by Peter Telep
Another trail opens on the left, and now we’re into some double track that makes me wonder if I should cross to the other side, in case they did.
My answer comes immediately. Their tracks turn sharply. I overshoot but still make the turn.
Gasping now, I’m out of the saddle, bursting up the next rise. At the top, I shift my butt behind the saddle, preparing to descend. Jostled by more rocks and keeping a white-knuckled grip on the bars, I charge down the hill.
Just ahead lies a rocky hillside, and near the bottom is a shadow. No, it’s a tunnel.
And it could be an exit. The tracks end there.
Slamming hard into my saddle, I tuck in my elbows and take a chance. I’m swallowed by the darkness.
My tires hum over a smooth metal floor. Overhead lights wink on, stitching lines into the distance. I narrow my gaze and pedal to the rhythm of my pulse.
No mean girls. No Julie.
Just ribbons of lights. Puddles of darkness.
Where are they?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Julie’s into food preparation.
Dad thought it might be part of an eating disorder, but she just likes prepping stuff and posting pics on her Instagram. One time she did this pancake breakfast thing with kiwi fruit, and the photos could’ve been published in a gourmet food magazine. The food becomes art, and she’s not afraid to spend hours in order to get a single shot.
Yeah, it’s a little obsessive sometimes, but the best part is you get to eat her awesome meals when she’s finished.
Point is, she has this creative side that makes me jealous. Maybe I take after Dad, and I’m a science guy. However, my math grades don’t support that argument.
I’ll admit it. I’m barely a “B” student. I should focus more on school, but I spend way too much time online, playing games, and watching movies. Everything else bores me. Yeah, I get it. Sounds like every other kid, well, except for geeks who make school look easy.
So again, my point is that even when faced with a life-and-death situation, Julie draws on her creative side to escape—
Which explains why she’s running up the tunnel, heading straight for me. No bike. Just her. Burning sneaker rubber.
“What the hell?”
“No way out! Turn around!”
I brake too hard, cut the wheel, and go skating across the tunnel. I crash onto my side. The bike rips from my hands and flies across the floor.
“Forget the bike. Come on!”
She offers a hand, helps me up, and then leads me back outside. We race around the tunnel entrance and farther into the woods, past trees that shimmer in the sunlight. We near a long row of shrubs.
She gestures that we hide there.
We get down on our bellies, side by side, tucked beneath the branches. My hip throbs.
I catch my breath and ask, “How’d you lose them?”
She puts a finger to her lips.
“We know you’re out there,” comes a familiar voice.
Footfalls get louder. Branches rustle. A shadow glides across the dirt near my face.
“Get up!” cries Steffanie.
Julie looks at me. She’s about to make a move—
But I beat her to it.
I explode to my feet and raise my fists. I’m glad I can’t see myself. I doubt I look very intimidating.
I want to say something tough like “Let’s dance...” or “You want a piece of me?” or something from one of Dad’s old movies like, “You punks feeling lucky?”
The girls glare at me.
I swallow and find myself loosening my fists and forming a T with my hands. “Uh, can we get a time out please? What did we do?”
Meeka snorts. “Liars right to the end.”
“What’re you talking about?” I demand.
“We’re both orphans,” Steffanie says. “Our parents are dead because of you!”
“Because of us?” Julie asks. “What the hell?”
With the barest flick of her gaze, Meeka signals Steffanie, and once again they’re on us.
This time Steffanie targets me. She’s going for my neck, but I drive my shoulder into her abdomen, and we stumble through the shrubs until she trips and falls away.
I raise my head. I have a moment to escape—but I look to Julie.
Meeka has her by the throat and pinned to the nearest tree. Baring her teeth, Meeka drives her knee into Julie’s chest once, twice, a third time. Julie loosens Meeka’s grip just enough to steal a breath.
I take one step in that direction. And the next thing I know a cement truck plows into my back. I hit the dirt. My head bounces. I’ve bit my tongue. I taste blood.
The cement truck was Steffanie’s foot.
I take a breath but nothing comes—nothing except terrible pain in my ribs. They’re broken for sure. I sneak the tiniest breath through my nose.
And then I’m rolled over and Steffanie leers at me, her teeth bared, her eyes glistening with revenge. For what?
We didn’t kill your parents. You have us mixed up with someone else.
I’m going to tell her that, but I can’t get a word out.
Through teary eyes, I glance over my shoulder at Julie. She’s slumped at the base of the tree, her face covered in blood. Her eyes seem cloudy, and her head rolls back. I reach toward her, but I can’t get up.
“This is for my Mom and Dad,” Steffanie growls. “And for everyone else!”
She rears back with a large rock balanced in both hands.
I raise my palms, but I’m wasting my time.
My whole life does not flash before my eyes. In fact, I can’t focus on anything except trying to breathe. That’s all I have: a pathetic thought to get air.
No more feeling guilty over what’s happened to Julie.
No wondering about my father and Tommy.
No guessing why these girls blame us for their parents’ deaths. Just me... trying... to breathe...
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sometimes as I’m watching TV and eating nachos made from over five pounds of gooey cheese, I’ll channel surf for a show about ghosts or UFOs or other paranormal activity. I especially like those where people die and describe their out of body experiences. I mention this because I’m having one of those right now:
I’m sitting in a tree overlooking the forest.
Oddly enough, I see myself on the ground. Damn, I’m so bony and banged up that it takes me a few seconds to realize that’s me.
Of course, as I was telling you earlier, Steffanie is about to smash my head in, so apparently I’m not dead yet.
Up here, though, I feel completely normal. Actually, I feel better than normal. My lungs fill with air. There’s absolutely no pain in any part of my body. It’s almost like floating in water, where everything inside seems to relax. Is this real?
I lift my arm to be sure. A faint green glow comes off my skin, like an aura or something. Beneath the glow, I’m not even dirty. I breathe on my arm and feel the warmth.
I look down. Whoa. I’m at least twenty feet up. There’s no way I could’ve climbed this tree. The trunk’s too massive, the branches too high.
More importantly, how can I be here—and there—at the same time?
Just thinking about that stirs something deep inside, that warm, pulsating sensation I felt in the pool.
Lightning flashes, thunder booms—
And suddenly, I’m back on the ground. Racked with pain. Suffocating.
I glance to the tree.
That’s me up there. Tan. Muscular. Absurdly handsome. Hell yeah, a better version of me, with that subtle glow that’s almost angelic. Chills spread across my shoulders.
Then I’m back in the tree... then back on the ground, in the tree, on the ground, losing breath...
A loud noise. An alarm? Doors rumbling open.
Steffanie’s face dissolves into a blanket of flickering snow.
* * *
I dream of the island again.
The rocky foothills. The moss-co
vered trees. The waves crashing in silver fountains against the rocks.
I glide like a seagull, focusing on a mountain that rises through the morning mist.
With my heart racing, I descend toward a collection of white buildings. Some resemble the tops of ice cream cones. A smaller hut shaped like a pyramid lies nearby. Dad waves me over. His face is full of color, his eyes shining brightly. He’s in a great mood, and that makes me happy.
In a voice filled with wonder, he says that astronomers are using large telescopes to view the sun. Tomorrow they will examine the stars.
“What’s your team doing?” I ask.
“We’re working with laser beams and satellites.”
He keeps talking and uses a strange word: qubit (cue-bit). He says they’re building a satellite-based quantum network so the government can talk secretly, like whispering so no one can overhear your conversation. He apologizes for the technobabble. Calls himself Mr. Spock. I smile.
He takes my hand... and then I’m inside the room again, the one I don’t like, the one in our vacation house where he will put me to sleep.
“Dad, do we have to?”
“Doc, I’ve told you, there are people out there, and one day they might try to hurt you.”
“Why? What did I do to them?”
“Nothing. Sometimes just being different is enough for people to hate you. And sometimes people will try to hurt your children so they can hurt you. Do you understand?”
“Yeah. I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I, but my job is to protect you. One day you’ll understand.”
“Okay. But Dad? I feel like I’m one of your experiments.”
He puts a hand on my cheek. “You’re my son.”
Afterward, we go to the beach. Dad asks how I feel and if I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. My chest hurts, but the pain never lasts long.
While I eat my PB&J, my father stares at the ocean, searching for something in the shadows between waves. The wind blows hair into my eyes as I study the water, wondering what he’s lost.
With a full belly, I lean back, cradling my head in my hands. The surf drums on the sand, and before I know it, I’m asleep again, but then—
“Doc?”
I shiver and open my eyes.
“Hey, it’s Keane.”
I realize I’m in my room at the prison. Keane stands near the door. His expression is hard to read: somewhere between concern and sheer boredom, as though he’s been waiting forever for me to wake up.
I clutch my chest. “What happened?”
“Obviously you got attacked.” He carries a tray with two clear glasses filled with those chocolate shakes.
“Where’s Julie?”
“Back in her room. She’s better, but she got her ass kicked, even worse than you.”
I shut my eyes, clench my fists, and replay the scene. I’m lying there, totally worthless. Meanwhile, Julie’s in pain, and I have a front row seat for the show. “I should’ve saved her.”
“Well, you were busy—getting your ass kicked.”
I take a breath and flinch. “Those girls are insane. They think we killed their parents.”
“I heard that, and I never got a chance to ask why.”
I take a long sip of my shake. “So who saved us?”
“I did,” he says through a sigh. “Whatever. The girls made sure no one was watching, but I told security something was wrong. They went in there and got you.”
“Thanks.”
He leans toward me. “It was the right thing to do. So did you kill their parents? They never told me about that.”
“We just met them! What the hell? This whole place, everyone here, you’re all nuts.”
Keane lifts his hands in truce. “Whoa, just asking.”
“Look, I’m no killer. I’m not even sixteen. Wait a minute. Maybe I already am. My birthday probably passed! How long have I been here?”
“What do you mean?”
I ask again through my teeth. “When did I get here?”
“Not sure. You were on the tubes for at least two weeks, I think.”
“Aw, man, this sucks. I was supposed to get a new Xbox.”
Keane widens his eyes. “What’s an Xbox?”
“Shut up...”
He frowns. “Whatever. Just get better.”
I nod. “I’ll do my best. But what about the girls? What if they come back?”
Keane purses his lips. “They’ve been exiled.”
“What?”
“Uh, hello, exiled? They were sent back outside.”
“Outside where?”
“You really don’t know?”
“Keane, listen. I don’t know what outside is. I don’t know what getting exiled means.”
He studies me, tipping his head to the side like a curious puppy. “You’re not lying?”
I clench my teeth. “Please, tell us why we’re here.”
“Look, I don’t know why they chose you. I’m not sure why they chose me. I was shocked when they did. And who cares, really? I mean, do you want to go back out there? Do you have friends waiting for you?”
“Yeah, I do. My home’s out there.”
“Well, sometimes I want to go back too.”
“To that place you call the Highlands?” I ask.
“Maybe there… or the city…”
“In Florida?”
“You mean Flora?”
I make a face. “Don’t be a wiseass.”
Keane shrugs and starts for the door. I remember Julie telling me that the girls didn’t know about Florida, either. Plus, Keane doesn’t know what an Xbox is? Really?
I call after him. “Hey, Julie and I are ready... as in ready to leave. Can you let them know?”
“You know they’re listening...”
I raise my voice. “Uh, you out there, just an FYI, we’re ready to go home!”
* * *
There are no clocks, phones, TVs, computers, or anything else in my room to suggest the passage of time—except for lights that automatically switch off for what I guess is eight hours, maybe a little longer.
As always, I demand more information. Keane says when we’re ready, we’ll be told. He won’t get in trouble for us.
So for the next three days, he takes over as my coach. He brings me those energy shakes, and once again within an hour after drinking one, I feel much better. Eventually I’m served real food, some kind of sweet meat and salad with a milky white dressing that tastes like honey.
My emotions fly around like planets trying to break from their orbits. One minute I’m resigned to my fate, the next I want to hurt someone.
And then I’m tearing up, thinking about Dad, wondering if it’s too late. Maybe the bad guys killed him. Or maybe he’s still alive but being tortured—and I’m stuck here, wasting time instead of trying to find him. It’s driving me insane.
Meanwhile, I’m supposed to get better. Get ready. Receive some kind of training.
And Keane, despite being this skinny dork, pushes me harder and harder. He says never give up hope.
“Keane, how am I supposed to do this when I don’t even know why? I mean, how would you feel if you didn’t know if your father was alive or dead?”
He lowers his gaze. “I guess I’d feel like you.”
“Then, please, tell me what’s going on.”
He thinks about it, looking conflicted, but then he just leads me away toward another day’s workout.
We rotate though the exercise room, the pool, and the bike park, where he rides with me and I sense the evil spirits of Steffanie and Meeka on my shoulders.
On the fourth day, Julie joins us for a ride. Her cheeks are pink and filling out. Her hair shines. I choke up as she gives me a hug.
After our ride, Keane leads us inside the cave Julie and I found during our first excursion.
I look at Julie like this is weird. She agrees.
“Keane, everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, just have
a seat.”
We sit cross-legged in the cool, damp air.
He composes himself, as though he’s prepared for this moment. You can almost see him rehearsing something in his eyes. “My friend in security is buying us time. Hopefully, I won’t get in trouble. At least that’s the plan.”
“Are you finally gonna talk to us now?” I ask.
Keane nods, although it seems like he’ll change his mind any second. “Doc, every time I’d leave my father back at the caravan and go out looking for food, I’d wonder, is this the day he’ll die? So yeah, I know exactly what that feels like. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. What I’m trying to say is, yeah, I guess I like helping idiots like you.”
“Then please help us. Tell me where my father is…”
“That I don’t know.”
“What about Tommy?” Julie asks.
Keane tightens his lips. “Okay, so, I’ve heard them talk about a man they have named Tommy, but that’s all. I don’t know anything else about him.”
“Is he all right?” I demand.
“Like I said, I don’t know. But I’m guessing he’s here.”
“So where are we?”
Keane is about to answer, but instead he hesitates and finally says, “Look, I think they did something to you.”
“Like what?” Julie asks.
“Like erased your memories.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
“Because you guys… you don’t even remember being outside… you don’t know anything.”
Julie sighs in disgust. “I keep telling you, we’re not from the outside. We’re from Winter Springs, Florida.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
She rolls her eyes. “How can you say that? We’re from Florida. It’s in the United States.”
He stares blankly at us.
“What state are you from?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
I glare at him. “You’re going to sit there and tell us you’ve never heard of Florida or the United States?”
He tenses. “Look, I can make this easier for all of us.”
“Oh, yeah?” Julie asks. “How?”
CHAPTER NINE
Keane rakes fingers through his wispy hair, and then narrows his gaze on Julie. “I’m taking you to the Hood.”