Before I Disappear

by Danielle Stinson

  “He’ll follow us.” Ian reaches for something in the side zipper of his pack and places it on my palm. “He’s drawn to you. So, work with that. Use the bond between you.”

  I look down at the object in my hand. A roll of tape in fluorescent blue.

  “How, exactly?” Blaine asks.

  My fingers close around the tape. This time, I’m the one who answers.

  “To lead him somewhere safe.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  We enter Glory Caverns through a slit cut into the side of a rocky crag. Ian leads the way through a winding corridor barely wide enough for our sleds. The passage opens up to a cave forty yards deep and five yards wide. Flashes of lightning pour in through several gaps in the ceiling above us to catch on the white veins running through the deep gray walls, making them glow silver. The air smells mineral and cold. Earthy, but not in a bad way.

  Ian moves to a rounded alcove set into the wall on one side. He spreads out several blankets before unrolling his sleeping bag for Jeremy to lay Becca down. They don’t say a word to each other. They just play off one another’s movements with a perfect symmetry that says they’ve done this many, many times before.

  Jeremy rips off his pack and quickly pulls at Becca’s wet boots. She’s still pretending to be unconscious. I’ve got to hand it to her. The girl knows how to follow through.

  I wait till Ian and Jeremy are occupied before I tap her. “Becca, you can wake up now.”

  She doesn’t stir.

  A frown dissects Blaine’s brow as he settles down across from me. “Becca,” he says. “Drop the act.”

  Becca doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even move.

  “What is it?” Ian asks over an armful of kindling.

  “Becca won’t wake up.” The words catch in my throat. My insides twist as I stare down at Becca lying lifelessly at my feet. I assumed she was getting better since we started heading to the far side of the Fold, but she doesn’t look better. If anything, she looks worse.

  “Rose told her to pretend to be passed out,” Blaine explains. “To keep you two idiots from turning each other into tenderized beef.”

  “You told her to fake it?” Jeremy’s voice echoes off the walls. “There’s nothing wrong with her?”

  “Obviously it wasn’t all an act, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Blaine snaps.

  “You lied.” Ian doesn’t raise his voice, but the accusation still hits me like a slap.

  “It was a shitty thing to do,” Jeremy echoes.

  It burns me that this is the one thing they can agree on. I draw my shoulders back. “You don’t get to look at me like that. Not after the stunt you two pulled. You didn’t leave me with a choice.”

  Neither of them tries to deny it.

  Jeremy leans over his sister. “What’s wrong with her?”

  My chest constricts. Becca’s eyes have sunken deeper into her head. Even her dark curls have lost some of their shine since yesterday.

  Jeremy reaches for his pack and pulls out a med kit with a large red cross stitched into the green canvas. For the first time, I notice the matching red cross patched to his shoulder.

  “Nothing in that bag of yours is going to help,” Blaine says miserably.

  “What does that mean?” The desperation and frustration on Jeremy’s face mirror everything I’ve been feeling these past three days. “What the hell is happening out here?”

  “What do you know about the DARC?” I begin.

  “Just the basics.” Jeremy shakes his head. “Nobody knows how it’s connected to what happened to the town. Every theory is crazier than the last.”

  No theory could be harder to believe than the truth. “Blaine’s uncle was using the DARC to open a door to a higher dimension,” I explain. “Only he didn’t realize something was creeping through. A dark pulse that’s been slowly affecting the people in town, unleashing their inner crazy.”

  “Becca isn’t crazy,” Jeremy says stubbornly. “She’s sick.”

  “We still haven’t figured out exactly how the dark pulse works,” Blaine admits.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of genius?” Jeremy snaps.

  “Skipping a grade doesn’t make me a genius,” Blaine informs him acidly. “It makes me a nerd.”

  “I might have an idea,” I say, before they can go at it again.

  Suddenly, everyone is looking right at me. My throat goes tight, and I’m overcome with an intense desire to fade into the wall. When Blaine motions for me to continue, I search for words to explain the thought that’s been forming in my mind since I had that vision of Charlie in the clearing. Since I saw Becca’s body wither away in front of our eyes.

  “We’re in the Fold now, right? Stuck with a wormhole open to some bizarre dimension that’s leaking a toxic force.” My gaze rests on Becca’s shriveling frame. “What if this is a more extreme version of what we’ve already seen? What if, in the Fold, the dark pulse isn’t just messing with our minds? What if it’s messing with our bodies, too?”

  Blaine’s fingers tap against his knees. “We humans tend to separate the mind from the body, the physical from the metaphysical, but physics isn’t that cut-and-dried.” His hands stop drumming. “The Fold could’ve taken the purely psychological and given it a physical edge.”

  “And it could affect any one of us,” I add, my heart hammering my ribs when I think of Charlie alone in those woods.

  I study Becca’s gaunt frame. Jeremy’s jacket has slipped off her shoulders, revealing jutting collarbones. She can’t last much longer like this. And what about Charlie? How many more pieces can he lose before there’s nothing left? I pull the jacket back up to Becca’s neck, and a vise clamps around my heart.

  Silence echoes through the cave as everyone processes what this means. For Becca. For Charlie. For all of us.

  “How do we make it stop? How do we save Becca?” Jeremy asks at last.

  “We have to get out of the Fold. Away from the dark pulse.” I infuse my voice with all the confidence I can fake. “Charlie is the only one who escaped the wormhole. If we want to do the same, we have to find him.”

  I don’t know if it’s true or even if I fully believe it. But it’s not like anybody else is throwing out better ideas, and if it means getting help for my brother, it’s worth taking the risk of being wrong. I ignore the stab of guilt, and I tell myself it doesn’t matter if I can prove it. Right now, all that matters is if I can sell it.

  Machine-gun blasts of lightning send shadows dancing across the cave walls. There’s a loud crack from outside that launches my heart straight up into my throat. The thought of Charlie in this storm makes it hard to breathe. So I stow it away with all the others that want to break me. Right behind the wall inside of me.

  It’s getting damn crowded back there.

  “We’ll take shifts watching out for Charlie,” Ian suggests. “When he shows, we’ll be ready to grab him.”

  I rise to my feet. “I’ll take first watch.”

  Jeremy snags my wrist. “Stay for a minute.”

  Ian’s nostrils flare at the sight of Jeremy’s hand on mine. When I shake my head, Ian wrenches his gaze away and makes for the corridor.

  “I’ll keep Lawson company.” With a scathing look at Jeremy, Blaine slams the trapper hat back down on his head. I watch them disappear into the darkened corridor and fight the urge to follow. As much as I want to wait for my brother, I can still read between the lines.

  Jeremy has something to say to me, and he doesn’t want an audience.

  It’s quiet for a few minutes before Jeremy finally speaks. “Blaine told me about what you did for Becca at the river.” He pauses. “Thank you.”

  I frown at him. “It was mostly Ian. He … really cares about her.”

  Jeremy rubs the purpling bruise on his jaw. “Keeping Becca out of trouble has always been a full-time job, but I guess you know that already.”

  “She’s a sweet kid.”

  A lopsided smile touch
es his lips. “I remember when all the other girls were into Barbies, Becs was obsessed with that old movie, you know, the one about the southern chick who could have any guy she wanted but was scheming on her cousin.”

  “Gone with the Wind?”

  “Right. Anyways, Becs got this, like, old-fashioned ball gown for her birthday. She wore it every day. Drove my mom nuts. It got so bad the teacher called my parents to ask them to talk some sense into her.” He smiles. “She just kept wearing that damn dress and watching that movie over and over, always with the same dopey look on her face.”

  I’m guessing it’s the same look she wears whenever Ian is around.

  “It’s weird how the things you love most about someone are sometimes the same things you wish you could change,” I say, reaching into my pocket.

  Jeremy raises a brow when he sees Charlie’s egg in my hand. “Do I even want to know?”

  “It’s my brother’s.”

  Jeremy’s expression turns somber. “I’m sorry. About what happened to him.” He reaches down to brush a curl out of Becca’s face.

  “At least he and Becca are alive.” My mother’s face flashes though my mind. The memory of her smile. My throat burns. “Not everyone was so lucky.”

  For a moment, neither of us speaks, and it’s like his parents and my mother are right here in the cave with us.

  “You said that it would be better if I came back to the road with you. Why?” I ask.

  “There were stories about you. On the news.” Jeremy shifts uncomfortably. “They’re saying the police want you for questioning.”

  “Are you going to tell the others?” I hate how desperate I sound.

  “I’m not telling Lawson shit.”

  The stubbornness in his voice has my eyebrow lifting. “The two of you are equally impossible, you realize that, right?”

  Jeremy flashes me a crooked grin that must have the girls falling all over themselves. “I like you, Rose Montgomery.” He stands and offers me his hand. After a second’s hesitation, I take it. “But maybe don’t tell Lawson. He might decide to kill me after all.”

  Heat spreads across my cheeks. “It’s not like that. He’s just—”

  Ian walks into the caverns carrying a load of firewood. I drop Jeremy’s hand and take a step back before I can question the impulse. Jeremy’s eyebrow makes a break for his hairline.

  “Where’s Blaine?” I ask, groping for something to say.

  “Standing watch at the entrance,” Ian says, his eyes moving between me and Jeremy. “No sign of Charlie yet, but we’ll keep a lookout posted all night.” He puts the wood down. When he straightens, his head nearly brushes the cavern ceiling.

  “Ian’s got a concussion,” I tell Jeremy. “And the cut on his hand needs stitches.”

  The soldier grabs his med kit and moves forward, all business. Ian freezes him out with a stare.

  Jeremy rolls his eyes. “I get it. You hate my guts. Now that we’re clear on that, how about you stop being a stubborn ass for five seconds and let me help you.”

  “Like you helped me the last two years?” Ian’s nostrils flare in disgust. “While you were off getting a new life, I was rotting in prison.”

  “I was in Ranger School. It was an ass kicking. Not a tropical vacation.”

  “Is that why you turned your back on Becca? You were too busy earning patches like some glorified Boy Scout?”

  All the anger drains out of Jeremy, leaving him pale and drawn. “I didn’t know she needed me.”

  “How? Are you blind?”

  “Because I never came back.”

  Ian blinks. “What?”

  “You heard me. After what happened with Wi—” Jeremy’s Adam’s apple bobs like he’s trying to swallow a massive lump in his throat. He gags and coughs.

  “Jeremy. Are you okay?” I step toward him.

  He clears his throat and shoots me a quick nod. “There are things you don’t know,” he tells Ian. “If you’d just let me—” His face goes red as he dissolves into another coughing fit.

  It must be the air in here, thick with mildew and smoke. I move quickly to his side and pat him on the back until his lungs clear. Jeremy draws a shaky breath, but Ian doesn’t give him the chance to pick up where he left off. “Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

  Jeremy wipes his chin with the back of his sleeve. A vicious glint enters his eyes as he throws his arms wide. “Be my guest, Lawson. Do your old man proud. Prove everybody right about you.”

  Ian flinches. Jeremy looks like he wants to take the words back, but they’re out there now, poisoning the cavern air.

  “I’ll do it,” I say, causing both of them to glance my way.

  “Do what?” Jeremy asks.

  I walk up and grab the suture kit out of his hand. The two of them are wired like bombs set to explode. I have to keep them apart, and this is the only way I can think of.

  “I’ll stitch Ian up,” I say. “But I’m going to need more light than we have in here.”

  “I know a place,” Ian says at last.

  I follow him to the back of the cavern where the walls narrow to a gap a foot wide. We squeeze through, into a smaller cavern cut in a circle so seamless, it appears man-made. Above me, lightning flashes through a rough skylight. It catches on the green-and-silver rivers running through the rock. I run my fingers over the stone. Perfectly smooth.

  “These caverns were made by rainwater.” Ian’s voice comes from directly behind me. “It carved them out over a few hundred thousand years.”

  “How do you know so much about the caverns?”

  “My brother and I used to come here.” His voice is hushed. It must be this place. It has a strange kind of magic.

  The cool dampness of the caverns washes over me. I close my eyes and concentrate on the rhythmic dripping of water on rock nearby. For the first time since I woke up in the woods, I take a full breath.

  “You have a brother?” I ask, finding Ian in the shadows.

  He studies the walls as if he’s half expecting them to answer for him. “Will. His name is Will.”

  He cuts across the circular room to the opposite wall. It takes me a moment to figure out what he’s looking at. Light marks on the otherwise dark stone. Words carved into the wall with a knife or a chisel.

  W & I L.

  Will and Ian Lawson.

  I run my finger over the timeworn grooves.

  “Will did it,” Ian says before I can ask. “Summer before fifth grade. He must’ve been thirteen. We’d been out here for a week with a few blankets and a backpack full of stolen candy, living large.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips.

  “Weren’t your parents worried?”

  Just like that, the smile is gone. He starts to pull away, and suddenly, I don’t want him to.

  “Where is Will now?” I ask quickly. “Do you ever see him?”

  He shakes his head. “When he—” Ian palms his hat. “When he took off, he was leaving behind more than just the town.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  “Every single day.”

  “I bet he’ll be proud.”

  Ian gapes at me like he can’t believe I just used the word proud and his name in the same sentence. There’s an awkward pause that threatens to drag on forever. I rush to fill it. “It couldn’t have been easy, coming back to Fort Glory. I’m glad you did. None of us would be here without you.”

  Ian’s expression softens. “Do you always see the best in people?”

  Never. “I see what’s there.”

  Ian looks at me. Right at me. And then it’s just the two of us in this cavern carved by water and time, and the words I shouldn’t have said.

  I clear my throat. “Sit down under the skylight. I can work as long as the lightning keeps up.” I open the suture kit and set out the contents.

  Ian’s eyes are luminous in the low light. “You were serious.”

  “I’m always serious.” I lift my chin. “Give me your arm.”
/>   A few seconds pass before Ian does as he’s told. The heat coming off him is intense—or maybe I’m just hyperaware of how close we are. It’s been a long time since I let anyone get near me like this.

  It’s been a long time since anybody wanted to be.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Ian asks, watching me.

  “A few years ago, Charlie had an accident. He was cut up pretty bad.”

  The “accident” happened a week after the first time we tried to run. When the monster found us, I was sure he was going to kill Mom. Instead, Charlie got a glass bottle to the chin. My hands didn’t shake when I’d sewed him up, but afterward, I locked myself in the bathroom and threw up everything in my stomach.

  The needle in my hand hovers over Ian’s palm. “This is going to hurt,” I say.

  “It’s just pain.”

  My eyes fly to the scars on his jaw. His eyebrow. His knuckles. They tell me that pain is a subject with which Ian Lawson is intimately familiar.

  I jab the tip into his skin. The thread goes slick with his blood. Revulsion rises up inside of me, but I lock it up behind my wall, and I repeat the motion. Over and over because that’s the only way this ends.

  When I’m finally done, I wipe at the bloody stitches and release Ian’s hand. “This thing with Jeremy,” I begin. “You have to get it under control. I don’t know what he did to hurt you but—”

  “Hurt me?” Ian shakes his head. “You must be the only person alive who sees it that way.”

  I sit up a little straighter. “If it makes any difference, I think he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make peace.”

  Ian snorts. “This is what he does. He uses that Kennedy charm to gain your trust, so when he starts drinking before class, or harassing freshmen, or peddling dope because he’s bored with his perfect life, you’re too blind to see it.”

  “Then why were you ever friends?”

  Ian brushes the carving on the wall. “Because when he’s not screwing up your life or being a general ass, Jeremy makes you laugh. Even when there’s nothing to laugh about.” His jaw sets in an obstinate line. “He’s selfish, and irresponsible, and impossible not to love, and you’re falling for it, just like everyone else does.”