have far to go.
Truthfully, all this walking is getting to me.
I keep my attention on my feet as Aiden and Florence chatter behind me, noticing the dark smudges splattered onto the navy blue slippers. It matches the black beginning to creep into the edges of my eyes again. I’ve been trying to ignore it, but it’s there. My body feels stiff as I walk. My joints ache. My muscles burn. It’s been a very long time since I’ve worked myself this hard. If I’ve ever worked myself this hard. My body pleads for me to stop and find a cozy couch to curl up on, but I can’t stop now. I can’t let my insomnia get the better of me. I can’t let it overcome me when I’m only hours away from answers.
So, instead, I focus on a set of bright blue laughing eyes. My ears can still hear his lilting accent. My skin can still feel his touch. Lightning charges through my aching body, and I realize in the course of trying to figure things out about my insomnia, everything else about me is changing so much I’m not sure I understand anything anymore. I can barely recognize myself in the reflection of a darkened store window we pass. My bright red hair poofs up, my eyes are wide and wild, and there’s a color to my face I haven’t seen since in a long time.
I look alive.
***
“We’re here,” Florence says.
I snap out of my jumbled thoughts and look up to see we’re standing by a tall, skinny white sign scrawled with red Chinese letters. When I turn to see the store it belongs to, I blink in surprise. The internet cafe is so small, I could easily jump from one side to another, and it’s not like my fitness level could be measured at anything above zero. It squats down a short set of stairs, a mirror replica of the Chinese beauty salon to its right, both stores sharing the bottom floor of a traditional pre-war walkup. This place is the embodiment of hole-in-the-wall if I’ve ever seen one.
As we make our way down the stairs, I can’t help but glance overhead at the massive air conditioning unit butting out into the crisp night air. It bends against the confines of a boarded up window, and I get the image of the smallest pigeon feather fluttering onto its metal top. That’s all it would take to send the giant crashing onto our heads.
We pass through the open black door to see a cluster of large monitors manned by a group of teens around my age or a little older. Gaming posters line the walls. The sound of swords slashing orcs winds through the air to where we stand. Open Chinese takeout boxes litter the tables. One fuzzy-headed guy whispers urgently to the beak-nosed girl next to him before they both turn to their computers with determination in their eyes. The words “guild” and “quest” pepper every sentence. It’s like a giant LAN gaming party.
“Lucas sure does know how to pick them,” Florence says.
“Of course he does.” Aiden’s voice goes hard.
“He’s just trying to help us out,” I say, side-stepping Aiden to make my way to the counter at the back of the store.
“I don’t trust him.” He lowers his voice and glances around at the pale-faced kids whose eyes are glued to flickering screens, their fingers pecking against the keyboards. “Or anyone in here. If he sent us to this place, they could all be Sleepers.”
“He saved my life.” A half-smile tugs at my lips. “Twice if you think about it.”
When Aiden opens his mouth to argue again, I wave my hand at him like I can wave his fears aside. We don’t have time to argue about Lucas. We don’t have time for the boy whose forehead is connected to the checkout counter either. I clear my throat, tempted to ping the little metal bell sitting right by his ear. He pushes himself off the counter in slow, belabored movements, as if an intense gravitational field is trying to keep him pinned down. “How many? How long? When? What game?” His blood-shot eyes flick over me before rolling them at something he apparently sees in my bushy hair and rumpled clothes. “WoW, right?”
“Erm,” I say, glancing to Florence. She shrugs her shoulders in response. “Is this a gaming place? We need to use the internet.”
He rolls his eyes again, this time with a sigh attached. “How long?”
“What?” I ask and then frown. “We just need to get online for like ten minutes.”
“We only have one open right now. Terminal four.” The kid’s blood-shot gaze sweeps the far left corner at the only open seat in the small place.
“That’s all we need.”
“Two dollars. Cash only.” He motions to the wall by the counter, and I turn to see dozens of menus taped up side by side. “If you want food, they all deliver here.”
“Two dollars for ten minutes?” Aiden asks.
“It’s two dollars for an hour,” the boy says. “If you don’t use the entire hour, that’s your problem.”
“Okay, fine.” Aiden says, pulling a wad of singles from his pocket and counting out the right amount. He slides the money across the counter, and the boy hands over a slip of paper with a code stamped on it before he falls into a heap on the counter again.
I shuffle to the designated terminal and plop into the orange plastic chair that reminds me of the ones I’ve sat in all throughout school. School. Suddenly, a wave of grief pummels over me, and I shut my eyes tight to rid my mind of the memories threatening to replay themselves, but it’s too late. Odin’s goofy grin is burning red against the back of my eyelids. The reality of his loss smacks me hard. Really hard, like I’m fully grasping it for the first time.
He is really gone.
The same curse that plagues me is what got Odin killed. He will never again listen patiently to my ramblings about the latest Tim Burton movie. He’ll never again laugh at my lame jokes or call me his kid sister. One day he was here, keeping me company in the Clinic common room while I whined about my treatments, and then poof…I can’t wrap my head around it. It doesn’t make sense. Death doesn’t make sense to me.
“This is a horrible idea.” I watch as Gemma aims the rock at the Clinic window.
She pauses but keeps the rock held high. “Look, they’re hiding stuff from us. This is the only way to find out what.”
“I just don’t know why they would hide anything from us.” I smack my shoulder where a mosquito snags a bite.
“I’m with Gemma,” Odin says, hands shoved in his jeans pockets. I hate how calm and relaxed he looks, like breaking into the Clinic isn’t any different than sharing a pepperoni pizza every Friday night at Little Johnnie’s.
When Gemma turns to me, her eyes are ablaze. “I don’t trust them. If you do, then you don’t have to come along.”
“You know I’m going in there with you guys. Just, are you sure this won’t set off an alarm?”
“Like I said before, I checked last time I was here. Now stop stalling me.” She pulls back her arm and lets the rock fly.
It blasts through the window, spraying glass shards of glittering confetti. Gemma crunches through the pieces that have fallen to the grass. She reaches the window and weave
s an arm in through the jagged edges. She sticks her tongue out between her teeth in concentration, and a moment later, I hear the click of success. The window is unlocked.
Odin crunches over to her and helps her push it up, while I stand here with rocks in my stomach. I watch Gemma as she slides inside, specks of glass getting caught in her jeans.
Odin motions at me. “You first, kid sister.”
I sigh and crunch through the glass. When I slide inside, I feel the sting of their sharp touch and hope Mom won’t notice the blood in the wash.
“Okay, now what?” I ask once Odin is inside the dark storage room with us.
“Offices.” Gemma grins, eyes sparkling. I can’t help but feel the sweet surge of adrenaline myself, though a part of me can’t stop wondering what will happen if everything goes wrong.
She moves to the door and cracks it open. As soon as she does, I hear a skull-shattering scream. It pierces my ears, and I freeze, backing up to the window and thinking it has everything to do with me. Until I realize the scream is human, and it’s not getting any closer to where we are.
Gemma’s eyes are moon-sized globes when she turns to me and Odin, who is now shielding my body with his like a predator is about to attack. My stomach flips when I see the excitement bouncing in Gemma’s pupils.
“No,” I mouth, but she’s already stepping out into the hallway to investigate.
“I can’t let her go alone,” Odin whispers into my ear. “Stay here.”
I shake my head and follow, heart pounding so hard, I want to hold it still. The scream grows louder as we walk down the familiar Clinic hall, now dark to match the two o’clock sky. We pad closer and closer, and it’s becoming very clear to me the scream is coming from the operating room. The treatment room.
My breath comes out in sharp spurts. I don’t want to go any closer.
Gemma walks right up to the door and stands on her tiptoes to see through the tiny glass square. She motions for us to follow. Slowly, I trod my feet forward, Odin still standing inches in front of me. When Gemma turns to us this time, I expect to see the excitement still swirling in her eyes, but it’s more fear and pain than anything else.
