A Perfect Darkness

by Jaime Rush

  Eric led Amy to a small room that held a rack of car batteries, a desk and computer, and security monitors showing four frames, including the entrance they took to get there. She pointed to a frame of an interior door. “What’s that?”

  “That’s the door from the gallery. We’ve seen someone snooping around twice already.” Eric gestured to the computer on the desk. “Here are some tools, hopefully what you need to get into this drive.”

  “Eric,” Petra said. “Why don’t we get her settled in first? Give her a breather?”

  “No time for breathers.”

  Amy smiled at Petra’s thoughtfulness. “Thanks, but doing something will help me forget…well, at least it will help put tonight on the back burner for a while.”

  Eric said, “You know you can’t return to your apartment, not even to get anything you need.”

  She patted her backpack. “I have most everything here. Except Orn’ry.”

  “Orn’ry?” Petra said, her eyebrow raised.

  “My cockatoo.”

  “No pets in here,” Eric said. “Not that it matters because you can’t get it anyway.”

  “I’ve already got a friend set up to take care of my things should…I disappear. If he can handle Orn’ry.”

  Eric slapped his hand to his forehead. “Don’t tell me you’ve told someone else about this!”

  “He thinks I stumbled onto a file I shouldn’t have seen and now someone’s after me.”

  “Perfect,” Eric said with a nod of approval. It annoyed her that his approval felt good.

  “I’ll need some clothes, though,” she said, gesturing to her sweaty, torn shirt and pants.

  “I’ve got a bunch of stuff here,” Petra said. “After we found Gladstone”—she looked at Eric—“I packed up and moved down here. Eric’s been here for a while. You can use my clothes until we can get out and buy some.”

  “You’re a lot taller than I am,” Amy said.

  “Only an inch or so.”

  Amy realized Petra was right. She’d seen Petra as tall and herself as short. She’d always felt not enough, at least on a personal level. Now everything had changed. Who she was had changed. No time to delve into that, though. “Let me clean up, and then I’ll get right on the drive.”

  Later, when the fear and grief had drained from her body, she would sleep. Hopefully Lucas would come, and she would tell him what had happened. Now that she was fully involved, he didn’t have to protect her by withholding information about his whereabouts.

  Other than having no windows and concrete walls, the shelter resembled a regular home. She took a shower and washed Cyrus’s blood from her arms, nearly gagging and crying at the same time. She found a pair of jeans and a red stretch top on the sink cabinet afterward. Feeling a little revived, she pushed herself on the drive for two hours.

  “Any luck?” Eric asked for the umpteenth time as she stood.

  “It’s not physically damaged; its sectors were scrubbed by something resembling a virus. Not impossible but more difficult than the coffee-spill type of job. Files are made up of thousands of bits, and those bits aren’t stored contiguously; they’re placed wherever there’s space, a sector here and a sector there. Without the file name placeholder, I’ll have to pick through the sectors and piece things together. I did find what looks like bits of word processing documents that look hopeful.”

  “Then why are you getting up?” He tried to steer her back to the computer.

  “Because my brain feels as though it’s being attacked by a computer virus.” She held herself stiff, resisting his effort. “I have to sleep.” When he looked like he would argue, she said, “Show me where I’m sleeping.”

  “There are three bedrooms on this level,” he said, leading the way. “Mine’s to the right, Petra’s is at the end of the hallway, and Lucas’s room is here. I guess you can sleep there.”

  Lucas’s room. Had he slept here? The bed was loosely made, so she guessed he had. The walls were a gray-blue, like his eyes, with two dream paintings that added vivid color. She felt an ache at the sight of them. A cabinet in the corner held more sketches. An open door revealed a bathroom.

  “Good night,” she said to Eric.

  Without giving him time to respond, she closed the door in his face. She stripped out of her clothes and looked through the drawers in the long dresser. “Oh, yes.” She pulled out a shirt that had to be Lucas’s and nearly stumbled to the bed. She could smell the faintest scent of a man on one of the pillows. She breathed in deeply, whispering his name. Her last coherent thought as she tumbled directly into sleep was, Lucas, please come to me.

  During the hypnagogic stage, she heard the voices for a few seconds, whispers, words here and there. Then her name. Not Lucas, not his voice.

  Along with the voices came a cold fear that poured through her body.

  No, no, no. She pushed the voice away. Was something from her darkest dreams trying to reach out? She imagined a brick wall as wide and high as infinity blocking whatever was trying to get in. She dreamed of death, of Cyrus being shot, of running through the dark woods and the trees reaching out to grab her. Then the forest melted away, though the darkness remained, and Lucas flashed in. He said something but his words were warbled.

  In the next instant he was holding her, touching her as though he believed he wouldn’t again. “Are you all right? What happened? I felt you…scared.”

  He had a shimmering quality, as though he were there and not. She felt him, but his image was vibrating and his words choppy. “I’m okay. I’m in the tomb with Eric and Petra.” She felt her emotions welling up. “They killed Cyrus!”

  He was gone. In the next instant they were kissing by the beach, his mouth all over her, and then everything changed again and they were in the shadow of the pyramid making love, and then in a dizzying second they were by the waterfall.

  She grabbed onto him, feeling his body against hers, holding on tight. He pulled her just as close and kissed her as though she held the only oxygen he’d had for hours. “Amy, Amy, Amy,” he whispered between kisses. “You’re all right.”

  Had he heard what she’d said? She let him sweep her away for a minute, needing his touch as much as he seemed to need hers. His hands ran over her shoulders, her back, and then up to cradle her face again. His eyes were closed as though he was absorbing her. “What hap—”

  “I’m with Eric and Petra,” she said.

  But he was gone again, replaced by images of a previous dream. For those seconds, she could feel him just as she always had. A second later she was alone again, in the dark.

  “Lucas!” she called, and heard her voice echo back.

  “Amy—” First his voice and then a flash of him a few feet away. “…don’t know what’s happening…whatever they’re giving me…changing…can’t hold on.”

  She reached out to him, their fingers grazing, and pulled him toward her. “I know you tried to keep me safe, but I’m involved now. Help us find you.”

  “No…too dangerous.”

  She stood in the darkness, searching for him. “Lucas!” Somehow she knew he was gone this time, but she waited anyway. Then, awake, she got up, intending to go back to work on the drive.

  Her gaze went to the cabinet that she knew contained Lucas’s drawings and paintings. Needing to feel close to him, she sat down and pulled them out. It seemed these were his personal collection. She could see his style, even in the earlier ones, and could see how his talent had grown. Most were of her, snapshots of various moments in her life over the years.

  One was of her lying on the grass, with a dog as close to her as it could get, its snout on its paws. Tears filled her eyes as she thought of Buzby, a golden retriever at the shelter where she volunteered. She cheered when a family adopted Buzby. They returned him a week later, their veterinarian having found a cancerous lump with which they weren’t equipped to deal. She had given Buzby love and comfort until he died. The sketch showed exactly the way they lay in the grass togethe
r during those last weeks, and the grief on her face.

  Other paintings showed happy moments, sitting up in a tree at the park, joining an impromptu Frisbee game, soaking in the sun. The most amazing part was how beautiful she looked in the paintings, and yet her hair was still that in-between straight and wavy, her body too boyish.

  So this was what she looked like through the eyes of someone who loved her. That thought startled her. Did he love her?

  She was about to put them back when she saw one of those horrid dream sketches stuffed way in the back. She pulled it out and saw a man lying dead on the ground. Why was this one here? She felt darkness descend on her as she recognized the man’s features.

  Lucas. He had seen his own death. She searched for more sketches. What was it that Eric had said? He drew it four nights in a row and then it happened the next day? Only one sketch, though. He had hidden it here. Which probably meant he hadn’t told Eric or Petra.

  Urgency thrummed through her. He had seen his own death, and he’d been acting as though he would die in that terrible place. He wouldn’t last much longer. She had to find him.

  CHAPTER 16

  It was six in the morning, and sitting at the desk in the tiny office, all Amy could hear was the hum of the fridge. She needed her music; working without it was like working without one of her senses. Thank God they had a coffee maker, though no fair trade coffee. Darn Ozzie, making her all socially aware.

  Ozzie! She had to call and tell him where to get his car and to find a home for Orn’ry. She started to reach for her cell phone but realized the charge was dead. Actually, better not to call from here. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she couldn’t take any chances. She’d watched crime shows where the perp was caught because of cell calls that linked him to a certain tower.

  She’d nuked some popcorn and was tossing them up in the air and catching them when a husky voice startled her from behind, making her miss.

  “Hey.” Eric came in wearing athletic pants and a faded, tight T-shirt bearing the words 2002 beer festival on a stein. He looked like a sleepy little boy with his hair matted down. She remembered how she’d thought his spiky hair reminded her of flames. How accurate she’d been. He picked up her purple phone. “What’s this?”

  Seeing his hair made her smooth down her own wild hair. “Uh, they call them cell phones. Very handy devices.”

  He smirked. “I mean, you’ve got to get rid of it. Some of these have GPS chips in them. In any case, they can get a bead on your location by which tower picked up your calls.”

  “Yeah, I just thought of that.”

  “We bought untraceable phones. I’ll get one for you.”

  She sighed. No more purple phone. “I think I’ve got it, or at least a part of it.”

  Petra wandered in, wearing velvet pajamas that showed a slice of her flat stomach, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. “Got what?”

  “I found a document named ‘E-Aruda.’ Give me about ten more minutes and I think I’ll have it.”

  Unfortunately they waited, looking over her shoulder as she worked and releasing huffs of impatience. They eventually flopped on the floor, scarfing her popcorn. Petra got up and left, returned, and Amy smelled nail polish. When she turned, she was shocked to see Eric painting her toenails.

  Petra said, “My legs are so long it was a hassle to paint my toes. One day Eric saw me struggling and did it for me.”

  It was such a touching gesture it was hard to believe it was Eric doing it. Seeing her expression, he said, “Don’t be jealous. I can do yours next.”

  She tucked her feet beneath the chair and went back to work. While the computer did its thing, she itched for parts to glue together. What she would have given for an old motherboard and some pliers.

  Okay, maybe it was more like twenty-five and a half minutes. These things couldn’t be rushed. “It’s a log, like a diary,” she said, bringing them to their feet behind her.

  March 15: EA getting suspicious. Probably that creepy psychic ability. Must be careful. The guy is definitely trouble.

  April 24: EA followed me; lost him eventually. Official report is that EA will not be cooperative, and in fact, will only create problems. He’s volatile, into trouble, and has displayed tendencies that endanger us and others. He has no value at all to the program. My recommendation is to terminate him. Then again, I think they should all be terminated. They’re a bunch of freaks, but the boss won’t buy that. Getting rid of this one, and possibly Vanderwyck, would be a good start. Think the boss will agree on EA, at least.

  Petra gasped. Eric said, “Now you see why I had to kill the guy. With Lucas’s sketches and now this, we know he was gunning for us. For me, especially.”

  “Maybe so. It’s just scary to think my baby brother killed someone.”

  He touched her arm. “I’m still the same asshole you’ve always known and loved. But now things are different, and I’m willing to kill to protect myself and my own.” He looked at Amy.

  Was he including her? The thought made her flush.

  Petra leaned over her shoulder. “What’s the deal with all the weird symbols and stuff?”

  “That’s the part I can’t recover. I found another document called P-Aruda.”

  “Open it,” she said in a low voice.

  “Give me another ten minutes.”

  They both sighed and walked out this time, leaving her in peace for the fifteen minutes it took to finagle some data out of that file.

  “Not much,” she announced when they returned after her summons. “All I could get was a few random things.”

  Beautiful. Too bad she’s one of them. No apparent ability. Keeps to herself. Periodic outbursts for no apparent reason.

  Amy swiveled around in the chair with a raised eyebrow. “Outbursts?”

  Petra narrowed her eyes and jabbed her finger at Eric. “You! Everyone at Hooters thought I was crazy because of you.”

  Eric actually looked chagrined as he shrugged his shoulders. It was the first time she’d seen any contrition, and not over killing people but annoying his sister. He was an enigma. “That was your fault for getting so uptight about it.”

  Amy took them both in. “’Splain, Lucy.”

  Petra said, “He would remote view to me at work. I could always feel him looking at the girls, even in the changing room. Perv. Then I’d get mad at him, and they thought I was yelling at myself.”

  “I had a funny feeling when I was on Cyrus’s computer,” Amy said to Eric. “That was you watching me, wasn’t it? That’s how you knew he was online.” She popped another piece of popcorn.

  “Yep. And how I knew you were at Hammond’s, too.” He eyed Petra as he tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “And now you know why I’m a perv.”

  Petra rolled her eyes. “Great, now he has an excuse. Have you seen his room?”

  “Hey, it’s art.”

  “Naked women art.”

  Eric took her hand. “Come here, Amy; you tell me if this is porn.”

  He escorted her one door down to his room. Oh, brother. When he flicked on the light, she was surprised. She expected boobs and va-jay-jay’s, not sepia-toned paintings of passionate embraces, a woman with a towel draped artfully over her body, and an angel leaning over a man on his knees before her.

  “Tomasz Rut,” he said with a touch of pride. “I’ve been buying them at art auctions. Lucas has a few, too.”

  “They’re beautiful,” she had to concede.

  From behind them, Petra said, “And what about the Playboys?”

  “I need a diversion. It’s not like I’m going to get a chance to do the bump and grind anytime soon.”

  Amy returned to the office. She didn’t want to pursue that line of conversation. As she printed out the documents, the others in the room with her again, she remembered something. “We have access to a car that’s not tied to any of us. Cyrus gave it to me.”

  Petra said, “But I like driving Lucas’s car. It’s like having him wit
h us.”

  Eric shook his head. “It’s also a good way to get caught. Even with changing the tags, it’s a risk every time we take it out. It’s too recognizable.” His expression softened, another surprise. “If you want to feel close to him, just go sit in it.” He told Amy, “But getting Cyrus’s car is too risky. They might be watching it. They were probably keeping tabs on Cyrus; they knew he was meeting you, after all. We don’t know if they followed him to the car’s drop-off location.”

  “I have to get the car.”

  He raised his eyebrows at the emotion in her voice. “What do you mean, ‘have to’?”

  “Cyrus risked—and lost—his life to warn and protect me. As much as Lucas’s car means to Petra, this car means as much to me.” It would be the last thing he’d ever do for her. “Besides, we need it. Like you said, we can’t take Lucas’s or our cars.”

  “No.”

  “I think you just like being contrary.”

  “I think you like being contrary.”

  She slapped her hand on her forehead. Orn’ry had nothing on Eric. “I’m going to get the car, with or without you.”

  “If you want to take the chance, go alone. Now, about the hard drive: is there anything else you can scavenge?”

  “There’s a file on here for Lucas, too, but that one is beyond reconstruction. We won’t know what he reported.”

  Eric leaned against the rack of car batteries. “Probably not much, since he kept his sketches down here. There were a few times, though, that he was in the middle of doing the four sketches when they were in his bedroom. Gladstone could have seen those.”

  “Did you know that Lucas saw his own death?”

  By their expressions, they didn’t. Petra especially looked scared. “How do you know?”

  Amy walked into the bedroom and returned with the sketch. They both studied it with horrified expressions.

  Eric said, “He didn’t tell us a lot of things.”

  Petra’s fingers curled around the edge of the paper, her gaze riveted to the sketch. “How could he not tell us something like this? He saw his own death and didn’t say a word about it!”