“Not when we’re onto something here,” I said and placed the blade beside the yellow pad. “What about the words? Only in the storm. They have to be significant.”
Nero thought for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “Do you think they’re watching us?”
“Probably.”
“Do you think they can hear us?”
“Probably,” I said again. And then it clicked what the words meant and how we needed to be careful with what we were saying right now. My heart sank when I thought about working through the storm, how it would even be possible. “Anything we do, we have to do while the screens are on.”
“Good.” Nero snapped back to me, looking hopeful that we figured it out. “They probably can’t see or hear anything while all that stuff’s blasting at us.” Then he realized what that meant, too. “This is gonna suck.”
“Hopefully they haven’t been paying attention to us now,” I whispered.
Nero got the hint and approached the desk. “During the next storm, we’re getting up to that speaker so we can see if there’s something we’re supposed to find. Can you handle it?”
Neither of us knew for sure, but it was all we had to go on at this point. Hopefully, we were deciphering the message correctly. If we weren’t, we were no worse off—though we probably wouldn’t feel that way if we did end up empty-handed.
The hum of the electromagnets rose from the floor and I was stuck where I sat. Nero froze, standing in the middle of the room. I looked at him, baffled.
“What are you doing?”
“Standing here, what does it look like I’m doing? I’m stuck in place; same as you.”
But Nero didn’t have a metal contraption around his leg. I didn’t inquire further.
“Do you think they were watching?” Nero whispered.
I didn’t want to say anything more.
The door opened and four orderlies in black scrubs entered the room. Two attached themselves to me, and two took Nero. They led us through the labyrinth of hallways. I cringed at the thought of running into Anna or Eli, already having lost hope of finding Desiree in the asylum. If she was here, then she was being kept in a completely separate area, preventing us from crossing paths.
We were escorted into an office with a long couch, the kind one could lie on and share their deepest secrets and suppressed memories. But we weren’t asked to sit or lie down. Instead we were instructed to stand in the middle of the room, side-by-side. The electromagnets were activated, leaving us as good as shackled.
The orderlies exited the room, closing the door behind them.
“What are they doing with us now?” Nero asked, like I knew the answer.
Before I could even respond unintelligently, the door opened, and Dr. Lorne glided into the room. She held hands with a chubby toddler, waddling along beside her, practically swallowed in the pleats of her navy blue dress with white polka dots. The top half of her dress buttoned up the front and she wore a large pearl necklace. Her shiny white hair was curled at the bangs, with the back flowing as if there was a breeze.
“Hello, Mr. Grain,” she said as she guided the young boy to a blanket on the floor in the corner of the room. There were several plastic toys scattered in the blanket’s vicinity, which the boy reached for immediately and began entertaining himself.
Alexandria Lorne walked up and stood before us. “Don’t mind him. Pretend he’s not even here.” She closely examined Nero and me, circling us like exhibits in a gallery. “Oliver, you look good. Daediem, you’re looking a bit jaundice. Do you feel okay?”
“His name’s Nero,” I said.
“His name’s Daediem, which is all he is—nothing more.” Her tone reminded me of Kafka’s when he revealed who he truly was on the observation deck of Lorne Tower. She was definitely a Lorne, with the same intensity to her demeanor.
I hadn’t noticed her wolf-head tattoo before, but it sure jumped out and snarled at me now. My bandaged hand tingled.
Then I noticed the other thing that made her look different, which I hadn’t yet put my finger on when she entered the room. She had already given birth and her body was perfectly slim—not an easy feat in a matter of a week or so (if I could trust how much time I thought had passed).
“We have removed your fake tattoo for your own safety, Mr. Grain. There are those out in this crazy world who have it out for our family and would kill you just for having the mark. It is reserved for those of us who can properly protect ourselves.”
“And you’re not afraid of such people?” I asked.
“No.” She smiled a confident Lorne smile. “I have protection and I am quite capable of defending myself. And there are abilities we possess, which eliminate the fear of death.” Alexandria turned to Nero. “Would you like to eliminate your fear of death?” She smiled wider and turned back to me. “You see, Oliver, daediems such as yours are driven by the fear of death. It is their primary motivation. It gives them their strength in their own realm, but it is also their blinding weakness. It’s not their fault; it’s just in their design.”
“Why are you talking to me about him like he’s not even here?” I asked and tried to move my leg, but it was still locked in place.
Nero seemed just as bound to his spot.
“Do you notice that your friend here is bound to the floor just as you are? Is it because he has extra metal coursing through his veins? No; it’s because he is simply a part of you and cannot exist on his own. You are bound, therefore, he is bound.” Alexandria stepped closer to me and slapped me in the face with the backside of her hand.
I gave out a loud cry and felt warm blood pooling in my mouth, dripping through the crack in my lips. Nero also cried out.
The little boy giggled in the background.
“Your pain is his pain, and his pain, yours. At least it is here.” She paused, standing before Nero. “Shall I demonstrate further?” she asked, staring him directly in the eyes.
“No, I think we get the point,” I said immediately, still swallowing blood.
“You think you do, but you do not truly understand.”
I looked over at the boy playing in the corner of the room, crashing his toys into each other, bringing the inanimate objects to life. Then the two toys he held smashed to pieces. He was startled for only a moment before picking up where he left off by grabbing another toy within reach.
“He’s a very special boy. Kind of like you, Mr. Grain.” Alexandria walked over to where the boy was playing and the pieces of the broken toys floated up to her open hands, reconstructing in midair. She handed the good-as-new toys back to the eager boy.
I looked over at Nero, who focused straight ahead like he was reading the spines of the books in the bookcase across the room.
“Why are we here?” I asked.
Alexandria left the boy and came back to us with a small, shaggy stuffed animal dog in one hand. She tossed it to me. “Does this bring back any memories for you?”
I inspected the toy, but it was just that—a toy. I had many stuffed animals when I was a kid, but this one meant nothing to me. And why should it?
“Because you gave it to your father before you left—before you disappeared, before you escaped. Does that make you the slightest bit curious?” Alexandria smirked.
“How do you know it’s mine? It could be anyone’s,” I said and tossed it back to her.
“Kafka took it from him the day you escaped. He seemed quite attached to this toy. Let me show you why.” She knelt down and placed the stuffed animal dog on the floor. She slid her hand down its back, petting its fur—and when she did, the toy grew in size and came to life!
The tan cocker spaniel wagged his tail and looked all around in excitement.
“Here, Frolics,” Alexandria said, offering her hand for the dog to sniff. She looked up at me and smiled. “Do you remember now?”
I swallowed hard as I shook my head. Madame Matilda had described the scene of me handing a stuffed animal dog to my father when I saw him
last, and here was a Lorne retelling the tale, down to the detail of the dog’s name. Is that how Frolics back home got his name? From this cocker spaniel here?
Frolics ran up to me and stood up on his hind legs, balancing against my leg, looking up at me with pure elation.
“He remembers you,” Alexandria said, rising back to her feet.
As she stepped closer to me, Frolics shrank down to the floor, back into a stuffed animal. Alexandria picked him up by the ear and tossed him over to the boy playing in the corner of the room.
“Where’s my father?!” I yelled. “Where are my friends? Where’s Desiree?”
“Someone is not understanding his place,” Alexandria said to Nero, who wouldn’t look her in the eyes. She ran a red fingernail slowly across his cheek and then turned her attention back to me. “You should be more concerned for yourself than everyone else for whom you can do nothing. Your father is in a state of recovery, but we’ll find him again. Your friends are being observed. The final decision for either their removal or disposal is up to me. As for you, like I said before, you showed up early, so I am under orders to hold you until Kafka returns. He demands to dispose of you himself.”
“He’s not dead?” I asked, remembering what Mr. Gordon had said, about the Lorne’s having the ability to reincarnate. He had told me that my fight with the bogeyman wasn’t over, but it was hard to believe. I saw him bleed to death with my own eyes. It was difficult to grasp someone with the ability to be reborn with the memories of that past life still intact.
“Kafka is like a cat, but instead of having nine lives, he has an infinite amount of lives at his disposal.”
“And you?”
“I’ve had my share, Mr. Grain.”
“Why did you call me here if you’re just holding me for Kafka? What’s the point of this conversation?”
“I’ve heard so much about you. I wanted to talk with the special boy who’s caused such uproar in the kingdom. And I must admit that I’m a little underwhelmed. You have yet to impress me, Mr. Grain.”
“I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”
“Not completely,” she said with a vicious smile. “Kafka will be pleased to find you here under lock and key.”
I looked over at the young boy playing with the stuffed animal of Frolics, roughly pulling at his legs and fur like he wanted to rip him apart. Luckily, he didn’t seem strong enough yet to inflict such damage.
“It’s time to return to your suite,” Alexandria said. “I have things to attend to, but I will walk you back—a rare privilege.”
The hum from the floor quieted and I repositioned my leg to ease my aching knee and ankle.
“Is your ankle bothering you again?” she asked as she linked an arm through mine, leading me toward the door. “Don’t fall behind, Daediem,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Nero said from our wake.
Alexandria Lorne led us back through the labyrinth of hallways, seemingly a different way than we had come, making it all the more confusing. She held me close as we walked arm-in-arm. My limp was returning as the painkillers wore off again. I wasn’t going to attempt to break away. I had no idea what she was capable of, and this was no time to find out. We needed to slip under her radar if we were going to find a way out of here.
Upon reaching my room, she turned the doorknob without the need for unlocking it, and held it open for us to enter.
“Go lie down and we will take care of the pain for you,” Alexandria said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, kissing me on the cheek, and ushering me inside the room. Once Nero stepped over the threshold, the door shut with a crash of metal upon metal and the sound of internal tumblers turning to secure the room.
The device on my leg beeped, causing me to hurry to my bed before I dropped to the floor.
“When we awake, we’ll prepare for our next move,” Nero said.
The familiar nausea crept up into my throat and my vision blurred as the medicine—poison—worked its way through my system. Who knew what it was doing to me. All I knew was I only had a few seconds left before everything went black and I lost more time, one more way I was at the mercy of Alexandria Lorne and her asylum.
24
My Biggest Fear
When I awoke, the room was dark. It was peaceful for the moment and I knew better than to take it for granted. I wanted to see the symbol again. It could only be seen well when the lights were off and the glow from the hallway shone in through the window like a flashlight beam. I knelt beside the carving and traced the thinly etched lines with my finger.
Now we knew how he did it but still couldn’t fathom as to why, from the limited items in our room, they would have a razor at our disposal.
“I wonder how long the lights have been out?” Nero said, lying on his side and facing the room.
“I wish I knew what day it was, just to have some sense of time.”
“I know,” Nero sat up in the bed. “Everything is so warped here; I can’t keep a single thing straight in my head.”
“It’s been awhile since the screens came on, don’t you think?”
“Maybe that’s how they plan to wake us.”
“I guess the joke’s on them,” I said. “We’re already awake.”
We both laughed, which was a refreshing sensation. It had felt so long since there’d been anything to laugh about. But it was short lived, both of us remembering what it would feel like when the storm finally hit. The screens burning into our eyes. The sounds so sharp and overwhelming it felt like ice picks chiseling into our heads. How were we going to fight through the sensory hurricane enough to climb up to the speaker on the ceiling with any kind of organization and precision? It would be helpful if we could practice ahead of time, but we both knew that wasn’t possible—Alexandria and her minions would be on us instantly and snatch away any hope we had left, the only thing keeping our sanity alive.
I flinched when the lights came on—but it was only the lights, not the screens. Two trays of soup and bread materialized at the foot of the door. Not much of a breakfast, but perhaps it was dinner.
Nero hopped down from his bed and joined me on the floor, placing his tray in his lap. We began scarfing down the food, never knowing if we were going to be interrupted before finishing. And this was one of those times.
Before we drained half of our bowls, the screens came on, causing me to drop a spoonful of hot broth on the floor as my whole body shook. The trays vibrated off our laps, with the remainder of our soup spilling all around us.
Now was our chance, but the bombardment of sights and sounds killed all rational thought. I found a way to get to my shaking feet, the bottoms of my socks soaking up the hot soup. Nero got to his feet, wobbling around like we were in an earthquake. Our hands were clamped tightly to our ears and we collided into each other in the chaos.
I screamed to him to follow me over to the desk, but nothing could be heard over the roar of the room, even with us standing merely six inches apart. My eyes were at a tight squint so I could attempt to see something, but they watered so much it rendered them useless.
Removing one hand from my ears, I dragged Nero over to the desk. I climbed up on the chair and stepped up onto the desk. Putting one foot on his shoulder, I tested my balance and his stability. Neither one was very encouraging. But I took my leap of faith and lifted my second foot to his opposite shoulder, clubbing him upside the head with the metal contraption around my leg. I felt it, too, but there was already so much pain coursing through our bodies that one more thing didn’t make much impact. I reached for the ceiling to catch my balance, the only way I could keep from falling. For a moment, I was stabilized. But the additional noise screaming into my ears was excruciating.
Nero took a step forward and stopped. I walked along the ceiling with my hands—miraculously, still up.
Since I hadn’t yet fallen, Nero walked slowly toward the speaker I needed to try and detach from the ceiling. I remained on his s
houlders through his additional steps, utterly relieved when the speaker was directly overhead. Force from the sound pushed me down, trying to knock me to the ground. It was like the speaker fought to protect its secret. I placed a hand over the black plastic mesh, but it did little to suppress the sound.
As I used the hand over the speaker for support, I felt around the edges with my other hand. I tried to look up to see what I was doing, but my eyes could barely make out a thing. They burned and continued to water. Large rainbow colored spots appeared, swam through the air, and burst like bubbles. It took all my concentration not to lose my balance on Nero’s shoulders. If I passed out, it would be a long fall onto a very unforgiving floor. The cage around my leg would be equally unforgiving.
The seam of the speaker to the ceiling was tight all the way around. I couldn’t get a fingernail to pry it apart and knew I needed a tool.
I leapt down from Nero’s shoulders and landed on his bed, bracing my hurt ankle as best as I could. Hopefully, the painkillers wouldn’t be wearing off anytime soon.
I rolled off the bed and stumbled over to the desk again. Snatching the razor from the top drawer, I climbed back up on the desk and waited for Nero to get in position. Stepping to his shoulders this time was easier, and he walked more smoothly to the speaker. I attempted to block out as much of the sensory bombardment as possible, trying to summon everything Mr. Gordon had ever told me about creating and maintaining focus.
I took the edge of the razor and wedged it in between the speaker and the ceiling, getting greater leverage then with my fingernail. One edge of the speaker dropped down slightly. I wedged the razor above the speaker every few inches around the circumference. The speaker continued to drop until I could use my hand to pull it free from the ceiling. It dangled freely by several wires like a detached monstrous eyeball.
I slid my hand inside the hole in the ceiling and felt around for something—anything loose that would have been placed up there for safekeeping. And then I felt something. A folded piece of paper. I let the paper fall and reattached the speaker to the ceiling. The seam did not fit as tightly as before, but it would have to do.
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