Tunnel Vision

by Susan Adrian

  Damn, girl.

  Eric raises his eyebrows.

  “What?” I ask mildly, because I’m in too good a mood to even care much what he thinks. “Am I not allowed to have a girlfriend?”

  He shrugs, answers like it was a real question. “Be careful. Your situation is … complicated.”

  He gives me another look, then heads back into the cafeteria. I stay behind for a minute. To show I can, I guess. But mostly to steal one more minute to think about what just happened. About Rachel, and her soft, warm lips. How very much I like her. And how much I’m dying to get to that party on Saturday. If I could time travel there, right now, I would.

  * * *

  Nothing else happens for a day and a half.

  That’s not totally true. I go to classes, flirt hard with Rachel, and hang out and joke around with the usual gang, who are all getting ramped up for Oklahoma opening night next week. I go to the movies with Myka. Eric’s around all day—I beat him at tennis twice—and Ana’s there at night. They give me a couple objects to do, yeah. But other than that I can almost pretend everything is back to the way it used to be, but better. Normal. Handle-able.

  Until Saturday.

  I wake up dreading the doctor visit: probing, blood taking, whatever else they can think of. But it’s necessary, to stop the headaches. I tell Myk I’m going out with friends, grab my coat and keys, and head outside. The place is some private clinic in Reston I’ve never heard of, but I’m pretty sure I can find it okay. I can always stop and ask my tail for directions.

  I only get as far as the driveway when a car screeches to a halt in front of me. A black Jeep Cherokee, an old one. The passenger door flies open. Dedushka leans across the front seat.

  “Get in!”

  I hesitate.

  “Yakob!” he yells. “Get in the car now!”

  I glance over my shoulder at the house—wondering if Ana’s watching—then jump in, slam the door behind me. He takes off, jetting down the street like a bat out of hell.

  “Dedushka, what are you—”

  “Turn off the phone. Put it and your watch in here.” He points to a thick metal container between the seats, about the size of a cigar box, propped with the lid open. “Quickly. I will explain.” He flies around the corner, well above the speed limit, eyes on the rearview mirror.

  Okay then.

  I unbuckle the watch, tug my phone out of my pocket, and drop them both into the box. He slams it shut with one hand, turns a knob, then jerks a thumb toward the backseat. “A bag is back there. Put box into bag, seal it. Now.”

  I’ve never seen a bag like this. It’s like Tyvek, but threaded with some kind of metal fibers, silver glinting through the white. I shove the box in, tear off a strip, and seal the flap.

  He breathes out a sigh of relief that ruffles his beard. The beard is longer than when I saw him last, almost to his chest, and whiter. Like Santa Claus. “Good. I must only outrun them now, and then we talk.”

  I swing around to look through the back window. Sure enough, there’s my tail, frantically weaving in and out of traffic, trying to keep up with Dedushka’s maneuvers. I imagine Ana probably isn’t far behind. Though she’ll have to get around my car, which is blocking hers.

  What the hell is going on? He’s kidnapping me? How does he know about them?

  “Patience, Yakob.” He sets a wrinkled, spotted hand on my knee before shifting down to flip a sudden U-turn and head back the other way. We’re deep in Herndon already, near the 606. “I will explain.” He throws me a searching look under snarled white eyebrows. “And you will explain. But wait until we are safe.”

  He zooms onto the 606, passing cars left and right, until it merges onto the 7, and heads northwest toward Leesburg. I watch the trees fly by, my brain spinning in the same circles without getting anywhere. When we’re almost to Leesburg, he looks back again, and slows down. “We are clear. Now we shall see how well my protection works.”

  He gets off the freeway, turns sharply into a Walmart parking lot, and parks out in the far corner, where there are plenty of other cars but not much foot traffic. Only then does he turn and look at me full on.

  “Yakob,” he says gruffly. “What have you gotten into?”

  My mouth falls open. “I don’t … I don’t know…”

  “Laduo.” He sighs. “I go first.” He combs his beard with one hand, over and over, staring out the window. Then he turns back to me.

  “I will start here: I do not know very much. I know you can do…” He flaps a hand in the air like a bird. “Something valuable, dangerous. Your father told me this. He would not tell me what it is, for my own safety, for yours.” He sinks back in the seat. “He asked me to protect you, if something goes wrong. He gave me a way to know it has gone wrong.”

  His eyes find mine. They’re gray-blue like mine, like Dad’s. “That watch of his had a tracker in it, Yakob. It was my job, these two years, to watch the tracker, to make sure it was normal for you. And then a week ago it was not. You are in Arlington on Saturday morning—which is not normal. And then the signal vanishes … poof.” He makes the shape of an explosion with his fingers. “And I call you. Your mother says you are skiing, which you are not. When I reach you the next day, you lie to me … yes, Dedushka, I was skiing. And you still have your watch, but nothing. Someone took the tracker out, and you did not know it. So what did you do, in Arlington?”

  I stare down at my hands, at the patch of bare white skin on my wrist. I don’t know what to say. It feels, oddly, like I let him down. Let Dad down.

  “I look at the address, where you were when you vanish, Yakob,” he says, as soft as I’ve ever heard him speak. “They found you, did they not? The government.”

  I nod, slow, still not looking at him.

  “You are working for them. You have security around you, everywhere. And they would not let you come visit me.” He sighs again. “Yet they come to visit me, two days ago.”

  My head flies up. “They what? They talked to you?”

  He grins, teeth yellow through his beard. “Not for a second. I smelled them coming and left. But they get the address from you, yes?”

  Again, I have to nod. “But—they said they were just checking for security reasons, to make sure I could come—”

  “They lie.” He spits it. “They lie about everything. And they spy on you, everywhere. I am certain the watch has a new tracker, from them. Probably a bug. The phone will be bugged. I am blocking them, for the moment, with the box, the bag. But your room, your house, even your school—all of it. Video. Audio. Everywhere. Easy for them. The durnoy glaz.” He knocks on his head three times, and makes a spitting motion three times over his shoulder.

  The evil eye. He’s always said things like that, always been suspicious of everything. Before it sounded like paranoia, superstition, like somebody who’d read too many spy books. This time not so much.

  “Bugs?” I say. “Really? I never thought of bugs.”

  He reaches over and takes my hand, crushes it between his. “Do not trust them for a second.” He lowers his voice. “I have experience. And so did your father.”

  This I’ve never heard before. “Tell me.”

  He shakes his head. “It is not the time. Now you need to decide what to do. Do you run, radost moya? I will help you. We will go together. But it must be now.”

  I gape at him. “You mean … leave? Right now? Leave Mom and Myka and everything?”

  His head bobs, solemn. “You could not go back. We would go far away. I have a place that might last for a while, before they find us.”

  I feel cold, all over. How can I just leave? Never see Mom or Myk again. Or Chris, or school, or Stanford. Or Rachel. God. After that kiss … to never see her again? Live my life in a cabin somewhere, hiding from satellites?

  “I don’t know,” I say slowly. I don’t think I could leave like that. Especially Myk and Mom. With Dad gone, it doesn’t seem right to leave them alone.

  Besides, I’m doi
ng good work. Yeah, none of this was my choice. But that little girl, that woman and the knife—they might not have been saved in time if I hadn’t helped. All those bombs would have killed people. And that’s just in the first week.

  “I’m helping people,” I say finally. “I don’t know if I should stop.”

  “At the expense of yourself?” he asks, harsh. “They will take everything from you, these people. They will suck you up until you are dry and then toss you away.”

  My eyes burn. “But I don’t think I can go, Dedushka. Not now. If I do this, for a while…”

  I don’t say it aloud. But if I do this, I’ll have a hope of that future I want. Stanford, the Smithsonian. Rachel, even, maybe. A normal, happy life. It’s a good hope. I won’t have anything if I lock myself away now.

  He lets his head fall forward, staring at his knees. “You may not have another chance, Yakob. They will be more suspicious, more watchful, after this. They know you know more about them. Are less gullible.”

  I guess I have been gullible. I never even thought of bugs. If there are bugs, and he’s not imagining that part.

  “And one more thing. I want you to think on this very hard.” His eyes are like needles boring into me. “They always do what is best for them. Always. And what is best for them, if I am right, if your Papa was right, is to have you secure somewhere, in their control, making you do work for them. So why do they have you out here, in the world? What else do they want from you, that they get from you being out here?”

  I swallow. “I don’t know.”

  “Think on it. And be wary. Here.” He flips open the glove compartment in front of me, takes out a man’s ring. An air force ring, silver, stamped with an eagle, worn down from use. “Keep this in your pocket. It also has a tracker hidden, better than in the watch. If you wear it, they will take it from you. But if you keep it hidden away, maybe they will not find it. If you can, keep it always with you. I will watch for you.”

  He kisses my right cheek, then my left, then right again. He smells musty, like old smoke, like fish. It smells like childhood.

  “I love you, malchik. I would rather have you with me, safe. But if you go back, take care of your mother and sister. Do not let this ruin them. Promise me?”

  “I swear, Dedushka. I won’t.”

  He takes a deep breath. “I must go. I will find a way to contact you. You tell them what you like—they already know about me. It is the truth that you will not know where I am, or where I will be.” He reaches into the back, hands me the bag. “Take this. Wait half of an hour after I have left, then open it and throw away the box and the bag, away from you. As a test, do not call them. See how long it takes for them to track you.” He smiles sadly. “I do not think it will be long.”

  I hug him, and he hugs me back fiercely. It’s like holding a lion.

  I step out of the car, bag in hand, and watch him drive away.

  Half an hour later, I open the bag and the box and bury them in a Dumpster. I drop the phone into my pocket and clasp the watch on my wrist, walk across the lot to a curb, and sit down to wait, to see if he was right.

  * * *

  It’s only fifteen minutes before two cars come tearing down the road. One is an unmarked white van, the other a gray sedan. They bounce into the parking lot and come to a stop in front of me, angled in a V like they’re blocking my escape.

  I sit there and watch, unmoving, arms resting on my knees. He was right.

  Ana jumps out of the van, and Eric and another guy out of the car, all of them with their hands at their backs, ready.

  I hold up my own hands like I’m surrendering. Then I rub my watch, with one finger. “Works pretty well, doesn’t it?”

  “Are you all right?” Ana is slightly out of breath, eyes darting every which way, searching for a threat.

  “He’s fine,” Eric says tightly. “He’s going to get in the van now.” He nods to the other guy. “We’re all clear. George, you take the Vic back. We’ll see you later.”

  Without question George hops in the car, backs it up, and is gone.

  Leaving me with two very pissed off handlers. Well, one very pissed off—Eric—and one at least a little. Both of them stand with their feet wide, arms at their sides, staring me down.

  “Get in the van,” Eric snaps. “You’re late for a doctor’s appointment, if you remember. We’ll talk on the way.”

  I grimace, but I go. I start for the passenger side, but Eric points to the back.

  “Are you going to tie me up back here?” I ask, joking, as he opens the doors.

  “Do I need to?” He scowls, no humor at all.

  No more jokes. “No.”

  The back of the van has cleaning supplies in it, instead of the surveillance equipment I’d been half-expecting, but also two seats on either side, facing each other. I sit in one, Eric in the other. Ana gets back in the driver’s seat.

  “Where’s Myka?” I ask suddenly. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Myka?”

  She tosses me a hard look over her shoulder. “She is fine. She’s under surveillance.”

  I bet she is, I think. But I don’t say it.

  “You want to tell me what the fuck happened?” Eric asks, before we even get on the road. “I get a call that you jumped into a car with an unidentified male, drove away, and then went off grid? What were you thinking?”

  I shift in the hard seat. I hadn’t really figured out what to say.

  “It was your grandfather, was it not?” Ana asks, from the front.

  I look at them, one after the other. Eric would as soon punch me as ask again; I can see it. “Yes. It was my grandfather.”

  His eyes don’t change—he knew that already. They’d figured it out. They’re not stupid.

  “And what?” Eric continues. “You told him to meet you here, so you could run? Was that what this trip was about all along?”

  “No.” I take a deep breath, meet his eyes so he’ll know I’m telling the truth. “I didn’t know he knew anything about this. But he gave me a chance to run … and I chose to come back.”

  That surprises him. Both of them are quiet.

  “Why?” Ana asks.

  “The work. I’m making a difference.” I pause. “And I couldn’t leave my family.”

  “That was a smart choice,” Ana says. “A brave choice, even.”

  “Smart, anyway,” Eric says, grudging. “We would’ve tracked you down. And then it would have been a whole different ball game, believe me.”

  Ana clears her throat.

  He catches her look. “We appreciate your service. Of course.” Then he adds hotly, “But I damn well don’t appreciate chasing after you. Having to report to my superiors that I don’t know where you are. It doesn’t make anyone happy.”

  We ride for a while in silence. His reaction is a reminder that he’s not my friend, not really. That they’re my security, but also my guards. Did I make the right choice? Where is Dedushka now? Why aren’t they asking that?

  On impulse, I ask. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my grandfather?”

  Eric smiles small, with a taste of bitter. “Nah. We’ll leave that to Dr. Miller. She’s waiting for you at the doctor’s. I wouldn’t count on getting to that party.”

  Oh. Crap.

  14

  “I Don’t Need No Doctor” by Ray Charles

  The first part of the doctor visit is routine. The clinic is ritzy—dark wood furniture and marble in the waiting room—but otherwise normal. The exam room isn’t any more menacing than any doctor’s, which is plenty enough for me: an examining table, sink, chair, instruments set out. The only thing that feels odd is that there are no other patients here.

  A nurse in flowered scrubs weighs me, takes my blood pressure and pulse, and asks me to sit on the table. At least she lets me keep all my clothes on. Another woman comes in and draws three vials of blood, labels them, and goes away. I sit, wait. I read the pamphlets about high blood pressure and diabetes, but I don’t learn m
uch. That’s not going to help with the high blood pressure I have right now.

  The door opens. Liesel. Same as the first time I saw her: gray suit, white shirt, ponytail. It’s like her uniform.

  “Hi,” I say, nervous.

  She tilts her head. “We have a problem, Jacob. To be precise, two problems.”

  My hands clench involuntarily.

  “One: these headaches of yours. That is why you were supposed to be here today. We need to do some more testing, with the EEG, to try to figure that out.”

  I’m silent.

  She sits in the chair, crosses her legs. Pins me with her freaky pale eyes. Grass that’s been bleached out by the sun. That’s what color they are.

  “Two, and more concerning to me: this escapade of yours this morning. You know,” she says casually, “at first we thought you had been abducted by an enemy. That you might be lost. I was very upset.” She frowns, and my heart picks up the pace. “Then I find it was your grandfather in that car, and you went with him freely. What does that say to me, Jacob? Does that say ‘full, willing cooperation’ to me?”

  I clear my throat. Here we go.

  “I didn’t know what he wanted,” I say. “He just turned up and told me to get in, so I did. I had no idea he knew anything. And I chose to come back and work with you, instead of run. For the first time, I’m here because I actually chose to be. I think that’s full cooperation.”

  It’s a dangerous game. She has to believe I’m loyal to her and her project, and willing to work, or I’ll have traded a cabin in the woods for a cell. The goal has always been to stay with my family, to protect them. This is my only shot at it now. But if I’ve really chosen Liesel—this weird, new life—it’s time for me to take some control of it.

  She purses her lips. “That is something.”

  “I believe the work is important,” I say. “In spite of the trackers, which I’m not happy about…”

  She lifts her eyebrows.

  “I’m willing to be your guinea pig, if it makes a difference. I’m willing to do—” I spread my arms. “This.”