by A. M. Rose
I stumble to the side and brace myself against a tree. The pain is getting so fierce I feel like I might throw up. “Maddox…” My voice is barely a whisper.
“We received word years later that Suzette found him and was going after him again.” He must not have heard me because he keeps talking. Rambling. Part of me wishes he would stop, and another part wants to hear what he has to say. “There was an accident, but we were able to bring him back to Eugenica before she got to him. For his own protection, of course.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I want you to know it wasn’t supposed to be like this. All we wanted to do was help.” He lets out a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say…”
My body convulses, bile rising in the back of my throat, and I can’t hold back anymore.
Maddox’s head whips in my direction, a look of pure horror on his face. He rushes over, reaching out to catch me as I fall and hit the ground. “Oh my God, Drea. I’m so sorry. I should’ve known this would happen. I’m so stupid.”
The world is spinning, his face blurring before my eyes.
“It’ll all be over soon.” His voice sounds quiet even though he’s right next to me, holding my hand. “I promise, this’ll all make sense soon.”
Something pricks my shoulder and burns like a bee sting. I focus on a figure hidden in the trees. Green eyes. “He’s here,” I whisper. Or at least I think I do. My heart is pounding so fast, so loud, so strong. I know I should be scared, but I can’t seem to be able to do anything. Feel anything. Swirls of blacks and grays dance under my eyelids. They won’t open anymore. Can’t open.
So this is what it feels like to die.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Drea. Are you okay? Drea, can you hear me?” a voice whispers.
My eyes flutter open and stare into sapphire ones.
Maddox leans over me, a canopy of trees hanging above him, and his face transforms from worry to a smile. “Hey.”
I pull dried leaves from my hair, drop them in the dirt next to me, and rub the back of my head, finding a lump. “What happened?”
Maddox sits up a little straighter, peers around, and then leans in closer. “The cops were chasing us, and I saw you fall as you ran into this cluster of trees.”
My mouth tastes sour and the dirty, almost oily, air isn’t helping. Did I get sick? I slowly sit up, and familiarity sets in. I’m in the group of trees I ran into to hide from the Hollywood cops. “Where did the little houses go?” The words come out slow, and feel heavy on my tongue.
Maddox shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”
“You were with me. We were in this place with stars and buildings.” Pictures inside my head are fuzzy and don’t make any sense. Like I’m looking at negatives. Inverted images without any reference—they have soft edges like trying to take a picture from a moving car and the shutter speed isn’t fast enough.
“We’re in Hollywood. There are lots of stars here, and buildings. You must’ve hit your head really hard when you fell.”
Hit my head. Is that what happened?
There’s a crunching noise not far away. The Green-eyed man is the first thing that flashes through my mind. My hands shake, and terror fills my insides.
Maddox jumps to his feet in a crouching position. “Look, I gave Dylan my keys. He’s probably already waiting in the car. Take it and go. I’ll find another way home,” he whispers.
I grab his arm. He can’t leave me alone right now. What if the Green-eyed man is really here?
“There’s a cop just over there.” He nods to the left. “Don’t worry, I won’t get caught. I used to come here all the time, remember? I’ll get him to follow me; wait a few minutes and go out that way, back to the fence. It’s going to be okay.” He pulls his arm back and slinks away through the trees. “Hey,” he yells, when he’s completely out of sight. “Race you.”
“Stop right there,” a deep voice booms.
I stay on the ground a few minutes, rubbing the knot on the back of my head, begging my racing heart to slow down. The bump is already starting to go down. And since Maddox took off I haven’t heard any other noises. My fingers glide through the rough dirt and dried leaves next to me. I fell. That I remember and running away. But something doesn’t feel right. Maybe Dylan can help me figure…
Shit, Dylan.
I jump to my feet and peer out through the bushes. The city lights are blazing from down the hill, but there’s no sign of anyone else. Staying low to the ground, I pull out my phone to text Dylan and creep back toward the fence.
Me:
Where are you?
I keep walking, as the little bubble pops up, showing he’s texting back.
Dylan:
I’m at the car. Where are you? Are you ok?
I pass the Hollywood sign, and the tree we climbed comes into view.
Me:
I’m fine. Come pick me up by where we hopped the fence.
Dylan:
I don’t think I should.
Me:
What? Why?
But I don’t have to wait for him to answer. There on the other side of the chain-link fence topped with barbed wire, standing next to the very tree we climbed, is Mom. Her head whips back and forth. For a moment, I consider turning around, but before I can decide, she spots me and lets out a visible sigh. My phone buzzes in my hand.
Dylan:
Your mom tracked you with your phone. I tried to calm her down.
I’m sorry.
He’s not half as sorry as I am right now. I can’t meet her gaze as I finish the walk and use the tree to climb back over the fence. Not even when I’m on the ground next to her can I bring my eyes to meet hers. I’m dead. Grounded forever and eternity. So basically dead.
“Mom, I’m so—”
She wraps me in a hug, her arms holding me tightly against her. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Her voice is so soft, so small, it almost doesn’t sound like Mom. Or at least she doesn’t sound like the guarded woman I’ve come to know. Like something has finally cracked through her walls.
Who knew I had to almost get myself arrested for it to happen.
I hug her back, tears filling my eyes and still feeling slightly shocked. “I’m fine. It was stupid. I should’ve never done this. Dylan tried to stop me, but I didn’t listen.” No matter what, she has to always trust Dylan. I need him around. Although I doubt she’d believe this was ever his idea.
“All that matters is that you’re okay. I lost your father. I don’t think I could stand it if anything happened…” She sniffles. My shoulder’s wet. Mom doesn’t cry. Ever.
My chest tightens, and tears fall from my eyes, too. I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet and just melt into her. The familiar scent of her powdery perfume with an undertone of rubbing alcohol is calming, her silky hair feels cool against my cheek. And for the first time, I feel a connection to Mom I never had before. Dad was right. She does love me. Even if she’s always had a funny way of showing it.
She pulls away, wiping her eyes. “Let’s get you home.”
I text Dylan as we hurry to the car, letting him know that I’m with Mom and what Maddox said about finding another way back. He responds that he’s going to hang out a while to see if he shows up. If I know Dylan, it’s not about seeing if he’s okay, but to yell at Maddox for getting us into this mess to begin with.
Although it isn’t completely his fault. Hollywood might have been his idea, but coming up here to see the sign was mine. My crazy, irrational idea. Because I needed to know. I feel so incredibly stupid for thinking this was somehow going to tell me something about—well, me. And no one forced me to climb the fence, either.
The drive back is quiet. Mom doesn’t say anything, so neither do I. It’s weird. I thought she would scream at me, lock me in my room, and throw away the key, but she just seems glad to be going home. Right now, I’m glad, too.
Maybe it’s stupid to think, but maybe this means things will be different with Mom and me. That would
be nice. I’m sure she’s felt lonely, since Dad’s gone and all. I know I have.
Back at the house she fixes me one of her special smoothies, hands me a few pills and vitamins—since I was out in the night air without a jacket—and sends me upstairs to take a hot shower and go to bed. I wish her good night, and she says “sweet dreams.” For her sake and mine, I hope they are.
…
The Hollywood sign is behind me as I break through the dense brush surrounding a group of trees. This was a bad idea. We never should’ve done this. And now we could all be in trouble, and it’s all my fault. I kick at the dirt, sending it into the air. I shouldn’t have been so careless. Stupid. Stupid.
The dust settles, and that’s when I notice. Two trees so close together they’re almost touching, and something iridescent flashes between them.
I blink my eyes, and I’m somewhere different. Little houses are etched into the hill, and there’s a girl, singing.
Blink.
I’m on my back on the dusty ground, Maddox leaning over me. His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear him.
Blink.
A wall of wind turbines snake through the hills, rolling with them in harmony.
Blink.
Maddox is there, holding my hand. He says I fell. That I hit my head. I reach back, my fingers exploring the lump I find.
But it doesn’t make sense. It’s like I’m flashing between two places. Back and forth.
Eugenica.
My head throbs. I clench my jaw and squeeze my eyes shut.
This time when I open them I’m not in Hollywood, and Maddox is nowhere around. I’m alone. In some kind of strange laboratory. It’s sleek and shiny. Long steel-looking counters reach from one wall to the other, and there are shelves and shelves full of glass beakers and test tubes. And books. Loads and loads of books, like a library, that goes on and on.
I walk deeper into the room, toward a small red vase with a blue flame. The closer I get the warmer the air around me feels, like the tiny torch is pushing heat waves out that ripple through my body and heats me through deep into my bones.
Where am I? The answer comes like a hush inside my mind. Serdicus VonLuiz’s laboratory.
“Wave your hand through the air,” the voice says, this time outside my mind.
My body responds to him. What looks like a computer desktop appears like a hologram in front of my face. I step back and bump against the bookshelf, but it’s so sturdy it doesn’t even wobble. What the hell just happened? This isn’t possible. Computers don’t pop up out of thin air.
Don’t be afraid. I’m not sure if someone says it, or it’s something I tell myself, but my body is moving forward, my hand reaching toward an icon on the computer screen. It’s solid under my touch but nothing happens. I press again, this time harder.
“It’s the virus,” the voice tells me. “You can’t trust anyone.”
But I don’t feel sick. This doesn’t make any sense.
“The virus in your head is to protect you. To suppress what you naturally are,” the voice continues. “You must leave. You must run…”
“What is this? Who are you?” I scream.
“It is I. Your father.”
“Dad!” I scream out loud. I’m in my room, the covers twisted in knots around me and I’m shaking, confused and angry. In a flash Mom is there, too.
She sits next to me on my bed, brushes my sweaty hair from my face. “I’m here. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”
I nod, but she’s wrong. Nothing is okay. Although the dream is beginning to fade away, I know there’s something seriously wrong with me and I don’t feel safe which scares me more than ever before. My body shakes and Mom’s grip on me tightens except it doesn’t ease my rattled nerves. Oh, Dad. What am I supposed to do now?
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next morning, I have a text from Maddox waiting on my phone when I wake up:
Everything’s good. Don’t worry about me. We’ll talk later.
I try to text him back, but my message won’t go through. Stupid phone. And when I call it goes straight to voicemail, and my heart sinks. This time I don’t bother leaving a message. There’s too much to say. Too many questions to ask. The dream I had last night about him in Hollywood is fuzzy and distorted, and still doesn’t make any sense. And the more I try to think about it, the more my head complains. But I know there’s something there. This inkling of a feeling that something weird happened, and it all has to do with him.
When I get to class, Dylan says he waited for hours and finally had to leave L.A. without Maddox. He parked his car for him in the school lot, and it was gone this morning, but Maddox doesn’t show up. He must’ve made it back. But I’d still like to talk to him to know for sure, and ask him about everything that happened.
Over the next few days, things start to feel more normal. Or at least they’re getting there. I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell Dylan about the dream I had with Maddox or the fact that I can’t get the picture of wind turbines from Dad’s old office out of my head. And whenever I try to think too much about it or what happened in Hollywood, my brain just wants to fight me. It’s not that I’m trying to hide it from Dylan. It just seems almost too crazy to say out loud. I need answers from Maddox first. Not to mention things with Dylan have been really nice, and I don’t want to mess that up. He said he felt like he left me behind in Hollywood, like he let me down, so now he sticks extra close and even walks me to most of my classes. He’s late to lacrosse practice every day, just so he can drive me home after school. Mom’s never there when I am, but she did leave me a really cute phone case, with some new sketch pads and colored pencils last night. I’m more about photography than a wanna-be artist, but it’s nice. It feels like we’re moving toward something better in our relationship, and I like where it’s headed.
Friday morning rolls around and a huge weight lifts from my shoulders when I finally get a text from Maddox:
Lacrosse game. Tonight. I’ll explain everything.
He’s been MIA all week and that’s all I get? Screw that. I clench my jaw and type back my own message:
Glad you’re alive. See you there.
Except when I hit send, it bounces back. God, that’s annoying. He has some serious explaining to do. But I am glad to know he’s okay.
…
I get to the game early and weave through the rowdy crowd wearing our school colors, black and turquoise. Some guys really go all out for these games and paint their shirtless bodies, spelling out the word P-A-N-T-H-E-R-S on their chests. Others wear costumes or headbands with cat ears. It’s pretty tame compared to our football games. Those are completely overly exaggerated affairs.
I skip the concession stand to grab a few seats away from my regular spot. As much as I’d love to snack on some licorice, and the popcorn smell that floats in the air makes my stomach growl, I’m ready for some answers from Maddox, and I don’t need any distractions.
Trumpets blare. The band starts to play, and the cheerleaders wave their pom-poms as the team lines up to run onto the field. My phone chirps, just as the band breaks into our fight song.
Maddox:
Where are you?
I ignore the cheerleaders’ plea to repeat “time to fight, time to win,” and text him back telling him where to find me.
This is it. My chance to get some answers. Except my hands are shaking, and my knee is bouncing like crazy. While I wait for him, I try to get my nerves under control and check out who showed up for the game near my regular seat. I spot a few people who only come to games occasionally. They don’t even know the rules, they just cheer when everyone else does. Nadia’s here, too, except she’s abandoned her usual pink hoodie for a regular school one that looks like the one I have on. And her normally gorgeous flowing dark hair is wrapped up in a messy bun, like mine. I don’t even have the time to think about what she’s playing at.
I roll my eyes and then immediately jerk back. No. It can’t be. Two rows
behind her are piercing green eyes.
Blood drains from my face and redirects to my pounding heart; I have to grip the bench to stay upright. The rest of the crowd seems to disappear, and I’m alone staring at a man dressed all in black. Scared can’t begin to describe this. My breath is ripped from my chest, and I feel like I’m suffocating as I focus on the crescent-shaped scar on his face. Shit. No. He can’t be here. Not real, not real. He’s just my imagination.
But a woman slides past him, stumbles, and catches herself on his shoulder. She smiles apologetically, and he mumbles something back. I’m frozen in fear. Fireworks explode in my chest. Shit, shit, shit. He is real. And he’s really here. I shrink back into the crowd in my row, but I don’t take my eyes off him. He’s always appeared and vanished like a flash, but now he’s sitting here, right next to the space I usually fill. No way it’s a coincidence. He keeps turning his head in every direction, and a thought sinks in my stomach. He’s looking for me. That’s when my fear morphs into something more.
A whistle blows. The players burst onto the field, and everyone gets to their feet to welcome them. My flight reflexes shift into hyperdrive, and I use their screams and flailing arms to my advantage, ducking down the stairs and out of the Green-eyed man’s sight.
With the game underway, there’s only a few stragglers at the concession area. Mostly parents toting kids, clamoring for ice cream. The desire to bolt out of here as fast as I can is strong, but the only exit would force me toward the Green-eyed man. Screw that. No way am I taking that chance. If he’s really here, he’s here for me. And I am not going to just run right into his grasp.