by G. P. Ching
* * *
Lydia,
I thought this dress would be appropriate. If it doesn’t suit you, the other items I’ve obtained for you are in the closet.
In your service,
Jameson
* * *
Tenderly, I lift the dress. It’s cerulean blue with tiny white flowers. When I pull it on over my head, the silky fabric skims down my body, clingy at first then adjusting to my size as if it were tailored for me. Sliding my feet into the silver slippers next to the bed, I twirl in front of the mirror. The hem of the skirt hits just above my knee, an inappropriate length if I’d been in Hemlock Hollow, but expected, I’m sure, in this world. Given the circumstances, I put all misgivings aside. Until I find my way home, I need to fit in.
Something is missing. Per the note, I check the closet. Racks of clothing fill a room that could house a small family. One wall is nothing but shoes. A cabinet at the center holds rows and rows of shallow drawers. Who needs all this? Overwhelmed, I search until I find undergarments and tights. I finish dressing and set out to find the others.
Retracing the path back upstairs proves challenging, maybe because I’m exhausted from the events of yesterday or because this part of the house is a maze of hallways. For a good twenty minutes, I am lost until the blue palominos provide a visual anchor. I drink in the texture of Korwin’s painting, the way the shoulder of the largest horse bunches like the animal is bucking the sky itself.
Inexplicably, my attention wanders from the painting to the door next to it. There’s this hum that calls to me from beyond. It’s a feeling in my gut like a hunger, like my mouth is watering for what’s inside. A hollow, empty feeling—a wanting, not unlike my instinct to eat—urges me forward.
The room is unlocked. Inside, music plays softly. Huge machines with blinking lights line all four walls, and in the middle is a square tub of water that bubbles and glows electric blue. Flashbacks of the room I saved Korwin from fill my head, only no one is restrained in here. The room isn’t menacing at all.
The technology fascinates me and I scan the machines, the knobs, the lights, the grids of measurements I don’t understand. My silver slippers creep across the room to the edge of the tiled tub, and I lean over to look into its depths.
There’s a body. My mouth opens on a gasp and my hand goes to my heart. Someone is in there, at the bottom, masked by the ripple and refraction of the blue water. I glance at the door and then into the water again.
“Hello?” I call.
No response. The body is motionless. I can’t see the face because there’s a current, a constant bubbling across the surface. What if the person has drowned? Is drowning? Without thinking, I thrust my hands into the water, grasping for the victim at the bottom of the tub. No sooner have my fingers broken the surface than two things happen at once. First, a current of electricity flows into my body through my hand, the intensity making my experience in the elevator seem like child’s play. And second, the body’s eyes open beneath the water.
“Holy mother of God,” I yell. It is an exclamation I’ve never used before, but it rolls off my tongue like a veteran curse.
I try to retract my arms but the person grips my wrists. I squeal and yank harder.
The body sits up in the tub, a dark head breaking the surface with a splash that spills across the front of my dress and onto my shoes. When the spray settles, I am mute with disbelief. Korwin stares at me from the tub, very much alive. In fact, the arm holding my wrist is completely healed of sores, the bruises and swelling gone. Silky smooth olive skin stretches over tight muscles. My eyes travel from his arm to his face, his dark hair slicked back and tucked behind his ears. He is… stunning. Full lips, dark lashes, bright hazel eyes and a nose carved like artwork, like a sculpture that belongs with the rest of the art in the hallway. I cannot look away.
“Lydia!” he sputters, releasing me.
I take two giant steps backward. “Are you killing yourself?” I demand. Although somewhere deep inside, I know he’s not.
“No!” he says, shaking his head, positively offended. “This is a healing tank. The water is supercharged and oxygenated. It works at the cellular level.”
I shake my head.
“I don’t need to breathe under this water. The oxygen is delivered with the electricity directly into my cells to speed healing.” He holds up his right arm. His smooth olive complexion is peppered with dark hair. “It’s like recharging my battery. Check your hand.”
I do, and he’s right.
“Completely healed and juiced to a subtle blue glow,” he says.
Juiced. Right. I’d forgotten the term for this feeling. “It’s a miracle.”
“This one, I can fairly say, is science.”
I tiptoe back to the edge and peer into the blue water. I want to stick my hand back in, to experience the rush one more time. But he scoots to the far side of the tub, his arms diving beneath the surface.
“Um, Lydia…”
“Yes? Does it hurt you when I touch the water?”
He laughs, his face flushed. “No. Uh… I’m naked in here.”
I stumble backward, almost tripping over my own feet. “I’m sorry,” I blurt. A nervous laugh bubbles up my throat as I find the doorknob and work my way into the hall. I close it behind me but can’t bring myself to leave. My skin tingles and there’s still a pull from behind the door anchoring me to the spot. My only question is whether the force I’m drawn to is the electricity or Korwin.
Either way, despite my hunger and feeling lost in a strange world, I am smiling. Smiling at the painting of the blue horses.
I don’t have to wait long. Korwin emerges from the healing room, wearing a gray sleeveless tunic and drawstring pants.
“I’m very sorry if I embarrassed you,” I say, my face warm again. “I saw nothing.”
“Don’t worry about it. No harm done.” He straightens his tunic. I’ve never seen clothes like his before. The material has a metallic sheen and moves like it’s alive.
He notices my fixation. “It’s woven from talimite. The mineral conducts electricity. It’s, um, soothing to new skin.” He holds out his arms.
“At home, I’m a seamstress. This fabric is fascinating. How is it stitched together?”
Korwin shrugs. “I’m not sure. You can look at it more closely if you want.” He tucks his arms behind his back.
I can’t help myself. My fingers creep forward toward his collarbone. An inch away, I can feel the buzz, the spark coming alive in my fingertips. On contact, the material has the texture of miniature chain-link but gives off zaps of electricity. I flatten my hand against his chest, stroke down the material and around the side of his torso to his hip.
“There’s no seam,” I say.
“No? I never noticed before.” The husky tone in his voice causes me to lift my face to his. He’s not smiling anymore. Instead, his eyes look hungry and the expression sends a flood of heat through my body. Convinced it’s the juice, I force myself to back away. When I pull my hand from his chest, the tunic follows the pads of my fingers, billowing beneath my touch until my hand is far enough away to break the connection. It settles back against his body.
I clear my throat. “They must have made it on a round loom.”
Blinking, his eyebrows knit as if he’s trying to understand what I’m talking about. “It’s one of a kind,” he finally says. “My dad had it made for me.”
“Your father’s gone to great lengths to keep you healthy.”
He tips his head. “He needs to if we’re going to succeed.”
“Succeed at what?”
He opens his mouth as if to answer but closes it again and smiles. “Dinner first. You must be starving.”
I’m about to agree but then I notice something odd. “You know, I was hungry until I stuck my hands into your bath. Now I’m…okay.” I look down at my palms. Flashes of blue dance under my skin. Juiced.
“Yeah. It does that, but if you don’t eat you won�
��t be able to hold your charge for long. We have to eat, too.”
“Oh,” I say. It surprises me how comfortable I’ve become with this newfound ability in such a short time. Part of it is my faith. My heart is open to the unexplainable. I accept that I can manipulate electricity as a gift, like my ability to run fast and to cook.
“Your dress is wet,” he says.
I run my hand down the damp section near the hem. “It’s okay. Just a little water.”
“Let me help you with that.” Korwin reaches for my skirt, his hand glowing bright enough to make me blink. Heat blooms over the wet material, steam rising between us. “There,” he says, retracting.
My dress is dry. “Thank you.”
He leads me to the base of the stairs but stops before going up. His hazel eyes find mine and I can see the glow flickering beneath his skin extend to his irises. Blue light washes over my face. As I look at him, I have the most intense feeling of connection, like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together. I sigh deeply, and the place where his hand touches my elbow tingles. He must feel it too because he looks down at the spot before speaking.
“Lydia, meeting you this way…” He shakes his head. “I finally feel like there’s someone else in the world who understands. Someone just like me. Do you know what I mean?”
I step closer. His tunic moves, shifting with the zaps of electricity that jump between my skin and his. Blue light arcs between us, drawing us closer, until I have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. We are chest to chest, but I feel a compulsion to move closer.
“I do know,” I say. It’s true. A little piece, a hole in my soul I’d never realized was there, is suddenly filled. I don’t know why God sent me the miracle that lives beneath my skin, or how long it will last, but in that moment, I am standing next to my other. A person from an entirely different world who connects with whatever this is.
Korwin lowers his face toward mine. Tiny blue lightning bolts zap under his skin, concentrating around his lips. Without a doubt, I know he intends to kiss me. I inhale deeply; he smells like our field right after a thundershower. Energy swirls between us. I close my eyes and wait for his lips to brush mine.
“Master Korwin,” Jameson calls down the stairs.
I jump back, my face hot. I can’t believe I’ve almost kissed a boy I hardly know.
“Yes, Jameson?” Korwin growls.
“Your meal is served.”
“Thanks,” he says, then mumbles, “for nothing.”
I roll the toe of my slipper over the carpet.
Korwin smiles at me and makes a sweeping motion with his hand toward the stairs. “Dinner is served,” he repeats pompously.
“I’ll beat you to it,” I tease, as much to break the awkward moment as because I am hungry again. I give him a wry grin and bound up the stairs. He chases after me, laughing when I just barely reach the landing before him. We cross the massive great room, where he takes the lead because I have no idea where I am going, then burst into the dining room side by side, panting from the run.
“Glad to see you two are getting to know each other,” Maxwell says. He gives a tight smile, all business. “We’ve got trouble. Come and eat. We need to talk.”
10
Dinner looks like beef stew but tastes like paste. My appetite has returned and I’m hungry enough that even if it were paste, I would eat it. While Korwin and I shovel it in, Maxwell presses his fingers into a painting of a woman in a large hat on the wall. The canvas melts away, replaced by a moving picture. Television.
He taps a box that says news. Music plays and then the camera focuses in on a blond woman sitting behind a desk. Good evening. I’m Alexandra Brighten and this is Channel 12 News, the official news station of the Green Republic. In top news tonight, terrorism at CGEF.
The picture changes to Korwin and me escaping from CGEF’s atrium. I drop my fork and swallow what’s in my mouth. I’m on television? How did they record this? The video is from the outside of the building at the moment Korwin shattered the glass. People run from us screaming as we exit CGEF.
A man in a wide-lapelled blazer turns his concerned face toward the camera. The destruction is senseless. The public will end up paying for the damages if we can’t find these monsters.
The scene replays in the background as another bystander speaks to the camera, an elderly woman in a mauve jumpsuit. It was a horrific brush with crime. We are all lucky to be alive. The two scampers were crazed. I thought they might kill us all.
“That’s not how it happened. I don’t even remember her being there,” I say, looking toward Korwin for support. “They were torturing us. We had to escape.” I turn to Maxwell but he’s fixated on the screen.
Then the video skips to when Korwin blasted the officers and jumped over the side of the bridge with me in his arms. They replay the jump again and again, each time ending with the focus on the officers writhing on the concrete.
Clearly, these killers are armed and dangerous, Alexandra says.
I gasp. Killers? I am not a killer. I flash on Helen seizing beneath my touch and am flooded with guilt. No, I didn’t kill her, but I did hurt her, as unintentional as it was. Please, Lord, forgive me. I bow my head but keep my eyes on the screen. Korwin must sense my inner turmoil because he reaches over and squeezes my hand. His touch sends electric ribbons up my arm and makes my breath hitch. I move my hand away so I can concentrate.
The clip finishes with a close-up of our faces. Under my picture, the name Lydia Lane blinks in bright yellow letters. Korwin’s name is also there, although no last name is included. Citizens should report any sightings of these two immediately. CGEF is offering a one thousand-unit reward for any information leading to the arrest and conviction of these two terrorists. Authorities want to remind everyone that these fugitives are deadly. Do not try to apprehend them yourselves.
Our faces leave the screen, replaced by a video of a panda bear. In other news—
Maxwell taps the screen, and it returns to the canvas painting of a woman in a large hat.
“We had to. We had no choice,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Terrorists!” My voice rises. “That’s not how it happened at all.” I look from Korwin to his father, desperate for an explanation. I can’t make sense of this.
“The truth doesn’t matter,” Maxwell says. “You are now Crater City’s most wanted. And they know who you are.”
“But they arrested me for no reason and tortured Korwin. We were escaping. We didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Terrorists? Who are we terrorizing, and for what? We’re the ones who were terrorized!” My head pounds along with my heart. This isn’t right. I expected they’d be after us for escaping, but terrorism?
“Both of you are on lockdown. High security, high alert.”
Korwin nods next to me. I’m not sure what “lockdown” means but I have a feeling I won’t be visiting my father or seeing Jeremiah anytime soon.
A tear escapes the corner of my eye, and I bury my face in my hands. “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.”
“Lydia, I’m prepared to shelter and protect you, but I need to know the entire truth. Where do you come from, and how did you end up at the CGEF detention center?” Korwin’s father threads his fingers together and leans forward.
I look at Korwin.
“You can trust him, Lydia. He won’t tell anyone.”
I start from the beginning, explaining rumspringa and the house in Willow’s Province. He doesn’t flinch, as if Amish people show up on his doorstep on a regular basis. I explain about the light, how the electricity flowed into me. I skim over Dr. Konrad’s exam and thankfully Maxwell doesn’t ask for details. The MRI machine I describe in detail, as well as our escape. I end with our trip through the sewer. The conversation is cathartic, as if telling my story releases some built-up pressure. “So, you see, I have to reach Jeremiah and get home. This is all a mistake. I don’t belong here.”
“And you’ve never had anything like this happen before?”
>
“No.”
“I don’t mean to hound you about this. Korwin’s power came on at fifteen. Before that, if we hadn’t known better, we’d have thought he was the same as everyone else.” Maxwell purses his lips. “Korwin is a product of the Alpha Eight, the second generation result of Operation Source code. You, Lydia, are a mystery. If what you say is true, if you’ve developed this power without implants or bioengineering, it truly is a miracle. I have no explanation for it.”
I fold my hands in my lap and shrug my shoulders. “I’m telling the truth.”
“What about Jeremiah? Did anything similar happen to him? Maybe it’s environmental. The preservation is close to the Outlands. A mutation from the radiation?”
“I don’t think so, but he wasn’t standing as close as me.”
Maxwell rubs his forehead. “As much as I can understand your desire to get home, you can understand why that is currently problematic.”
My face tightens and I hold my breath, trying not to cry.
He waves his outstretched hands. “I’m not saying we can’t help you, just that I need some time. Give us some time.”
I nod.
“While you’re here, I’d like to run some tests to see how similar or different you are to Korwin. Can I have your permission?”
My mind reels. A day ago, I was at home, living a normal life. And now everything has changed. It’s too fast. But what else can I say but yes? Korwin’s father is the authority in this household and knows the workings of the English world. I have nowhere else to go. I’m completely at his mercy.
“Yes, Max—” I remember that Englishers use the last name and a prefix to address elders. “Mr. Stuart,” I say.