The Girl In Between series: Books 1-4

by Laekan Zea Kemp

  “Cool. Do I know her?”

  “No, she’s from Texas.”

  “Oh,” he said, nodding, “a cowgirl.”

  I thought of Bryn’s sculptures and paint-stained overalls. “Not quite.”

  “But if she’s from Texas, why did you have to go all the way to Germany?”

  We rounded the corner, the closest burger joint coming into view.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s kind of a long story.”

  He flashed me a smile. “Well, I’ve got all afternoon.”

  The restaurant was empty and Jimmy and I sank into a booth. I waited for the distraction of food while he waited for me to spill every detail about my trip to Germany to win back the girl I loved. I thought about starting from the concert cover but how much of Bryn’s illness could I really skip over? Or should I not mention it at all?

  He was staring at me now.

  “Well, um…” I was fumbling.

  “Spit it out, and if you want to skip past the sappy reunion go for it.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Hey. Just talk.”

  “Just talk?”

  He nodded, I took a deep breath, and that’s exactly what I did. I talked and talked and I told him everything. I told him about Bryn’s KLS, about the dreams, about almost drowning and waking up to her face. I told him about Vogle and Dr. Banz and Eve. I told him about Michael and the other Rogues and how we could incinerate evil demons and how I was stronger than the others and how Bryn was too and we were like this super-human power couple. When Jimmy started smiling and hanging his head back I also threw in something about zombies and parallel universes, oh and tacos.

  “Man, fuck you, dude!” Jimmy threw a crumpled napkin at me. “If you didn’t want to tell me you could have just said so.”

  “Sorry.” I was relieved he hadn’t believed a word I’d just said. “You know how it is. Some things are just kind of private.”

  Jimmy’s face paled, a spontaneous sweat on his upper lip.

  “What’s wrong?” I looked back and there was Carlisle.

  “Someone forget to invite me to lunch?” Carlisle fell into Jimmy’s shoulder, pushing his way into the booth just as the waitress dropped our food and left.

  I hadn’t seen Carlisle since the day he’d showed up in my garage, taunting me with old sins as I sat trapped in that wheelchair. I’d never felt so angry and I’d never felt so helpless. If I could have stood on my own two feet I would have ripped his fucking head off.

  I leaned across the table. “Get the hell away from me.”

  “You know, if you’re not careful, one day I’m going to stop handing out these olive branches and—”

  “And what?” I glared at him. “Start setting them on fire?”

  He smirked. “Touché.”

  The day Carlisle confronted me he’d started off with some bullshit about still wanting to be friends. After I’d made it clear I wasn’t interested he’d thrown in some warning about the cops being on to us for the fire at the quarry. I knew it was really a threat. I could see it in his eyes now that he wanted nothing more than to reveal my darkest secret and destroy my life all over again. The only problem was that the secret belonged to both of us and if I went down he was going down with me.

  “Step off, Carlisle.” It was Jimmy this time.

  Something tugged at Carlisle’s mouth. Surprise. He squeezed Jimmy’s shoulder until he winced. “You know, I think I just might.” He stood, glaring. “But don’t forget what we talked about. You don’t want to have anything to do with me, then you better not fucking come crying when they find out it was you.”

  “And you,” I spat back.

  He sneered, stealing a fry before heading for the door.

  I picked at my burger, the bun growing soggy like every other meal I’d had in the past week.

  “So, um, what was that about?” Jimmy asked.

  I shrugged, shoving a fry in my mouth. I didn’t like remembering that night at the quarry, those flames swelling behind me as I ran back to the car. But there was a part of me that felt like I could trust Jimmy; like maybe I always could have, I just hadn’t realized it until now.

  “One night, Carlisle and I…we did something pretty fucked up.” I sighed, deciding not to go into all the details. “According to Carlisle, someone spotted us and now we could be in some deep shit.”

  “And if he’s right?”

  I tossed the fry I was holding back onto my plate, my mouth dry. “Then we could go to jail.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah…”

  We scarfed down the rest of our burgers, probably less out of hunger and more due to the uncomfortable silence. I didn’t know what else to say and apparently neither did Jimmy. After we were finished and had stepped outside, Jimmy lit a cigarette. He tapped the box, offering me one.

  “No, thanks. Since when do you smoke?” I asked.

  “Since I got sober,” he huffed. “Guess you had no choice, right?”

  “Yeah, a coma’s one hell of a detox.”

  The night of the crash I’d been high and the night before I’d been drunk in my garage with Cassie. I tried to remember the rest of that week but it was all one big blur, the only brief moment of clarity when I was standing over my mother’s body in the bathtub. But that was just shock. I’m sure I’d been drinking that day or God knows what else.

  But since waking up that itch had been dulled—the one that would start in my veins, scraping at my insides like some caged animal until I fed it with booze and weed and it finally fell asleep. I knew it was still there, smoking in the back of my mind like an abandoned fire, coaxing me when I’d been struggling in workouts with my physical therapist, Craig, or when I’d been staring down at my feet, trying to force them to move, or when I’d been thinking about Bryn. Three months ago. Today.

  I’d found her just to lose her again and 700 miles away, something to numb the pain didn’t sound so bad.

  Jimmy ashed his cigarette, tucked it back in his mouth. “So tonight…”

  “What about it?”

  “There’s sort of this party. Want to check it out?”

  My gut twisted, a barrage of tastes and smells and the sensation of my arms hugging a toilet hitting me all at once. I brushed it off. “Where at?”

  “Parker’s place.”

  Parker was a rich kid whose father worked at the same law firm as my dad.

  “I thought you said you were sober.”

  “I am.” Jimmy shrugged. “I just go for the chicks.”

  I laughed. “And how’s that working out for you?”

  He ashed his cigarette again. “I’ll let you know. So, you coming?”

  I twisted the inseams of my jean pockets, thinking. I hadn’t been to a party in almost a year and I wondered what people would think when they saw me. I wondered if I could handle it, if I even wanted to.

  “I’d have to sneak out,” I said. “You know the drill.”

  He nodded. “Meet you outside at eleven?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I ate dinner alone and it occurred to me that my dad was probably still at the office, avoiding me as much as I was avoiding him. I watched for Jimmy out the window and felt this strange pull as if time was moving backwards. As if nothing had changed at all.

  My cell phone buzzed and I plucked it from my coat pocket. Vogle. I’d been calling him and Felix for the past couple of days, but according to Felix—the only one of the two who’d actually answered—there’d been no news on Bryn’s progress.

  “Vogle? What’s wrong?” It was instinct or maybe desperation but I knew something had happened.

  “Roman, how are you doing?”

  “Seriously?” I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “You haven’t called me back in almost two days. You can’t just disappear like that. I need to be able to reach you.”

  “I’ve been working closely with Dr. Sabine and we’ve just been a little preoccupied.”

  “W
ith what? Has Bryn made any progress?”

  He exhaled. “That’s what I was calling about. Roman, I don’t want you to worry. I want you to understand that everything is under control and—”

  “Just tell me.”

  “Bryn,” he started, “she’s been exhibiting some strange behavior lately.”

  “What do you mean by strange?”

  “Since arriving at the hospital there have been a few occasions where Bryn was found wandering out into the hall.”

  I scratched at my scalp. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Well, recently she’s been more…adamant about trying to leave. She’s left her room almost every night for the past week.”

  “Is she okay?” I asked.

  I imagined Bryn frightened and delirious as she tried to escape whatever nightmare she was living in.

  “Luckily someone was always nearby; close enough to get her back to her room safely. But they’re moving her to another hospital tomorrow.”

  “The mental hospital,” I clarified.

  “Yes. Security is of the utmost importance there. Dr. Sabine and I think it will help. Before she or…anyone else is seriously injured.”

  “She’s lashing out?”

  “I’m afraid so,” he said, despondent; probably thinking of how Eve’s aggression had led her to attack one of the nurses. Or how that was the last thing she’d done before she fell asleep and never woke up.

  “What about Dr. Banz’s notes?” I asked. “What about experimenting with her treatment?”

  “We know now that Dr. Banz was never focused on finding a cure for her, and because we still haven’t been able to decipher what exactly he injected her with, all of his notes pertaining to experimental treatments must be considered dangerous.”

  I slumped against the wall, deflated. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. We know it’s not a disease. All along that prick knew it too.”

  “It…wasn’t,” Vogle said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that whether the shadows have caused her psychosis or Dr. Banz’s serum, her symptoms are worsening. Since the shadows haven’t been present for quite some time we have to consider that it’s the latter. Dr. Sabine’s ordered another MRI and we’ve set up Dr. Banz’s equipment in Bryn’s room to monitor her while she sleeps. I’m hoping her brain scans will give us some indication as to whether or not she might be hallucinating or experiencing something we’re not aware of.”

  “And then?”

  “And then we treat it.”

  I froze. “Treat it as in an illness. As in you think Bryn is really sick.”

  “I’m afraid so…but…” He was scrambling to salvage the conversation. “Roman, if that is the case and Bryn really is sick, then finding a way to bring her out of this might actually be possible after all. Illnesses can be treated.”

  Vogle knew Bryn wasn’t sick and even if her symptoms resembled some kind of psychosis we both knew the shadows were really responsible.

  “Please don’t bullshit me,” I said.

  “Roman, after being with Bryn this past week, I honestly don’t believe that the psychosis she’s experiencing is the same as what Eve experienced, especially since the shadows haven’t returned.”

  I sunk down next to the window, the reflection of the streetlights stretching in sparks across the glass.

  “Roman, are you there?”

  I swallowed, my throat dry. “I’m here.”

  Vogle sighed, static crackling. “I know this is a lot to take, Roman, and I know it must be difficult not being able to do anything for her. But if my theory proves correct it could mean…”

  “What? That we could bring her back?” There wasn’t an ounce of hope in my voice.

  “Not like she was,” Vogle said. “We have to prepare for everything.”

  “The worst,” I corrected him. “You mean we have to prepare for the worst.”

  13

  Bryn

  “Where are you taking me?” I tried to lift my head, my brain telling me to fight while my body told me to fall. As long as they were dragging me forward I couldn’t do either. “Where am I? Where are we going?”

  The man on my left grunted. “Looks like we’ve got a live one.”

  They ignored my questions and the stone walls on either side of us only continued, cold spots clinging to the corridor like phantoms. I searched for windows or other doorways but there were none. The space finally opened up, revealing wide seams in the ceiling where water dripped through. I looked back at the puddles trailing behind us and wondered if we were underground.

  “Please, tell me something,” I begged.

  “Jesus, I’m sick of this babysitting shit,” the man on my left added.

  “It’s not much longer,” the guard on the right said.

  “Feels like a fucking eternity down here.”

  “That’s the point.”

  I gripped their forearms, trying to get their attention. “Please, just tell me where I am.”

  They both stopped short, the one on the left heaving me against the wall. Both men arrowed in and I examined their eyes, trying to see the shadow inside them. There was nothing but anger, a hint of sadness.

  “Looks like this one didn’t get enough pain and suffering the first time around. What do you say?” The guard on the left pressed a finger to my temple. “Should we finish her?”

  “We’d only be doing you a favor,” the other said. “Trust me, where you’re going, consciousness is not your friend.”

  I decided to press my luck one more time. “Where am I going?”

  The one on the left smirked. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On the highest bidder.”

  His finger ignited an instant pounding inside my skull, a sound like a train whistle blaring from every cavern inside me. I crumpled, clutching my ears, but the moment he let go of me it stopped.

  He crouched until we were at eye level. “You gonna keep your mouth shut?”

  I only nodded as both men dragged me forward. We reached a row of doors, voices trapped and muffled on the other side—some high and frantic, some long and low and sad. Someone yelled and then a fierce quiet swept across the entire corridor.

  I stopped, instantly forgetting my promise to keep my mouth shut. “What is this?”

  The guard on the left grunted, “Hell.”

  They pulled open one of the doors, people scattering and finding the walls like roaches under headlights. I was pushed inside, my hands slamming against the floor as the door fell closed behind me. I heard the tumble of the lock, the guards’ footsteps receding, but I couldn’t force myself to look up.

  The only sound was the soft patter of blood as it dripped from my nose onto the concrete floor. My palms were slick with it too and I slipped, trembling as I wondered who was going to try to break me next. There were whispers all around me. Girl. Don’t. You’ll scare her. A hand brushed my shoulder and I jumped.

  “Sorry.” I finally turned at the voice, small and thin and sounding so much like Sam. This girl was Asian, a bit older than Sam, her black hair in a knot. “Where did you come from?”

  The room shrunk, other bodies pressing in, waiting for an answer. I wasn’t sure how much I should share or who exactly I should trust, so instead of answering her question, I asked the same one I’d asked the guards.

  “Where am I?”

  The girl furrowed her brow, defeated, and that’s when I noticed her bloodstained clothes, some of the marks already turning grey. Maybe time existed here in a way it hadn’t in the nightmare. Or maybe this was all a nightmare too.

  “Where am I?” I repeated, more forceful this time.

  “We don’t know.” The girl knelt in front of me, approaching as if I were a stray animal ready to strike. She held out her hand, lowered her voice. “I’m Kira.”

  I sat up, cautiously taking in the room and the faces around me for the first time. There was nothing but four concrete walls, the cei
ling so low I could probably graze it with my fingers. It was dimly lit, the glow putrid like the inside of an insect, though there was no obvious source of light. The faces around me were just as despondent as Kira’s, some old, some young, all afraid.

  I turned back to the girl. “I’m Bryn.” I stood and the group shifted back, just as wary of me as I was of them. “What do you know about this place or about why we’re here?”

  “It’s cold as fuck.” A guy in a beanie shivered against the wall. “We know that much.”

  “And do you all…dream?” I asked.

  Kira nodded. “We seem to all have that in common.”

  “What’s your poison?” the guy in the beanie asked.

  “I’m sorry…?” I said, confused.

  “You know, can you see dead people? Do you dream winning lottery numbers? Can you manipulate people’s emotions? See me, I’m Victor the Ventriloquist, which basically means I can make people do whatever the hell I want.”

  “Wait, how does that even work?”

  He gave a sly smile. “Manipulation. I sneak into their dreams, convince them to quit their job or to go rob a bank and then they do it. It can take a little goading on my part; sometimes I have to creep into their sleep for more than just a few nights, but the truth is it’s pretty easy to get people to do some pretty awful shit.”

  “What you do sounds pretty awful too,” I said.

  He just laughed. “No, what’s awful is not even knowing how to control it. Not knowing what you can do or who you are. You don’t,” he circled me, “do you?”

  I looked away.

  “Figures, what are you, like, sixteen?”

  “Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in…” I tried to wrangle the fog into actual days, weeks, months. Maybe even years. How long had I been away? “Does anyone know what day it is?”

  Everyone was quiet, the reference to time and to the fact that they were losing it, striking panic in their faces.

  “If you’d reached your eighteenth birthday you’d know it,” Victor said. “Be glad you haven’t yet. We heard them talking about separating us soon and removing everyone over eighteen from the cells.”