Frenzy

by Dawn Brazil

  Felicity gasps and her hands fly to her mouth. Brian scoots beside me on the couch. No one moves—they all stare at me. “I’m okay. He ran off. I’m okay now.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “Did he run off on foot?”

  I’m not sure who asks which questions, because everyone talks at once.

  “I didn’t… couldn’t see his face. He wore a ski mask. He said I would be dead soon. He had a gun.”

  Again, Felicity gasps and sits beside me on the sofa. She and Brian each squeeze a hand. I don’t like this physical contact. I already stated I was okay.

  “I’m okay, really. I—I was scared, but I’m okay now.”

  “We need to tell your parents about this,” Mr. Thompson says, heading for the door.

  “No,” I say, struggling to my feet. “If you tell my parents, there’s no way they’ll let me go tomorrow. I need to go. It’s better for me to go with you all than to stay here.” No one speaks for a few minutes. Everyone turns to stare at Mr. Thompson.

  He releases a deep breath. “Brian, walk Elizabeth home. He’ll also pick you up in the morning. We can’t take any chances from now on. I’ll have someone I know look into this for us, Elizabeth.” I nod once.

  Brian and I don’t speak as we walk across the grass to my house. Just as I open the door to go in, Brian pushes it closed and turns me around. His eyes are large and he works his jaw. “I promise. I won’t be careless again. I can’t imagine losing you.”

  “You won’t. I’m okay.” He presses his forehead to mine. My eyes slip closed as this contact brings me the comfort I’ve been searching for ever since Ski-mask Guy had his hands wrapped around my throat. I lean in and press my lips to his. His kiss is slow and gentle, like he’s afraid he’ll break me.

  “I love you,” he whispers. I smile at his words. He opens the door, and I slip inside and close it behind me.

  Once in my house, I scuffle around the entry because my mother’s on the phone with Felicity. When she ends the call, I make a dash for the stairs.

  “Liz, come here,” she says.

  I stroll into the family room, but not all the way to the sofa. I need to keep my distance so she won’t see my neck. “Yes, ma’am?” Mom and Dad are curled around each other. A half-eaten plate of pasta and two empty glasses with remnants of red wine sit on the oak coffee table in front of them.

  “Felicity called and asked if you could go with their family to Death Valley.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sounds fun.” At these words, she lifts her head from the crook of Pop’s arm and peers at me.

  “Hiking in a place with the word ‘Death’ in its name is not my idea of fun. But hey, whatever you like. Remember to pack sunscreen, or your pretty skin won’t be so pretty when you’re older.”

  “Sunscreen. Got it.” I spin around to leave.

  “And you and Brian aren’t allowed to sleep in the same tent,” my Dad adds.

  “Right. No making babies this weekend,” I say, with my body angled toward the stairs.

  Both my parents sit up, with matching confused expressions.

  “It was a joke.”

  My dad shakes his head. “Have fun, Lizzie. Felicity invited your mom and me along. I wish I could come, but I have clients at the office tomorrow.” He makes a weird face, and he and Mom burst out laughing.

  I throw my head back and laugh, too. Mom and Dad stop laughing and stare at me. I have no idea why I’m laughing or trying to joke with them.

  “Okay, I’m going to my room. Oh, Crystal’s on her way over, too. She won’t be here long.” I toss my hand in the air and clamber out of the room as quickly as I can without actually running.

  I’m impressed with Felicity’s logic in inviting my parents along. I’m not accustomed to lying to them. I don’t even know if I would be particularly apt at it.

  Just as I sit on my bed, Crystal bursts through my bedroom door like someone’s chasing her. “Um, you okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah. You okay? You said it was urgent.” Her eyes dart around the room like she’s expecting someone else to be with me.

  “There’s been a development,” I say.

  “What kind of development?”

  “Brian knows who had the chip removed. His dad is going to perform the procedure to remove it from me. I didn’t tell them about you, but—”

  “Don’t,” she says.

  “Don’t. You don’t want me to tell them about you?”

  “No. I’m okay with dying.”

  “You don’t have to die now, though.”

  “Laurie, I know this is hard for you to understand, but when I told my parents I knew everything, they seemed relieved. When I explained I was going back to die, they were proud of me. My parents are impossible to please. Telling them I wanted to complete my obligation to our home universe made them so happy. They’re not perfect, but they’re all I have. I can’t back out of this now. It would devastate them.”

  “But you don’t have to die. Surely, your parents would be happy to hear that.”

  “My parents understand sacrifice, commitment, honor… I have to do this. I don’t have a choice.”

  “But—”

  “You do what you have to do; I’ll do what I have to do.” I swallow hard, unable to fully understand her decision. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. I’m really good with this.” She pauses. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  I’m not sure what to say, how to think, what to do. So I lean forward and wrap my arms around her. This feels like the right thing to do. We sit and hold each other for a second. “I’ll never forget you,” I say. And it’s the truth.

  She smiles. “I make it hard for anyone to forget me. Sorry this couldn’t be different.” She rises from the bed and backs toward the door. “I have one favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t let Norman Bates forget me.” At the mention of his name, Norman’s head pops up. He strolls over to Crystal as she stands in the doorway. She bends, and he immediately rolls over for a belly rub. Crystal scratches his tummy for far longer than is necessary, then she straightens. Norman bounces over to the bed and hits my leg to pick him up. I scoop him from the floor and Crystal slips from the room.

  Crystal came like a whirlwind I hadn’t been expecting, and she fit in so well with us. Now, she’s going to die because of an obligation. All I feel is pity that I won’t have her to laugh with or talk to. That seems selfish, but I don’t know how to change it.

  Once I’ve showered, washed my hair, and put on my most comfortable flannel pajamas that make me look like someone’s nonna, I slide under my thick blanket. Norman presses into my side and is quickly snoring.

  I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and looking around at the only place I’ve ever called home, I don’t care. For once, I’m choosing ignorance. At least, for the next several hours.

  Chapter 22

  I’m up and ready before the sun, but I’m sluggish. My limbs feel like they’re floating in some sort of liquid. Sharp pain stabs the back of my left leg and shoots up to my inner thigh. I rub my hand over the area. It’s sore to the touch.

  Brian’s at the door, hurrying me on before I can do any more investigating of the pain. Mom and Dad are none the wiser, as they wave good-bye frantically from our front door. If everything happens the way we’ve planned, I’ll be home in a couple days, and maybe with an improved attitude to go along with it.

  Brian and I sit on the third row, while Ian occupies the entire second row. He’s stretched across the seat with his hat over his face and snores so loudly we decide against communicating between rows.

  I sit soundlessly at Brian’s side while he caresses the small of my back. I pretend to look out the window and admire the scenery. It’s stunning, but it doesn’t hold my attention. His fingers, as they move from the middle of my back, pressing down to the lower section before my posterior, the way he leans into me every couple minutes and whisper
s into my ear, his warm citrus breath against the nape of my neck—these things capture my attention. The scenery outside becomes background noise.

  Brian draws me into his arms. We snuggle close, neither of us speaking, both our heads facing the window and the ever-changing world outside the truck. I glance straight ahead and catch a glimpse of Felicity as she looks at Brian and me.

  Relief floods me, knowing Brian’s parents are checking into the Panamint Resort on the outskirts of Death Valley. At least they will be comfortable and out of danger.

  My hope of survival doesn’t feel complete, though. I texted Crystal as we left. She usually responds in a heartbeat.

  The message still sits in my phone, unanswered.

  Chapter 23

  Jason drives us to the westernmost point in the valley, as far as he can before the driving path ends. We will have to hike the remaining distance to the HBU.

  My legs are noodles as I bound from the backseat. Felicity approaches and wraps me in her arms again. I’ve never been hugged by anyone this often. I’m not sure how I feel about being held so much.

  I examine the area around me. In the distance, the shadow of sand dunes and the snow-covered tops of Telescope Peak are visible. I’ve never been to Death Valley, but I’ve heard it has strenuous hiking ground. We’re going through the Panamint Spring area and hiking through Darwin Falls, almost to the southern tip of Telescope Peak, which is home to an 11,049-foot peak. The HBU is before the peak.

  Ian examines a map he pulls from his pack. “L, there’s a waterfall in Darwin Falls that’s guaranteed to take your breath away after about three miles of hiking.”

  “Too bad she won’t be able to stop to see it,” Brian says.

  I already knew I wouldn’t be able to linger, because of our time constraints. Brian’s curt response is a mood killer, though.

  We begin our trek with vigor, and a bit of excitement. Perched high in the sky, however, the sun beats down on us with such force I question whether it’s really February in the desert, too.

  The least of my concerns is the heat. A more pressing need is to get out of the desert before night falls, or at least be tucked away in a tent when it does. We want to reach our campground before night, and the unseemly beasts of the region smell us drudging through their terrain.

  “Let’s go,” Brian says, marching off to take the lead. “Keep up.” He doesn’t turn to look at us or check that we actually follow.

  Of course, we do.

  Brian sets a grueling pace, and Ian follows close behind him. I lag. Not because I can’t keep up, but because I take mental pictures of things I want to see when I come back—and I’m confident I will. I don’t say anything to Brian or Ian about my plans, and I don’t ask them to slow down for me. Brian isn’t going to stop anyway.

  “Liz, what are you doing?” Brian shouts as I wander off the trail to investigate a small animal that’s hidden behind a prickly cactus. I jump at the suddenness of my name being called.

  “Sorry. I thought… I saw something…” I point over my shoulder.

  Brian spins around and marches to me. “You can’t do that, Sunshine. You have to keep up. We’re not here to explore.” He bends and kisses my lips. Too quickly, he turns and trudges up the trail ahead of Ian.

  Ian turns to me. He arches his brows and smiles. “He means well.”

  I’m mindful of wandering too far again. Still, I find ways to investigate. Brian doesn’t acknowledge Ian, or me, as his feet accelerate rapidly over the gravel. My attempt to forget our near-impossible time constraints seems futile. Glancing down at my watch is pointless, as it stopped working almost as soon as we arrived. Is that a bad omen?

  My steps are brisk with the effort to match Brian and Ian’s speed. It’s no use, though. Their legs are much longer than mine. I held my own with my Dad when we went hiking, and for sure with Mom, when she came. Keeping up with two healthy, giant teenage boys proves taxing.

  So, I pad behind them.

  Brian comes to a halt ahead. He waits for me to stand beside him. “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “I'm fine, but we need to take a break. You two have been going for over two hours. I haven’t seen either of you drink any water, and you're sweating profusely. You need to replenish.” I pull my pack from my shoulder and wrench my water bottle out.

  “We don’t have time to stop.” He runs his hands through his hair.

  I stroll a few paces away from him, to an area with a large California barrel cactus we can use for minimal shade. I motion for Ian to follow. He glances over at Brian and swivels back to squat beside me. I pull the tab on my bottle and take one long swig from my canteen. The water is still cold; I close my eyes with pleasure as it slips down my throat.

  I pull Ian’s shirt away from his neck. Water pours from his semi-long hair and off his t-shirt. He looks like he stepped out of a pool.

  “Of all the places this thing could’ve been—why here?” I say, mostly to myself.

  “It could be worse,” Ian states. “At least it’s not the middle of summer. Scientifically, it makes sense. Death Valley has some of the highest recorded temperatures in the world. The high temperatures aid in the gravitational pull needed for the travel between universes. The sun creates a mass on both sides of the space-time curve, and creates a tunnel—”

  “Thanks for the science lesson, geek,” Brian says.

  “Your GPA’s higher than the both of ours,” I say. “Guess you’re geekier.”

  He paces back and forth in front of Ian and me. “You might as well sit down. I’m not moving until I feel you’ve rested. I know you’re doing this for me, but it won’t help me if you're dehydrated, or worse.” Brian raises his hand like he’s going to protest. I ignore him and turn to Ian.

  With a loud sigh, he scuffs at the gravel beneath him. He drops down beside Ian and me. He pulls out his canteen and takes a long gulp. He scowls in anger and works his jaw muscles repeatedly.

  “You're good at that, L,” Ian declares.

  “Good at what?” I ask.

  “At putting him in his place. Tiff and I always had the hardest time with his mood swings. It doesn’t seem to bother you. We knew he didn’t mean anything by them. We were all hotheaded, I guess. A bad combination.” He laughs and shakes his head.

  Brian scoffs, “I’m not that bad.”

  “If you were any worse, I’d suggest you get disposed of,” Ian interjects. We all double over.

  “We need to head out now,” Brian says. He looks at me; I nod in agreement. I rise from the dirt, feeling slightly improved because of our laughter. I rewrap the scarf around my neck to catch the moisture from my sweat and repack my bag.

  Ian and Brian take off so fast it takes me a minute to catch up. I’m distracted for only a fraction of a second by a road runner near a beavertail cactus. It scuttles off in the distance.

  The most treacherous pain lances through my leg. “Argh!” I scream. Either I’ve stepped on a sharp object, or something has bitten me. The intense pain only worsens as I try to plant my foot solidly. I manage to topple over instead.

  Chapter 24

  Brian reaches me before I plummet to the ground. Both he and Ian try to examine me at once. “What is it? What’s the matter?” Brian asks.

  I yank my jeans up. What crawled up my leg? I scan my leg, but find no blood-sucking mutant animal. Still, the pain has not subsided. It only intensifies.

  I release another howl of pain. “Find it!” I yell. “Get it out, Brian. Please, it hurts.” Salty tears stream down my cheeks.

  Brian and Ian look at each other. They sidestep away from me. The pain starts to ease, the way a cramp releases slowly. Every second brings more relief. The guys are speaking in hushed voices, and staring at me like they’re watching me take my last breath.

  I jump to my feet, shove my pant leg down, and announce, “I can keep moving.” I gingerly take one step, and then another. Brian and Ian each place an arm underneath me so I can walk. I lean into their sid
es as we stagger up the path. After a couple minutes, my patience with this situation is exhausted. “This isn’t working. We’re moving too slowly,” I say. “Let me go. I can walk by myself.”

  I stop. The pain still hasn’t faded completely, but with no sign of a bite, I’ll live. I need to suck up the throbbing—bottle it and shove it in a place where I can’t retrieve it until we’re out of the desert.

  Ian steals glances at me. With each passing minute, my frustration with his observation grows. “What?” I yell.

  Brian blinks a few times at me. Ian responds. “Well, I’ve never seen anyone do that.” He points to my leg.

  “Do what?” I snap. “And I don’t have time for one of your scientific lectures. Just spit it out.”

  Brian laughs beside me. I turn and fix him with an expression I hope reads that he’s not on my favorite-person list right now, either. It only makes him laugh harder, which only makes me angrier. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Sunshine, you’re funny when you’re angry. And adorable.” He rubs his finger across my nose to wipe away the perspiration. I don’t smile back.

  “It’s just… the pain you just felt, it’s most likely the first sign of your body breaking down—preparing to manually dispose of itself.” Brian doesn’t laugh at that.

  My body is betraying me.

  Each step is a thoughtful endeavor, so I’m now at a turtle’s pace. Maneuvering over the gravel-covered earth, the dirt all shades of brown and green, proves difficult as the pain in my legs intensifies.

  “We have to cross this small stream here,” Ian announces, pointing to the left of us. “And beyond that, a little to the North, is the bunker.”

  When we reach the spring, we slosh through the water, making every attempt not to harm the vegetation or fish that lay within the stream.

  Ian explains, “These fish are called pup-fish.” He delves into a full report on the habitat they thrive in and blah, blah, blah… I stop listening to him. The ever-increasing pain in my legs sucks away my attention. I’ve earned a break, but I don’t say anything and Brian doesn’t afford me one. So I stomp on in silence.