This Strange and Familiar Place

by Rachel Carter

  Finally, Tag stops on a landing and flings open one of the doors. A warm light pours into the hall.

  Tag and Nikki disappear into the doorway, and Wes and I follow. The room around us is filled with stuff. Candles and bottles and blankets and furniture.

  “It’s like the cave of wonders from Aladdin,” I say under my breath. “Without all the gold.”

  Wes smiles slightly. “More like the cave of forty thieves.”

  Tag and Nikki move around the room, turning on even more of the lamps. The room is practically glowing. You’d think they’d want to be a little more subtle, considering they’re here illegally, but I guess not.

  The apartment is bright and cluttered, with boards pulled away from the windows to let in more light, and lamps scattered all over the floor. They are connected by a series of wires that disappear out one of the windows. I tilt my head down and see that it’s attached to one of the power lines outside. This must be how they’re getting their electricity; they’re sucking it off of the main city grid.

  “What do you think, man?” Tag spreads his arms out and spins around a little. Though clearly not trained like Wes, he still moves with an easy sort of grace. It makes me wonder if he’s a dancer. Or maybe just a really good fighter. “Beats our old haunts, huh?”

  Wes looks around the room, and I know his dark eyes are taking in everything—the two connecting doorways with sheets draped over them like curtains, the lawn chairs next to a cheap plastic table. The walls look like they’ve been attacked with color, as though someone painted them in rage: lines are splattered and slashed across the once-white background, stretching from the floor all the way to the high ceilings.

  “There’s a shower in our room,” Tag says, pointing toward one of the connecting doors. “If you guys want to take one. LJ—he’s Nikki’s little brother—figured out how to hook up the plumbing, though we have no gas so the water’s always cold.”

  “Can I take one now?” I ask, aware of the last two days of grime covering my skin.

  “Sure. I think Nikki has some girly soap around. Right, Nik?” Tag looks at her.

  The dark-haired girl scowls, but doesn’t disagree.

  “Will you set her up?”

  Nikki walks into the bedroom and I follow her. The painted walls are even darker here, with large gashes of color.

  “Did you do this?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Tag.”

  “Really?” I’m surprised; he doesn’t seem capable of such dark emotions. But then, he did spend his life on the streets. Maybe his cheerfulness is as much a mask as Wes’s detachment.

  Nikki shoves a towel at me, and I walk into the cramped bathroom.

  The water is freezing. By the time I get out, my teeth are chattering and goose bumps have taken up permanent residence on my arms and legs.

  I pass Wes in the bedroom, and give him my towel. “Will you tape my arm again?” I ask.

  He nods, and carefully reapplies surgical tape to the wound. It is angry and red and stings when he touches it. “I think it’s getting infected,” he says softly.

  “I’ll be fine. They have antibiotics in the eighties, right?”

  He smiles at my sarcastic tone, then moves into the bathroom. I stare after him as he shuts the bathroom door. He seems more natural here than he was in the Center, or even in 1944. It’s a good thing that we decided to stay, though I still don’t know what made him agree to it.

  Nikki and Tag are at the large table in the main room.

  “Thanks for letting me shower,” I say. “I almost feel human again.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Tag gets up and pulls out a chair for me. “LJ should be here with dinner soon.”

  I sit down. “So you knew Wes when you were kids?”

  “Yeah, known him forever. I ran away from a shitty situation as soon as I could.” At my sympathetic expression, he shrugs. “No one missed me, and it was better than ending up in the system. Wes was already living on the streets. He was practically born here. Don’t know how he ended up without parents. He doesn’t either.” Tag’s tone is a little too casual.

  “We found each other and decided to team up. Kids barely old enough to feed ourselves, fighting for territory and begging for scraps. We fell in with some older kids for survival, but we mostly looked out for each other. Then one day, poof!” Tag wiggles his fingers in the air like a magician on a stage. “He disappeared.”

  I lean forward. “Didn’t you worry about what happened to him?”

  “Sure. But I figured he got picked up by the cops, or got tossed in a home. It happens. People disappear all the time out here.” His gaze cuts to Nikki and he falls silent.

  “What was Wes like back then?”

  Tag smiles. “You ask a lot of questions, huh? Miss Twenty Questions. That’s what we’ll call you.”

  “No,” Nikki interjects. “Princess. It’s a better name for her, don’t you think?”

  I narrow my eyes at her, but before I can say anything, like screw you, the front door of the apartment swings open.

  A younger boy is standing there. He looks like he’s about thirteen or fourteen, and he drops a heavy bag down on the floor where it lands with a thud. “I got soup.”

  Tag gets up and looks inside the backpack. “Rad. Only slightly bruised. You go Dumpster diving?”

  “Yes.” He sees me sitting at the table and he goes still and watchful. There is a wounded air around him that makes me want to put my hand out, like I’m approaching a scared animal.

  Nikki stands up from the table. “LJ, this is Lydia. She’s with him.” She points toward Tag’s room, where Wes leans against the door frame, his hair wet and sticking up around his head. I notice he’s wearing a clean black T-shirt; Tag must have given it to him.

  “That’s Wes,” Tag says. He’s sitting on the floor, heating up the cans of soup on a small hot plate. “He’s an old friend of mine.”

  “Nice to meet you.” LJ keeps his head down. He has darkly tanned skin and large brown eyes, and I feel like I recognize him from somewhere. He does look like Nikki, though he doesn’t have the same pointy features that she does. But I can see the similarities in their round faces, their doe-like eyes.

  “Soup’s on,” Tag calls out. “Literally.”

  Wes straightens from the doorway and walks over to the table. He sits next to me, and I smell soap and pine trees.

  Tag puts a bowl in front of each of us. Wes and I eat slowly, but the rest of them shovel it into their mouths. I wonder if it’s the first meal they’ve had today.

  “It’s your turn on dishes,” Nikki tells LJ when all the food is gone.

  He straightens, making his lean body look even skinnier. “I did them yesterday.”

  “Nice try.” Nikki ruffles his brown hair as she gets up from the table.

  The sky outside is dark; the sun has finally gone down, and the room is filled with a soft light. I start to yawn, and the movement spreads through my entire body.

  Wes sees it. “You’re tired.”

  “A little.”

  “Why don’t you sleep?” He turns to Tag. “She can have the couch, right?”

  “Yeah. LJ crashes in the other room, and Nikki’s in with me.”

  LJ catches the tail end of the conversation as he comes back into the room carrying an armful of dishes. “There’s another bed in my room,” he tells Wes. “You can have it if you want.” His voice squeaks on the words and his face gets red again.

  Wes shakes his head. “I’ll take the floor.”

  Tag scoffs. “Why would you do that? There’s a free bed.”

  Wes looks over at me. “I’m fine on the floor.”

  I stand up and walk to the couch. It smells a little like body odor and mold, but I curl up on it anyway. “Wes,” I mumble. “I’m fine out here. Just go sleep in LJ’s room.” I close my eyes.

  I don’t hear his response. I’m almost instantly asleep.

  CHAPTER 11

  In the middle of the n
ight, I wake to the sound of hushed voices. My eyes crack open. Wes and Tag are sitting at the table. There’s a bottle of something between them and they’re passing it back and forth and taking small, wincing sips.

  Almost all of the lamps have been switched off except for a small one that rests near their feet. It gives off just enough light to see their bodies, but their faces are blurs of shadow.

  “I haven’t had this stuff in years,” Wes says as he takes a sip of the dark liquid. “God, it still burns, huh?”

  Tag laughs sharply, then stops abruptly and looks over at me. I squeeze my eyes shut, but Wes just shakes his head. “Don’t worry about her. Lydia’s a heavy sleeper.”

  It is strange to hear Wes talk about me with someone else, and I stay perfectly still, trying to catch every word.

  “How’d you two hook up?” Tag asks. “And don’t give me some shit about not being together. You never stop looking at her, not even for a second.” He laughs softly. “I remember how it used to be. Girls always around, thinking you were older than you were. But you never had any use for them. This one is different, though. She’s wearing your watch.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s always complicated.” Tag grabs the bottle from Wes’s hand. “So where’d you find her?”

  Wes doesn’t say anything, and Tag scowls. “Come on, man. Just tell me how you met her. She’s clearly not one of us.”

  “She’s not like anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “An easy life. It’s written all over her.”

  “No.” Wes’s voice changes, hardens. “Not easy. Especially not since she met me.”

  Tag tilts his head as he studies him. “She’s not here against her will, man. Anyone can see that. Girl’s into you.”

  Wes looks down at the table. “I’m not good for her.”

  “You’re trippin’, man.”

  He is silent again, and Tag sets the bottle on the table with a dull thump. “What are you involved in anyway? What’s got you running so scared?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Ah, cut it out with that crap. You disappear for years and then you come back all . . .” He makes a karate-chopping gesture.

  Wes laughs a little. “What does that mean?”

  “Like James Bond or something. You used to be clumsy. Always falling over shit. You couldn’t fight to save your life. And now you’re vaulting through windows like you’re in some action movie. What happened to you?”

  “I grew up. We both did.”

  Tag leans forward, until the outline of his body is close to Wes. “I know you wouldn’t have left if you didn’t have to. You weren’t like the others. Did something . . . ?”

  Wes shakes his head. “I’m sorry I left. But there’s no mystery here. I was gone, I came back. That’s all.”

  “Yeah, right.” Tag takes a long swig from the bottle. When he drops it back down, he seems to have come to some kind of decision. “You know, Nikki and LJ weren’t born on the streets like us. They weren’t rich or anything, but they had a decent family. A mom. A dad. One day they came home and their parents were dead. Shot in the head, both of them. No one knows who did it. There was no money, no other relatives to take them on. They lost everything. Instead of going into the system and getting split up, they took off. Ended up on the streets. That was a few years ago.”

  Wes takes the bottle from Tag. “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

  “Chill out. I’m getting there. Now it’s just Nikki and Little J, but it wasn’t always like that. They had a brother. He was about thirteen when they left home. I guess now he’d be sixteen, if he’s still alive. One day they were out, trying to score some food. He ran ahead of them, turned a corner, and then he was gone. Disappeared without a trace, and they never saw him again. Just like you.”

  “I’m sitting right here, Tag. I didn’t disappear.”

  “Yeah, but you’re different. You’re not street anymore. Something changed you.”

  “Kids disappear out here. You know that. Murders, drugs, juvie. It happens.”

  “All that stuff is messy. Court dates, blood. Not nothing.” He sits back and watches Wes carefully. “There are rumors. About these men dressed in black snatching up kids. I want to know if that’s what happened to you. I want to know if that’s where Chris is.”

  “Chris?”

  “Nikki’s brother. She keeps searching, keeps believing that he’s still out there. And now that I see you sitting across from me, I’m starting to wonder if he is.”

  Wes pushes away from the table and stands up. “Men in black? Vans? That’s ridiculous. Stories people tell their kids to get them to behave.”

  “Wes.” Tag stands too. He’s so much shorter than Wes, but there’s something about the way he carries himself that exudes confidence. “Tell me what you’re hiding.”

  “Look, Tag. There’s nothing going on. But . . .” He hesitates, and I feel his gaze fall on me, a heavy weight. “If I am keeping something from you, it’s for your own safety. Trust me on that.”

  Tag opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but Wes cuts him off. “Tell Nikki her brother’s dead. He might as well be.”

  Wes lies down on the floor next to the couch.

  I close my eyes and listen as Tag shuts off the lamp and disappears into his bedroom.

  Wes’s breathing slows. I try to fall back asleep, but I can’t.

  The Montauk Project preys on orphans and street kids because they think no one will care about what happens to them. But Tag cared about losing Wes. Nikki and LJ cared about their brother, just like I care about my grandfather.

  I flip over onto my back and stare up at the darkened ceiling. Grandpa was the one person in my life who was there whenever I needed him. When my parents were too busy with their own lives, he would make me dinner, help me with my homework, pick me up from school. And in five days, he’ll disappear in this time line forever, another victim of the Montauk Project.

  “What’s wrong?” The whisper comes from the floor and I turn on my side. Wes is watching me. His face is in shadow, but I can see the dark shine of his eyes.

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  “Your thinking woke me up.”

  “Funny.”

  I hear a rustling noise as he lifts up onto his elbow. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  I sigh. “I can’t stop thinking about my grandfather.”

  “You want to help him.”

  “Whenever I close my eyes, I see him lying in the hospital bed screaming.” My voice is hoarse, from sleep or grief, I don’t know. “He’s my grandfather. I can’t leave him like that. I can’t let them take him.”

  “I know you can’t.”

  “I’ve been so afraid of messing up the time line again, but maybe that’s the only way to make things right. Because this time line sucks, Wes.”

  He laughs shortly, a surprised sound. “Maybe it does. Changing time isn’t always a bad thing, Lydia. The Project has stopped countless tragedies from happening over the years. It didn’t work out for you in nineteen forty-four, but it could now.” He waits a beat. “It’s a gamble, though.”

  “I think it’s worth taking. I won’t let the Montauk Project have him.” I shift until I’m almost hanging off the edge of the couch. “But what does that mean for you?”

  “For the mission? As long as they can’t trace any changes in the time line to me, I’ll be okay.”

  “I don’t want them to hurt you,” I whisper.

  “They won’t. We’ll be careful.” He stares at me, unblinking. “I want to help you, Lydia. I don’t want to send you back to a future you hate.”

  Send me back?

  “What . . . what are you saying? I thought we were trying to get you out.”

  He is quiet for so long, I wonder if he fell asleep. When he finally speaks, his voice is lower. “What do you want, Lydia?”

  I push my face into my elbow, and my hair falls thickly across my cheek. “I
want a world where my grandfather is safe. Where I can have all the people I love in one place. Like my parents and Hannah and Mary, and . . .” I hesitate, but I’m tired of being so careful around him. “And you. I want to be with you.”

  “That’s impossible,” he says.

  “Why?”

  “Because those people exist in different times. In different time lines, even. Especially me.”

  I sit up fully and clasp my arms around my knees, squeezing tight. “I came here to find a way for us to be together. I thought it was what you wanted, too.”

  He sits up. “And have you? What’s the secret solution to getting me free?”

  I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.

  “Exactly.” His voice is a slash in the darkness. “Because there is no solution. You should forget about me, Lydia. Take me off the list of people you care about.”

  “But—”

  He lies back down and turns away until he’s facing the opposite side of the room. “We’ll finish this mission. You can visit Dean, and do what you need to do to save your grandfather. But after that . . .”

  He trails off. After a minute, his body relaxes. It’s a calculated move; he’s not asleep, but he wants me to think he is.

  I lie down on my side and stare at his back.

  Sleep doesn’t come. I stay frozen like that for a very long time.

  In the morning, I wake as the sun is starting to stream in through cracks in the boards over the windows. I’m on my side, curled in a ball, and I slowly unfurl, stretching out my legs and arms.

  And then I remember.

  I glance over the side of the couch. Wes is lying on his stomach on the floor next to me, his left arm stretched to the side.

  “He keeps moving around, like he’s dreaming or something.” I turn to see Nikki sitting at the table. She’s dressed for the day, in a black dress and neon pink leggings. Her hair is up, blue streaks mixing with the brown in a messy ponytail.

  “What time is it?” My voice is rough.