I’m never going back. The thought sends a chill down my spine. Being dead isn’t very fun. Sure, it’s liberating to be outside without worrying about a patrol officer chasing after me in a mo-pod, but I don’t know who to trust anymore. Then again, I didn’t necessarily have a long list of comrades in Brooklyn, either.
My bedroom has a cedar wood dresser that looks nearly brand new. Don must have remembered that I would’ve never put any of my possessions in a piece of furniture with so much as a speck of dust, much less an old one.
After stacking my clothes neatly in my dresser, my duffel bag still feels heavy. The knot in my stomach tightens. Did Spark or Blair go through my things?
I flip the bag upside down, looking away. When nothing attacks me, I look at the floor and bend down.
“Don…” It’s the box of video drives that I left in the attic. Why would he give me these, especially if I’m never going to see him again?
I carefully open the box as the familiar scent of cinnamon ambushes my nose. He’s not here, but he’s with me. The video drive on the top of the pile looks brand new. A new love letter?
Without thinking, I lean against the wall and press the green button. The image of Don’s hazel eyes and curly brown hair is within an inch of my face.
“Hello, Lin. It’s me. Your, uh, ya know. It’s Don. I slipped this into your bag while you were sleepin’. You may not be at home, but you’re safe.”
How convenient. I bite my lip and shift my weight back and forth. Seeing his face and hearing his voice brings back too many unpleasant memories. I thought I was supposed to forget my past life.
“Don’t worry, Lin. The people here are gonna take care of ya. They don’t know you, and truthfully, I don’t know them. But Susan will watch out for ya. She’s a sweet lady.”
I nod. Susan’s quiet, but I like her most of all.
“I know it’s hard to trust me now, but I’m doing this all for you. This was my plan all along. I wish I could’ve told you about it.” His voice chokes up and he pauses, covering his mouth with a few of his fingers.
“Either way, enjoy the Community. And remember, even when it sucks, it’s better than Brooklyn is right now. Back home is insane, more than you know. So trust me when I say that you’re safe.” His kind words force a smile to my lips. He looks off to the side before continuing. “If you start to miss me, I gave you some of my letters. Make sure you watch all of them. Oh, hey, I gotta go. But one more thing. When you first got here, Susan gave you a list of rules to follow. I don’t remember ’em, but they’re important for you. You don’t know who among you could be a snitch reporting back to the Liberty party. You can talk about Brooklyn and your feelin’s and stuff, but don’t use any names except your own. They can’t connect you to anyone, because you’re dead, in case you forgot.”
I laugh into my hand, tears rushing to my eyes.
“I love you, Lin. Truly, I do. I hope I can tell you that in person when this is all over.”
My heart skips a beat as the image of my ex-husband disappears. His video leaves me with more questions than answers. But as I mull over his words, I realize he sent me a subtle message within his words. Make sure you watch all of them.
The command tugs at my chest. Looking left and right, I kneel onto the floor and dump the video drives onto the hardwood floor. All the video drives look the same except for one. It’s skinny and it has two metal prongs sticking out of it. No buttons.
I examine the prongs, jogging my memory for where I’ve seen them before. Nothing comes to mind. Either Don left one of his little gadgets in the box, or he has a purpose for this piece that I’ll discover later.
Or never.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After my eventful dinner experience, it’s time to take another shower. I look through my newly stocked dresser for a pair of cozy pajamas to help me sleep tonight. Walking into the bathroom, I get undressed and turn on the water, letting the stream wash away my guilt, pain, and confusion. The only thing on my mind is the way the water pressure massages my aching muscles.
With my body clean and my belly still full from dinner, I turn off the water and wrap a towel around me, my wet hair leaving small droplets on the floor. I take a deep breath and vow to clean the bathroom tomorrow. Now, I need sleep.
My eyes are heavy, and my pajamas are comfortable, but my mind is wide awake. I run a mental list of all the people I met today, including Ace Elliot, the man who warned me this would all happen. I wish I had time to react on that day at the coffee shop, and now, I wish I can thank him for mentally and emotionally preparing me for this moment. But it seems like he wants nothing to do with me.
Then there’s Nelle, Tee, and June, who seem a bit naïve. I don’t get why they’re so happy, and why they want me to be their friend already.
The only encounter I have with Spark and Blair is at the medical clinic, so I don’t think I can make a fair assumption about them right now. After all, I was half asleep, and they were doing their job.
Don told me I can trust Susan. Based on the awkwardness of the rest of the group, I sure hope he’s right.
A ruffle in the covers interrupts my thoughts. I press my back into the bed, my eyes shut tight. Maybe if I pretend it’s not there, it won’t bother me.
The tip of the blanket lands on my bare shoulder, startling me awake. When the presence doesn’t ambush my face, I turn my head slightly to the right, chills going entirely down my spine.
“Dad?”
The man I remember as my father seven years ago is in the bed with me. His hair is dark brown and his cheeks are bulgy like they were before the cancer. Just like how I remember him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask hesitantly. “You were…”
In the dark, I can barely make out his faint smile and his arms outstretched toward me. I furrow my eyebrow, my muscles tensing in the silence. “Dad, please say something. You’re scaring me.”
But instead of answering, he holds his arms out at me and reaches further across the bed. When his arm touches me, I can’t feel him.
“What’s going on? Why can’t I feel you?” Tears form in my eyes. “Dad, I don’t know what’s happening. Please talk to me.”
But his smile sends me into confusion instead of into familiarity. His arms are open wide toward me. He stands up and puffs out his chest, like a balloon.
“Dad, come back…” He floats away from the bed, toward the door, his eyes on me and his smile plastered on his chubby face.
“Dad! No!” I jump out of the bed and run to him. When I catch up to him, he disappears in a poof of smoke.
I collapse onto the floor and wake up in my bed. “It was a dream…” I whisper to myself with a racing heartbeat. I place my hand over my chest, taking deep breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Just like Tobi taught me after the divorce. It was the only way I could stop the panic attacks.
Why wasn’t it working this time?
The bedroom is still dark and I wonder how late it is. I clench the covers and stare into the darkness, begging the air to leave me alone. My body has broken out into a cold sweat. I need to wash my hands.
Cold water from the sink brings me back to reality, but the image of my father stays etched in my mind. No matter how hard I scrub, no matter how much water I use, I can’t remove the filth that I feel about losing my dad. He’s gone. He’s never coming back. I don’t know why I believed he would ever come back.
Hope.
Oh, not this again. Dad is gone. His body is dead, so he’s not coming back. He’s not here with me, and he can’t visit me.
I take a deep breath again. Maybe one of the video drives from Don accidentally turned on. He could’ve saved a video of Dad running up to me when I was a child. The thought assuages my fear for a few moments.
Wringing my hands dry with a paper towel, I feel like a song on autoplay. Is this really my life now? Eat, shower, go to bed, have bad dream, repeat? No. There has to be more.
B
ut why? Why would I assume that there’s more to this life, when I don’t believe what Dad said? What other meaning of life could there possibly be besides surviving?
I lay back in bed and turn on my side, tightly hugging myself. What is the meaning of life? Can I find the answer before the sun comes up? As I think about it, I realize that the life I was living before this wasn’t much of anything. I survived. I paid the bills and lived debt free and was in control of my own schedule, but was I really living?
What is living?
My heart beat faster, preventing fatigue from overtaking me. Should I have risked more, like they did in those action movies? Should I have found another husband, like they did in those romantic movies? Or should I have just ended it all?
I’m dead.
I’m here now, but what does that even mean? Where am I, and what am I supposed to do here? Is survival the only mission, or are we accomplishing something?
Don said that I can trust Susan. Maybe she has the answers I need. That information alone is enough to put my mind at ease enough to lay in bed until the sunrise.
Chapter Thirty
At breakfast that morning, I keep my head down, avoiding Ace as he plops some eggs on my plate.
“Good morning,” he mumbles politely.
I weakly grin in reply.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks, stopping me in my tracks.
My heart skips a beat. “Uh, sure,” I reply coolly. Calm down, Lin. Don’t say anything to freak him out.
“I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that. After all, it was your first day.”
I feel my cheeks flush and I can imagine my face turning a deep shade of red. There’s no hiding it, so instead, I smile more brightly. “Okay.”
No one has ever apologized to me before. Is “okay” an appropriate response? I bow my head, the flushing traveling down my neck.
“Let’s start over, okay? I’m Ace. And I’m sorry, I actually didn’t catch your name yesterday.”
There. He said it again. Sorry. But this time, what’s he apologizing for? “I’m Lin. Nice to meet you.”
He holds out his hand. Is it okay to touch him? I instinctively grab it, blood rushing through my arm.
“Where are you sitting? We can chat when I’m finished serving everyone.”
I shrug. “I don’t know if we have assigned seating or anything, but I was sitting with those three women over there yesterday.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that makes sense. You ladies have to stick together, I guess. Hey, I gotta get back to work. Can you let go of my hand now?”
I chuckle uncomfortably, slipping my hand out of his. Before I can make this situation any more awkward, I turn and grab a scoop of yogurt and a cup of orange juice.
My face is still warm when I take my seat next to Nelle. “You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah. Fine. Why?”
She smiles. “No reason. I mean, I guess we’re all in the middle of this strange new world.”
Tee says the prayer this time, and I take a sip of the orange juice. Instantly, acid rises to my throat. “Now I’m not okay,” I choke.
“What’s the matter?” Nelle asks, putting her hand on my shoulder. I instinctively flinch at her touch.
“This orange juice is rotten.” I slide the cup away from me. “How long have you had those oranges?”
Nelle and Tee exchange glances. “You’ve never had fresh orange juice before.”
Tee’s statement is just that. A statement. Not a question. “And you have? Don’t we get orange juice shipped from somewhere else in the country?”
She smiles. “Yeah, from Florida.”
“Oh. Is that where we are?”
Tee leans toward me. “None of us know where we are. We’ve been here for months, yet we haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Our hackers don’t want us knowing where we are,” Nelle says. “The less information we know, the better.”
I avert my eyes to my empty plate. “It doesn’t feel like that,” I mumble under my breath.
Tee stands up and takes my empty plate. “Breakfast is almost over. What do you have planned today?”
I look around and throw up my hands. “What’s there to do besides sitting in my cabin drinking tea?”
“Well, we usually go for a walk together after breakfast. Wanna come?”
“Go for a walk? Like, spend time together?” I can’t remember the last time I spent alone time with anyone but my dad. Oh yeah, that time I went to Taco Tuesdays with Mom.
June sticks her head out from behind Nelle. “Yeah. You’re really not supposed to spend too much time around here by yourself.”
I roll my eyes. Spending time by myself is my specialty. But maybe I should try something different. After all, look what spending time alone did for me. “Sure.” Maybe these women can help me figure out how I can save Mom, and how I can get back home.
In the middle of my eyeroll, I lock eyes with Ace. He makes a motion for me to come near him.
“Actually, I might have plans already. But maybe next time.” Before I wait for their response, I walk up to the food line.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask, furrowing my eyebrow.
“Newbies have to help clean up the kitchen.” He looks around and lowers his head. “And since you seem to know me, maybe I can get to know you.”
My heart skips a beat and I take a deep breath before accepting his offer. As I clear the excess food from the table, I wrestle with what I’m allowed to tell him. The less information we know, the better. Does that go for what we tell each other, too?
As I turn my back, a wave of emotions overtakes me, and I’m on my way to spend time with Ace Elliot of the Nothing but News podcast. If I’m sure of anything, it’s that Ace is a guy I can trust.
Chapter Thirty-One
The combined smell of dishwater and rotten bananas overwhelms my nostrils. Like the medical clinic, the lights are faded, and the room is stuffy. I need to clean. Another familiar feeling that reminds me of Brooklyn.
Ace comes through the door a little after me, placing the rest of the food trays on the table at the center of the room. “Thanks,” he exhales.
I smile, completely taken aback that this is my life now. Working side by side with Ace? I can get used to this.
Ace clears his throat. “So, you want to wash the dishes after I pack up the leftovers?”
“Sure.” The conversation isn’t going quite as I had hoped it would.
When the silence tears at my insides as I wait for him to speak, I pipe up. “Thank you for warning me about the shutdown. I-I didn’t believe you at first, but you helped me get through the initial shock.”
Ace looks up at me as he puts the top on the container of sausage. “I wish I hadn’t said anything that day. It was the first time Brant and I disagreed on anything.”
“But, you were right,” I say, turning on the sink and running the first tray under it. “You’d rather hide the truth to protect your friendship than expose the lies that—”
“Lin, I’m not sure you’re aware, but there’s this rule. We don’t talk about our past life.” Before I can protest, Ace storms into the other room to put the food items in the refrigerator.
I’m alone. Again.
Sponge in hand, I scrub the grime off each tray and load them onto the drying rack. My mind is spinning as I try to figure out the rules. Not just of the Community, but of how to be a socially acceptable human being.
My muscles tense as Ace returns. I dare not speak another word, trying not to offend him again.
This time, he says something first. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions about this place. Since I’ve been here the longest, I’d be happy to answer any of them as best as I can. But as for my past life, it’s too uncomfortable to discuss. And it can get us both in trouble.” He holds out his hand. “Understood?”
I nod, placing the last of the trays on the rack. My soapy hand
goes into his, and we shake. “Thanks again.”
“As long as you clean the floors, I can tell you anything you want to know,” he says with a wink, making me blush.
I bite my lip and bend to the floors, starting with the yogurt stain at my feet. The abrasion from the microfiber cloth pulls up black stains that taint the entire rag in one wipe. I cover my mouth with my hand.
“Lin, we have brooms and a mop, ya know.” He points toward a closet.
I start with the broom, sweeping the crumbs and loose scrap paper from the tile. As I sweep, I try to make sense of this place. Even though I wish I could read Ace’s mind, I hope he can’t read mine.
Finally, I break the silence. “So, what are we doing here? Why did the hackers bring us here?”
“We all have a different purpose.”
That’s so helpful. “What’s your purpose? Making all the food?”
“Still trying to figure it out. I imagine you have a lot of thoughts and feelings about your past life.”
“Yeah, but you can’t know about them,” I retort, wetting the mop and slopping it over the dirty floor.
“No, I can’t know about your past life. But I can know about your feelings and thoughts. Talking about them might actually help you transition better.”
I cringe. “Sorry, but if you won’t tell me about your past life, I’m not opening up about mine.” I watch the mop swivel back and forth against the tile. “I really want to know what happened between you and Brant—”
“Brant sold me out,” Ace says, throwing his hands in the air. “It turns out you know the podcast episode that got me thrown in jail. The guy you knew, my friend, sold my personal information to the Liberty party to save his own skin. I’d been off the grid for years—”
“Off the grid?” I interrupt.
“My house wasn’t connected to the Internet. I recorded the show at Brant’s house.”
“You can do that?”
“Oh, sure. It’s hard to do, but it’s possible. Anyway, the guy you knew as my co-host was the only person besides my sister who knew my address. When the Internet shut down, just as I had predicted, the Liberty party hunted him down and threatened to kill him, so he sold me out.”
In Real Life Page 11