So Close to You (So Close to You - Trilogy)

by Rachel Carter

  Using the ledge, I pull myself up and through the open window. I crawl into a long and narrow hallway. It’s empty; all of the officers must be out training. Before I start to explore, I carefully shut the window behind me, worried that if someone sees it open they’ll sound the alarm.

  There are several doors in the hallway. I slowly open one of them. Inside is a medium-sized room with two beds and two small desks pushed up against each other. Dean probably doesn’t have to share a room, and so I shut the door again. I notice there’s a small plaque next to it that says SECOND LIEUTENANT QUARTERS.

  I search until I find the door that says FIRST LIEUTENANT QUARTERS and carefully step into the room. This space is smaller but there’s only one bed and one desk. A high window in the corner gives the room a little bit of light. Everything is covered in a thin layer of dust, as though it’s been a while since anyone was last here.

  I open one of the desk drawers. On the top is a letter addressed to Dean Bentley. At least I know I have the right room. I set it aside and pull out a large, folded piece of paper. I spread it out on the desk. It’s a map, showing an aerial view of Camp Hero. All of the concrete bunkers have been highlighted.

  Dean supposedly stays here all the time. So why does this room seem unused? And why does he need a map of the concrete bunkers?

  I put the map back and try to open one of the smaller drawers. It won’t budge. Kneeling down, I notice a keyhole. I reach up to the bun at my neck and pull out two bobby pins. I bend the metal into a straight line. Using a technique my dad taught me after I’d been locked out of the storeroom in his shop one too many times, I push one pin into the keyhole and hold it there, then put the other pin into the top of the lock and jiggle it. There’s a small clicking noise and the drawer springs open.

  I peer inside. The drawer is empty. Defeated, I move to shut it again. But as it closes, I notice something glint from far in the back. I reach in, and my hand closes over a long piece of metal. I take it out. It’s a thin, rectangular shape with several holes and squares cut out of it. My heart starts to race as I realize where I’ve seen it before.

  “Lydia.”

  I whip around, holding the piece of metal out like a weapon.

  Wes is standing in the doorway wearing an army uniform. I was so caught up in what I just found, I didn’t even hear him open the door. Some spy I make.

  “Where did you get that?” His voice is low and a little dangerous. I tense automatically.

  I’m too rattled to come up with a good lie. “I found it in the drawer.”

  He stares at me and doesn’t move an inch. “Put it back.”

  “This is the same key you used to open the bunker that leads to the underground labs. What is it doing in my great-grandfather’s desk drawer?” My voice is high and breathless, the words falling out of my mouth before I really have a chance to process them. As soon as I see Wes’s face, I know I’ve said too much.

  His jaw tightens, like he’s clenching his teeth hard. But then he sees me flinch and he sighs. He walks forward slowly. “Your great-grandfather?”

  I squeeze the metal key tightly in my hand, but I don’t say anything.

  “I suspected that you could be related to the Bentleys … but I didn’t know how.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you look like them. You share mannerisms. The way you run your hands through your hair, just like Mary Bentley. And you bite your lower lip when you’re uncertain about something.” His gaze drops down to my mouth, and all of a sudden the room feels like it’s too small, too tight. “Which is something Mrs. Bentley does as well.”

  I hadn’t noticed that, and I’m surprised that Wes has. But that also means— “You’ve been spying on me!” I look at the door quickly, horrified that someone might have heard me.

  “Don’t worry.” Wes’s mouth tilts up in a sort-of-but-not-really smile. “I took care of the guard.”

  I glare at him. “But you have been spying on me.”

  “Yes.” He says it without any regret or explanation.

  I raise my eyebrows. “That’s it? Yes?”

  “Lydia.” He meets my eyes. Even in the dim light coming from the small window, I feel myself get pulled into his stare. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

  It’s not easy, but I turn my head away. “Right. So that I don’t step on an ant and cause an earthquake in fifty years.”

  “It’s not a joke,” he says, but there’s something in his voice that makes me think he’s a little amused.

  “I know.” I slump back onto the desk and hold up the strange key. “I just found proof that my great-grandfather is a part of the Montauk Project.”

  “You should put it back and come with me.”

  “I can’t.” I straighten and walk over to the high window. I’m not tall enough to see out of it, even when I stand on tiptoe. “Dean disappears in three days, and all I know is that he’s somehow involved in the Project. I need more answers.”

  I turn back to Wes, not really sure why I’m telling him all this. It’s not that he puts me at ease. If anything, it’s the complete opposite. But he’s the only one who knows the truth about me. And I feel like I can trust him. He seems serious about wanting to help me—or at least to get me out of here so that I don’t screw up the future.

  Wes runs his hand along his jaw as he watches me. “Dean Bentley disappears?”

  “Yes. I don’t know why or how, though now I know it has to do with the Montauk Project. But the possibilities are endless.” I start to pace the small room. “He could go on a time travel mission and get lost. God, he could even fall down a flight of stairs in those labs. Maybe it’s time I told him the truth.”

  Wes goes stiff. “No, Lydia.” He steps forward and takes hold of my arms. “You cannot tell him. You don’t know what the consequences would be.”

  I’m frozen. This is the first time he’s really touched me since he grabbed me in the woods. Only this time my arms are bare and I can feel his skin against mine.

  I pull away from his grasp. “Do you know what the consequences would be?”

  “No. No one does, that’s the whole point. But if you tell Dean you’re a time traveler, that’s a … huge interference.”

  “How do you know? Maybe this is fate. What if I’m supposed to come back here to warn Dean? Maybe we can’t change the future, even if we try.”

  His eyes darken, until they look black in the thin light. “Trust me, you can.”

  I feel my patience start to wane as I remember that I know nothing about Wes and who he really is. “How do you know that?”

  “I … work for the Montauk Project. I know that we can change history because I’ve seen it happen before, and I’ve seen the ramifications, too. You being here is a rift in time, and what you do here will affect everything that happens along our time line.”

  I try to work out the logic in my head. “But if history changes, then how can anyone be aware of it? Wouldn’t we all just conform to the new version?”

  He turns away and stares at the blank wall above Dean’s bed. “It doesn’t work like that.” When he looks back at me, another mask has fallen over his face. “The minute you got into the TM you stepped outside of time.”

  “TM?”

  “Tesla’s Machine.”

  “Seriously?” I give him a look.

  He ignores it. “You don’t exist in the time line right now, and therefore anything that changes within it can’t affect you.”

  I push my bangs up off my forehead, thinking hard. “So if I alter history and then go back home, the world could be completely different.”

  He takes a step closer to me. “You’d be the only one who knew that something had changed. Your friends and families could have different memories of you. You might be an entirely different person to the world around you, and you’d be playing catch-up with your own life.”

  “What if …” I pause, taking a breath. “What if I erase my own existence? What if my parents never meet?
”

  He tilts his head slightly, watching me carefully. “You wouldn’t stop existing because you’re outside the time line. But if you went back to your time, then no one would know who you were. There would be no record of you ever existing.”

  I close my eyes. It’s comforting to know that I can’t erase myself by accident. But is a life without friends or family who remember me, who know me, even worth living?

  If I screw this up, if I guess wrong, then everything I know might disappear. Should I just go back with Wes right now?

  As hard as I try, I can’t shake the image of my grandfather walking away from me in the rain. I know what he would do in my place. He would try to save his father, regardless of the risks. And I think of Mary. Of Dr. and Mrs. Bentley. They seem so happy now, like such a loving family. Losing Dean won’t rob them of that, but it will change them forever. If I save Dean, then I’d be saving them from that pain.

  “Lydia, you can’t tell Dean.” Wes’s voice is firm.

  I put my hands up. “I get it. You don’t want me to mess with time. I understand, Wes.”

  Even as I say the words, I realize that I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to try to save Dean, regardless of the consequences. I have to believe that changing his history can only improve my family’s future.

  “Promise me you won’t talk to him.”

  “I promise,” I agree, and I mean it. I can’t see how talking to Dean will help yet anyway. He won’t tell me anything, and I still don’t know what I’m warning him about. I need more information. And there’s only one place left to look.

  Unfortunately, it’s also the last place I want to go.

  Wes stares at me for a long minute, so long I start to worry that he can tell what I’m thinking. But he just says, “Good,” and then turns to the door. As soon as his back is to me I slip the metal key into the pocket of my skirt. “We need to get you out before the guard wakes up.”

  I follow him into the hall. “Won’t he be suspicious that he was knocked out in the first place?”

  Wes raises his hand, signaling me to be quiet. He moves silently down the hallway, with the purposeful, quick movements I’ve come to associate with him.

  The guard is sprawled on a chair, head lolled to the side. He looks like he’s sleeping. We slip out the front door. The sun is setting and the clouds are pink and purple above the tree line.

  As soon as we’re in the middle of the clearing, Wes turns to face me. In his borrowed uniform and in my stained apron, we look like just another soldier and volunteer nurse talking in the late afternoon.

  His face is set in hard lines. “I’ve explained the consequences of staying in the past. How else can I convince you that you need to go back to your own time, for all of our sakes?” He keeps his voice low and private.

  “I’m not ready, Wes.” I whisper the words. “There are things I have to do here.”

  “Lydia.” He looks down at me through half-closed eyes. “I’m worried about what I suspect you’re planning. I should stop you. I know it’s what the Project would want me to do.” There’s something dark in his expression that makes me want to step farther away from him. I don’t even ask him what he means, though I’m dying to know. “But I’ve never … I don’t … I want to …” His brows draw together. He looks confused, like he doesn’t know how to find the words he wants to say.

  His expression is the same one from that first day in the bunker, and then again at the fundraiser when he saw me from across the room. Wes seems so confident, but I keep seeing these flashes of vulnerability in him. It makes me wonder what he’s hiding from me. It also makes me want to touch his arm and tell him that everything will be okay.

  Before I can respond, Mary walks up to us. She has taken off her apron, but I notice blood on her sleeve. “Lydia. There you are.”

  She comes to a stop when she sees that I’m talking to Wes. “Who’s this?” Mary scans Wes’s long, lean body.

  “This is Wes—” It occurs to me that I don’t know his last name.

  “Private Wesley Smith,” Wes cuts in smoothly. Any trace of vulnerability has disappeared now that Mary is here. His voice is steady and sure again.

  Mary beams up at him. She looks like she’s about to melt all over the lawn.

  “I’m Mary. I haven’t seen you around here before. How do you know Lydia?”

  He looks at me. I see his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. “We met in the hospital on Wednesday.”

  I nod and glance down at my feet, suddenly embarrassed but not sure why.

  Mary gives me a knowing look. “Well, I’m sorry to steal Lydia away, but we have to be going. Daddy is ready to drive us home, and we have to get back for dinner.” She puts her finger on her chin, like she’s just had a brilliant idea. I’m afraid to hear what it is. “Why don’t you come to our house for dinner, Private Smith? Ma always makes extra food and I’m sure Lydia would love to have you join us. Wouldn’t you, Lyd?”

  I grit my teeth. “I’m sure Wes has other things to do.”

  He half smiles. “I’m sorry, but I have to decline. I always eat in the mess with the other privates.”

  “Phooey.” Mary sticks out her bottom lip, then brushes her hand through her curls. I notice the gesture and automatically look at Wes. He raises one eyebrow and I bite back a smile.

  “Well, let’s go Lydia. Daddy’s waiting.” Mary takes my arm and we start to walk away. We cross the clearing and head toward where Dr. Bentley parked his car.

  Wes’s gaze never leaves my back. I can feel it on my skin, as intimate as a touch.

  CHAPTER 12

  On the drive back to the Bentleys’ house, I can’t stop thinking about Camp Hero. If I’m going to find out more about Dean’s involvement with the Montauk Project, I have to sneak back into the Facility. And I need to do it tonight.

  Dean disappears in three days. I’m running out of time to find answers. I pat the pocket of my skirt, feeling the outline of the strange metal key. It must open one of the bunkers, and I wonder if it’s the same one Wes and I snuck out of. If only I had found a way to test it this afternoon. But first I was with Wes, then I was with Mary, and there was never any time to sneak away.

  It’s probably for the best. I don’t want to draw any more suspicion to myself, and I need the cover of night. Now I just have to figure out how to get back there.

  As we pull into the Bentleys’ driveway, the first thing I notice is that Lucas’s truck is here. A truck he’s driving back to Camp Hero later tonight. And it has a large, canvas-covered truck bed. Perfect for someone to hide in undetected.

  “I didn’t know Lucas was coming to dinner,” I say to Mary and Dr. Bentley as we get out of the car.

  “He’s always welcome.” Dr. Bentley pulls his medical bag out of the backseat. “And he usually takes us up on it. Hates the mess food.”

  Mary grins at me, and I know she’s thrilled Lucas is here. I grin back, thrilled for a different reason.

  That night at dinner I pick at my food, half listening to the conversation around me. We’re eating something called liver loaf, mashed potatoes, and tomato salad with chunks of cheese on top. Mrs. Bentley cuts a thick slice of the loaf and puts it on my plate.

  I glance at the black curtains pulled tight over the windows. Out in the fading twilight, Lucas’s army truck sits in the dirt driveway. I think about what’s ahead of me tonight: sneaking into Lucas’s truck, around Camp Hero, into the underground labs. Trying not to get killed.

  Wes was so appalled when he thought I was going to talk to Dean, and this is—potentially—an even bigger step. But now that I know Dean really is somehow connected to the Montauk Project, I need to find out how. Both for my own desire to know the truth, and because knowing that truth is the only way I can hope to save Dean.

  I promised Wes I wouldn’t talk to Dean, and I won’t … at least not yet. Three days. It’s not a lot of time, but it could be enough to stop a man from disappearing.

  I push
at the liver with my fork, staring down at the plate.

  “Lydia, are you all right?” I look up to see Mrs. Bentley standing over me. She has a glass in her hand, and she’s obviously trying to clear the table. “You’ve been so quiet all night.”

  I hand her my plate. “I guess I’m feeling a little tired. I’m all right. Thank you, Mrs. Bentley.”

  Dr. Bentley leans forward. “I meant to tell you, Lydia, I’ve been asking around town about your aunt.”

  I sit up straight. “Really?”

  “No one has heard a thing about her. Are you sure you have the name right? Julia Roberts?”

  I press my lips together and nod.

  “I asked my church group, too,” Mrs. Bentley says. “No one has heard of a Julia Roberts.”

  “That’s strange.” My voice comes out sounding a little strangled. “I know I had the address and name right.”

  Mrs. Bentley waves her hand at me. “Don’t worry about it, dear. You can stay with us for as long as you need to. You’ve been such a help, volunteering with Mary and going to tea this morning at Elizabeth’s.”

  I suppress a wave of guilt. I only did those things to get more information about Dean. “Thank you, I really appreciate it,” I answer quietly.

  “You’re not getting sick, are you?” Mary looks concerned. “The dance is tomorrow. Can you imagine if you missed it?”

  “Mary,” Dr. Bentley scolds, “there are more important things than dances.”

  “Well, I know that! I was just saying.”

  Lucas smiles, though he looks worried as he watches me. “Are you getting sick?” he asks quietly.

  “I don’t know.” I’m not, but it’s a good excuse to leave the table before I have to sneak out into Lucas’s truck without them knowing. I lean forward and press my hand against my forehead. I can hear them all murmuring as I close my eyes.