by Cady Vance
I wonder how many times I’ve died. How many times my parents have brought me back. How many times they lied about knowing what’s wrong with me. Their looks of concern, their comments on my progress at school and my inability to cope with my insomnia. Yet, the entire time, they knew I had trouble because I kept dying. Over and over and over and over. How many times until they would have pulled the plug forever?
“Thora?” Lucas holds me steady as I reel from my thoughts. I look up at him and know there are bitter, angry tears in my eyes.
“How will they decide when to really let me die? What if the next time is the last?”
“Come here,” he says, folding me into his chest. I feel his strong, warm hands snake around my back to hold me close while the sobs shudder through me. Gripping, shaking sobs. It’s as if all of my emotions I’ve built over the past few months are being purged through my eyes. All the fear and pain eeking out in tears. When my sobs turn to sniffles, I realize Lucas is caressing my back and his lips are breathing warmth onto my ear. I feel myself relax, and I can’t help but wish he’d never pull away.
“I know it’s scary,” he says in that beautiful accent. “It isn’t an easy thing to hear, I know. But you’re handling it a lot better than I did.”
I pull back and look into his face. “Really?”
He nods. “Really. If I’m honest, I got a bit angry. It’s embarrassing now. I had myself a tantrum and threw bacon into Gabe’s face.”
“Bacon?” I feel a smile crack my lips.
“Ah, that’s much better.” He smiles back and rubs a thumb over my bottom lip. My smile widens even more.
“Who is Gabe? You’ve said his name a few times now.”
“He’s sort of in charge of the Cafe. He’s been there the longest, and he runs the search for new members.”
“So, this cure business the Cafe was talking about,” Florence speaks up after clearing her throat. Embarrassed, I pull away from Lucas and look up to see her digging a cigarette pack out of her bag. “That was a bunch of bullshit?”
“No, it’s not shite. There’s meant to be a way to fix all this.” He waves a hand at himself. “To perform the treatment in a way that’s more stable, that makes us more normal. To fix the part of our brain that’s broken.” He clears his throat. “In the meantime, we have a medication that helps us sleep so we don’t get so exhausted and broken we Collapse.”
“It sounds too good to be true,” I say.
“Well, we still have to find out exactly how this new treatment is meant to be done, test it, and then, if it’s right, get everyone treated. Easier said than done.”
“Then, it’s going to be a pain in the ass because it doesn’t sound any easier than performing heart surgery without a manual.” Florence curves a palm around her lighter flame, and her cigarette flickers to life.
“Florence is always the optimist.” I give her a half-hearted smile.
She smirks at me before taking a long drag of her cigarette. “What are we going to do about Aiden?”
“Right.” Lucas presses up from the roof and brushes off his jeans. Bits of gravel rain down around me. I follow his movements, my muscles groaning as I stand. “Well, my cover’s been a bit blown and Gabe made it clear he wasn’t going to put the Cafe at risk tonight after everything the Sleepers have done so far. Too risky, he said.”
“So, no team like you promised before.” Florence sucks so hard on her cigarette, I’m sure the entire thing will get pulled into her lungs.
“I know it’s rubbish, but Gabe’s trying to keep everyone safe. I’m certain they’ve taken Aiden to one of the Clinics, but I have an idea. We have someone on the inside who works at one of them as a janitor. He knows where all the Manhattan Clinics are and has probably heard where the insomniacs were taken tonight. I’ve never met him. Only chatted a bit to him on the phone. We’re not meant to meet with him in case someone gets suspicious, but I think this counts as an emergency, eh?” He crosses his arms and looks down at the streets below. “Right. While I get this sorted, you two can…”
Florence throws her cigarette at the roof and takes two purposeful steps toward Lucas, erasing the distance between them. She matches his height, and I’m glad I’m not in his place, with her eyes boring into his soul. “We’re going with you, friend.”
“That’s complete bollocks.” Lucas points at me. “You were the one going on about Thora almost Collapsing. She’s in no condition to run around Manhattan any more tonight.”
Even though I know he’s right, I feel a sort of righteous indignation at his words. I force my spine stick straight, hoping it makes me look stronger than I feel.
“We’re going with you,” I say, repeating Florence’s words. “Besides, you can’t leave us here. It’s the middle of the night. Where would we go? Central Park? Yeah, sounds like an awesome plan.”
“A hotel. You would be right safe there, and you could rest.”
“I don’t have the cash for a hotel.” Florence crosses her arms over her chest. “Do you, Thora?”
“No, actually, I don’t.” And it’s the truth. Even the cheapest hotel in Manhattan would blow my budget of zero dollars. “We either go with you, Lucas, or we go to the Cafe.”
Lucas places both palms over his face and rubs hard. When he finally meets my gaze, he looks tired and weary and older than he is. I know how he feels, and my stomach twinges with guilt that I’m the one making him feel this way. But it doesn’t mean I’m wrong. He can’t leave us here on this rooftop for the rest of the night.
“You can’t go to the Cafe tonight. You know that. They won’t let you in. Gabe wouldn’t even answer the phone,” he says. “Not right now anyway. He needs to be sure you’re actually insomniacs first. That’s what tonight is about, you know. Making bloody well certain whoever finds the Cafe is really one of us.”
“Then, we’re coming with you.” I say, squaring my shoulders.
“For now, at least.”
Twenty-One
The full details of your child’s condition must be kept confident until they reach adulthood.
- The Galvanism Handbook for Parents
We need the closest subway station,” Lucas says. He wraps his hand in mine and begins a path to the fire escape platform before eyeing the empty street below. “His flat would be a bit of a walk from here. Get ready to run if that Sleeper reappears. I don’t think he will at this point. We were on the roof long enough for him to have given up by now.”
Once we’ve eased down the fire escape and are back on city sidewalks, I’m overwhelmed by the sensation of being watched. I felt I could let down my guard when we were high above the streets, but now that we are back inside the concrete jungle, my overtired brain senses Sleepers lurking everywhere.
It’s like a ghost town here, steel relics of the weekday business crowd. Iron grates are rolled over each and every restaurant and shop. Florescent signs are cast off, other than the occasional buzzing light. The three of us walk quickly together, on high alert for the footsteps of anyone else. I’m all too aware someone could be close by looking for us. All I can do is keep walking, keep quiet and keep my fingers wrapped tight around Lucas’s hand.
I keep my back pressed tight against the wall as I listen at the edges of Doctor Clark’s door. My mother’s voice is only a murmur, but Doctor Clark’s words slither into the hallway like the snake that he is. I haven’t been able to think of him the same after what Gemma, Odin and I saw last night.
“Her recent agitation could be due to her progressions. Today’s check-up showed me she isn’t far from Stage Four.”
“Can’t you give her that medication?” I have to strain to hear my mother’s words.
What medication? My breath freezes in my throat.
“It would help her sleep, but with the dependency she’s shown on the regular sleeping pills, I worry they could worsen her condition instead of help. Once she does reach Stage Four, I think the best thing for her is extended time here at the Clinic wher
e we can keep an eye on her.”
I throw myself forward and push open the door. It rattles, shaking but not shaking as much as I am. My mother’s eyes widen, and Doctor Clark abruptly stands at my sudden appearance in his tidy, clinical-smelling room.
“No,” I say. “I won’t come live here. I want those meds you were talking about. Give them to me.”
“Thora,” my mother says. “Calm down. You’re causing a scene.”
I glare at her. She has no idea what it’s like.
“What medication are you talking about, Thora?” Doctor Clark asks.
“The ones you were talking about. The ones that will make me sleep.”
He frowns and exchanges a weird knowing look with my mother that causes my hair to stand on end. “We weren’t talking about medication. You must be having a hallucination. Don’t worry. Everything will be alright. It’s a normal sign of the emergence of Stage Four. Once you’re here at the Clinic, you’ll be in good hands.”
I shiver, and Lucas squeezes my hand as I find the familiar green lighted bulb marking a subway station. An intense wave of relief crashes over me. I spot a few other late-nighters trotting down the subway stairs, the first life I’ve seen in blocks. I eye them warily as we descend into the bowels of Manhattan, but they pay no attention to our group.
After we slide our cards through the turnstile, Lucas points us toward the E train waiting in the station. “Brilliant luck,” he says with a grin. “Sometimes you have to wait ages at this time of night.”
The three of us trot to the subway car, Lucas casting concerned glances at me every two steps. Something about it gives me a small dose of energy, like I want to prove myself to him, like I want to show him I’m stronger than I really am. I grit my teeth and force my feet to move. We stumble into the subway car as the door whirs shut behind us.
The subway car jerks forward, and I throw out a hand to steady myself on the nearest metal pole. Florence plops onto the bright orange plastic seat and leans her head against the wall. Her eyes flicker shut as she barely bobs her head to her iPod’s beat. She really hasn’t said much since we lost Aiden, not even when Lucas dropped the bomb about what’s wrong with us. I want to make sure she’s okay, somehow, but I have the feeling she wouldn’t welcome conversation right now. She reminds me so much of Gemma, who, despite the extroverted face she wears every day, likes to work things out in her own head on her own time.
Gemma. Knowing she’s at the end of this whole crazy night is enough to keep my steely resolve from melting into the darkness.
“Yeah, that’s them,” an unfamiliar male voice says from behind me. Lucas’s hand is immediately on my back, and I whirl to see a twenty-something guy—a pretty normal looking guy actually, in dark jeans and a black tee—smiling at us. Another guy and a girl similarly dressed stand behind him, their arms crossed over their chests.
Lucas’s jaw clenches when he sees the Sleepers. I teeter at the bucking of the subway car and kick Florence’s foot with my slipper to alert her of our newest situation.
Florence stands. “What the fuck is this now? Really? How?”
“You’re so predictable. Didn’t think we’d check the nearest subway station to where you were last seen?” He laughs and sizes up Lucas. “And you. Luke, is it? Who the hell are you? I thought I saw you around before, but the guys are saying you helped this Somni redhead get away from The Strand. And you tased Andy.” The guy swivels to say something to the others behind him, and as soon as his back is turned, Lucas grabs my arm and yanks me down the train’s car. My feet slide underneath me as the floor lurches. Florence is already two steps ahead of us when I hear a shout of anger from behind.
Florence reaches the end of the car first and yanks hard to slide open the door. She groans with the effort. The sound of clacking pummels my ears and wind swirls into the car. I want to grab Florence’s arm when she steps out into the dark. This seems like a very bad idea, but we have nowhere else to go, especially if these guys are carrying one of those tasers.
The bitter tang of nausea clogs my throat as I step out behind Florence. My hair swirls around me, smacking my face and stinging my eyes. I hold down a scream as the subway train begins to squeal, the wheels inching around a curve in the tracks. I can’t even look as my feet shuffle forward on the tiny little platform bucking between the cars. My grip tightens on the bending black bands doubling as handrails. If my fingers slip…
I push those thoughts aside and propel myself into the next car. My feet connect with the floor, and my eyes blink at the brightness.
Fear forces me forward.
Lucas jogs in behind me, and Florence lets the door fly shut. He pushes at my back, and we rush through the empty car, stumbling and weaving with the train’s every movement. We reach the end of the metallic tunnel, and Florence pulls open the door. I hate the thought of doing it all over again, but at the sound of the Sleepers coming through the door behind us, I barrel through.
I’m safely inside the next car. The train screeches to a halt. Florence yells something I cannot hear over the rushing in my ears, and I blindly follow her as she races out of the train and onto the platform. Fear shakes through me when I realize what we’ve done, and I want to scream at her to stop even though my feet continue moving at her pace, like my mind and my body are at war with one another. What are we doing, what is she doing, we have to get back inside the train.
That’s when I notice another train sitting in the station, doors open and waiting across the platform. The three of us run inside the train, the pounding of feet signaling the Sleepers are right on our trail. I whirl around as the subway doors slide shut behind us. They’re are stuck on the other side, and my entire body shudders with relief. The Sleeper runs up to the door and bangs his fist on the glass separating us from him. All I can do is stare into his angry eyes until the train rolls forward, taking us out of the station and away from our chasers.
I collapse onto a hard subway bench and wish I could stay here forever.
“How are you feeling, Thora? Are you okay?” Lucas asks, sitting by my side.
“I’m fine. A headache, but that’s pretty constant for me.” I grin at Florence when she plops onto the bench across from me. “You are a master. That’s the third time you’ve excelled in a chase.”
She laughs, but I can tell only half her heart is in it. “I know. I’ve never done that one though. I saw the train across the platform and thought it might be our only chance to get away from those guys. Seems like something straight out of a movie.”
“That it does.” And even though I’ve always wanted a life more film-worthy, I was thinking more along the lines of Amelie than The Bourne Identity. “Lucas, exactly how many Sleepers are there?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. The Clinic hired a bunch for tonight.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Florence asks. “Think they’ll know which stop we’re getting off at?”
“I don’t think so.” Lucas leans back into the bench and stretches out his legs. I purposely avert my gaze when one of his thighs rests against mine. “They don’t know where we’re going, but I’m sure they’ve put two and two together and have realized I’m with the Cafe. Maybe they think I’m taking you there, and I’m rather certain they think it’s further uptown than our insider’s flat.”
Still, when the train screeches into the station, Lucas motions for us to wait while he quickly investigates the platform. A few bored-looking people stand waiting, but he must not spot anyone who even remotely looks like a Sleeper, because he calls for us to follow him before the train doors close. The station’s florescent lights flicker overhead as we make our way toward the exit, dark water dripping down the dingy walls. Discarded fast food wrappers are scattered around a scratched-up wooden bench attached to the tiled wall.
Once out of the subway, my nose is relieved by the blast of fresh-ish air. Lucas slips his hand in mine, and I look up at him and smile before I remember exactly what we’re doing here. Visiti
ng some Clinic insider so we can find out where they’ve taken Aiden. My lips fall into a worried frown. I don’t know what we’ll do if he knows nothing.
Lucas leads us past a brightly-lit police station, and the fact it’s there gives me a little more comfort after what happened in the subway. As we walk, the street morphs into red-brick, pre-war buildings. Curved black-iron gates stretch across first-floor windows and line up on each building’s front steps. Brightly-colored flower bunches squat in freshly planted window boxes. A girl in tall black boots strides past us, leashed to a happy, trotting puppy. The late hour means nothing to some New Yorkers.
Lucas stops us in front of a walk-up identical to half of the other apartment buildings on the block. The flat, plain front is decorated by only the occasional boxy air conditioning unit poking out of tiny windows. I rub my hands over my cotton sleeves and shiver. I don’t know why anyone would need cool air this early in the spring.
We trot up the stone steps, and Lucas rings the buzzer for number four. The three of us wait, Florence bouncing in place to the tune weaving into her ears. And probably from sheer nerves. I stuff my hands into my pockets, rocking onto my heels and leaning my head back to look up at the darkened windows. It seems like everyone in this building is either asleep or not at home.
“He’s not home,” Florence says, speaking the thought for both of us.
Lucas flicks his wrist to glance at his watch. “He should be. If he isn’t now, he will be soon. We can go up and wait for him.”
“What? How?” I ask, looking from Lucas to Florence. “Not the fire escape thing again.”
Lucas laughs and points at the door. “The door isn’t fully shut. We can wait in the hall. Rest for a bit until he gets back.”
“Why didn’t we do that to begin with?” Florence rolls her eyes at him.
As he tests the knob, he glances over his shoulder at her. “Well, that would be quite rude now, wouldn’t it? Bursting into his building without permission?”
