by Sue Perry
Lilah said, "I hate to lose our momentum. Let's just poke our heads in at the back of the meeting room and if it still doesn't feel right to you, we'll leave."
That was too reasonable a position to merit debate. The train picked up speed and made up time, getting us to Flushing just before the meeting started. I dropped my fretting and worked on my resenting.
As we walked up the block to the meeting house, practicing our negative attitudes, Lilah gasped. "Oh my—I –– that's Sam!" And there he was, outside the meeting house.
Why would he be at this newcomer meeting? I wasn't expecting him, I hadn't prepared my sociopath thought spiel to accommodate him, and I didn't like surprises where Lobotomists were concerned. Now I was certain we should leave—but now there was no chance of diverting Lilah. As soon as she saw Sam, she doubled her pace and between phrases of her hate mantra she muttered, oh Sam I found you.
"Remember, you want to join him not save him," I warned her.
"I know. I've got this." Her heels tapped the pavement like the metronome in a military marching band.
"We're still just poking our heads in at the back of the room," I reminded her. Sam had entered the building and she crossed the street to follow him. Now we were too close to continue a conversation in our actual personalities.
The door into the building had been open yesterday but was closed today, and when it clicked shut behind us I jumped. Easy, Nica. I tested the door handle. Unlocked. I trailed Lilah up the stairs. With each step, I squeezed then released the muscles in my arms and shoulders, but my tension remained.
The room was packed today. Lilah was so fixed on finding Sam that I had to guide her to an open spot along the back wall. Based on body language, almost all the attendees seemed to be newbies. That was good for us. Even better, I didn't see the handler who had watched us yesterday. I squeezed–released my muscles again and this time lost a bit of tension.
Suddenly Sam was in front of us, with three other Lobotomists looking over his shoulders, smirking. He grabbed Lilah's arms and shook her. "I don't want you here. Get your spoiled, selfish ass out of here." He wasn't convincing, though. He struggled to be mean to Lilah. I felt a glimmer of hope for him.
Lilah shook herself free of his grip and grabbed his arms instead. "Sam. I'm not horning in, if you want this for yourself I respect that. But let us talk to you first."
At us he noticed me. He seemed to remember me. "You. You brought her here." He looked scared, and I wanted to believe it was because he recalled the way the allies trounced his group of Lobotomist bullies at Woodlawn Cemetery. But then he added, "Get away. Please." The words were trivial. But the cold pale way he whispered, that spoke volumes. You brought her here. That whisper still haunts me.
A handler tapped the microphone on the front dais. "Places please." Sam disappeared in whirlpools of people shifting positions. I tried to steer Lilah toward the door but she wouldn't steer. I hissed into her ear, "Your presence is causing problems for Sam. Let's wait for him outside." That made her willing to leave, but the crowd was too thick for us to get to the door.
The handler continued, "I bring exciting news! The wait is over and our managers are here to meet each and every one of you!"
First reaction: oh, yes, in spite of everything I'm glad we're here today!
The cluster of people at the front had been surrounding the managers. Now the cluster dispersed and the managers stepped to the dais. Second reaction: oh, no, this can't be happening! I knew those roadkill dreads; I'd tried but failed to forget that bald scalp with all those scabs. Mathead and Scabman were here. Those low–rent cops were the Lobotomist managers, the warriors whose mind–controlled troops could decide battles in Maelstrom's favor? Mathead and Scabman? Kidding me?
On the one hand, discovering they were the managers was a relief, because they had always seemed threatening but stoopid. On the other hand, a deeper wiser part of my brain howled advice in my inner ear. I yanked Lilah's sleeve and repeated the advice. "Get out of here. Now."
She saw my expression and pushed toward the door. Too late.
Sam and other seasoned Lobotomists now blocked the exits, standing like bouncers expecting a rumble. Behind them, the missing handler—the one who had stared at us yesterday—locked the doors and pocketed the key. No one would leave through those doors.
Fortunately, we wouldn't need doors to escape. I grabbed Lilah's hand to Travel us to a new Frame, but the handler with the key shoved between us, breaking my grip on Lilah's hand. Sam pushed in front of the handler, said, "Allow me," took our arms, and propelled us up the aisle toward the front.
The handler at the dais said, "We'll start with a demonstration of what we do with spies."
Mathead leaned into the mike and smiled, her teeth yellower and sharper than I remembered. "Nica, come on up. Introduce us to your friend."
Scabman piped up, "We won't get another chance to meet her!"
As Sam dragged us frontward, other hands clutched my arms and held me in that room. To get out of Frame, I would need to bring them all with me. Maybe my adrenaline surge would let me take two or three people with me today, in much the way that people lift cars off of children. But I had five beings holding me—and I wasn't touching Lilah. No way would I leave without Lilah. Only Sam held Lilah, but she was way over there on his other side.
The newbies rumbled with anger at the mention of spies, but then grew quiet as the menace of the managers filled the room.
Scabman's voice was oilier than his skin. "Sam, we understand that one is your twin sister."
Sam jerked our arms. "I had no control over my birth or my sister." His hand shook where it gripped me.
Mathead jeered and prompted, "What have you got against your sister, Sam?"
Sam spieled about his arrogant egocentric twin. It was typical Lobotomist rant, polished by frequent repetition. Lilah gasped and sobbed as though Sam's words cut her to the soul. I'd worry about that later. I focused on the hands that held me.
After a few steps, it seemed like we were frozen in place while Mathead and Scabman slid closer to us. Meanwhile, Mathead licked her lips, which made her pointy teeth shine.
Sam got really worked up. He shook our arms as he ranted, wildly enough to cause whiplash. Each shake briefly broke the grips of some hands on me. He concluded, "She's spent her whole life admiring herself and ignoring me."
Lilah kept her voice cool. "Sam, don't you see that –"
"Shut your stupid trap," Sam sneered, and shook Lilah extra hard. She stumbled then limped—she must have snapped a heel.
Mathead applauded. "At last she's doing something for you, Sam. Now that she's here, you can prove your loyalty! By the way, which one do you want to off first?"
Sam looked from Lilah to me. "Could I do them together? Stop moaning, you stupid slut. Here's a secret you can take with you to your grave." He said this with such venom, the newbies cheered.
During the cheer, he dragged Lilah so her ear shoved against his mouth; he said something only she could hear.
Whatever he said got her sobbing and she reached to touch his face. "No, Sam, stay together!"
He called his twin terrible names and he shoved her, hard. Lilah stumbled into me, dislodging two of those who gripped me, then landed hard on her tailbone. Sam lunged over her, to shove and pull at the remaining Lobotomists who held me.
"What the hell!" one of them shouted.
I understood. Sam was buying me half a second of freedom to get us out of there. Thanks to Sam, my arms were mostly free. I kicked somebody's balls and for an instant, no one clutched me. I grabbed Lilah and I was already changing Frames before she was standing again. Sam blocked the others from grabbing me anew.
Mathead was slobbering, "Stop him! Hold them! Kill him! After them!"
"Run! Lilaaahhhh!" Sam's death wail was the last thing we heard.
45. WE WEREN'T IN BEDLAM
Every couple of steps I took us to a different Frame. The more Frames and the shorter the
time in each, the harder it would be for them to follow. I tried to get us outside but the building had different dimensions in each Frame and I couldn't find an exit. It didn't help that I had to drag Lilah, who seemed to be in shock, with great heaving breaths that all sounded like "Sam."
With my latest Frame change, we were stuck in a deadend room with no exits. I'd been in a room like that once before. The only way we could get out would be to position ourselves exactly where we had arrived, and from there return to the previous Frame. Dragging Lilah made it impossible to move with the needed precision. I slapped my hand over her mouth. "Lilah! Help me if you want to live!"
"Is Sammy dead now?" She spoke like a toddler.
"Yes and we will be too if I don't get us out of here. Sam died to save you. Don't waste that!"
Lilah looked me in the eye, unblinking, then reached down to yank off her shoes; I'd forgotten about the broken heel. "You're right, Nica. I'm with you." And after that she was. I got us out of the deadend room and she helped me figure out how to exit the building. I showed her the kind of zigzag path that helped mask our trail, and after that she chose our path so that I could concentrate on the Frame shifts.
Lilah let nothing distract her, including her woozy retching, which got stronger and more frequent as the effects of first–time Frame Travel hit her. I took us to a Frame that had a neon blue prairie with grasshoppers as large as kangaroos. When I made an amazed noise, she barely looked up from her effort to create an unpredictable trail.
We ran for countless blocks, but then I Traveled us to a Frame with buildings similar to those on Ma'Urth and we discovered that our zigzagging had backfired. We were still on the same block as the meeting house. Seeing the building with its black and pink stone would have terrified me, but I no longer had the energy for terror; and anyway, it was quiet and empty on the streets of this Frame. Okay. Maybe staying near our starting point was a good thing, maybe those who pursued us would not expect to find us close by. Someone with a working brain would have to reason that one out.
I didn't know how much more two–person Travel I could manage. I proved I was losing it when I began singing the hurt gets hurter and the pain gets painer to the tune of "the rich get richer ..."
An idea had been trying to get my attention for some time. Get to Frivolous Bedlam. That was a great idea. Actually, I may have had that idea already.
"Someone." Lilah waved toward the corner. It's hard to whisper and retch simultaneously.
As I shifted us out of Frame, I saw what she meant—a flash of motion at the corner.
Our next Frame was also quiet, with no beings or chatting buildings, but we were too exposed standing in the street. "Back door!" Lilah whispered and led us through the closest building. We ran in the front door, across the foyer, and out the back. I think she was hoping for an alley but we reached a long walled enclosure with an incinerator and a dumpster. Doors from several buildings opened onto the same enclosure.
The instant our feet stepped into the enclosure, a shrill voice reverberated, "Behind me, they're behind me." The meeting house building was finking on us.
We crouched between the incinerator and the dumpster, which hid us from most of the doors. My burst of fear converted to energy and I took us to a Frame that was a lot closer to Frivolous Bedlam, because the buildings were loud and chatty. Maybe I imagined it, or maybe I heard a weak voice call, "Behind me, they're still behind me."
I shot us to what had to be a far Frame, because the Travel made us so dizzy we toppled over from our crouches. We lay on bare red dirt under a chartreuse sky with fast spiraling crimson clouds. This Frame change bought us some time—there were no buildings or beings in the vicinity. Visualization helps, they say. I visualized sucking energy from the cells in my body, to muster enough to take us to Bedlam.
Among our many problems was the fact that I never Traveled to Bedlam on first try. It usually took three tries. I would over– then under–shoot, then finally reach the Frame where the building chatter was absolute loudest. All the Frames near Bedlam were fun to visit, and I'd had no reason to refine my technique and get there on first try. No reason until now. Did I have three more Travel laps in me? Somehow I'd have to.
I got myself standing by pretending I was lying down in a different way; then I got Lilah standing so I'd having something to hold on to. I wanted us to walk—I wanted us away from this enclosure before I took us back to a Frame with buildings. I didn't know how persistent the fink building might be through the Frames.
Lilah clung to me. "How are you doing this? Changing things?"
"Later," I replied. "Help me get to where the street would be if we had buildings around us."
She re–lived our run. "Seventeen steps, running pace, that way."
Clinging to each other, we had enough support to make the trip. When we got back to where the street must be, I Traveled us toward the safety of Frivolous Bedlam. And I thought I got us there. The next Frame we reached, every building on the block was crazy loud, laughing and singing. The meeting house was silent. Clinging to each other, we limped up the street, blissfully barraged with building noise.
Behind us, my paranoia heard an emphysemic's whisper. "They went out to the street."
A door slammed behind us. We swiveled to see Mathead and Scabman, jogging down the steps from the meeting house.
We weren't in Bedlam.
They were looking down the street in the other direction. Lilah and I lunged behind a stoop and I changed Frames as we fell. The buildings were even louder here. Please let this be Bedlam. Lilah and I stared at each other, twisted but not moving, lest we make a sound that could be heard despite the building chatter. I didn't hear footsteps, but suddenly the back of a bald, scabby head loomed on the sidewalk just outside our hiding place. A dreadlocked scalp joined the scabs. Scabman and Mathead stood beside our stoop as though they didn't know we were nearby. But they had to know. They'd followed us here.
We were so close to Frivolous Bedlam. My whole body shook with the effort to tweak the Frames just enough, to get us to Bedlam. Mathead and Scabman wouldn't be able to follow because they definitely were not invited.
I managed one more Frame change. The building noise grew even louder.
"Noooo." Lilah moaned.
Mathead and Scabman filled the open space beside the stoop. They no longer resembled the loser meth addicts I'd known in Los Angeles. Their eyes were pure red and they moved with their hands out like they sensed us through their skin.
Mathead's hands hovered over Lilah then yanked her to her feet. Mathead was splattered with dried blood, probably Sam's. I tried to move but was too weak, opened my mouth but no sound came out. Mathead chuckled. Scabman moved toward me, but stopped when Mathead said, "Forget her for now. She can't Travel, she can't move. Finish this one first."
With one hand, she held Lilah upright. Scabman took Lilah's other arm and they each yanked an arm, casually, using a small amount of their strength. They ripped Lilah's arms from her body and Lilah collapsed between them, somehow still conscious and screaming.
Mathead cackled, "Lung power! We've got an opera singer here." At Mathead's nod, she and Scabman each grabbed one of Lilah's ankles. Before they finished their second yanks, Lilah stopped screaming.
Or I stopped hearing her. Mathead was wrong. I could muster the energy to Travel one more time.
Now. Fucking now I Traveled to Bedlam.
"Hey, it's Cat Shaver!" a food cart yelled, and the buildings took up the chant.
First thought, I was safe.
Second thought, if only I had got us here sooner. "I killed them both," I whispered with the last of my strength.
Third thought.
I had no third thought.
46. I KNOW ABOUT YOU NOW
I came to alongside the Hudson River. I shuffled snapshot memories to understand how I came to be here, watching broken sunlight on choppy water.
When I got to Bedlam I tried to walk but collapsed and lay where I fel
l, nose pressing pavement, next to the stoop where Lilah had died a brutal death in a Frame unknown. Food carts worked together to drape me across a low cart, a freezer on wheels. The little freezer cart couldn't move with my added weight so other carts pushed it. They pushed me inside a parking garage to a service area where they washed me clean of blood and bits of Lilah, then they pushed me outside to dry in the sun.
If I hadn't brought Lilah to the meeting. If Sam hadn't been there.
I kept moving my lips.
"What did she say?" one cart asked. A long line of carts tended to me and this cart was near the end of the line.
"'I killed them both,'" the little freezer cart quoted me. The carts passed this down the line; the buildings picked it up and spread it, having fun with the syncopation.
"I killed!"
"Them both!"
I screamed myself unconscious again.
Now here I was at the Hudson, draped over the freezer cart, chest up. My feet dragged the pavement on one side, my head brushed the pavement on the other side, and in the middle was a backache worthy of a body inverted on a freezer cart. Because I was alive I could feel pain.
"Is this okay for you, Cat Shaver?"
I ratcheted my neck to look away from the river and find the source of the worried voice, the cart that dangled pretzels with bite marks. Its metal pieces rattled as though it were shaking. "Sure. Thank you for helping me."
Its shaking lessened. "Can you see the river? You keep yelling about the river."
"You have been very kind. I would like to go home soon."
"Moving out!" the pretzel cart called to the other carts and they shoved my freezer transport up river, toward Julian. When we were underway, the pretzel cart called loudly to the buildings on Eleventh Avenue, "She's going home." The buildings spread the word inland.
"Why did you tell the buildings?" I wondered.