by Cady Vance
“Like we’re not doing it anyway.”
Lucas pushes open the door and waves us through. “Maybe I didn’t want to walk in on him running around his flat naked. Did you ever think of that?”
That shuts Florence up, and I feel my own face flame, not only at the thought of a random guy running around his apartment naked but because the word came from Lucas’s lips. The way it rolled across his tongue in that heavy British accent…I shiver.
Inside, Lucas starts up a flight of hardwood stairs. He takes the steps two at a time while Florence and I slowly climb up behind him. I see no point in running now. Might as well save what little energy I’m clinging onto for the next inevitable encounter with the Sleepers. The apartment is a blur as we trod onto the second floor, the third floor and then finally the last flight of stairs to the fourth floor. I stop short halfway up when Lucas freezes at the top. He’s gripping the polished wooden banister; his fingernails dig into the wood. My vision turns gray as my heart lurches into my throat. Something’s wrong. The Sleepers must be here. They’ve found us.
Twenty-Two
Your child may have trouble recalling events that occurred before the fatal accident.
- The Galvanism Handbook for Parents
What?” I whisper, but Lucas is already moving out of sight. I tear up the stairs after him, while the logical part of my brain tells me to run away as fast as I can. My stomach turns over and over and over and over until I reach the landing, turning to see the wide open door to apartment four. Inside, Lucas stands in the middle of what looks to be tornado leftovers. Papers and books cover every inch of the hardwood floor.
“Someone’s broken in and trashed the place,” he says.
I slowly move forward. Behind me, Florence utters a string of curse words. I slide through the open door to Lucas’s side. I slip my hand into his. He tenses, but then relaxes under my touch. I have no idea what to say. I have no idea what to think. My heart is roaring and my blood is boiling and my eyes are dotted with specks of white. I look up and see Florence standing in the doorway watching us, a grim line to her lips. She’s shaking her head, and I know exactly what she’s thinking because I’m thinking it, too. Lucas’s inside contact was found out, and the Sleepers paid him a visit.
“Florence, close the door and come inside” His voice comes out gravelly.
I hug my arms tight to my chest. “Should we call the cops?”
He sighs and drops his head in his hands. “I don’t know. I need to think.” He stands and starts pacing back and forth in what I’m now noticing used to be a small yet well-decorated living room. A plush brown couch is shoved up against a wall of blind-covered, floor-to-ceiling windows. A classy red-and-brown swirling rug spans the floor. A large-screen TV squats on an antique hardwood table.
“Do you think he was here? Do you think he’s okay?” I ask.
Lucas takes a heavy, sinking seat on the couch, pushing the clutter aside. “I don’t know. He’s not meant to contact any of us. I don’t know how he’d have been found out. I bloody well hope he didn’t get caught.” He closes his eyes. “He’s a good guy.”
“Is he a trust fund baby or something?” Florence moves to sit by Lucas on the couch. “This place can’t be cheap.”
“It’s posh, eh?” Lucas gets a lost-looking half-smile on his face. “The Clinic pays well. Really well.”
“Oh,” Florence says.
The room falls silent. My mind spins, and for the first time since we arrived at this apartment, I understand the full threat of what’s happened and what being here might mean for us.
“Should we be here?” I say in a squeak. “What if they figure out we’re here? I mean, the Sleepers did this. Obviously. It’s too much of a coincidence to be a random burglary. And despite the tornado zone, it doesn’t look like anything was stolen.”
“You’re right. They must have done this,” he says. “But if they thought we’d come here, then they would have waited here for us. They must have done what they meant to do and then left. As mad as it is, we’re probably safe here.”
“Probably,” Florence says. “Only probably.”
“That’s the best I can do right now.” He sighs and runs his hands over his face.
“Well, we can’t stay here,” Florence continues. “We have to help Aiden.”
“What’s that?” I ask, noticing a large map of New York taped to the wall. Multi-colored thumbtacks poke out from the paper, most clustered downtown. A thin string winds its way around each point. I step closer and peer at the tacks. Union Square Park, Brooklyn Bridge and Chinatown are the three I notice first.
“That’s a map of tonight’s clue trail,” Lucas says, moving to my side. His lips form a thin line as he eyes the paper. “They must have found out he had this. And now I’m well certain this is why they came here. For the map. It’s how they’ve been two steps ahead of us all night.”
“What are these?” I ask, pointing to two clear thumbtacks not connected by the string. One midtown and one uptown.
“This is a guess,” he says. “But I’d wager those two must be Manhattan Clinics. I don’t know what that one is.” He points to a colored tack placed downtown but slightly separated from the rest of the scavenger hunt tacks. “Nothing on tonight’s clue trail is meant to be there. Could be another Clinic. Could be something else.”
I trace my finger along the string connecting the tacks. “Which one of these thumbtacks represents the Cafe?”
“The Cafe isn’t on here. He doesn’t know where it is. We never told him. If he did, the place would be crawling with Sleepers by now.”
A shiver races along my arms, and Florence moves to my other side, leaning in to peer at the map. “So, these extra thumbtacks. They could be where Aiden is.”
“Potentially.”
A determined expression hardens Florence’s face. “We have to go there.”
“I’m going,” he says pointedly as he moves back to the couch. He opens a laptop squatting on a wooden coffee table stained with dark rings. “You two are staying here.”
“No way,” Florence and I say in unison.
“I’m not staying here,” I say just as Florence says, “I’m helping you find Aiden. You know you need my help.”
“No.” He shakes his head and starts tapping on the keys.
“You can’t stop me, friend.” Florence moves closer to him. “You can try, but I’ll tell you right now, you’ll lose.”
“And what about Thora? Did you even consider her?” He stops tapping and glares up at Florence. “What if she Collapses? I know you’re worried about Aiden, but I think it’s complete shite you’re willing to toss Thora aside to go after him. I’ll sort this out. You stay here with her.”
“Let me tell you something, Lucas.” Florence eases onto the couch next to him with careful precision. My heart pounds hard inside my chest, and I don’t even know what to say. I hate they’re talking about me like I’m not even here. I hate Florence looks like she’s about to rip his head off with her sharp, red fingernails. “Thora here is pretty fucking resilient. I don’t think she’s going to Collapse tonight, but if she does? She’d be better off with you. So, you can work your spy magic and get her taken care of.”
“You guys can stop talking about me like this now,” I say. “I appreciate the concern, but it’s my choice. And I choose to help look for Aiden.”
“Bloody hell, you two are impossible.”
“Bloody hell,” I mimic in a fake British accent.
Lucas snaps his head up, and I see a ghost of his goofy grin. “That was a horrible accent.”
“It was bloody tragic,” Florence echoes in her own.
Lucas meets my eyes for a moment more before he flicks his gaze behind me, drinking in the ransacked apartment. “Sod it. I see it’s impossible to talk any sense into either of you.” He turns his attention back to the laptop screen, glances up at the map on the wall and then back to the screen again. “I can’t tell much from Street View.
The downtown thumbtack looks like your regular old nondescript door.”
“Great,” Florence says. “That’s a terrific sign.”
“Let’s go then,” he says, closing the laptop and standing. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about staying here.”
“No.” I shake my head hard.
The three of us step through the mess and out into the quiet hallway. As we jog down the stairs, Florence whispers into the air, “So, which thumbtack are we going to now?”
“Back downtown,” Lucas says in a low voice. “And this time, we’re taking a cab.”
Twenty-Three
Never leave your child completely alone, as an unexpected Collapse without treatment can be fatal.
- The Galvanism Handbook for Parents
The taxi rolls to a stop on a quiet street of towering finance buildings, and anxiety swirls around my heart as we step onto the curb. I don’t like being back down here again, to the same area where we were chased through the streets three times so far tonight. Not to mention we don’t really know what we’re about to walk into. It could be anything.
We get out of the cab a few blocks away from the building so we can approach it it slowly and quietly, in case it turns out to be a Clinic with Sleepers pouring in and out of it. As much as we want to find Aiden, we also know we can’t go barreling into some unknown place blindly and stupidly. It would only get us caught, and that won’t do us or Aiden any favors.
We quietly make our way down the street hoping our footsteps won’t bounce off the steel walls hugging us on every side. The silence feel suffocating, somehow even quieter now than it seemed only an hour before. Right now, the familiar saying doesn’t ring true at all. The city seems terribly asleep. Silent, still and dead, even though I know somewhere in Manhattan the streets are just as bustling now as they ever are. Maybe even more so. I wish we were there instead of here.
At the end of the block, Lucas motions us to stop. The three of us peer around the brick building and down the next street. I brace myself to come face-to-face with a parade of muscles in all black, but this street is as empty as the last.
Lucas points down the block. “It’s that dark brown door there. Number 217.”
I take in the door he’s pointing out and the floors towering over it. The windows are dark. There’s no movement behind the closed blinds. The door stays still and shut as we wait silently for something to happen.
“Come on, let’s go,” Florence says, grabbing Lucas’s arm and propelling him forward. “Looks like no one’s home.”
“Wait,” he hisses, and Florence stops. “It could be a Clinic.”
“Don’t you think some lights would be on?” I say, but I don’t find myself making any steps toward the building either.
“Yeah, I do. I just don’t want us to walk into something dangerous.”
“Too late,” Florence says. “The moment we started all this, we walked into something dangerous.”
“Touche.” He stares at the building a moment longer, watching it as if it will come alive with bright lights and sound at any moment. “Right, let’s go.”
We trot across the empty street, dismissing crosswalks at such a late hour. My feet hammer the pavement, and my head spins before I shake it clear. A sharp pain stabs my chest, and I slow my pace, trying to ignore what my body is trying to tell me.
We slow when we reach the sidewalk. Lucas takes the lead, stepping quietly up to the door. He places his ear on the dark brown paint and closes his eyes. When he pulls back, he shakes his head.
“It’s bloody quiet,” he whispers. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Could be an entrance hallway. Or everyone inside could be asleep.”
Asleep. I hadn’t even thought of that, but it’s true. These people, the Sleepers, can sleep. Even though I’ve always been hyper aware of everyone else dreaming the night away, tonight I’ve gotten used to being surrounded by others like me. People forever awake.
Florence reaches across Lucas and twists the knob slowly. The click of resistance resounds loudly in the silence, and I cringe. How can a doorknob make that much noise?
“There’s no buzzers.” She points to the metal box by the door. The cover has been pried off, and the wires inside have been cut, the reds and blues twisting around each other like writhing snakes.
“We don’t want to buzz someone anyway,” I hiss back. That would only make this terrible plan magnify the terrible by about a thousand times.
Lucas steps back, runs a hand over his face and looks straight up at the blank windows as if they hold the answers to all our questions. When no magic signs appear to tell us the way, he stuffs his hands into his pockets and meets my gaze. I can’t help but be mesmerized by the blue in his eyes, even if I know the color isn’t real. Somehow I know the gray would be just as intense on him, and they make me wish I had something remarkable to say about our predicament, about our next steps.
“I don’t know what to do.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m at a complete loss.”
“Don’t worry. I do.” Florence rustles around in her bag and pulls some sort of metal tool from the depths of what I’ve started thinking of as her Bottomless Thief Toolbox. She sticks her tongue out between her teeth and attacks the keyhole with the tool, jiggling the doorknob with the other hand. I hold my breath, praying whoever is inside can’t hear the metal scraping against metal and the clicking of the doorknob under Florence’s touch. Another trick in her arsenal. I can’t help but wonder how long she’s been at this stealing gig and how she’s managed to figure out all these moves.
Something clicks loud. I bite my lip. Florence pushes open the door. She hesitates a moment before sticking her head around the corner. I can see her shoulders tensing under her shirt, but then they relax as she pushes the door open even wider. Lucas holds out a hand and moves in before me.
When we step inside the building, I gasp. It isn’t at all what I expected. I’ve been thinking we were about to enter another apartment building similar to the others we’ve seen tonight. Instead, I’m met with a long, sterile hallway, tiled floor shining under the dimly lit florescent bulbs I’m used to seeing in the classroom hallways at my old school.
Florence’s boots click on the shiny floor. The door swings shut behind us. We wait, breath held in our throats for something to happen. For whoever is here to realize there are sleepless intruders in their midst. But the only sound other than the breath hissing out of my nostrils is a drip-drip-drip echoing somewhere down the hallway before us. This can be only one place. It is a Clinic. A very quiet one.
It lacks all the machines humming and footsteps clicking and doctors murmuring. The scent of antiseptic still hangs in the air, but it isn’t as strong as it was in the Clinic I escaped. And there is something else this place is lacking. The occasional moan of pain.
Still, I’m too scared to speak.
“Maybe we should go,” Florence whispers, but her quiet voice still echoes off the walls. “It’s empty. Aiden obviously wouldn’t be here.”
I turn to Lucas and see something flashing in his eyes. Hope? Determination? Anger? Or maybe a combination of the three.
He seems confident we’re alone by his relaxed stance, but he speaks softly when he finally responds. “I want to take a look around. Just a bit. See if I can find anything.”
I force myself to relax enough to speak. “What for?”
He breathes in deeply, the determination on his face erasing the other emotions that are there. “This is a proper chance to look around a Clinic. There may be documents, test results, data. Something to help us with the cure.”
And I am torn. Torn between Aiden and answers. Between Aiden and a cure.
Lucas turns to Florence. “Aiden may be at one of the other two map thumbtacks or he may bloody well be somewhere else entirely. Maybe we can find some information about where they may have taken him. Maybe we can even find something that will help us get to him without getting hurt or taken. If he’s at a Clinic, like I’m ra
ther certain he is, we won’t be able to lockpick our way in and out with a patient in tow.”
Florence squeezes her eyes, and then, to my surprise, nods. “Logical.”
“Let’s try not to be long,” I say. “Just in case…” I trail off, thinking of Odin’s lifeless eyes.
“Why don’t we start with this floor first?” Florence suggests. The three of us trail down the hallway. Even though we’re alone, none of us seem to ready to make much noise. We take careful steps, quietly turning doorknobs and pushing open doors. Door after door reveals nothing but vacant, dark rooms, cobwebs spinning in the corners. At the end of the hallway, we come to an elevator bank and an exit sign perched over a fire stairwell.
I look at the elevators and shake my head. “Just in case someone’s here.”
“Friend, if someone’s here, we’re screwed even if we take the stairs.”
I don’t argue, but I hope she’s wrong. Even though this floor is empty, the next one might not be. If this building was anything like the bustling Clinics, it wouldn’t be the ghost town it is, but someone could be upstairs collecting old paperwork or cleaning up the rooms.
Then, I realize the ridiculous path of my thoughts and almost let out a tense laugh at myself. It’s three o’clock in the morning. Only insomniacs commit to crazy projects in the middle of the night.
When we step into the stairwell, an overhead light blinks on. I grip Lucas’s arm and throw a hand over my mouth to muffle a scream. Florence slams into me and digs her nails into my shoulder.
Lucas laughs softly. “It’s just a motion detecter. Blimey, you two are jumpy, aren’t you?”
I relax my grip on his arm, and when I drop my hand to my side, his warm hand encircles it. Heat soars from my fingers to my arm to my neck to my face. I meet his eyes. I know I shouldn’t feel this good when everything is falling apart, but I cannot help it. Something about being around him makes me feel like my head is more firmly attached than it normally is.
Florence begins the trek up the stairs. When she reaches the top, she mimics Lucas’s move from outside, leaning her ear against the metal door and listening. I hold my breath, waiting for her to give us the signal to get the hell out of here.
