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

by Rachel Carter

  I turn to Dean. “There’s a cubbyhole in Peter’s room. Under his bed. He doesn’t think anyone knows about it. It’s where he hides his treasures. There’s a red tin box with a picture of a bear on the top. He’s only ever shown it to you after you gave him a picture of yourself.”

  Dean is silent, his green eyes wide.

  “Look, you can argue with everything I say, but here’s the truth: you disappear forever. Tomorrow or today, I don’t know anymore.”

  I shake my head, frustrated. “Peter grows up without a father. At first I thought you were going on the Project Hero mission to kill Hitler.”

  He looks at me with surprise, but I ignore him. “But then I found out you’re the one who runs the Recruitment Initiative. So now I don’t know how you disappear, I just know it happens. You need to be careful, Dean.”

  He drops back down into his desk chair and buries his face in his hands. “You came to tell me I’m going to die.”

  I take another step forward. “I came to warn you.”

  He looks up. His face seems to have aged in an instant; the grooves near his mouth look deeper; his eyes are drooping at the corners. “Is that all?”

  I exchange a glance with Wes. “No. It’s about the Recruitment Initiative.”

  Dean stares at me. “How do you know about this?”

  “I … broke into the Facility. I had to do it, Dean—I had to know if you were connected to the Montauk Project like my grandfather always suspected.”

  He presses his fingers to his temple. “I knew you were trouble,” he mumbles.

  Wes makes a small sound under his breath and I turn to glare at him. He raises an eyebrow.

  I turn back to Dean. “I’m not trouble,” I insist. “I’m here because of Peter.”

  “My son,” Dean breathes. For the first time since I entered the room, he doesn’t look like he’s about to lose it. “Tell me about him. What kind of man is he?”

  I close my eyes, picturing my grandfather. “He’s kind and he’s funny. He married young, but he always says it’s because he found the love of his life, and why would he wait around to be with her forever? And he had a son, my dad. They have a hardware store in Montauk. Grandpa always helps me with my homework, even when I can tell he doesn’t want to. He makes the best lasagna. And he always has a million things in his pockets.”

  Dean chuckles. “That sounds like him.”

  “He’s the most important person in my life.” My voice cracks and I blink as tears gather behind my eyes.

  Wes steps forward and rests his hand on my shoulder. I reach up and touch his wrist gently. His hand tightens on mine before he lets go. I straighten and look back at Dean. He’s lighting a cigarette, though his eyes are wet.

  “Grandpa spent his whole life searching for you,” I say. “He’s always looked for you. When I came to nineteen forty-four I knew I had to give him a chance at a life with his father again. So please take my warning seriously.”

  He watches me for a moment and then nods gravely. “I will.”

  Relief is like a warm blanket. I haven’t failed my grandfather. I haven’t failed the Bentleys.

  Dean stands and takes a drag of his cigarette. Smoke fans out through the small space. His eyes are thoughtful as he watches how Wes stands protectively behind me.

  “Who is he?” he asks, pointing his cigarette at Wes. “Did he come with you?”

  “No, but—” I step forward. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

  “I don’t think I like the sound of this.” He goes to sit on the edge of the desk, then motions at me to continue. “All right, out with it.”

  “The Recruitment Initiative isn’t what you think it is.”

  “I created the Recruitment Initiative. I know what it is. We find volunteer soldiers and civilians to travel in Tesla’s Machine. We’re perfecting the science, and we’re sending people on missions to try to change certain historical events.”

  “That’s not all.” I tell him about the kidnapped children, about the torture and the brainwashing. I watch his face get darker and darker and I breathe a little easier—he didn’t know.

  He stands straight, his cigarette abandoned. “You’re saying that the RI eventually starts … using children?”

  I nod. “They learn that children travel more easily, and so they start kidnapping them for training. It’s already happening, Dean.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “I won’t believe that’s true. I can’t believe that the program would be used like that. We’re trying to build something good here. We’re trying to learn more about the TMs so we can protect—maybe even save—our world. Dr. Faust and General Lewis wouldn’t condone that. Faust was Tesla’s protégée. They created the TM together. Faust has devoted himself completely to the Project since Tesla died last year. And General Lewis is a good man, a good soldier. We’re doing good work here.”

  His voice gets firmer as he speaks, and I know he’s convinced himself that he’s right, that I must be wrong about what the Project becomes.

  “I saw the children,” I say desperately. “I’ve seen what they’re doing to those lost kids already.”

  Dean’s eyes narrow. “Show me.”

  Walking through the halls of the Facility with Dean is an entirely different experience. He has an air of authority that I know means he’s important down here, and the guards stand aside for us as we pass. Even if our presence arouses suspicions, Dean doesn’t seem to care. He wants us to show him the children. Now.

  Luckily Wes knows his way around the Facility enough to remember where the room is. I’m already lost as we move through white hallway after white hallway. We walk for a minute when Dean says, “This is the scientists’ wing. I don’t come here often.” The way he says it makes me think he’s starting to believe that something isn’t right.

  Wes stops in front of an unmarked door. Dean glances at me once before pushing it open. It leads to a small room. The three of us step inside.

  We walk into a high, narrow observation area. It has one long glass wall that’s angled toward the ceiling; the only light comes in through the window. The rest of the space is empty and dark.

  The window looks down onto an open room. Dean approaches it slowly, almost fearfully. I follow him, but Wes stays near the back wall. Just like the other day, the space is filled with tiny bodies. Dean is silent as he stares down at the gaunt, broken faces.

  Suddenly he runs to the door and rips it open. “Guards!” he shouts. A man in a black uniform appears in the hallway. “Get the doctor and the general. Now.”

  The guard dashes down the hall. I step back until I’m standing next to Wes. His hands are clenched into fists at his side, and I know that being in this room, so close to those children, is killing him. I brush my hand against his, and his fingers unfold, wrapping around mine.

  Dean paces the room. Every once in a while he looks at me and shakes his head, like he can’t believe what’s happening. I gaze at him with sympathy, but I don’t know how to make this better for him.

  The door opens. The doctor I saw through the vent enters the room, his stocky frame wrapped in a white lab coat. Behind him is a straight-backed, barrel-chested man in uniform. He’s older than both Dr. Faust and Dean, with a wide, heavily wrinkled face and a gray mustache. General Lewis.

  Dean sees him and salutes automatically.

  “At ease,” the general says quickly. His voice is gravelly.

  The three men look at one another. Dean seems manic, practically vibrating as he faces down the other men. Wes and I stay against the wall, our hands clasped together. Wes is tense, and I wish I could tell what he’s thinking.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Dean finally asks. He sounds like he’s about to start screaming.

  “This is not for your eyes,” Dr. Faust says. I can place his accent better now that I’m not hearing it through a vent: German, I think. Strange. The upward tilt of his mouth makes him look almost pleasant, but his eyes are tin
y and shrewd.

  “You both knew.” Dean’s voice is filled with accusation. “How could you do this?” He stalks to the window and slaps his palm against it hard. The sharp sound makes me flinch, and Wes squeezes my hand in his. “Those are children down there. This is not what I built with you.”

  The general still hasn’t spoken. He looks at Dean thoughtfully. Dr. Faust steps forward. “The small children are better equipped for the machine, we think. They will travel more easily and your men won’t die anymore. You should be pleased.”

  Dean’s face turns red. “Pleased? You’re torturing these helpless children and you think I could be pleased? When was the last time they were given food?”

  Dr. Faust glances at the window. “Before they are ready, they must be conditioned.”

  “Jesus.” Dean breathes. He turns to General Lewis. “You pulled me out of the field to come work for this project. You said it was close to my home, that I’d be near my family. You told me I would be making a difference. You ordered me to start a Recruitment Initiative, and I built it from the ground up. I thought we were doing something good. I thought you were a good man.”

  The general’s mouth is a narrow line under his heavy mustache. “There’s a difference between being a good soldier and good man, Bentley. I’m a decent man, but I’m a great soldier. A soldier does what needs to be done to protect his country, no matter what. I thought maybe you had that in you. I was wrong.”

  “Protecting one’s country doesn’t mean taking advantage of its most vulnerable citizens.” The fight seems to have gone out of Dean and he slumps forward.

  “Sometimes it does.” The general steps to the side.

  Wes goes still and quickly looks toward the door. He angles his body so that I’m behind him.

  “Take them,” the general says without emotion. “Take them all.”

  Guards storm the room. The general and Dr. Faust stand back, watching passively. Wes moves forward in a blur. He kicks and a guard falls. Dean throws a punch and a guard stumbles against the window. Another guard comes for me, his arms outstretched. I back up, and as soon as I have an opening, I kick him hard in the leg. He grunts and falls to his knees. I kick him again, in the side this time. He curls up, moaning. But as soon as he’s down, another guard is there. He wraps his arms around me and I struggle, punching and kicking and biting any part of him I can.

  I see Wes trying to reach me, but three guards swarm around him. My attacker yanks me up against him and pulls a knife out of a loop on his belt. He holds it to my neck. “Wes!” I cry out, and the man squeezes me tighter.

  Wes and Dean both freeze. There’s a pile of fallen guards at their feet, but at least ten more guards pour through the open door. Wes lets himself be grabbed, his eyes on the knife pressed against my skin. Dean lets go of the guard he’s been fighting and puts his hands up slowly.

  The general steps forward. “Lock them up. We’ll figure out what to do with them later.”

  Wes catches my eyes, a dark flash. It only lasts a second before the guards pull us from the room.

  CHAPTER 20

  “What about the reptoids?”

  “What?”

  “The reptoids. I just remembered them. Are they real? Can Tesla’s Machine connect to distant planets?”

  Wes turns to look at me. We’re both sitting on the small bed in the shared cell the guards threw us into. They dragged Dean off toward another cell and we haven’t seen him since.

  Wes smiles but doesn’t answer. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet planted on the ground; I have my back pressed to the wall, my legs stretched in front of me.

  “What?” I nudge him with my foot. “I really want to know.”

  “I know you do. It’s just funny.”

  “If I think about everything else, I might lose it,” I say quietly.

  He touches my leg. “Reptoids are not real. At least not that I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank you.”

  We’re silent for another minute.

  “Wes?”

  “What?”

  “Do you think this is my fault?” I can’t keep the anxiety from creeping into my voice.

  “No.”

  “But if I hadn’t gotten involved, maybe Dean wouldn’t be in a cell right now.” Then I voice the fear that has been gnawing at my chest since we were thrown into this cell. I almost don’t have the courage to say it. “Maybe the reason he disappears is my fault and it always has been.”

  “Lydia.” Wes shifts, turning to face me. “You are not the reason Dean is in this situation. He made a choice to get involved in the Project. He knew the risks.”

  “If I had just left it alone …”

  “Then something else might have happened to him. Maybe he would have found out about the recruits on his own. You can’t predict what could have been.” He puts his hand on my knee. “There’s not some big, preordained plan that says you’re meant to kill your great-grandfather. Trust me.”

  “You don’t believe in fate?”

  “I believe in choices. You made the choice to help your family. Dean made his choice. Don’t blame yourself for that.”

  I tilt my head against the wall, feeling my hair drag across the uneven cement. “I guess you’re right. I just wanted to be able to do this for my grandfather. And for you. I wanted you to be able to get out of the Project.”

  Wes presses his hand against my knee.

  His black jacket is torn at the shoulder, and I can see part of his upper arm—lean muscles and lightly tanned skin. There’s a small, circular scar on his bicep. It reminds me of the one I’ve always had on my shoulder. I open my mouth to ask how he got it, but I’m interrupted by the sound of a man screaming. There’s a dull thump, a crack, and a long, low moan that seems to go on and on. Wes and I both tense as we listen to the noise.

  Finally it stops, and I shiver in the silence. “What do you think they’re going to do with us?” I ask softly.

  “I don’t know.” He keeps his voice carefully blank. “I don’t think they’ll kill us outright. They might send us through the TM. Maybe to some earlier time so we can’t get back.”

  My stomach drops, but I force myself to smile at him. “At least we’d be together.”

  Wes sits up straight, an intense expression on his face. Suddenly I can no longer ignore the questions I’ve been avoiding about Wes and me: What happens once this is all over? How can we ever be together?

  “Do you mean that?” He says the words carefully.

  “Yes,” I say without hesitation.

  He stands and faces me. He looks down, then at me, then away again. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  I pull away from the wall. “What is it?”

  “It’s about why I followed you here.” He picks a spot on the ground and keeps his eyes trained on it as he speaks.

  I’m silent, waiting, wondering. A little afraid.

  “I’ve seen you before. I saw you in the woods that night.”

  “What?”

  “The night before you stumbled into the bunker, I was patrolling outside the Facility and I saw the light from the bonfire. I went to investigate, and then I saw you standing by a car.”

  “It was you. You chased me.” My voice is sharp as I remember running through the trees, knowing something was bearing down on me.

  He shakes his head, still intent on that one spot. “I didn’t. I just watched you. You were thinking so hard about something, it was like nothing else existed. But then you looked at the exact place I was standing. Right at me. It should have been impossible; no one could have known I was there. But you did.”

  “I felt you watching me,” I admit quietly.

  He’s silent for a moment. “I should have killed you when I saw you in the TM room.” His whole body is still. “Those are our orders. We shoot to kill any civilian that somehow finds a way into the Facility. No one can know that the Montauk Project exists. It’s the first thing you learn in training.”r />
  He pauses, as if he’s gathering his courage. “When I first saw you, my instincts kicked in. I was going to kill you. And then I saw your face.” His voice gets softer, lower. “I recognized you immediately, and it made me pause—I couldn’t believe that you were the same girl from the night before. You had these huge green eyes. I’d never seen a color like your eyes. I could see how scared you were of me, but I also saw how angry and determined you were. I could see you thinking, plotting, trying to get out of the situation. I’d never seen anything like you.”

  “Wes—” I try to catch his eye, but he won’t look up.

  “I don’t see a lot of good in my world. The other recruits are all like me. Empty and hard.”

  “You’re not like that,” I say harshly. I see his mouth tilt up, but he still won’t look at me.

  “I don’t even have a name. I have a number. I’m Eleven. There were dozens of Elevens before me and there will be dozens of Elevens after me. As soon as I die, the next recruit will inherit the number. Wes was my name before they took me, but you’re the first person to call me that in six years. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

  I want to go to him, to touch him, but I don’t want to break the flow of his words. It’s as though the dam that started to crack earlier in the jeep has now fully burst, and Wes can no longer contain what he’s feeling. So I stay still, my knuckles turning white as I squeeze my fingers together tightly.

  “I saw you in that moment and it was like you were lit up from the inside. Then you fell into the machine, and I didn’t think. I just went after you. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  He shakes his head, then lifts it suddenly. Our eyes meet. “Going back for the pocket watch was my first act of defiance. You’re the second. If anyone knew I was here, we’d both be killed.”

  I press my hand to my mouth. I can’t believe the risk he took in finding me again. “This whole time you’ve been—”

  “I’m not good … at expressing how I feel. What I felt has never mattered before. I’ve been trying to learn over the past few days.” He says it as if feelings are a course you can study up on.