by Dan Rix
Clive had never let her see his father’s studio before, and before today, she had never wanted to. She took the stairs one at a time, not sure how deep they went. She reached the bottom and peered into the darkness, and when her eyes adjusted, she felt her brain go numb with panic.
It wasn’t the white hospital room she’d expected.
Amber traversed the dingy cave and found herself under a huge machine, suddenly terrified—suddenly aware of everything she was about to lose. The thing hummed above her, dripping oil, and she could already feel it pulling at her, trying to get inside her.
***
Aaron was slammed against his car, which had stalled in first. He felt the edge of the doorframe cut into his back as he stared dumbstruck into the wild eyes of his best friend, Buff Normandy.
“Don’t touch me,” said Aaron.
“Buddy, you can’t go,” said Buff.
“You don’t even know where I’m going.”
“Tina called me and told me what happened,” said Buff. “You made a deal with that doctor.”
“In thirteen minutes,” Aaron spat, “she’ll be worse than dead. Let me go—” Aaron slapped Buff’s hands aside and rushed the car, but Buff grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against the rear door again.
“No bullshit!” he said. “Not after all the things you told me about him.”
Aaron was aware of every heartbeat, every second Amber didn’t have. He glared into his best friend’s eyes. “Do you know what she’ll be like when they’re through with her?” he said. “She’ll be a pretty little shell—that’s all!”
“It’s a trap, Buddy. You know that.”
“He wants clairvoyance,” said Aaron. “It’s either mine or Amber’s.”
“Says who? Make him use his own shit.”
“Just get out of my way,” said Aaron.
“Buddy, she’s not even your half—”
Aaron shoved Buff backwards, and his friend stumbled to the ground. Then he climbed into his car.
“I’m not coming with you,” said Buff, climbing to his feet.
“I don’t want you to,” said Aaron, “you’d only get someone killed.” He restarted the engine and burnt rubber. Behind him, black fumes boiled off his tire tracks. Buff chased him down and kicked his bumper before he squealed down the street.
So much for friends.
Aaron drove a hundred and ten on the freeway. He passed cars as if they were parked. The wind tore inside the cabin, ripped at his clothes and blinded him. His Mazda leaned dangerously around curves, right at the edge of traction. At this speed, it was like cornering switchbacks.
So Casler lied about making them halves again. Why? All he wanted to do was drain their clairvoyance. But he clearly preferred Amber’s.
The needle on his fuel gauge teetered on empty, then crossed it. There was enough fuel to get him there, to Amber—and that was all he needed.
Grassy hills swam around him, shimmering pollen-green under the bright sun—as green as her eyes had been when he sat next to her at the bonfire, more than a month ago, and gazed into them for the first time.
He didn’t have the strength to face the rest of his life without her, alone. Halfless. He had to stop her, even if it meant giving up his own clairvoyance so she wouldn’t have to.
Half a mile from Dominic’s house, he felt it. A cold patch in the air. Static electricity. The hairs on his forearms rose and swayed, as if swept up in an underwater current, and there was no question as to the source.
At ten fifty-seven, Aaron mowed over the dry brush outside Dominic’s gate, scaled the wall, and sprinted up the driveway. He felt the ground buzzing through the soles of his shoes. He circled the house.
At ten fifty-eight, the laundry room door creaked open, and Aaron slipped inside. It was like swimming through needles.
Only the house was empty.
He ran upstairs, Clive’s room—empty. The bed had been made, the walls stripped bare. As if he never lived there. He ran downstairs and checked the kitchen. Through a broken window, a breeze fanned the stench of rotting fish. It wafted over him, warm and nauseating. Flies swarmed over piles of crusted-over china, oil-smudged paper plates, and dripping take-out boxes. Sunlight burned streaks through the humid haze.
Perhaps they were already down below.
At ten fifty-nine, Aaron plunged through the aitherscope’s frozen glare. At the end of the corridor, the jagged stairs dropped into the Earth. His eyes watered from the gases rising out of the dark shaft.
Aaron took a deep breath, then stepped down.
And he found Amber at the bottom.
***
Suspended from the ceiling, dim bulbs flickered red-orange in wire cages. Moisture gleamed like blood on the rough cavern walls.
She was sitting on the operating table, dwarfed under the machine’s pulsating mass. She held her legs against her chest, and her hair fell loosely in front of her eyes.
She was waiting.
Above her, the machine idled, purred—it did something to the air, made it ripple. The edges of the black steel blurred in and out of focus, as if the structure itself was oscillating between worlds. A single green indicator light blinked on the side.
It too was waiting, like Amber. Waiting for the surgeon.
“Amber!” Aaron yelled, but the machine’s hum swallowed his voice. He ran to the operating table, and his footsteps faded behind him. Only when he touched her arm did she glance up.
Her mouth fell open. “Are you dumb?” she whispered. And suddenly her eyes glistened with tears. “You can’t be here!”
“I can’t let you do this,” he said, his breath misting.
“You think everything’s about you, don’t you?” she said. “I meant what I said on the phone . . . and I don’t need your permission.” Her eyes darted to the stairs then back again, almost imperceptibly. “It’s not like you’re my half.”
“Maybe I am,” he said. “The only reason you called is so I wouldn’t come.”
Suddenly, her tone changed. “Aaron, please—” She glanced behind him again, her eyes panicky. “Do you think I want you to see this?”
“See what? The operation? Or you?” he said. “After they’re finished with you.”
She just glared at him.
“Get off the bench,” he said.
“So now you’re ordering me around?”
“I’ll drag you off the bench if you prefer.”
“I already made a deal with him,” she said. “I made him promise, and you can’t do anything about it.”
“Promise what?”
“To leave you alone,” she said.
“In exchange for this?”
“He said it’s completely painless.”
“I’m sure,” he said. “And what about after?”
“Isn’t that the best part?” she said, smiling weakly. “Clive can do anything he wants to me and I won’t remember a thing.”
“You’ll remember what’s missing—” Aaron felt an itch at the back of his head, and he glanced back at the stairs. They were empty. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “It’s eleven o’clock.”
“Did you hear what I just said?
“I’m sorry,” said Aaron. “I made a deal with Casler first.”
“Too bad. He likes me better.”
“I’m not worth you throwing half of yourself away,” he said, and the itch in his scalp became a burn. “Now let’s leave while we both still can.”
She opened her mouth, but at that moment, Dr. Selavio, Clive, and Dominic emerged from the dark stairwell, and the halogen lights ignited like blue suns around the perimeter of the cave. They made the dimmer bulbs look like burned out cinders.
***
“Dominic said you’d come,” said Casler, flashing his dazzling white teeth. He stepped up to the operating table, set down a worn leather bag, and rested his hand on Aaron’s shoulder. He beamed at Amber. “You’re free to go,” he said. “Aaron’s volunteered to take your
place.”
Figuring he’d play along until Amber was in the clear, Aaron nodded. As soon as she was out of the dungeon, he’d run for it, blockade the cellar door, and light the house on fire. Then he and Amber could split the country.”
Amber glanced between the two of them, horrified. “You promised,” she said to Casler.
“Clive, why don’t you take her upstairs,” said Casler, opening his medical bag. “She’ll be safer up there.”
“But Aaron’s supposed to be safe!” she said, and as Clive limped forward, she scrambled backward off the operating table. Clive circled the bench, grabbed her arms, and lifted her off the table.
“Let go!” Amber tore at Clive’s hoodie, and for a split-second, Aaron glimpsed the scabs on Clive’s shoulder—the ones he’d made the previous night with the car door—before Clive swung her around and clamped his palm over her mouth, choking off her screams.
Aaron felt his muscles tense, but he held himself back. He just wanted her out of the dungeon.
Clive paused halfway to the stairs and glared at Aaron. His pale eyes burned between his slitted eyelids, challenging him—daring him. Then Amber jerked her head against his chin, knocked him backwards, and broke free.
She ran to Aaron and grabbed his hands.
“Are you crazy?” she gasped, as Clive struggled to his feet behind her. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I’m in love with you,” said Aaron, “and I can’t stand the idea of him taking away everything that makes you who you are. Now go upstairs.”
Amber blinked, and for an instant her eyes were completely unguarded, exposed. “No,” she whispered, and moved closer.
Casler sighed. “Can somebody get her out of here?”
Dominic appeared at her side. “Come on, Amber. Upstairs where it’s safe.”
But Amber ignored him. Her green eyes never left Aaron’s. “I want you to be safe,” she said.
“There’s no point if I don’t have a half,” said Aaron, and he winked.
She looked confused.
“Just go upstairs,” said Aaron, and he tugged his hands out of her grip.
“But you’re the only thing that matters,” she said. “You can’t let him do this to you!”
It took both Clive and Dominic to drag her toward the stairs. She squirmed and clawed at their arms, and her hair whipped behind her. “We had a deal!” she yelled.
“You’re right,” said Casler. “I just don’t need your end anymore.”
“Casler, you double-crossing liar,” she gasped.
“Please—” He gave a weak smile. “Call me dad.”
While she kicked and struggled, they dragged her out of the dungeon. As soon as she was gone, Aaron breathed out a sigh of relief.
Casler leaned over his medical bag. “Now,” he said, extracting a surgical mask, latex gloves, and a syringe. “Let’s begin.”
***
“You think I’m stupid?” said Aaron. “I’m not donating my clairvoyance either.” He started toward the stairs, ready to sprint if Casler pursued him.
“If you’re thinking of running away with her, it won’t work . . . ,” said Casler.
“That wasn’t the plan.”
“ . . . because she and Clive are still connected. They need to be near each other constantly, especially in the beginning. If you kidnap her now, she’ll get separation anxiety. She’ll get sick. Eventually, she’ll die. I don’t think you want that, Aaron.”
“No shit.” Aaron slowed and glanced behind him. “That wasn’t the plan. I just wanted her off your operating table.”
“And I agree with you,” said Casler. “As her half-father, I didn’t want to let her donate anything, but since she’s eighteen, it’s her choice. Aaron, I didn’t lie to you this morning. I did want to make you two halves again, but Amber wouldn’t let me. She insisted I leave you alone. As I said before—and as you can clearly see—her decision to donate clairvoyance is separate from her decision not to be your half.”
The words stung. Aaron spun around to face him. “She thought it was either her or me.”
Casler smiled. “Trust me, I’m not taking anybody’s clairvoyance without their permission. No, the real reason is that as Clive’s half, she’s facing a lot of pressure to conform. She wants the operation done so she can be like the other girls in the Juvengamy Brotherhood. Just a thimbleful . . . I’m not willing to take out any more than that.”
“This is getting really sick,” said Aaron.
Casler nodded, his face somber. “I know. I don’t like the influence the Brotherhood has on her either . . . ” He scrunched his eyebrows, brooding. “There is another solution.”
Aaron stared at the doctor, hardly knowing what to believe anymore—and still clinging to the hope that somehow he and Amber could end up halves again. “Bullshit,” he said.
“I can make it safe for you two to run away together. As much as it would hurt Clive, I want her to be with her original half . . . and I want her to be safe.”
“If we’re not halves, then how?”
“Right now, we just need to sever her channel,” he said, and seeing the look on Aaron’s face, he added, “we’ll put Clive in the machine. Remember, her channel can heal like yours. You won’t be connected like halves, but at least she’ll be free.”
“Forget it,” said Aaron. “You’re not cutting her channel again.” He marched toward the stairs, but Casler called after him.
“Once you leave, Aaron, she’s just going to come back down here. She gets what she wants, you know.”
Aaron hesitated. He was right. She would come back down here, and anything was better than that. The next instant, Casler stood over him.
The man grinned, flashing a row of perfect white teeth as he slipped the white mask over his nose and mouth and snapped the gloves into place. “Keep her safe,” he said, “and bring her back in a few months. I’ll make you halves then.” He winked.
Casler’s cologne filled Aaron’s sinuses, calmed him. Tempted him. He knew it was wrong, though. But even as he edged away from the doctor, his brain scrambled for a reason—any reason—to trust him.
“You’d really put Clive in the machine?” said Aaron.
“All I need is a tiny sample of that scar tissue so he’ll survive without a half.”
“No way. You’re not drilling a hole through my head.”
Casler chuckled. “That was for the autopsy, Aaron. It’s a noninvasive procedure. I’m going to give you an injection that dissolves some of that scar tissue into your bloodstream. Then, all I need to do is draw a sample of your blood. Then you’re free to go . . . and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“That’s it? Just two shots?”
“Just two shots.”
Aaron considered the risks. When it was explained like that, his doubts seemed absurd. All the guy wanted was a sample of the scar tissue; he had made that clear from the beginning. If Aaron complied just this once, it would at least get the guy off his back and buy him more time with Amber. Also, he would force the doctor to show his hand. The worst Casler could do, short of injecting him with poison, would be to tranquilize him and strap him into the machine anyway. And Aaron wasn’t that stupid.
He felt his mouth widen into a smirk. “I’ll do it on one condition,” he said. “You inject yourself first.”
Casler peered into his eyes, then ruffled Aaron’s hair with his palm. “Gladly. I think this is the right thing to do, Aaron.”
And Aaron knew it wasn’t.
“Any allergies I should know of?” said Casler, as he rummaged through his medical bag. His voice was deep and soothing behind the mask. He was a doctor, after all.
Aaron shook his head, gaping in disbelief as the doctor filled two syringes with a clear liquid. This was actually happening.
“Okay, I’m injecting myself.” Casler rolled his sleeve up to his elbow, plunged one of the needles into his own forearm, and drained the plunger. Then he lifted the second needle.
Aaron swallowed hard, wishing he hadn’t agreed to this, and averted his eyes as Casler rolled up his sleeve.
“There—” Aaron hardly felt the prick. Then Casler daubed his arm with a cotton ball and slapped on a bandage. “Give that a few minutes. Then we’ll draw the blood.”
Clive limped into the dungeon, his cheeks scratched up and swollen.
Dr. Selavio stared at his son. “Was she too much for you to handle?” he sneered.
“No, Father.”
“If you ever embarrass me like that in front of company again—”
“I’m sorry, Father,” he said.
“Learn to discipline your half,” said Dr. Selavio. “I didn’t give her to you as a toy.”
Clive’s pale eyes flicked to the machine, still humming in the background.
The chemical was taking effect. Suddenly woozy, Aaron lowered himself to the floor. A thousand suns wobbled above him, the quartz-halogen lamps. Their blue glare pierced his pupils.
“I want more,” Clive blurted out, his eyes still on the machine.
“More of what?”
“More of her clairvoyance.”
“You have enough,” said Casler. “Now help me start the machine.”
Aaron stared at his hands. They had paled to the color of frost. He felt his own blood pooling at the back of his head, as if he was hanging upside down. Meanwhile, Casler barked orders to his son, completely unperturbed. The stuff was only affecting Aaron. God damn it.
“Alright Clive—” Casler wheeled a chair in front of his laptop and typed something fast. The screen spit out line after line of green code. “Let’s spin.”
At the machine, Clive coiled his fingers around a massive switch and shoved. At first it didn’t budge. The tendons bulged in his forearms, and his shoulder trembled with exertion. Then the switch chunked into place.