by Steven James
“You feed the most.”
“You’ve heard the story too.”
“Yes.”
“So? Which one are you?”
“Whichever one I need to be to get the job done.”
“What job?”
“Recruitment.”
“Recruitment?”
That’s right, remember? He came here to meet with you, to ask you to help him.
“They think I’m just imagining you,” Daniel said.
Silence.
“Hello?”
No reply.
“Mr. Zacharias?”
Are you real? he thought.
“Are you there?” he said.
The line was dead.
Of course it is. Because he doesn’t exist. He’s—
As Daniel stared at the screen, the record of the call disappeared before his eyes.
He scrolled over to see the list of recent calls. Nothing showed up.
Nicole was approaching the car, sketchbook in hand. “You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Not completely.”
“You were on the phone,” she observed.
“It was him. Mr. Zacharias.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t read her tone of voice. “What did he say?”
“That he’s a recruiter.” Daniel took a deep breath. “Nicole, tell me I’m not going crazy.”
“You’re not going crazy.”
“Okay, well . . . Hmm . . .”
“What?”
“That didn’t help as much as I was hoping it would.”
Let her open her presents. Get your mind off everything that’s been going on.
He reached into his pocket, drew out an envelope, and handed it to her. “Here. Do this one first.”
“What is it?”
“Your present—well, part of it.”
“You want to open presents here? In the parking lot?”
“Sure. Why not? Why wait?”
“Um, okay. I do like present opening.”
“I know.”
She set down her sketchbook, opened the envelope, and unfolded the sheet of paper he’d slipped inside it.
“A coupon for ‘Free snow anaconda lessons.’ Well, I didn’t see that one coming.”
“It’s good for a year,” Daniel pointed out helpfully. “I keep the class size small for more individualized attention.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. I like instruction to be one-on-one.”
She looked at him slyly. “So do I.”
He unlocked the trunk and took out the two gifts Kyle had placed in there.
“Open the next one.”
He gave it to her: a box about as long as a shoebox but only half as wide, and rather inelegantly wrapped in a brown paper bag held in place with duct tape.
“Kyle wrapped it for me.”
“I never would have guessed.”
She unfolded the paper bag carefully, as if she were trying to protect it so that it could be used again, though with that much tape, Daniel doubted that was ever going to happen.
When she got to the box she opened it and lifted out the contents. “You got me a one-armed Batman doll.”
“Action figure, actually.”
“Oh. Right. Is this the one from your bedroom?”
“No, Kyle found it for me today. I’m guessing Walmart.”
“And you had him tear the arm off?”
“Yup. It’s so your doll, Rebecca, won’t be lonely.”
“That’s thoughtful. It’s sweet. It really is.”
“And number three.” He handed her the last one. “Open it.”
“Hmm . . . It looks like it’s about the right size for being a sketchbook.” She held it up to her ear and shook it. “Sounds like a sketchbook.” She sniffed it. “Smells like a sketchbook.”
“Open it.”
She did.
“A new sketchbook.”
“You didn’t see that coming either did you?”
“Not at all.”
“This was your original present. I saw that your other sketchbook was getting toward the end and it works out well because I think it’s time to retire the one with the demon in it.”
“Agreed. Which brings me to the present I got for you.”
She handed him the sketchbook she’d brought outside with her.
“What’s this?”
“It’s my drawings. It’s for you. I ripped the demon one out.”
“You’re giving me your . . . I can’t take this. Seriously, it’s—”
She placed a gentle finger against his lips to quiet him. “You’re the most special guy in the world to me. It’s only right that you should have my most special drawings.”
He set all the gifts on the roof of the car.
She looked at him curiously. “What are you doing?”
“The sun just went down over the trees.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Remember when we were standing under the Northern Lights the other night?”
“Yes.”
“And then when they went away we were alone under the starlight and we got interrupted?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what we were about to do?”
“This?” She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss.
“More like this,” he said, and gave her a kiss that was not quite so quick, and was much more deserving of one shared beneath a canopy of stars.
EPILOGUE
Dr. Fromke lay in his hospital bed, his wrists handcuffed to the frame.
He thought of the irony of it—just a few days ago Daniel had been committed to a psychiatric facility. He was the one restrained, the one under guard, and now, he was the one who was free.
The tables had turned.
But they were going to turn again.
Dr. Fromke was already planning his escape.
He knew that his room was being guarded by law enforcement. So far he’d put off answering any of their questions. There was a lot for them to sort through and with his broken leg, the gunshot wound and the sliced foot, they would have to take some time patching him up before transporting him anywhere.
And it would be much easier to escape from a hospital room than a prison cell.
The door opened and another doctor came in. The third one that day.
Enough with all the different doctors.
This one looked like he was in his mid-sixties and hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep last night.
After quietly looking over the charts, he said, “So, I understand you shot Brandon Hollister?”
Dr. Fromke wasn’t about to confess to anything, especially not to a man who might be an undercover cop. He remained quiet.
“I should thank you for that.” The doctor set down the charts. “But I have to ask you, did he say anything about me?”
“What?”
“Did he say anything about me? About what happened at the institute?”
Now that he took a more careful look, Dr. Fromke did recognize this man from Hollister’s description.
It’s the guy who was in charge of the research over at the Traybor Institute. The guy who tortured Brandon, made it seem like he was suffering weeks of solitary confinement.
“No,” Dr. Fromke lied. “I have no idea who you are.”
The man tapped a finger against the air. “And see, I’m good at telling when people are lying. And I can tell you’re not being truthful with me.” He detached the bag of Dr. Fromke’s IV.
“What are you doing?”
But rather than answer, he just worked on the IV bag, changing the drug it would be administering. “I’ll be taking care of you
from now on.”
“Stop.” Dr. Fromke tried to lift his hands but his wrists were securely cuffed.
“I should be thanking you for shooting inmate 176235. But I don’t like loose ends, and that’s what you’re looking like to me.”
This is not happening. This is not—
Dr. Waxford reconnected the IV bag, sending the new drug mixture into Dr. Fromke’s arm.
He started feeling sleepy almost right away.
“Hey!” He called to the officer guarding his door. “Come in here! He’s trying to drug me!”
Whoever was stationed in the hallway did not respond.
“We’re going to transfer you to a new facility, Dr. Fromke. I have some tests I’d like to perform. It’s all in the name of justice for what you did to those people in the barn. From what I hear there were seven victims. Even with my techniques, this might take a while.”
Dr. Fromke called more loudly for the officer guarding his room.
And finally a man poked his head in.
It was the detective who’d been interrogating him earlier.
“Thank God, you’re—” Dr. Fromke began.
“The paperwork is all set, Dr. Waxford,” he said.
“Thank you, Detective Poehlman.” He patted Dr. Fromke’s arm. “Don’t fight the drowsiness, now. Don’t let that concern you. When you wake up you won’t be in pain. You’ll just be alone. For a long, long time you get to be alone.”
From where he sat hidden in the parked car at the other end of the parking lot, Malcolm Zacharias watched as Daniel and Nicole gathered up their gifts and went back into the hospital.
He needed to make sure that he remained a ghost, even if it meant Daniel had to stay in the dark about whether or not he was real.
Yes.
Daniel had the gift.
His blurs gave him insights no one else could understand.
Well, perhaps that wasn’t quite true.
The three other teens Malcolm had already recruited might understand, once he got them all together at the facility in Georgia.
He made the call to his contact person.
Yes, things were about to get very interesting, now that they had four of them to work with.
WATCH FOR
CURSE
THE FINAL CHAPTER OF THE BLUR TRILOGY
COMING IN SPRING 2016
Thanks and Acknowledgments
Thanks to Liesl, Pam, Trinity, Jim, Ariel, the Northern Great Lakes Visitor Center, Erik, Dr. Huhn, Dr. Abner, Dave Strzok, Susanna, Meg, Courtney, Anna, Alex McReynolds, Katrina Johnson, John-Phillip Abner, and Eden Huhn.
Photo: Emily Hand © 2014
STEVEN JAMES
Best known for his high-octane thrillers, Steven James is the award-winning author of eleven suspense novels. The Blur Trilogy is his first mystery series for teens. Steven has taught creative writing around the world and loves rock climbing, science fiction movies and chicken fajitas.