Infusion

by Alyssa Thiessen

  “Do you have any idea what you did to your mother?” His voice was even, controlled, but his hands were curled, his eyes narrowed to slits.

  I touched my mother’s shoulder, wishing I could communicate my own feelings to her through touch, the way I read hers. I’m sorry for everything.

  “Where. Were. You?” Each word was punctuated by a pause. He was barely holding it together.

  I wondered if seeing me alive and generally unhurt signified something different to him than it did for Mom. For her, it meant an answer to prayer. To Mikey, it probably proved that I hadn’t been punished for my rebellion.

  “I asked you a question!” His voice rose suddenly, and Mom and I both jumped.

  “I’m sorry.” I’d thought an excuse would just come to me. It turned out I wasn’t a good liar.

  “I didn’t ask if—”

  “Could you call Jack?” Mom’s voice was smooth now, although still thick with tears, as she quickly interrupted him with her calm request. Dad. “I’m sure he’d like to know Rachel is okay.” When he didn’t move, she added, “Please. I’d like to talk to her alone.” She rarely challenged Mikey over anything.

  When he moved to comply, I realized it must have been a rough couple of days around here if he were willing to do what she asked.

  She touched my cheek. “I’m furious at you.”

  She didn’t sound angry at all. Her thoughts were swimming. On some level, she was upset with me. I’d disappeared from my room after a fight with her husband, and she’d been imagining the worst and blaming him. But most prominent in her mind was relief, that I was back and unhurt, and an overwhelming sense of love.

  She pulled her hand back and gestured to the kitchen. “We’re going to talk.”

  As she turned to lead the way, I shoved my backpack into the corner by the front door, then followed her from the hallway. In the kitchen, I sat down at the table. I could hear Mikey on the phone in the living room.

  “Did someone hurt you?” my mother asked softly, sitting down at the table across from me. She was in control of her voice, but tears streamed down her cheeks. I shook my head. She thought I’d disappeared over the argument with Mikey. I could use that.

  “I just needed to blow off steam.” I tried to sound tough and sensitive at the same time. “Mikey was being—Mikey.”

  She nodded as if she understood my vague statement.

  I was pretty sure she did. “I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”

  “So you just left?” Her voice shook slightly. “Do you realize what could have happened to you?”

  Mikey came back in, leaning on the counter with his arms crossed. “Of course not,” he answered for me. “Kid’s so spoiled, she has no concept of consequences for actions.”

  I suddenly envisioned the creatures again, felt claws buried in my leg and shoulders, teeth imbedded in my arm. I wondered what my stepfather would think about my most recent lesson in consequences.

  “I didn’t mean to stay away so long,” I offered weakly.

  He was already waving my words away. “And where, exactly, were you all this time? We called everybody.”

  Wonderful. If people hadn’t thought I was falling off the deep end already, they did now.

  “Lisa said you’ve been spending a lot of time with a strange boy lately.” My mother sniffed and wiped her arm on her sleeve. “Tyler, she said? The police said they’d look into it.”

  “Tyler’s fine,” I jumped in, quickly. “He had nothing to do with any of this. He was worried when he didn’t hear from me, too.”

  “Lisa said she thought he was dangerous.”

  “He’s not. He didn’t have anything to do with me taking off. And he’s just a friend anyway.”

  “Then, where were you?” Mikey’s voice chimed in from behind her and, when I shifted my gaze, he lifted his chin and glared at me. “I want you to tell me, right now, who you were with.” His voice was rising. “And what you’ve been doing for the last two days.”

  “What does it matter? I’m back now.”

  He stepped toward me. Mom shifted in her chair.

  “I want an answer.”

  The front doorknob turned, the door opened, and my father walked in.

  My relief was short lived.

  “Where were you?” he asked.

  Everyone was so curious as to where I had been. Not so much as to why I’d left, which was what I’d been counting on—to shift that blame.

  “I was at a friend’s house,” I said, hedging but trying to be more direct.

  “What friend’s house? Who would keep you from your parents, without so much as a call?”

  I flushed. There was no excuse for not calling them earlier. It was sheer cowardice. “I’m sorry. I should have called. I just couldn’t deal.”

  “Deal with what?” My mom’s voice rose slightly. I couldn’t blame her for wanting a reason. She wanted to give them something to prove I wasn’t selfish and childish. Even if I’d wanted to tell them, I couldn’t. She wouldn’t believe me—they couldn’t see the dimensional wall open. And she wouldn’t understand what was happening if I disappeared inside it. Instead, I settled on apologizing again.

  “Sorry isn’t good enough,” my dad shouted at the same time as Mikey said, “I don’t care if you’re sorry.”

  “Stop yelling,” my mom interjected loudly.

  “You don’t get a say!” Dad shouted her down. “Who are you to tell me how to parent? She was missing for over two days. You obviously can’t hold it together.”

  “And you can? Remember when you left?” she shot back. This was devolving into recriminations and guilt. It was enough.

  “Listen,” I broke in.

  “No, you listen,” Mickey said. “You’re not going anywhere, talking to anyone—all privileges, gone. No friends, no cell.”

  “Wait ...” I looked at my parents.

  They’d quieted at Mikey’s words. They were ... nodding. Their expressions were immovable, including my mom’s. They agreed with him.

  “I’m going through stuff ...” I tried one last tactic. “Since Jared ...”

  My mom’s eyes softened, but it didn’t change their resolve.

  “What we’re all really wondering,” my dad said slowly, “is what you were doing in that field to begin with.” Nobody was startled by his question, or surprised. They looked like they were genuinely waiting for an answer. “That John Doe who died there—no name, no identity, no answers about why he was in that field. The three of you, with a loaded weapon. Most kids around here don’t get shot. And you’ve been asking us to believe you’ve conveniently forgotten?”

  “The stars—we were watching a meteor shower—”

  “I’ve heard that story already.” He cut me off abruptly, waving my words away. “But tell me why your best friend—for years—shot you point-blank.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Nobody’s buying that. Not your mother or your stepdad, not me or Evelyn.”

  I glanced at my mom. Her eyes were wet, but she agreed with him.

  “I think whatever’s going on started long before your friend’s death. And I want some answers.” Dad’s hands rested on his hips.

  What kind of answers could I possibly give them? I stared at my hands on the table. “I don’t have answers.”

  “It’s that boy,” my mom said, “the one who sent you those text messages.”

  “You went through my phone! That’s private.”

  “You lost your right to privacy when you disappeared.” Mikey cut into our conversation. Something else they all agreed on. “Now, you will tell us where you were.”

  I laced my fingers together, pursing my lips. They’d never know how much I wished that were possible.

  “You’re grounded,” my father said, breaking the impasse, “until further notice.”

  Then, unexpectedly, he came around the table and pulled me quickly into his arms, my face pressed against his shoulder. I got a rush of images from him.
Peering through the car window, scanning the teen hangouts first, then the ditches and alleyways. Phoning my classmates, despite the fact that my mother told him she’d called them already. Sitting by the window staring out at the dark, gripping the cordless phone. Leaning into Evelyn’s shoulder, sobs violently wracking his body. I’d never seen my father cry, and now I felt it. It was unbearable.

  I whispered, “I’m sorry, Dad.” I walked quickly out of the kitchen, grabbed my backpack from where it lay in the hall, and took the stairs two at a time, closing the door to my room behind me.

  My room appeared to have been ransacked. They’d been looking for clues, trying to find me. I was glad I’d gotten rid of the clothes from my first excursion with Tyler. There was no way I’d have been able to explain their ripped and bloodied state or why they had been balled up in my closet. I stepped past the chaos to look out my window into the dark outside. The glass was cool against my fingers, and I rested my forehead against it. As I peered out onto the street, I could make out the shadow on the street, just at the end of our driveway with his bike. I waved slightly to Tyler, letting him know I was okay. He raised his palm, then walked his bike down the street. I watched him disappear. His engine sprung to life from somewhere in the distance. It could’ve belonged to anyone.

  I undressed slowly, trying to shut out the raised voices below. I suspected they would talk long into the night, strategizing what to do about me. I lay down. Tomorrow, I’d go back again to the other earth. If something happened to me there, if I didn’t make it, no amount of searching would help them find me. I wasn’t looking forward to dying, I thought as sleep claimed me, but sometimes, we just don’t have a choice.

  When I opened my eyes, it was black. I wasn’t in my bed anymore. Cool pavement chilled my bare feet as I stood still, trying to get my bearings. I held my hands out in front of me, turning my palms over in the dark. Nothing. There was a rustling stir of people moving around me and muted snatches of mundane conversations, but nothing was visible. I called out. No reply. As though I weren’t really there.

  I stretched one foot out in front of the other and groped through the dark, feeling for something—anything—with my fingers. I looked toward the sky, searching for starlight or the pale glimmer from the moon.

  Gradually, I became aware of a faint hum from somewhere behind me. I turned and made out the shadow of a man, lit by a distant glow. He stood immobile, watching me.

  “Hello?” My voice was hollow. I stepped cautiously toward the man.

  He took a step back, slightly turning his face. I stepped closer, squinting. His head tilted away from me, but I caught the shimmer of his eyes as he watched me. He was familiar somehow, featureless as he was. I took another step forward. He shifted slightly but didn’t move away. I was a foot from him now, and I slowly raised my hand toward him, carefully so as not to startle him.

  As soon as I touched his skin, he laid his cheek against my palm, turning to face me. With a jolt, I realized Jared was looking back at me.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel.” His voice was soft and infinitely sad. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know,” I whispered, my voice finally working again. “You tried to save me.”

  “Before that, though. I never meant to hurt you before. When I chose.”

  “Chose what?” I ran my thumb along his cheekbone, his cheek cradled in my palm.

  “Chose them.” He said it as if I should know what he was talking about, who he was talking about. “I don’t know why I did it.”

  “Did what? Jared? ”

  “I made the wrong choice. I know that now. You’ll never forgive me, but I’m sorry anyway. How was I to know you’d be the one?”

  From the half-information he gave me, I sifted out the most important piece. “What did you choose?” I asked slowly.

  “I chose the wrong side.” It was almost a sigh. “I never thought we’d be enemies, though. I never thought it would hurt you.

  He chose the wrong side? It meant—

  “It meant he was working with the creatures,” Tyler said from the darkness, shattering the illusion of peace and the hope I had of a private goodbye. Sarah and Dee stood beside him.

  “Not the creatures, exactly.” Jared wasn’t surprised to see them there, standing off to the side. “I never saw the creatures. I was working with others, people who could jump worlds—and who hated humanity as much as I did.” The way he said humanity spoke volumes about his own motivation. He spat the word out like it had a bad taste. “At least, I thought I did. Our whole species, except for you. My parents were cold, you know—mean. Never violent,” he said louder, as if directly to Tyler. He looked back at me again. “But cruel with words and with their affections. They thought I was a failure. Nobody on the outside saw it.”

  I hadn’t. And I’d been his best friend.

  “You helped build the bridge,” I said. It wasn’t a question now.

  He nodded, once. “I was also hunting the one, the one Elliot had chosen to lead others against us, who would destroy the bridge and ruin everything. I was supposed to find him and eliminate the threat.”

  But it hadn’t been a him. “Me.” Another statement.

  I could feel the others’ eyes on me, as I accepted my position out loud.

  “You.” Jared straightened, pulling away from my touch. “I only found out the night Elliot came for you and, when I realized it, it was too late. He had been watching Elliot. He would come for you.”

  “Who would come?”

  “The other one assigned to finding you—another like me. We worked on the bridge together. He was more powerful, though. More useful to them. Could actually hear their whispers. Follow their instructions. And could—shift back and forth between dimensions. Elliot taught him, before he turned.”

  “Who did, Jared? Who is it?”

  He looked away from me, into the shadowed darkness. “Him.”

  I tried to follow his gaze, and suddenly I was in the back of a small, brightly lit room. I blinked rapidly, adjusting to the sudden light. Tyler, Sarah, and Dee stood beside me. At the other end of the room, with his back to us, a small figure leaned over a machine. He worked deftly, focused on his task. I stepped toward him. The floor creaked, and he looked up at me. He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the light, as he flipped a final switch.

  Before I could take a breath, the room flashed white, and then dark red dripped down the ceiling and across the floor. The walls of our dimension disintegrated, and we were in a field, with a long, black highway and a small gas station in the distance.

  I knew where we were. I’d found the bridge. But I was too late. My world continued to crumble and, in the building where I’d stood, there was nothing but the wasteland of their world. The sky filled with an army of creatures. Droves of people flooded the streets, shrieking and running blindly, falling prostate on the ground. The creatures leapt on the exposed people, tearing at their flesh with their claws and their teeth. Cries filled the air around me. Our world belonged to them.

  I awoke with a start, sweating and screaming.

  Clamping my hand over my mouth, I glanced at the door.

  They weren’t coming.

  Nobody was coming.

  Light crept in from the window; it was dawn.

  I’d seen their bridge.

  But that wasn’t what had struck me most.

  What struck me most was that, right before we failed, I looked into the very black, very triumphant, very familiar eyes of Jonathan.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was just a dream.

  I repeated the reassurance to myself, over and over, as I threw off my comforter and stood, pressing the balls of my feet into the carpet. Just a dream, just a dream. The stress of the conflict with my parents, coupled with the fact that I’d just remembered what happened in the field, must have put my subconscious on overload. And Jonathan hadn’t been at the meeting so, of course, my overactive imagination would place him as the villain in my dream
. But it had felt frighteningly real. And where had Jonathan been?

  I reached for my phone before I remembered it had been confiscated. I hadn’t memorized anyone’s number. I couldn’t call Tyler or, probably more importantly, Jonathan.

  If it were true, Jared had been working against us. And Jonathan had fooled everyone. I wondered if he’d fooled Elliot, too, or if he’d been genuine at first. I couldn’t see anyone pulling anything over on Elliot. I thought about how he’d only revealed his plan for me to Tyler, keeping the others in the dark for as long as possible.

  Did he suspect Jonathan already? Did he know he was turning?

  The others would know what to do. They’d be waiting for me in under an hour. I had just enough time. The first time I’d died, I’d looked awful. I put on my lipstick and mascara, smoothed my hair with the flat-iron, and pulled on a short sleeved, slightly fitted t-shirt and comfortable jeans—something I could move in.

  I glanced in the mirror. Better. At the last minute, before leaving my room, I sighed, snatched an elastic off my dresser and pulled my hair back into a high ponytail. If I were going to be fighting for the fate of the world, I shouldn’t do it with my hair in my face. I took my weapon—small, metallic, smooth—out of my backpack, shoved it into my pocket, and grabbed the pack with the orb heavy inside it.

  I jogged down the stairs. Mikey was heading out the door, and my mom stood beside him, talking with him in hushed tones. They glanced up as they noticed me, and she whispered something else to him, kissing him on the mouth lightly. I averted my eyes, and the door closed behind him. He wasn’t speaking to me this morning. I was relieved.

  “Can I make you eggs?” My mom’s voice was soft, bordering on apologetic, as she came into the kitchen. I was anxious to get to school, but I could tell, from the tone of her voice, that this was a test—to make sure we were okay.

  “I’d love some, Mom, but I need to get to school early, to talk to my teachers about work I’ve missed.” It felt like forever since I’d actually done anything in school. I almost believed myself.

  She hesitated, her hand on the fridge. “Are you sure? I think we’d have time.”