Mindfully, Sanchez and I helped Harper snip the gauze at Jake’s fingers. We started gently peeling it away from his skin, so Harper could clean Jake’s wounds.
My eyes became glassy as we freed his perfect thumb from its stained sheath of bandages. I carefully continued uncovering Jake’s entire hand, trying to control my anticipation, and moved up his exceptionally sculpted arm. I exhaled with relief. It was working; his body was regenerating. He appeared flawless…but he still wasn’t awake.
Unable to resist, I slid the backs of my fingers down his forearm to his cupped hand, letting them rest on his palm. Heat flooded my neck and cheeks, and I wasn’t sure if I was blushing out of excitement from feeling his skin against mine, or because I was embarrassed about caressing him while he was unconscious…in front of Harper and Sanchez. I looked up to find them both watching me closely.
“Uh, Zoe, let’s give Harper some…uh, privacy to work,” Sanchez said, escorting me out of the room. She passed me off to Sarah.
Stunned by Jake’s recovery, I let Sarah lead me down the hall. I was vaguely aware that we’d left the house and were heading down the path to the lake—all I could think about was Jake.
We walked to the end of the dock and sat down across from one another, each leaning our back against a piling.
“So, this is good, right?” Sarah said, apparently baffled by my quietness. She pulled her hood up over her head and readjusted her bug-like sunglasses.
“Yeah,” I agreed, still shocked that Jake’s body was healing so well. “He’s gonna be okay,” I told her, and for the first time I actually believed it.
“Yep,” she said, a smug look on her face. “Shall we celebrate?” she asked with a naughty grin, pulling something out of her sweatshirt pocket—a black flask with a marijuana leaf etched on it.
Laughter exploded from me—a genuine, happy sound I hadn’t heard in a while. “How can I say no to that?”
A toothy grin spread across Sarah’s face. “You can’t. That’s the point.” Unscrewing the top, she took a swig of its liquid contents, made a sour face, and passed the flask to me with a wink. “Aged to perfection.”
Taking a drink, I cringed as what tasted like rum burned going down, warming my empty stomach. “Where did you get this thing?” I asked, holding up the flask.
Leaning back on the dock, Sarah ignored a heavy breeze and basked in the rays of the sun. She looked like a movie star—elegant, confident, and comfortable. “I bought it when I was in high school…to freak out my mom.”
Laughing, we told each other stories about how we terrorized our parents until the flask was empty. When it was too cold to resist the warmth indoors, we headed back into the house, feeling buoyant as the liquor coursed through our veins. We had a few more shots before Sarah disappeared with Biggs in tow.
The night passed in a blur, and when everyone went to bed, I found myself sitting at Jake’s bedside. He was sleeping soundly, completely free of bandages. Utterly fascinated, I studied every inch of him.
In the candle’s flickering light, stubble barely obscured the clean lines of his jaw. I had to sit on my hands to keep from reaching out and running my fingers over the soft curves of his slightly parted lips. His hair had grown back, short and silky, and occasionally his brown lashes fluttered as he dreamt. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was mesmerizing. He just looks like he’s sleeping…
Eventually, I lost myself in “what-ifs” and “I wonders,” and began to doze. I dreamt of seagulls flying above me, screeching through damp sea air. I dreamt of wet sand beneath my feet, molding to the shape of my toes, and the briny smell of the wind as it whipped my hair around my face and stung my eyes.
But my dreams were interrupted by a muffled sound, and my consciousness stirred. A throaty rumble soothed me as I drifted in a state of partial awareness. I felt like I was floating, and a sudden blanket of warmth lulled me back into restful sleep.
The next morning, the click-clack-click of Cooper pacing on the hardwood floor woke me. It took me only a moment to realize I wasn’t in the chair, but was instead nestled in a bed. As I took a deep breath, the smell of rubbing alcohol filled my nose.
My hair was splayed over my face, partially blocking my view of the room, and I felt the pressure of a warm body behind me, and quiet breathing tickled my ear. My heart fluttered as I realized where I was. Slowly brushing my hair out of my face, I was astonished to find Jake’s arm wrapped around me. I’m in his bed. Oh. My. God. How the…
“Zoe, what are you doing?” Sanchez said disapprovingly in my mind. I raised my head to find her standing in the doorway to the foyer, her face a mixture of both horror and skepticism.
Carefully removing the covers, I snuck out of Jake’s bed. I tiptoed out of the room, trying not to wake him, and gently closed the door behind me.
“I don’t know what happened,” I said, shrugging defensively. Did I climb into his bed? I hadn’t drank that much…had I?
“Biggs is making breakfast. Be back down here in ten.” Sanchez’s voice followed me as I headed up the staircase to brush my teeth and get dressed for the day.
“Yes, Mother,” I muttered. I felt like I was seventeen again and had just been grounded for sneaking a boy in through my bedroom window.
As I opened the door, I wished I had time to sneak under the bed’s plush down comforter for a quick nap. My mind was still fuzzy from sleep…or maybe from the shots I’d taken with Sarah after we’d returned to the house. Unfortunately, Sanchez’s disapproving expression had promised she would retrieve me if I took too long.
After combing out my tangled hair, I brushed my teeth and washed my face, trying to quantify how much I had drank. Pulling on a clean, purple V-neck and a fresh pair of jeans, I stepped back to appraise myself in the standing, full-length mirror beside the desk. At least I don’t look hungover. I shrugged and headed for the door. As I turned the curved, bronze door handle, I heard my name echo in the grand entryway.
“Zoe!” Harper yelled again, and I flung open the door.
“I know, I know, I’m coming. Jesus. You’ve eaten without me before.” I hurried to the nearest stairway and headed down to Harper.
Halfway down the stairs, I froze. Jake, wearing a white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, stood in the foyer. Everyone else was crowded around him, but he was staring at me.
“You should sit down, Jake.” Sarah gestured back toward the library.
“I’d rather stand.”
“I need to ask you some questions—make sure you’re alright,” Harper said.
I could barely hear their demands over my thudding heartbeat. Seeing Jake out of bed, I felt weightless, and the constant worry that had been taunting me all week fizzled away.
“Morning,” Jake said, his voice rough. He stood near the doorway to the library with attentive eyes, waiting for a response, but I could only stare at him in astonishment.
After a few rapid heartbeats, I finally whispered, “Morning.” My voice was trapped in between excessive excitement and disbelief.
“You were gone when I woke up,” he said coolly, but a wry grin followed. It melted every part of me, weakening my knees until I almost fell down the stairs. I barely noticed Sarah and Harper whispering something to the right of Jake, and Sanchez watching us from his left. I couldn’t look away from Jake’s all-consuming eyes.
“You read Dumas,” he added in my silence, and I instantly knew he’d heard everything—what I’d told him about my family and Dani, about Clara, and about how infuriated I was with him for running back into the fire.
Nodding dumbly, I felt my chin quiver, and a tear streaked down my cheek. Another followed, and before I could stop myself, I was running down the stairs. Running to him. I leapt into his arms, and wrapped my limbs around him, squeezing desperately. I was afraid he would disappear.
“You’re awake,” was all I could think to say as he held me snugly against him. His chest moved with mine, and I clutched his sleeves in my hands—he was real
, and being wrapped in his arms was even more comforting than I’d imagined it would be.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, his lips brushing my ear.
“I can’t believe you heard me,” I choked. “I can’t believe you’re awake.” I suddenly realized I’d launched myself at a man who’d nearly died only days before. I leaned away from him and searched his face. “Am I hurting you?”
He shook his head.
I wiped the tears from my cheeks with one hand. Of course I’d fall apart in front of him…again. “I was doing so good,” I whimpered.
Jake chuckled and looked deep into my eyes, searching for something. “You were in my dreams.”
“Was I blubbering like an idiot?” I asked sarcastically. Suddenly conscious of the scene I was making, I unwrapped my legs and lowered my feet to the cold marble floor.
“Come on, Jake,” Harper called from the library. “Let’s check your vitals.” But Jake said nothing, his gaze holding mine as he backed away, one step at a time.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” Harper said, ushering Jake into the room.
Before turning away, Jake smiled at me. “Alright, Doc.”
Date: January 6, 9:35 PM
From: Zoe Cartwright
To: Danielle O’Connor
Subject: Sorry!!!!!
Hey D,
I’m SO SORRY I’ve been MIA for so long. You have no idea how crazy it’s been over here. Before I get into the soap opera of my life (thanks for passing that torch to me BTW), I want to say one thing...I miss you SO much. Seriously. I could really use some Dani time right about now.
A lot’s happened in the last week. To start with, we’re no longer at Fort Knox. There was a fire, and some of our group didn’t survive. Dave didn’t make it, D. Stacey and Tanya didn’t either, but there’s more…You know how Clara was supposed to be locked away someplace so she couldn’t hurt anyone? Well, somehow she weaseled her way into Tanya’s head, and Tanya ended up helping her escape. When Clara got out, she tried to kill us all. At least that’s what we’ve concluded from Tanya’s confession to Jake when he ran in to try and save her and the others. Jake was badly burned, and no one knows where the hell Clara is. We had to get out of Fort Knox as fast as we could. It was so bad, D. Like you, I wish I could be teleported to where you are. It would make everything so much easier.
Since the possibility of teleportation isn’t likely, we’re staying at Sarah’s house outside of St. Louis. We needed a place to go where Jake could recover. I have no idea how long we’ll be here, but I think it’s best to plan on meeting outside of Colorado Springs, like you said. Now that Jake’s awake and okay, we can start figuring out what to do next. I’m sure he’ll have a suggestion for where to meet up. I’ll let you know next time I write.
Also, my computer was ruined in the fire, so I’m using Sarah’s dad’s laptop. Thank God for generators. Anyway, that’s why I haven’t been in touch, and yes, our internet connection is pretty shitty too. I tried emailing you a couple days ago, but it wouldn’t go through.
BTW, you should see Sarah’s house, D. It’s ridiculous. I still don’t think I’ve been in all the rooms. Like you, we have no power, but we still have the generators we pilfered from Home Depot, plus they already had a backup generator here. Thankfully. With the exception of worrying about Clara and Crazies, we’re in pretty good shape. We have everything else we need, for now, which is nice. Well there’s still no hot water, but a cold bath is better than nothing. Clara might not have killed us all, but she’s sure made the last week a nightmare. Thinking about having people like her roaming around—plotting and manipulating people’s minds—doesn’t help with my nightmares.
On top of everything else that’s been going on, I have a confession to make, a juicy one. I think you’re going to squeal. I’ve come to terms with the fact I like Jake, A LOT. I’m not sure if it was seeing his naked body in the locker room last week (I’ll fill you in more later) or the fact that he saved my sketchbook from the fire…or the fact that he’s saved my life a couple times, but it took some serious shit for me to realize it. All things I need to fill you in on, I know.
Everything else is okay though. I’m safe, so don’t worry about me. I’m just anxious to meet up with you. Keep working on your telepathy. Maybe we won’t need these shoddy internet connections anymore once you harness your mutant-ninja-animal-whisperer-telepathy power.
I love you, and I miss you a lot.
Hasta la pasta,
Zoe
43
DANI
Chris sat on a boulder a few feet away, the weak rays of the fading winter sun turning her blonde hair an ethereal silver-gold as she studied me. Behind her, the surface of an expansive lake reflected the pines and snow-capped mountains surrounding it, looking like Monet’s version of the breathtaking alpine scenery. Chris and I were sitting near the lakeshore, several hundred feet from the tents in their dense shield of trees.
“There has to be a way. You can’t keep going like this,” Chris said.
“I’m fine.” I waved her worry away and shifted on my own little boulder—my butt wasn’t enjoying the cold stone, especially not after another day spent in the saddle.
She snorted. “Yeah…you’re so fine that you almost slid right off your horse.”
I shrugged. I’d been maintaining a connection with the animals around us for the past four days, ever since we left Bodega Bay. It was necessary, but it also came at a high price, leaving me completely exhausted…except at night. Once we stopped each evening, I would find several dozen nocturnal animals and ask them to keep an eye out for other “two-legs.” Even though I kept the connection with them open while I slept—using my Ability throughout the night—I tended to feel a little better when I woke each morning. I should have been more worn out…it just didn’t make sense. On the other hand, the unusual dreams about stalking deer through deep woods and soaring over snowy peaks made perfect sense—the animals’ thoughts were bleeding into my subconscious and influencing my dreams.
Chris pursed her lips for a minute before speaking. “Maybe it’s like a passive and active thing. Like you’re trying harder when you’re awake. Can’t you just turn it down or something, so it’s not as tiring?”
“I don’t think so…it’s more of an on-and-off thing. I’m either connected to a mind, or I’m not.”
Frustrated, Chris huffed. “Well you’re always connected to Jack, right?”
“Yep.”
“But that doesn’t wear you out, right?”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t seem to.”
“So it’s also a numbers game. The more minds you’re connected to, the more energy you expend.”
Nodding, I gave a tight-lipped smile. “And people’s minds are harder, like they’re trying to kick me out.”
“But why are you less tired in the morning? You said you’re still doing it at night,” Chris said, thinking out loud. We’d already been over it, multiple times. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “How do you find them? The minds, I mean.”
“I don’t know…at first it was like casting out a net and seeing what I caught. But the past few days I’ve sort of been able to see them in my head.”
She leaned forward, intent. “Like radar?”
I thought about it briefly, picturing a black screen with sonorous beeps bringing green shapes intermittently to life. “I think…maybe?”
“So right now, can you tell me where the nearest living mammal is, besides me?” Her eyes were bright, excited.
It took only a moment of focus. “Down there,” I said, pointing to the ground beneath us. “It’s a group of something small. They’re hibernating, I think.”
“If you do whatever you just did, how long can you just ‘observe’ without actually connecting?”
“I’m not sure. Want me to try right now?” I asked, and Chris nodded.
Exactly as I’d done with the small, furry family beneath us, I focused on the part of my brain that let me hold conve
rsations in others’ minds. It was like removing headphones to hear what somebody was saying. I closed my eyes, blocking out distracting visual stimuli, and a world of living minds blossomed around me.
Every other time I’d entered the “observation” state, I’d been looking so intently for specific individuals that I’d missed the wonder of the collective. It was breathtakingly beautiful, like an orchestra of stars pulsing together in harmony, playing the song of life. I lost myself in their melody. It was balanced and perfect and random and…right. When one throbbing mind extinguished, another appeared elsewhere. Death and life—the natural order of things.
Like the mythical Sirens, each mind hummed, luring me in. I wanted to take the next step, to bridge the chasm separating us. I wanted to connect.
“Dani?” Chris asked softly, pulling me back from the precipice.
“Hmmm?” The sound was wistful. As I opened my eyes I felt rejuvenated, like I’d spent the day at a spa instead of on horseback.
“How’d it feel?”
I smiled. “Great. Gets dark fast here, huh?” It had been late afternoon when I’d closed my eyes, but twilight had fallen.
Without taking her eyes from me, Chris rubbed her hand over her mouth before resting her chin on her fist. Sitting on a rock, with an elbow on her knee, she could easily have been posing for the female version of Rodin’s The Thinker.
“Your eyes have been closed for almost an hour,” she told me slowly, letting the words sink in.
Shocked, I stared at her.
“And you don’t feel more tired?” she asked.
I shook my head. I felt awesome—completely alive, like the mental immersion had pumped me full of endorphins.
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