by K M Frost
I was debating if I should knock again or go back to the bearded man when a board shifted behind the door.
“Who is it?” a familiar, though very frightened voice called.
“Leah?” I leaned closer to the door. I’d never heard her sound like that—not even when we’d faced Entities and the other dangers of the Reality Dreams.
The door fell open and I straightened in surprise.
Leah stood in the doorway. A tattered and faded quilt was wrapped tightly around her shoulders, wide eyes looking out from a pale face.
“Jonas?”
She suddenly threw herself at me, locking her arms around my neck and leaving her quilt in a forgotten heap.
I staggered, but she didn’t let go. She buried her face in my shoulder, and after a moment I carefully wrapped my arms around her too. She was shaking all over, and I was totally baffled. But there was something nice about having her arms around my neck, and I felt my heartbeat pick up.
Before I could decide how I felt about hugging her, she pulled back quickly, and I knew by her embarrassed face she hadn’t meant to act so impulsively.
I cleared my throat and shoved my hands deep into my pockets, but I didn’t know what to say.
Leah recovered faster than I did, and she folded her arms tightly against her stomach, her shoulders curling inward. “What are you doing here?”
I glanced over my shoulder, though I don’t know what I was looking for. “Um, I wanted to check on you. You just collapsed last night, and I wanted to be sure you were okay.”
A shadow passed over her face at the mention of last night, and she turned away, scooping her quilt into her arms. “Well, I’m fine. Thanks for coming by—”
I caught the door before she could close it. “Wait. What happened last night?”
“I woke up.” Her voice was gruff and she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “No big deal.”
“Your neighbor said someone was yelling last night, at your house.” I realized I had no idea if it was a good move to bring it up, but there was no going back now. “Something about a crime.”
Leah had turned away, but at my words she froze, then slowly turned. The fear was back in her eyes and she shuddered slightly. “What about it?”
I think she was going for bold and intimidating, but her voice was too weak to pull it off.
I pushed the door open a little wider. “What happened, Leah?”
She finally met my gaze and, after a moment of deliberation, dropped her hand from the door and took a step back, clearing the way for me to come in.
I took a step forward and then hesitated, one foot in, one foot out. “Where’s your dad?”
“The Town Building.”
She turned and walked farther into the house.
I hesitated for another moment, and then stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
I followed Leah down a narrow hallway that led to a small kitchen at the back of the house. The room was clean, but there was a certain shabbiness about it that made it hard for me to relax. All the windows were covered, making the air seem heavy; it took my eyes a minute to adjust to the dim lighting.
Once we were sitting at the kitchen table, I turned to Leah. “What happened?”
Leah pulled her quilt around her shoulders again, looking dazed. I forced myself to be patient, and at last she raised her head and answered. “My dad woke me up because there was a man outside, yelling.” Her voice was calm, almost detached. “The guy was obviously drunk, but the things he was yelling . . .” Her eyes drifted to the rough table top, and her voice faded.
I leaned toward her. “What happened?” I hoped it was the last time I’d have to ask.
She took a deep breath, but didn’t look at me. “He was yelling things about my mom.”
I frowned. “What’s so bad about that?”
“He called my dad a murderer!” She choked on the last word, her green eyes flashing anger and pain.
I took a second to digest her words, then my frown deepened. “But, I thought you guys moved here because nobody knew about your mom.”
“We did. I don’t know how they found out, but . . .” Her voice trailed off and she glanced away. But a second later she looked at me again. “Do you remember when I missed school to go to that meeting with my dad?”
I nodded. “On Wednesday.”
“Well, at that meeting the Capernia Council told us they knew about what’d happened in Thyrid, with my mom and everything, and they wanted to hear the story from my dad.” She shifted on her chair, letting her quilt loosen a little. “So he told them everything he knew, and what had happened. Then they wanted the story from me, too.
“They sent us out of the room for a few minutes while they made their decision, then they called us back inside and told us they weren’t going to punish us in any way—not even for trying to hide it. And I thought things would be okay. But then last night . . .”
I considered, my eyebrows drifting together. “But wait . . . Who was yelling last night? Someone from the Council?” That seemed impossible.
Leah lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “We don’t know. He had some kind of mask on.”
“Did he do anything other than yell?” I thought back to when I’d walked up to the porch, but I didn’t remember seeing anything out of the ordinary.
“No. But the yelling was more than enough. Awful things . . .”
The last part was mostly to herself, so I didn’t ask—and honestly, I didn’t want to know what kind of things a drunken man had yelled in the middle of the night and the midst of his anger.
“Why’s your dad at the Town Building, then?”
“He’s complaining to them.” Leah’s voice was hard, and I knew beneath her fear she was very angry. “They gave their word it would be kept secret, that we’d be fine. But obviously someone didn’t keep their promise.” Her eyes were dark and I was reminded of how much I didn’t want to be the recipient of her full and unbridled fury.
Suddenly, an idea came to me. “How long will he be gone?”
A frown creased her brow. “I don’t know. Why?”
“I think it would do you good to get out of here. You could come over to my house—I know my parents wouldn’t mind.”
She wrapped her quilt more tightly around her. “I don’t know . . .”
I leaned toward her. “Ellie would love to see you, too.”
Leah smiled despite herself. “I guess . . . As long as I left a note for my dad . . .”
She pattered around the kitchen in search of a pen and paper. Once she’d scrawled a short note to her dad, she slipped into her bedroom to change into something nicer, though I told her my family wouldn’t mind.
A few minutes later she came back to the kitchen and, leaving her quilt forgotten on the kitchen floor, she led the way back to the front door.
Once we were outside she let me take the lead, and I was glad she didn’t live too far into the west end.
Soon we were walking through the busier part of Capernia (though on a Sunday morning there weren’t many people outside), and Leah was grinning, her fear and anger apparently forgotten.
When I stepped into the yard with Leah in tow, my family stared at us in surprise. I realized belatedly that I probably should’ve prepared Mom to receive Leah.
Ellie recovered first, and with a joyful shriek she launched herself at Leah, who caught her in a hug with a grin that was nearly as wide as my sister’s, and easily as bright.
I introduced Leah to my parents (though she’d met my mom before), and they both greeted her with smiles—even Mom.
While Ellie clung happily to Leah’s arm, Dad asked what her dad did for a living. She said he was an architect, which kind of made sense to me—I guess art ran in the family.
We didn’t move any farther than the shady front yard for most of the day, but we never got bored.
Leah talked with my parents and played with Ellie like she’d been doing it her whole life. Mostly I sat in the shad
e and talked with Leah and Mom and Dad, but when Ellie pleaded with me to play with her, and Leah joined in her request, I couldn’t resist leaping into the game and chasing them both around the yard.
Ellie screamed and laughed as she ran, trying to stay out of my reach. I was able to catch Leah’s wrist though, and, as the rules of the game dictated, she came onto my side and we both chased Ellie, which made her scream and laugh all the more.
Too soon, Mom announced it was time for dinner and Leah said she needed to get home.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” I asked with a surge of disappointment.
Leah nodded, though she seemed reluctant to leave, too. “Yeah. I’m sure my dad’s home by now and he’s probably starting to worry.”
If I hadn’t known what they’d been through last night, I would’ve insisted she stay, but I knew she needed to reassure her dad—otherwise he might not let her come again. I also knew she should probably get back before dark, with what’d happened last night, so I volunteered to walk her home.
She objected once, but when my parents insisted, she let me lead the way out of the yard and back through town.
Though she tried to hide it, I could tell the coming dusk made her nervous, and I tried to walk faster.
When we got to her street I slowed down, worried I wouldn’t recognize her house in the different lighting. Luckily for me, she took charge and I followed her into the yard with the large tree.
Leah stopped at the porch steps and turned to give me a grateful smile. “Thanks, Jonas.” There was such sincerity in her voice, I found myself smiling, too.
“Any time. I’m sure Ellie would love it if you came every day.”
She laughed. “I don’t think my dad would be happy about that, but I’d like to come over again some time.”
I nodded. I’d had fun—and I hadn’t gotten annoyed with her once today. It wasn’t until I thought about it that I realized Leah had gone a whole day without saying anything rude or obnoxious. It’d been nice.
“Good night, Jonas.” She waved before climbing the porch steps.
I waved back. “Good night.”
Leah opened the door and tossed me one more grin, and then disappeared inside.
I turned around and started to walk home, but my smile never faded.
Chapter 8
Stewart is the only one awake in the Reality Dreams when I get there, and he seems excited to have someone else here with him now.
He hurries to my side with a wide and very toothy grin. “Hey, Jonas.”
I smile back and pull myself to my feet. “Hi, Stew. What’ve you been up to?”
“I’ve been looking at the people.” He sounds bored.
“Do you want some company? There are still some people I want to find.”
“Sure!” His teeth make the S come out with a little whistle. “I’ve already found my mom and dad.”
I scan the faces we pass, but though a few look kind of familiar, no one really stands out. “I haven’t found my parents yet,” I say. “I did find my sister and some other people I know, though.”
Stew nods, though he looks solemn all of a sudden.
I’m not sure what’s bothering him, and we walk in silence. I look at the endless rows of beds and I can’t help wondering if we will ever get through all of them.
When we reach the end of the row, I turn down the next one, but Stew shakes his head. “I’ve already looked there. I don’t know any of them.”
I frown. “But there might be someone I know.”
That makes him pause. His forehead creases as he stares down the long aisle. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
I groan. “There has to be a better way to do this. It doesn’t make sense to keep checking the same rows, and to be honest, it’s all starting to blur together. There’s too many people to keep track of.”
A part of me hopes a solution will just fall into my head, but nothing comes.
I’m surprised when Stewart pipes up. “What if we made a list?”
My eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”
Some of his characteristic excitement is back in his eyes. “If we kept a list of all the people we found, then we would know to stop looking for them.”
I turn that idea over in my mind, and I nod. “Yeah. We could make a kind of map, and mark where we’ve searched and where everyone is. That way we can make sure we look everywhere.”
“Great! Where should we start?”
“First we need something to write on.” I scan the huge room, but don’t see anything that might be helpful.
Then Stewart gasps and grabs my arm, scaring me half to death.
“The room!”
“What room?” I ask, trying to disguise my lingering alarm.
“I found a room earlier. It had lots of boxes, like the others. But I think I saw some pencils. Maybe they have paper in there, too.”
I grin. “Let’s go see.”
Stew was right, the room has all kinds of supplies: paper, pencils, rulers, erasers, and a lot of other things I don’t recognize. I leave the foreign objects alone and grab a handful of papers and a pencil. Stewart does the same, and then we go back out to the main room.
For a minute we stare at the aisles, paper and pencils in hand, while we decide the best way to organize this.
I tap my pencil against my leg, thinking. “What if we put a paper at the end of each row, and when someone searches that row, they can keep track of people on the paper.”
Stew nods enthusiastically, and begins dropping a piece of blank paper on the first bed of each row. I go to the other side of the room and do the same. It takes a long time—longer than I thought it would. It reminds me just how many people are here.
When I’m next to Stewart again, I can tell he’s lost his enthusiasm. I don’t have much either, but I hate to see him looking depressed.
I try to reassure him. “Now we’ll be able to sort through everyone and find the people we’re looking for.”
Stewart acts like he didn’t hear me. He stares down the long aisle, but I don’t think he’s looking at the sleeping people.
“Stew? Are you okay?”
He turns to me with an anxious face. He’s close to tears. “I can’t find Edison!”
“Hey, buddy.” I crouch next to him and hold his shoulders. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him. I’m sure he’s here somewhere.” I try to remember who Edison is. The name is kind of familiar, but I can’t place it.
Stewart shakes his head. “No. There are only people here.”
Now I remember. Edison is his pet—a chinchilla, I think. I glance around, but I’m sure I haven’t seen any animals in the Clinic.
For his sake, I force a smile. “I’m sure he’s okay. I haven’t found my parents yet. But if we keep looking, I’m sure we’ll find them.”
“But they’re people.” His voice is unsteady and his eyes shine with tears.
I’m not sure how to comfort him, but then I have an idea. “Hey, maybe there’s a room where they kept the animals. I’m sure there’re lots more rooms than we’ve found—maybe Edison’s in one of them.”
Stew’s face instantly transforms from grief to hope. “Hey, maybe you’re right! I mean, they wouldn’t want to keep the animals in here—someone might be allergic!”
Then, without another word, he takes off for the far wall to begin his search.
I feel a tinge of guilt watching him go, and I worry what will happen if he doesn’t find Edison. But I push it aside with the knowledge that at least for now he’s happy again.
With Stewart occupied, I make my way back to Ellie, as has become my ritual. I find her pulse and touch her warm face, taking comfort from those signs that she is still alive.
I slip some of her dark hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry, Ellie. I’ll find Mom and Dad.”
I’m brought out of my thoughts when Rick calls me over to our makeshift camp near the center of the room.
He adju
sts his gun on his shoulder. “Are you gonna help us read tonight?”
I shake my head. “I need to find my parents.”
He frowns, but nods his understanding.
I don’t waste any more time and start searching for my parents.
Abby wakes up next. She waves to me with a smile, then grabs the book she ended on and continues reading it.
I don’t notice when Leah gets up—one time I glance over and she’s asleep, and the next time I look she’s gone.
I search the sleeping, row by row. I recognize a few people—Instructor Stevens, who teaches Music of Capernia, and Gloria, the receptionist from the Counseling Center (though she looks different without her bright colors and big hair)—but I don’t find Mom or Dad.
I move through endless rows, keeping track of the people I find on the papers at each aisle. And though each familiar face is a victory, it’s hard to hold on to my optimism when there are so many more to search. I start to wonder if I’ll ever find my parents.
But I keep searching.
Stewart finds another storage room—this one has bandages and bottles—but even that doesn’t distract me from my search. And eventually, it pays off.
I’m halfway across the room from Ellie when I spot Dad’s face, and I’m so relieved I could cry.
I hurry down the aisle and see Mom sleeping in the bed next to him. I set the paper on Dad’s bed and touch his face; he’s warm, like Ellie. I do the same to Mom, and grin at the temperature of her skin. They’re both breathing steadily.
I’m pulled out of my one-sided reunion when Stew calls out triumphantly that he found another room.
Though I don’t really want to leave my parents now that I’ve found them, my curiosity has returned. So after scrawling a quick note of where my parents are sleeping, I make my way to where the others are gathering.
The new room is at the farthest end of the Clinic, directly opposite the door that leads outside. By the time I get there everyone else is already inside.
This room is bigger than any of the others we’ve found, but as far as I can tell, there’s just one huge desk topped with three sleek black boxes standing upright. They remind me of the strange boxes I saw in the Entity City, that hung on the walls across from the sofas in all the sitting rooms. Another, smaller black box is laid out in front of the larger boxes. When I look closer, I see there are letters on the slim black box that click lightly when they’re pressed.