by Dima Zales
“Callie, please get back in the van,” Williams said.
She looked up at him, clearly torn.
“She’s frightened. Why did you have to frighten her?”
God, what an innocent, I thought. She seemed to have no idea what sort of people she was involved with.
Williams was looking at her with an expression that suggested he might be thinking the same thing. It was probably the only time we’d ever be on the same page. He bent, helped her up, and walked her around the van, speaking quietly.
I took a look at my surroundings. We weren’t on a farmer’s access road, this time. I found that only marginally reassuring. Williams could have corpse piles scattered all over the Upper Midwest, for all I knew.
We seemed to have pulled into an abandoned homestead overgrown with trees and bushes. A ways to the left stood the ruins of a small house, and behind that a pile of warped wood that might once have been a shed or lean-to. Lone fence posts stuck up here and there, and the ground was littered with rusted pieces of metal. We were completely out of sight of any road. The sun was touching the line of trees on the horizon. It would be dark in less than an hour.
I heard the van door shut again, and Williams came back alone. I guessed he’d convinced Callie to hang tight in the front seat. That brought a surge of fear — Callie’s gentle presence might’ve restrained the man’s violence.
He lifted me up and set me down on a stump. Cold moisture from the wood immediately started seeping through the seat of my jeans. I cringed away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice — just looked at Kara and nodded, then backed off a little ways and sat down to watch.
I was mystified. What was Kara going to do to me? She didn’t look like she had it in her to beat me, physically. She was quite short, and though she wasn’t delicate, like Callie, her mass came from a curvy figure, not muscle. Then again, who knows what havoc she could wreak with her ability — maybe healing was only the positive side of what she could do.
Surprisingly, what she seemed to want to do was talk to me. A whole lot.
“We brought you out here because we need to explain some things to you,” she said. “I’m sorry it went down like that. We had to make it fast, and it had to happen out of Graham’s range. Callie sensed an opportunity, and we thought it might be our only chance to reach you. We figured you wouldn’t come willingly.”
She’d figured right. I just stared back at her, which she seemed to find a little unnerving. She shot a glance over at Williams, but I could’ve told her he wasn’t going to help her out with this. The guy wasn’t much of a talker.
Kara took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She looked sad. She also looked a lot older than her years, sort of worn out.
“Graham trained me too,” she said. “He told me that we protect the world from dangerous Seconds. Sound familiar? It’s not true. Our job is to keep humans from finding out about the S-Em. He also told me that we have the support and protection of some powerful Seconds. That’s misleading. The real story is they control us. Totally. We’re basically slaves. The Seconds tell us what to do, who to fight, who to kill. We don’t have any choices.”
I felt my body go still, like the world had stopped, but only I realized it.
“They don’t care if humans are killed, so long as it’s kept quiet. I’ve never been sent on a mission that was supposed to protect humans. The only thing we protect is the secret. I’ve been sent to kill Seconds that were as harmless as kittens just because they slipped up once, and someone might’ve seen something funny. And I know of one back in New York who kills a human every couple weeks, but they leave her alone because she’s discreet.”
I thought about it. Had Graham ever actually said his organization protected humans? Maybe not. He’d said some Seconds were dangerous to humans and some weren’t. Maybe I’d jumped to conclusions.
“He tell you about the open strait?” Kara said.
I nodded.
“I bet he gave you the idea we were trying to keep something dangerous from coming through. That’s not true. The only thing that matters is getting the thing closed. A fire that can’t be put out is too weird — it might lead to discovery.”
“You know, they don’t even think we’re human,” she said.
Now that she’d gotten going, the words just kept coming. Every time I thought she’d reached a conclusion, something new spilled out.
“They call us ‘Nolanders’ because we don’t belong in either world. They used to actually hunt us. We moved up from game animals to slaves because they realized that humans pose a threat, and that we could be useful on that front. They use us until we fail at some task they give us. Then they figure we’re not useful anymore, and we die.”
She took a few shaky breaths. I honestly didn’t know what to think. If she was making this stuff up, she was a great actress. But maybe that’s what she was. If this group included receptionists, why not actresses, too?
“I bet he’s been coming on to you. Yes? That’s what he did with me. I was so stupid. Probably stupider than you are. I mean, I was fifteen fucking years old. Why would some hotshot older guy want me? I was so cocky, I couldn’t see how absurd it was.” She laughed bitterly. “That’s how he works. Gets you all starry-eyed and pumps you full of bullshit, then uses you to get ahead. Makes you do the most fucked-up shit, then takes all the credit. By the time you realize he’s using you, he’s ready to move on to his next mark.”
She stopped.
I sat there, staring at her. My fear had faded. Kara and Williams weren’t going to kill me. They were trying to recruit me.
The fear was replaced by frustration. Now I had two versions of things that were completely different. I was supposed to be confronting my new reality instead of being a passive victim. But how could I do that if I couldn’t get a handle on what was actually going on?
How the hell was I supposed to decide who was right? I had nothing to go on except what two different people had said.
I risked a glance over at Williams. He had his elbows on his knees and was looking at his hands. No help there — I couldn’t even see his face. Callie wouldn’t be any help either. I already knew her version of things, and it didn’t match Kara’s or Graham’s.
I wanted to believe what Graham had told me. It was neater, simpler, nicer. He hadn’t made it sound like I’d be a slave, subject to the death penalty if I couldn’t get something done. Plus, he’d made it sound like we did something noble, protecting humanity from monsters.
But maybe his story was too good to be true. Shouldn’t I be more suspicious of the nice story than the horrible one? And just a couple hours ago, I’d decided I didn’t trust Graham’s romantic interest. That resonated with what Kara said.
Jesus, had he really seduced her when she was fifteen? That would be rape.
But suspicion of Graham was one thing. Throwing in with these people was another. Especially Williams. My tendency was to think that any side he was on was the wrong one. At least Graham had never hurt me.
But had he hurt Kara? It seemed like something had damaged her. The hair, tats, and piercings said “badass,” but her body language said “broken.” She reminded me of Callie, in a way, even though one woman was a conservative Christian adult and the other was a rebellious teen.
I looked down at the long, weedy grass in front of me.
I wasn’t sure. I just wasn’t sure.
I made a noise to attract Kara’s attention, then jerked my head, trying to tell her I wanted the gag removed. She looked at Williams.
He said, “No screaming or running, Ryder,” without looking up.
Nervously, Kara came over and cut the gag off me.
“I don’t know who to believe.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said, looking discouraged.
“Do you have any evidence? Anything concrete?”
Kara shook her head, looking miserable.
Williams said, “Ryzik put the hit out on Bob.”
I tu
rned to look at him. He was still studying his hands.
“Abominable snowman Bob?” I said. “At the cemetery?”
Bob who was pining after a girl.
“Yup.”
I felt cold. “Why would Graham want to kill Bob? He’s so nice.”
Then Williams did look at me. His stare was icy. “Dozens of humans saw his foot. Think you were there.”
“But … how could he have known he’d show up in my picture? It was just an accident.”
“That’s just like I said, Beth,” Kara chimed in. “The point is to keep the S-Em secret. That’s all they care about. They send us to take out anyone who creates a risk of discovery, human, Nolander, or Second. It doesn’t matter how or why.”
I said, more to myself than to them, “I don’t know that Bob’s dead.”
Bob the bagel monster.
Williams said, “Want to see him?”
Then I knew where Bob was and who had put him there. Oh god. I put my head down on my knees, fighting back nausea at the memory of the place.
Things shifted in my mind, and the weight of my belief scraped and groaned over to Kara. I couldn’t have told you exactly why. Graham had been so nice to me. But I just knew. Maybe it was because no world that gave Williams a prime place could be as bright and orderly as the one Graham had painted for me.
As I sat there, my new reality was replaced by an even newer one. It sucked. I’d been wasting my time on pretty lies.
By the time I was able to straighten up and look the latest version of my world in the face, it had gotten pretty dark. That seemed fitting. I had no idea what lay ahead of me. Before, I’d been imagining some combination of my old aspirations and something new — I’d go back to college and protect humanity on the side; I’d eventually be able to afford a new car, but sometimes I’d decide to fly instead. I know that sounds ridiculous, but those were the kinds of combinations my mind had been trying on for size.
Now I realized the rest of my life was going to bear no resemblance to what had come before. I no longer had a likely future stretching before me, a comfortable path through the streets of Dorf. Nor would I be following any of the getting-out-of-Dorf dreams I’d once nurtured. Instead, there was yawning blackness all around. And I was part of that dark unknown. What was I going to become?
I guess I was someone’s slave.
And Graham. Damn it, I’d liked him. I could almost still feel his hand pressing into the small of my back. Damn.
I felt used and sad. And very alone. I was nothing to these people. They only wanted me for what they thought I could do for them. Which made sense, if the punishment for failure was death.
“What do you want from me?” I asked Kara.
“We need you to come to the mill,” she answered instantly.
I could’ve guessed that one.
“Graham thought I wasn’t ready. He thought I’d get hurt, like Callie.”
Kara sighed. She went and pulled a milk crate out of the back of the van and sat down on it near me. Williams didn’t move. He was little more than an area of darker darkness.
“Beth, you have to quit thinking that he has your best interests at heart. Graham has Graham’s best interests at heart.”
“So why wouldn’t he want me there? Doesn’t he want that strait thing closed?”
The question was met with silence.
“I don’t get it. Why would he want it left open? He’s just middle-management, right? Won’t he get in trouble, too?”
“We don’t know,” Kara said. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense. A strait sitting open can attract human attention in a number of ways. But it really seems like that’s what he’s doing. I mean, you know Callie’s predictions are almost always accurate, right?”
“That’s what you keep saying.”
“Our lives are on the line. So why didn’t Graham rush you out to the strait the minute Callie told him your help was essential? It’s weird.”
I opened my mouth to object.
“Look,” Kara cut in, holding up her fingers to count off her evidence. “First of all, he didn’t send anyone up here to close the thing. Callie called him first, but he didn’t do anything, so she called Williams. Williams called me. It’s like Graham was just going to ignore it. Now he’s been here three days, but he says he’s here for you, and he hasn’t tried to do anything about the strait. The fucker hasn’t even gone out to look at it. He’s the overseer for the Upper Midwest. Getting it closed should be priority número uno for him. Instead, he’s fucking around with a trainee.”
“No offense,” she added belatedly.
We all sat there for a moment, digesting. It did sound pretty damning.
Finally I said, “I don’t understand how I could help with the strait. I mean, Callie’s much more experienced than I am, and it nearly killed her. What could I possibly do?”
“Callie’s the strongest of us. She can see pretty deep into an open strait. That’s why Williams took her there — to see what it was stuck on. She tried, but she couldn’t see the snag in this one. We’re guessing you’ll have better luck.”
I felt like laughing, it seemed like such a random hope. “Why on earth would you think that?”
“Did Graham tell you that the later your abilities manifest, the stronger you’re going to end up being? Callie saw through at twenty.”
She must’ve heard me stop breathing.
“Yeah, I was guessing he skipped that bit.”
That was what Graham had meant when he mentioned my “potential.” Kara was kind enough to let me sit there a while and come to grips with what she’d said. Again.
I wondered if it was too late to run. If I moved far away, then I could ignore any Seconds I saw and just live as a normal person. Right?
I thought about it and decided my best source of information was right in front of me.
“Could I get away from all this?” I asked, “Go somewhere far away and keep my head down?”
“It’s probably too late for that,” Kara said. Her voice held a note of sympathy. “You have to understand that they’ll want you back really bad, since you have a lot of potential. We all know what you look like, and if they sent one of us after you, we’d have no choice. And if they know about your friends and family, they’ll use them to bring you back.”
Well, there went that idea. I might as well sign death warrants for Ben and the girls. Janie too.
Still, it didn’t mean I had to go to the mill. Burned Callie flashed through my mind. I could still refuse.
Or maybe not. If successfully following orders was the only way to stay alive, maybe I had to throw my lot in with Kara and Williams and help them do what they needed to do.
Or I could stick with Graham. But getting wrapped up in whatever game he was playing seemed more dangerous than fire. If I had such potential in these people’s eyes, I might become a bargaining chip as Graham tried to meet his goals, whatever they were.
“If I go to the fire with you, how will you keep me safe? I’m, you know … defenseless.”
I hated to say it, but it was god’s own truth.
Kara’s voice brimmed with relief. “You’ll be safe if you pay attention and do what Williams says.”
Williams. Damn it. “Williams” and “safe” didn’t belong in the same world, much less the same sentence.
“What happened to Callie, that was an accident,” Kara continued. “She was trying to get a better look, and she walked through his barrier. She didn’t notice until it was too late.”
“It was definitely my fault. I just wasn’t paying attention,” Callie said from behind me.
I started, then wondered how long she’d been standing there listening. If she heard that her colleagues understood the other world in non–Christian terms, would it bother her?
“Williams can make different kinds of barriers — it’s his gift,” Kara said. “A protective one should be strong enough to withstand the fire at the mill. If he doesn’t have quite enough ju
ice, I’ll be there to feed him some of mine. You just have to stay inside it.”
So Kara would be coming with us. That made me feel marginally better.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay, I’ll go.”
I felt like I was choosing the slower method of suicide. I hoped we left soon. If we didn’t, I was going to chicken out.
10
Once we were in the van headed toward the mill, Callie started coaching me on what to look for in the open strait. She said openings sometimes “got snagged,” which kept them from collapsing after use. The snags were generally visible in the opening, and once located, they could be unhitched from this end if you “grabbed the strait and shook it just right.” No kidding, that’s what she said.
Snags generally looked to her like a fold or wrinkle in fabric, she said, but some people thought they looked like spots of irritation on skin or like knots in a piece of wood. Basically, I should look for an anomaly. Once I found it, I should tell Williams exactly where the problem was and how big it looked, so he could grab the strait and close it.
When I asked exactly what caused the snags, she said it was “demons who had escaped Hell and were at large in the primordial deep.” Neither Williams nor Kara contradicted her, but I suspected they would’ve offered a different explanation in private.
Even minus the religious stuff, none of it made a great deal of sense. I had trouble envisioning the physical relationship between the worlds and exactly how straits connected them. I’d settled on an elevator-shaft analogy, with the worlds as different floors in a building, but when I ran it by Callie, she explained that the strait here didn’t open into S-Em northern Wisconsin. It might open into an S-Em version of London or Antarctica — there was no way to know. Some straits could connect to just one location, and some could connect to more than one, but they were never just a straight shot between the same spot in both worlds.
I nodded along and hoped it would suddenly make more sense when I actually saw it. If I actually saw it. I was still unconvinced on that front. They all seemed excited about my “potential,” but I sure hadn’t seen much sign of it. Maybe I’d luck out and the strait would be caught on a mouse.