by Gwynn White
That was Rach.
Officially, they weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend anymore, not since the textathon letdown just before a warrior dwarf lost his head. But they’d been friends since the third grade. In fact, she was his best friend before her boobs came in. Then there was high school and the whole kissing thing and now she was dusting off his texts because once you traded in the friend card for a roll on the couch, you couldn’t go back.
“Can I get a small coffee?” he ordered.
“A petit?”
“Just a small.”
“You want a pour over?”
“Yes.”
He had no idea what a pour over was, but it cost three times more than a crime. He went back to the bathrooms, cup warming his hand. He took a sip, the first and last, and waited. Rach was still involved with the laptop. He thumbed his phone.
I’m at Coffee Beaned. Watching you.
He deleted the last part. A bit stalkerish. So was the first part but whatever. It didn’t matter. She didn’t even pick up the phone this time. He could stand there and wait and stare and let it get weirder.
Or nut up.
Petit pour over in hand, he started for the corner table. Anna elbowed Rach. Three of the girls averted their eyes as if a hunchback was about to ask them to the prom. Rach was the last to look up.
“Can we talk?” he asked. “Just for a minute. Over there.”
“Awkward,” one of them sang.
Rach excused herself. The girls were muttering before Grey passed the bathrooms. He stopped at a stand-up bar along the wall, a dusty mirror revealing his moptop of curls and her short bob. His sheepishness. Her confusion.
“What are you doing here?” she said.
He kicked the floor. The coffee was scalding his hand. The lid had fallen off at some point during his escape.
“You all right?” she asked.
“Yeah. Yeah.”
“Sorry about, you know, breaking up with a text. I didn’t think you’d care, to be honest.”
“No, yeah. I get it.”
“Oh, good. Glad it didn’t bother you. At all.”
“Look, I’m a shitty boyfriend. It was a good call.”
“You’re not… listen, we’re not good that way. We tried, it didn’t work, that’s that. Can we just go back to the way things were?”
“How about tomorrow?”
“Okay. That’s quick.”
He put down the coffee. I hate this shit.
He didn’t know if he meant the coffee or the coffee shop or the music or the fact that she was hanging out with fake-ass girls who were talking about him. She wasn’t that way. Even if she wanted to be, she wasn’t a cardboard cutout.
“It’s about my dad,” he said.
“What about him?”
“He’s doing something and I just want to… listen, I’ll give you gas money.”
“For what?” She shuffled back.
“We won’t see him, I promise.”
The promise was a stretch. He couldn’t guarantee his dad wasn’t going to be waiting wherever he wanted to go. The odds were long, so his promise was in his favor. It was far from a lock.
“I need a lift.”
“So you’re using me for my car?” she said.
“Yeah.”
Her blond hair shook off her neck, revealing the tattoo she got one day after school. He was with her, held her hand while she laughed and cried, said it hurt worse than having a baby, not like she’d know. It was a tattoo her parents still didn’t know about.
“My dad is up to something.”
“You just said we won’t see him.”
“We won’t. I just want to follow up on what he’s doing.”
She sighed. “Call yourself a car.”
“It’s too far.” He shuffled with his head down. She’d know he was lying. She was the one that told him he shuffled when he lied.
“I don’t want to be alone,” he said. “Not right now.”
“Grey, listen—”
“I’m not saying we get together, creep. I just… I need to follow up on something. It’d be cool if you were with me. That’s all.”
“And you want to use my car.”
“That too.”
She looked at the corner table—the trio of teenage vampires watching them—and jutted out her jaw, tapping her teeth. She knew when he was lying, but she didn’t know he knew when she was about to give in and just needed a nudge.
“You did break up with a text.” Grey shrugged. “Just saying.”
Rach picked him up at the curb. He jumped into the front seat.
“Did it have to be so early?” she asked. No makeup and thick-rimmed glasses, she just woke up. He handed her a disposable cup. “What’s this?” she said.
“Coffee.”
She stared for a long moment, considering the motive. He was a shitty boyfriend, but not a bad friend.
“What for?”
“Just because.” He mounted his phone on the dash. The GPS started a route. “Okay.”
“Want to tell me where we’re going?”
“Not really.”
“Just not with your dad, right?”
“Promise.”
She heard the sliver of doubt—he was 99.9% sure—but pulled away from the curb anyway, sipping the coffee. He’d even put creamer in it. That might have saved the morning.
His dad had been her dentist when she was little. He’s a little weird, she would say. Leans on me funny.
He never tried anything with her, didn’t grab her or invite her to do something. It was the way he hugged her too long when she came by the apartment before Grey’s parents divorced; it was how he kissed the top of her head and smelled her hair. It’s old man creepiness, that’s all, Grey thought. The kind that’s inappropriate but innocent.
He did put her under anesthesia once. Her mom was in the waiting room when she had her wisdom teeth extracted. The door was open when Rach woke up. She talked her mom into changing dentists after that.
He just creeps me out, was all she ever said.
He wasn’t always that way. Grey still remembered the dad that came home with video games, the dad that pulled all-nighters to beat campaign mode and spent weekends in online tournaments. Sometimes they watched horror movies. Mom would go to her bedroom with popcorn and read a book while they fell asleep on the couch.
He listened to hard rock. Threw New Year’s Eve parties. He was a cool dad. Until Grey was seven.
The divorce changed him.
Mom never said anything, but he was up to something. It wasn’t until Grey was older that he understood the looks he passed around the room. The new cologne, the cars he bought, and the closets of expensive clothing.
The way he leaned into his clients when he drilled cavities.
Mom wasn’t perfect. She didn’t drink, didn’t fight. Didn’t do much of anything. When she walked into a room, it dimmed just a little. Her smile looked more like a frown. She’d slip off to bed long before the party was over and no one would notice.
But she didn’t deserve what he was doing.
“Where the hell are we going?” she said. “It says another hour.”
They reached the city limits, the freeway aiming for the green countryside. “Just follow.”
“I’m not driving two hours for nothing.” She shouted, “I swear to God I’ll turn this car around.”
She threw glances at him, each time driving onto the shoulder. Even with both hands on the wheel and eyes ahead, she was a horrible driver. Staring holes into the side of his head was going to launch them into a guardrail.
He pulled out a white card.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He folded the worn creases like shutters, the sides nearly meeting edge to edge. The thick lines on the back of the card lined up with the exposed exclamation mark.
“It’s an invitation.”
“For who?”
“My dad. I think.”
He explained the
white cards on the refrigerator, his weekenders, the way he smelled when he got back, the way he looked. The strange emails, the respirator in the bathroom.
“I turned on his phone one weekend.” He pointed at the GPS. “He went there.”
“Where is that?”
Grey shook his head. He wasn’t sure exactly. His dad’s phone had shut off. A search of the area led in several directions, but he had an idea.
“If this is what you think it is”—she tapped the white card—“you don’t just walk up and ring the doorbell. You sure about this? Your dad just doesn’t—”
“Seem like the type?”
The same doubts nagged him. His dad didn’t know much about technology. Maybe he was bored and had indulged himself into complacency. The Maze was a challenge. And there was the money.
And the missing college fund.
“So where do you think we’re going?” Cars were passing them. “Exactly.”
“To the lake.”
“And then what?”
She continued to stare. He wondered if she forgot she was driving. He pointed at the road. She looked over just as the tires kissed the shoulder.
“If you get us killed…” She sped up. “I’m going to kill you.”
Grey scrolled around the map. He hoped there would be something obvious when they reached the point where his dad turned off his phone. Then he realized he had no reception. Not a single bar.
They were in the country, but not a desert. The lake wasn’t far away. Somewhere, there was a house on the water. A big one. They were on the road that led to it, a two-lane highway in need of repair and not a side road in sight or a house in the trees. Pretty soon, the highway was curving inland.
“Think that’s it?” Rach asked.
“What?”
“That little road.”
He didn’t see it. Rach turned around in the middle of the highway. They hadn’t seen another car in twenty minutes. The little road turned out to be a couple of ruts buried in a forest. About fifty yards off the highway, a cast-iron gate was anchored to brick columns; a sign in neon orange warned they were trespassing.
Rach turned the car off. They stared at the sign, the thick bars. There was no fence beyond the pillars, just a barrier to keep someone from driving up the road. But not from walking around it.
“We’ll just walk a little ways, see what’s up there,” he said.
“What if they got dogs?”
“They don’t have dogs.”
She was twisting the wheel. Unblinking, staring. Tears welling in dry eyes, not from fear or sadness, but throat-gripping adrenaline. That was how she looked when they gamed all night. And what could be more serious than what was beyond that gate?
“Goddamnit,” she whispered.
That was why she drove him, why he wanted her to come along. All those Maze videos they’d watched growing up didn’t seem real. Deep down, they never believed people were going insane. The Maze was an urban legend. Not anymore. The gate wasn’t anything special, could’ve been some wealthy introvert staying off the grid. But his dad had come out here. Grey knew there would be something to see, something to climb or walk. And he needed Rach to come with him. That simple little gate cast aside all doubts. She felt it, too.
The Maze is real.
“What do we do when we get there?” she said.
He shrugged. He hadn’t planned anything beyond looking at it because his hormone-fueled brain held a little secret fantasy that when he got there, he would ring the doorbell and they would answer. They’d be pissed at first, wonder how he found the place and then for some unknown reason invite him inside. That was when they’d see how passionate he was about gaming, how he studied awareness leaping, how he downloaded all of their torrents and even solved the mystery of his dad’s invitation.
They’d know that he was worthy.
A truck came up the road a little too fast, bright lights piercing the forest. It jerked to a stop just on the other side of the gate. He snapped out of the daydream just as Rach reached for her door.
“Wait.” He put his hand on her arm.
A man and a woman got out of the truck and waited for the gates to swing open. They were casually dressed—no bulges in a business suit or black stretchy pants. They approached cautiously and signaled for them to roll down their windows. The man came around Rach’s side.
“This is private property.”
“Sorry.” Grey leaned over. “We’re almost out of gas and our phones are dead. We were hoping someone could help.”
The guy took out his phone. The woman was at the gate, holding up her phone. She was taking a picture of the car. Grey wanted to lift his arm to block the camera, but it was too late for that. The man stood back
“You need to turn around.”
“But we’re almost out of gas,” Grey repeated, a lie that would hold up until they looked at the gauge, after which he would say that was broke, and then get punched in the face or stun-gunned.
“Not my problem.”
“Just let me call my dad,” Grey said. “He’ll pick us up.”
He looked for a sign of recognition when he said that. My dad. It came by way of a sly smile on one side of the man’s mouth. Maybe they didn’t know who Grey was when the gate opened, but he did now. Instead of pulling the gates wide to make room for Rach’s car, he pointed at the highway.
“Turn it around. Now.”
Grey reached for his door. He was getting out, was going to talk to them. Have some mercy. They were from the city; they’d be stranded. They just needed to make a call. You know, talk to someone. This wasn’t what they thought it was.
Rach popped her door open. The man slammed it closed. Gripping the frame with oversized hands, he bent down and looked inside the car. His cheeks had the texture of clay with childhood pockmarks. He didn’t bother looking at the dashboard where the gas gauge sat just below empty.
“Back the car up, and don’t come back.”
His words tumbled into the car. He didn’t pull back until Rach dropped into reverse. A curt nod, he took three steps back and watched them back up the rutted driveway. The woman watched from between the truck’s highbeams. The glare obscured her face, but it was unlikely she was smiling.
Rach swerved onto the soft shoulder and jerked the car into the opposite lane before getting back between the lines. Her hands were shaking on the steering wheel. They drove in radio silence for a mile, only the sound of rubber grinding asphalt between them. Rach was squeezing the steering wheel, eyes flicking in the rearview then to Grey and back to the rearview before speaking.
“Your dad is so in the Maze.”
18
Grey
Before the Punch
You know what I don’t get?” Rach said. “Why they were using phones.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if they’re connected to the Maze, shouldn’t they have all the sensory upgrades. You know?” She sipped at the cold remains at the bottom of her coffee cup. “They should’ve been grabbing screen shots with a retinal lens.”
“Maybe we should’ve asked.”
“I’m just saying don’t you think that’s a little off.”
He didn’t know what to think. According to his best guess, his dad had been heading for that driveway when his phone lost reception. There were no other houses or driveways for miles. Maybe whoever was beyond the gates owned it all. That would go along with illegal awareness leaping. It didn’t prove the Maze was back there.
The invitations did.
“What next?” Rach said.
Grey looked over and frowned. Her lofty tone of hope was unexpected. In fact, it scared him a little. There was no going back to the front gate, not after that. And she was the one talking about dogs and doorbells. Now she wanted to know what next, as in you’re not giving up, are you?
Grey’s pocket vibrated. He pulled the phone out and quickly tucked it between his legs.
“Is that him?” Rach
said.
“Yeah.”
“You should answer.”
His dad rarely called his phone. He next left a message. The phone had buzzed three times since clay face ordered them to get the hell off their property. Now there were three messages.
Grey didn’t listen to any of them.
“What do you think he wants?” Rach said.
Those people took pictures. They’d captured their faces and Rach’s license plate. Maybe they had all the sensory augments going, too. If they did, they had access to facial recognition databases or even the department of motor vehicles, if they were connected. It wouldn’t be hard to identify them. After that, they would make the connection to his dad.
This was coming together, but not exactly like he thought because he had no plan. Just drive up and ring the doorbell was pretty much it. The city loomed ahead. The buildings hadn’t come over the horizon, but the haze was creeping toward them.
“He knows,” Grey said.
“How?”
Grey turned a lazy stare on her.
“What do you want to do?” she asked. “You can stay at our place. My mom knows what your dad’s like.”
He’d been running all his life and could never outdistance his problems. Even when he managed to get some breathing room, found peace and equanimity in a boring moment, he managed to fuck it up. It was like he couldn’t stand swimming with the current. It was too easy to just drift along. Why not go against the current and make things interesting?
Only this wasn’t interesting. And he was tired.
He took his phone off silent and scrolled through the messages. Besides his dad’s waiting messages, there was a text from his mother.
Where are you?
With Rach, he answered.
A minute passed. Your dad’s trying to reach you.
Grey typed a message and deleted it. Typed another and deleted that one, too. There was only one way out of a tailspin. It wasn’t going home to Mom or hiding at Rach’s apartment. Even if they had enough gas money to keep on driving, his problems would come along for the ride. So why not just keep swimming into the current?