The Collide

by Kimberly McCreight

  And if she didn’t get out of there, she knew she might be next.

  Riel stayed low as she crawled past Kendall toward the door. It was then that she spotted the handgun, tucked at his side under his arm. She turned her head away as she reached in to pull it out.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to Kendall even though it felt so shallow. “For everything.”

  RIEL FINDS THE spare house key still where it always is, under the biggest rock alongside the steps up to her old front door. The key is a little rusty. Maybe it always has been. She can’t remember. Looking down at it in her hand now, she is too overwhelmed by sadness. So little that she has left. So few people. It’s right that it ends this way then, with her doing whatever it takes to get rid of her grandfather. She’s willing to pay the price, too, no matter how high. Or how permanent. She owes that to the Outliers. And to Kelsey.

  Inside, the house smells musty, and there’s a big pile of unopened mail spread out under the slot in the door. But otherwise it is exactly as Riel remembers it.

  She turns on a few lights on her way up the stairs, holding Kendall’s gun down awkwardly at her side. She fired the gun once, out in the woods. Just to be sure she could. And it was in all ways different than she thought it would be—the gun was heavier, harder to aim, more painful when it kicked back. Her hand still feels like it’s vibrating. But she’s ready now. Next time she fires it, at least she won’t be surprised.

  Upstairs, Riel pauses in the hall outside Kelsey’s closed door, presses her palm flat against it. She can’t bear the thought of opening it, not even now to take one last look. Especially not now, maybe. Because all she can think is how she should have fucking known. Should have seen her grandfather coming. Should have been able to keep her sister alive.

  She continues on to her own dusty bedroom. Riel finds her old phone and the SIM card exactly where she left them, separate and tucked between her mattress and box spring. She’d been right to leave them behind all those months ago. Though at the time, she definitely hadn’t pictured needing them for this: to draw her grandfather to her. He had Kendall shot right in front of her but left her alive. Because he wants her for something himself. If he isn’t already on his way because he followed her from the warehouse, she expects they’ll still be on the lookout for her phone, no matter how long it’s been since she used it.

  Riel reassembles her phone and finds the cord to charge it, then makes her way back downstairs. To wait. In a place with her back against the wall.

  IN THE LIVING room, Riel watches the front windows, waiting for thirty minutes, the gun tucked behind her back in the seat cushions. Her grandfather won’t be alone, she already knows that. But she has a plan. Or maybe “plan” is too strong a word.

  This has only one step: shoot first.

  Finally, there is a flash of headlights across the room. Riel sucks in some air, exhales hard as she stands. She can do this. She will. She has to. She’s made so many mistakes, missed so many things. But right now, she knows her grandfather has to be stopped. And she may be the only one able to do it.

  Riel heads over and tucks herself behind the front door, gun out. Ready to go. She hears the footsteps a moment later and then there is the knob turning slowly, the door opening quietly. Her heart is racing.

  Agent Klute steps inside first, followed by her grandfather. As soon as they are through, and Riel can confirm that Klute’s gun is not yet drawn, she steps forward and kicks closed the door.

  “Don’t move,” she says, voice steady and strong, the gun pointed at her grandfather.

  Agent Klute looks over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “Do you even know how to—”

  Riel fires a shot at the ground over in the corner. The bullet ricochets and shatters one of the windows.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Klute shouts, ducking slightly.

  “Answering your question. I do know how to use it,” Riel says calmly, eyes locked on her grandfather still. She does feel better now. This is the right plan—however it ends up. “Now get the fuck out. I want to talk to my grandfather alone.”

  “Thank you, Agent Klute. I can take it from here,” Riel’s grandfather says, going to sit calmly on the couch. Beyond him, out the window, the lights of downtown Boston shimmer in the distance.

  Agent Klute doesn’t look like he plans on going anywhere. “I don’t think that’s a good—”

  “Thank you, Agent Klute,” her grandfather repeats, more firmly. “That will be all.”

  Once Klute has backed reluctantly out the door, Riel can sense that her grandfather is actually a little more nervous about the gun than he seemed at first. For a man who is sickly overconfident, gunpoint is apparently his limit. Good.

  “I’m sorry that all the loss in your life—first your parents and then Kelsey—has made you so angry, Riel,” he begins, his voice syrupy and condescending. “Honestly, I have nothing but sympathy for you.”

  “Did you kill them, too?” she asks. It’s something she has been wondering.

  He laughs, like he actually thinks it’s goddamn hilarious. Riel can feel him relax slightly. “Kill who?”

  “My parents, you asshole,” Riel says, readjusting the gun, fighting back the urge to pull the trigger. She will. But she needs some answers first. “Because I know for sure that you killed Kelsey.”

  Her grandfather tilts his head to the side, wrinkles his brow. “Your parents were killed in a flash flood. You know that. Their problem was that they tried to ‘help people’ in all the wrong ways. When you try to rescue people from the natural consequences of their own actions, they never learn to save themselves. And good, hardworking people like your parents pay the price.”

  “Is that what you were trying to do with Kelsey?” Riel asks. “Teach her to save herself?”

  “I’m not responsible for what happened to your sister.”

  “She overdosed on your drugs, from your test, at your facility.” And, yeah, Riel is fishing. Some of this is a guess. But it feels pretty damn close to the truth. The party that last night was at some abandoned research facility. “Did you get her high so you could run tests? Or did you just hope she would kill herself by accident?”

  “What happened to Kelsey is a very good example of precisely what we need to protect you from—other Outliers. Has it not occurred to you that you’re more valuable if there are fewer of you? Because it’s definitely occurred to at least one of the other Outliers. The girl with the infinity tattoo? I believe you’ve spoken to her,” her grandfather says, and so goddamn pleased with himself. “We were taken in by her ourselves at first. Once we realized how skilled Lethe was, we sent her to take Ben Lang’s test to see if she could find out more. But she only cared how being an Outlier would benefit her. I will admit that it was my mistake to tell her about you and Kelsey. I was merely trying to establish a rapport with her. I can only guess she planned to use the two of you against me.” He shakes his head, feels genuinely disappointed. “Lethe claims all she did was leave Kelsey alone in a room with access to those drugs. Possible, but doubtful. I do think she intentionally killed another girl at the hospital, Teresa. Wylie being blamed was, I expect, her intent. To be honest, it’s an issue she was able to be in there in the first place undetected. Regardless, you see how dangerous Lethe is. She is proof enough of why you need us: to save you from yourselves.”

  “Go to hell,” Riel says, raising the gun again. “We don’t need you for anything.”

  Her grandfather presses his lips together. But he is still so calm, too calm. He knows something Riel doesn’t.

  “Pointing that gun like that is extremely dangerous, Gabrielle,” he says. “You don’t want to do something you’ll regret.”

  “Where is Wylie?”

  “Yes, Wylie is another excellent example. At such risk. There are genuinely unstable people in the world. People confuse their own desires with some higher power. One of those people is about to wipe out Wylie and Jasper, and Wylie’s entire family. Because he blame
s them for something that isn’t their fault. These are the people who you need to be protected from, Riel. And we can do that. We can keep you all safe.”

  Kendall was right: her grandfather is tying up loose ends. Wylie is not dead yet, though. Riel can feel her grandfather is still a little worried about Wylie causing him trouble. Which means that Riel can still save her, if she moves quickly.

  “Join me,” her grandfather says then, looking at Riel like she is some precious key to something. It makes her feel sick. “Join me and I’ll make sure you are safe.”

  “What?” Riel asks, recoiling. “I’m not doing shit with you. I’m going to shoot you.”

  “If you do that, who knows what will become of the Outliers? I want to be sure that the Outliers are protected and respected. I want to make it so that we can all peacefully coexist. That’s all I have ever wanted—systems in place that will work for everyone.”

  Riel doesn’t believe a word he is saying, of course. But she can’t shoot him without knowing first what he’s talking about.

  “What kinds of systems?” she asks, trying to keep the scorn from her voice.

  “ID cards,” her grandfather says. “That way everyone’s privacy can be protected: Outliers and non-Outliers. Nothing more complicated than a driver’s license.”

  “But let me guess, only the Outliers have the IDs?”

  “Come now, we’re not talking about some kind of branding. Honestly, the intake centers will be just like the DMV.”

  The warehouses. That was why Kendall brought Riel there: an intake center, almost completed. The next phase.

  “And what if the Outliers refuse?” Riel asks.

  Her grandfather tries to swallow back his irritation, but it stays stuck behind his teeth. “See, this is exactly why you need to join me, Riel. You can be the voice for the Outliers. Having you with me on the campaign trail—as family, no less—would make clear that my intentions are good. And I’d be happy to listen to any suggestion you might have. You could work for me on behalf of the Outliers.”

  The hairs on the back of Riel’s neck rise.

  “Over. My. Dead. Body.” Riel’s voice trembles with rage. She can do this. She will.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” he says. “Your boyfriend is in the car with Agent Klute.”

  “What?” Riel asks, glancing toward the window. “What do you mean, my boyfriend?”

  “Leo. Under the circumstances, I’m sure Klute will be bringing him inside any moment.” They wait a beat, staring at the door. Sure enough, it opens and Klute drags Leo inside, a gun already to his head.

  Riel is careful to keep the gun on her grandfather, but her hand has started to shake. “Leo, are you okay?” she calls over to him.

  “I’m okay,” Leo says, though he does not at all sound or feel like he is.

  “Now that we have the situation clarified, I will give you a chance to reconsider my offer,” her grandfather says. “Also, I will need those pictures.”

  “What pictures?” Riel asks.

  “Come now, Riel,” her grandfather says. “A bit late for games, isn’t it? The pictures you went to see Rosenfeld about.”

  Riel hesitates, but only for a second. When she looks over at Leo, she can feel him willing her to hand them over. And they still have her grandfather’s phone. They have other evidence. They can still make him pay for what happened to Kelsey, for what he plans to do with the Outliers.

  “Okay,” Riel says finally. Her eyes are still on Leo’s as she lowers the gun. “The pictures are in the car, under the mat.”

  “Good,” her grandfather says as Klute comes over and takes Riel’s gun. Her grandfather stands. “There’s been so much heartache already surrounding the Outliers, I’d hate for there to be more. The offer to join me on the campaign trail stands, Riel,” he says. “For now. You should reconsider.”

  And with that, her grandfather reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. Holds it in the air.

  “Ask your friend Brian. He’s a smart boy. He learned the benefits of cooperation a long time ago.”

  WYLIE

  AS WE CLIMB THE STEPS TO RACHEL’S DOOR, I CAN’T STOP THINKING OF JASPER. I am more worried about him with each passing minute.

  And hasn’t every bad thing that has happened to Jasper been traced right back to me? His mother was right: he would have been so much better off without me.

  “We should pick up the pace,” Gideon says, moving around me and heading up the last of Rachel’s steps.

  He has his laptop gripped under his arm so we can check to see if EndOfDays has responded to our “where are we supposed to hurry” question. Gideon and I have agreed that going wherever EndOfDays says would be stupid. It’s obviously a trap, which is why we’re hoping Elizabeth has figured out where EndOfDays is posting from so we might at least have the element of surprise.

  When Gideon rings Rachel’s door, it swings open almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” she asks, waving us inside as she scans the sidewalk behind us. It’s a relief not to have to talk her into being on high alert. She already is. Too alert, maybe. “Come in, come in.”

  I feel a lightning bolt of her feeling: there, gone.

  “Dr. Oduwole showed up at our house,” I say.

  “Really?” Rachel asks. But weirdly calm—no, weirdly, nothing. “What did she say?”

  “That our mom never came to see her. And my mom’s email said that she already had. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “You’re right. It definitely doesn’t make sense.” Rachel’s brow creases as she looks down, crosses her arms tightly. But still no flash, crackle, gone. Nothing. When she finally looks up, she shrugs. “Well, if your mom lied—if she misrepresented exactly where she was—you and I both know she must have had a good reason.”

  “Lied?” Gideon asks. And I am glad I’m not the only one who thinks that’s absurd.

  “We don’t think she lied. We think she’s in trouble,” I say, swamped by the terrible sensation of something hurtling toward me in the dark. Now I am the one who crosses my arms. “When was the last time you actually talked to her on the phone?” I realize now that I’ve been assuming there were live conversations between Rachel and our mom. But she never said that. “You actually heard her voice, right? I mean after I saw her in the detention facility.”

  I feel Rachel twitch. Nervous. Flash. Crackle. Gone. She hasn’t heard my mom’s voice, not for a while. Is that the awfulness coming at me from the dark? That Rachel screwed up? Her eyes are down again.

  “Your mom hasn’t wanted to talk on the phone. But your mom has been right to be careful. When she showed up the night of the accident, totally out of the blue—”

  “Not ‘totally’ out of the blue.” I cut her off sharply. Rachel being loose on details has already gotten us into trouble once. “You saw each other before that night.”

  Gideon steps forward with his laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “I’m just going to check something,” he says.

  “Yeah, sure,” Rachel says to him, then turns back to me. “What were you saying?”

  And suddenly there is an alarm going off in my head.

  Rachel lives nowhere near us. Why would she have been randomly at my mom’s old-lady yoga class all the way across town?

  “Hey,” Gideon calls to me. “Nothing new from our reply to that ‘hurry’ message, but there is a new one from Elizabeth.” He turns his computer toward me so I can read the message myself: That car is registered to Senator David Russo’s office.

  That explains why they wanted those pictures so badly: they connect Russo to the WSRF and all those dead girls.

  “What does that second one say?” I ask, pointing to another new message from Elizabeth that has just appeared above

  “Oh, that must be brand-new. I didn’t see it.”

  New post from EndOfDays just went up. This is where he is. Evan told me to tell you not to go.

  It’s followed by an address.

  Gideon looks up at me. �
��What do we do?”

  “We go,” I say, then turn back to Rachel. I focus hard on her, but it’s hard to muster the outrage I felt a minute earlier. I’m too focused now on my dad. “You ran into my mom before the accident in a yoga class in our neighborhood.”

  I wait for Rachel to say “no” or “what are you talking about?” Or to at least look confused. Instead her face stays frozen for an endless moment.

  Then Rachel smiles at me. Hatefully. And it’s like a door has snapped open and bitter air has blown through. When my eyes go wide, Rachel starts shaking her head, silently. And just like that all of her hate disappears. And I can’t feel anything.

  On and off, like a light switch. Just like Kelsey in the hospital.

  “What the hell is going on, Wylie?” Gideon whispers in my ear. He’s standing at my side now. “We should go, to the address. . . .”

  “You’re blocking,” I say to Rachel. “You’ve been blocking this whole time.”

  And then Rachel starts clapping. Loud. And slow.

  “That damn note. Your mom said she needed something from the house, so I brought her by.” She shakes her head. “That was a mistake, obviously.

  “And yes, blocking. We might never figure out how to turn somebody into an Outlier. But if we learn how to block, what difference does it make? And we’re nearly there.”

  Rachel is involved. But then, didn’t I always feel something bad about her? It was my mom showing up and telling me to trust her—Rachel saved her life.

  “Are my parents dead?” I ask. My voice is trembling, making my chest rattle.

  “I don’t think so. But then people like EndOfDays can be so unpredictable,” she says with put-on regret. “As an architect, all you can do is build the house: you can’t control how people live in it.”

  “An architect?” I ask quietly.