Never Sleep

by Cady Vance

  Florence snorts. “Nothing you’ve ever heard of, I’m sure.”

  I feel a lightness lift my shoulders. That’s exactly the kind of thing Gemma would say. But thoughts of Gemma bring thoughts of Odin, and a new dread forms lumps of coal in my stomach. When I see Gemma, I’m going to have to tell her what happened to my brother. If I see Gemma. No, when, I tell myself. The girl at the cupcake shop said one of us had been there. It must have been her. Gemma is ahead of us. She has to be.

  “Anyway, the last time I was at Pianos, I heard the best post-punk band ever. I mean, they weren’t really post-punk because that genre happened like thirty years ago, but they definitely had the right sound, and their influences must have been the same as those bands. It’s so awesome to know there are some bands out there still making music like that, although none of them ever get enough attention to get on mainstream radio, but I kind of like it that way. It’s like they’re mine and only mine. Well, except for the other people out there who listen to obscure music, but there really aren’t that many of us. If you really think about it, most people rely on Top 40 for their music listening needs.”

  I’ve barely heard her words, eyes squeezed tight against the threat of tears.

  “Thora?” Florence asks. “You feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, sorry…” I shake my head. “I was…thinking about something.”

  “Your brother,” she says frankly.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think you’re amazing for still doing this.” She looks at me, and her mask is gone, just for this moment. It’s gone so I can see she is completely serious, so I can see the concern, so I can see she doesn’t really know how to act toward me. And I smile. At some point in the last hour, the scary intimidating goth girl transformed into something resembling an actual…friend.

  The cab slows, and we all spill onto the sidewalk outside a place that looks more grocery deli than music club. If the word Pianos wasn’t blocked out on the splotchy white sign above or if cigarette-smoking hipsters weren’t clustered on the sidewalk, I might think the taxi driver had delivered us to the wrong block.

  “Perfect timing,” Florence says as we stride toward a bouncer with more tattoos than strands of hair. “It’s almost exactly ten-thirty.”

  The bouncer looks us over and opens up a palm. “Gonna need to see some ID’s, guys.”

  I feel an itch to nervously bite my lip or bounce in my slippers, but I force myself to stay calm and collected. Body still. Eyes clear and confident. That’s what Gemma would tell me to do.

  “We’re just here to see the band,” I say.

  He hesitates, glancing at our faces. His eyes move down the length of me and lands on my shoes. I still stand here like my slippers are nothing out of the ordinary, and he finally waves us through the bland white door. This place certainly doesn’t look like anything special so far.

  Inside, it’s more night than the night outside. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I get a whiff of stale air, body odor and spilled beer. A small stage is erected in the back of the club, the band backlit by a dizzying black-and-white tapestry. Aiden grabs my elbow and steers me through the crowd while Florence bobs along beside me. We find a spot near the back of the club and squish together.

  The guitarist, clad in dark gray skinny jeans, strums a chord. The crowd jammed inside this tiny space roars their approval. Florence’s smile is at full wattage, and I have to admit, I feel a little hope starting to take shape inside me. It’s as if the room is throbbing with some cosmic electricity we can all feel but not see. We’re all a part of it, together, even though we’re strangers who will share only this night together.

  The lead singer grabs the mic; his eyes scan the thick crowd. His gaze lands on me. For a frozen moment, it seems as if we are the only two people in the club even with the bodies pressing into my back and the heads bobbing across my line of sight. I hold my breath and wait, not entirely sure what to expect next. Another test?

  He leans forward, eyes still on me, microphone scratching his chapped lips. “We are Tired Milkmen, and this song is called Endless Midnight.”

  Fifteen

  Stage IV Collapses may happen at any time, though are known for occurring after extended periods of insomnia.

  - The Chronic Insomnia Handbook for Patients

  The lead guitarist begins a light strum before the bass weaves in, quiet and soft in the background, only the occasional thump of the drums peppering the melody. A harp at the back of the stage eases its way in, the light plucks brightening the melancholy music.

  And then the vocals begin, a soft voice swirling through the air and into our ears. The crowd is silent and still, and I am almost breathless from how beautiful it sounds. I glance over at Florence, whose earbuds are gone. She’s a lamp in the darkness.

  “You think you’re so very alone

  You think you have no home

  For your tireless fights

  For your endless midnights

  Guess what, your home is so near

  There is no need for your tears

  Look for a house built for dreams

  It’s tall, lights up with red beams.”

  The singer repeats the same lyrics two more times before diving into a few non-syllable wails as the harp and drums intensify. The sound sends a ripple of something fierce all the way from my heart to my toes. And before I can truly grasp what’s happening, the song ends with a dramatic cymbal crash and the lights go black. It’s over.

  The music and lights flare back full force in a new up-tempo, head-banging song that’s so different than the one meant for us, it feels like a slap against my eardrums.

  “Anyone have any idea what that meant?” I raise my voice and turn to Aiden and Florence.

  My eyes land on a familiar face. The guy from The Strand. The Gym Membership guy who fought with Odin. My entire body feels as if it’s being pricked by a thousand tiny needles. Through the bouncing, jumping bodies, I catch short glimpses of his bruised face scanning the crowd. He flicks his wrist in the air, waving to someone behind him. The other guy from the store appears behind him, glasses lopsided on his face. The one Odin knocked out.

  The Sleepers are here.

  I’m an ice sculpture, frozen to the spot. Florence and Aiden are speaking loudly to answer my question, but I cannot hear a word they say. It’s like the world has morphed into slow motion, but my brain still can’t move fast enough. It’s skipping like a record over one word. Odin. Odin. Odin. A new emotion boils into my veins. Anger. So much anger, the room turns red.

  The Sleepers’ gazes scan across our group, and their eyes, even in the dim lights of the club, find me. My stomach drops out of my body and through the black-painted floor.

  I blink and snap out of it, whirling to my friends with wide eyes.

  “They’re here.” I dig my nails into both my friends’ arms and yank them through the closely-packed bodies.

  “What, where?” Aiden asks, pulling against me to crane his head over the crowd.

  I don’t bother to answer. No time to chat. I keep yanking him along, squeezing him past body after body, Florence at my other side. We push our way through the mass.

  I don’t dare turn to see how close behind the Sleepers are.

  We dodge some hipsters easing their way into the club through the front door. I slam open the doors. My feet pound the ground the moment I step onto pavement, rushing past a sticker-covered, graffitied ATM. Florence and Aiden run on either side. Fear throws my feet forward step after step.

  We reach the end of a block, and I slow my feet. I look one way and then another before picking left. Before we round the corner, I risk a glance behind me.

  There’s three of them. Only half a block behind.

  My heart lurches like a ship in a storm. The yoyo and chess piece flap against my chest with each step. The lit-up shops are a blur in the night. Heavy footsteps thunder behind us. They’re louder than the rumble of the subway under my feet, louder than the piercing
car alarm we pass. They’re so close.

  Too close.

  My heart hurts from the fear gripping it like a fist.

  A crack appears in the sidewalk. My slipper snags. I stumble hard, throwing out my hands. My knees curve as they soar toward the ground. I close my eyes to brace for impact.

  Strong hands encircle my waist before my knees hit the ground. They lift me back to my feet. My eyes fly open to see Aiden is here, holding me steady. He gives me a quick shove forward.

  “Thanks,” I puff out as I step up the pace. My vision swims, and a familiar stab of pain shoots through my head. I force myself to shake it off and zone in on Florence’s back where she runs ahead.

  They’re only a few steps behind us.

  Florence shifts her weight as we round the next corner. I follow her to the right, passing a long line of cabs inching along and blaring their horns like the world is about to end.

  I glance back to see Aiden pounding along. His movements are slow and sluggish. His arms pump by his sides dramatically slow. It’s a slow-motion movie effect when the hero races toward victory, only Aiden isn’t racing toward the winning finish line. He’s falling back into defeat.

  “You okay?” I call out to him, trying my best to avoid locking gazes with the Sleepers. With the people who killed my brother. I grit my teeth and hold back the burn in my eyes.

  Aiden puffs and puffs.

  I turn my attention forward. “Florence!” Breathe in. Breathe out. “Aiden’s in trouble!”

  Florence whips her head around. Her long blond hair soars over her shoulder. When she sees Aiden’s state, she falls back to run by my side.

  “Shit,” Florence puffs out. “Don’t tell me…he’s going to…Collapse…now.” Her words are harsh and her face hard, but I can hear the worry in her voice.

  “I’m okay,” he says. “Just running low on power. I’ll be alright. Keep running.”

  I bite my lip, but there’s nothing else we can do. Keep running until we all Collapse. Keep running until we can’t move at all anymore. Keep running to save our lives.

  I focus on my feet, following Florence’s lead whenever there’s an end to a block. We turn, we weave, we rush across streets. We dodge cars and bicycles and sign posts. We keep slowing to match Aiden’s leaden pace, and I can feel the Sleepers breathing down the back of my neck. It seems as if we’re spinning in circles. I don’t know which way is up, which way is down or which way is sideways. We’ll never escape the maze we’re in.

  I don’t know how far we’ve gone when I finally feel strong, rough hands grip my arms. They throw me to the sidewalk. I fall, palms scraping the concrete. My eyes burn from the sting.

  “Stay down,” a gruff voice says. Something heavy pushes on my back, and I’m forced to be still on the grimy sidewalk, face down. All I can do is stare at the dark, shadowy concrete before my eyes. I blink back the tears as my heart screams inside me.

  We’re trapped, we’re trapped, we’re trapped.

  “Fucking take it easy, guys,” Florence growls. I hear a smacking noise, and I flinch. I try to raise my head to see what’s happening, to see if Florence is okay, but another hand slams my face toward the concrete. My cheek burns from the impact, and my brain rattles inside my skull.

  “Stay down,” the voice says. “Stay quiet.”

  “Don’t fight them, Florence,” I say in a tone that surprises me. Less timid schoolgirl and more lioness. I wish I had the claws to go with it.

  “Please do not touch that.” Florence’s voice is eerily calm, calculating and snake-like in tone. It sends shivers across my sweaty skin, even though she’s one of us and that voice isn’t directed at me.

  “I said to stay quiet.”

  “Give me my fucking iPod back.”

  The rushing of feet rumbles against my face, and I brace myself to hear the buzzing electrical noise I heard at The Strand when they put that death device against my brother’s chest. Florence screams again, and I press my palms hard against the pavement to push myself up even with the lead weight on my back. I can’t stay here while they’re doing this to her. The lead weight falls away, and I jump up in surprise. I have to blink my eyes several times as my head spins. The sound of yelling and stomping and running forces me to still my racing heart enough to focus.

  Something heavy, scratchy and rough slams over my head, blacking out my vision. I let out a strangled yell and reach out with arced fingers. Large, strong hands grab my shoulders and my wrists, and hold me there before pushing me roughly forward. Everything around me is muted, but my ears are a storm of bees.

  This is it. They’ve gotten me.

  My feet trip along the invisible sidewalk as I am pushed along. I try again to cry out, but my voice is stuck in my throat, held there by fear, confusion and pain. They are taking me back to that place. To the Clinic. They have killed Odin, and this has all been for nothing. Maybe I was crazy to think I could ever beat them, that I could ever have a life that was more than an existence behind barred windows.

  The Sleeper must sense the fight has died within me because his vise-like grip on my arms loosens the slightest bit.

  “That’s better,” he says, low against my ear. Through this wool sack, or whatever it is, I can feel his face right up against mine, his mouth close enough to my ear to make sure I can hear him. “Didn’t want to have to tase you like I did your brother.”

  Something inside me snaps. I rear back and slam my head into his skull, jamming my elbow into his stomach in the same instant. He roars, giving me just enough time to rip free of his grip. I pull the sack from over my head and brace myself to run.

  My eyes meet a red-brick, graffitied wall.

  I spin around, and he is standing there blocking me with arms crossed over his chest.

  I kick out, my feet meeting only air because I am too tired and uncoordinated to make contact. Gym Membership guy moves forward and presses my arms tight against the wall, my skin scratched through my sleeves by the rough brick. His breath is hot against his face, and his eyes hold something strange and twisted that makes my heart thump an erratic beat.

  “Stop fighting me, or I’ll tase you,” he says, but his grip doesn’t loosen on me one bit.

  I blink, trying not to picture my brother’s lifeless body twisted on the floor. “You’re crazy. Why are you doing this?”

  “It’s my job. It pays really well.” He shakes his head and laughs. “You wouldn’t understand. Rich kid like you. Some of us don’t get everything handed to us on silver platters.”

  Anger boils up inside me, and I shoot daggers at him with my narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?” I push against his grip. “You have no idea what my life has been like, and even if it was like you said, that’s no reason to do this to people.”

  “Calm the fuck down,” he says. “And I won’t hurt you.”

  “You’ve already hurt me.” If my arms weren’t pinned against the wall, I wouldn’t point at the blood I feel oozing from my cheek. I’m not talking about the scrapes and bruises this guy has added to my skin. What he’s done to me goes way deeper than that.

  “Look, if I let you go, will you come with me without fighting?”

  I hesitate, staring deep into this guy’s dark green eyes swirled with brown streaks. Terror holds me still. I know what he’ll do if I don’t say yes. I know he’ll reach for the taser in his pocket. I would have a split second at most, and he’s almost twice my size with muscles to rival an Olympian. Logic is telling me I have no chance of escape. If I try it at all I’ll end up twitching on the ground like my brother did. Still, a part of me wants to fight back.

  He frowns and grips my arms so tight my bones could break.

  A dark shape moves behind him, and the next few seconds happen in such a chaos, my brain can’t register what’s happening other than the sound of electricity in the air. Gym Membership boy howls and falls to the ground, his limbs kicking out in all directions. My arms throb from the blood rushing back into them.

  “Th
ora.” I hear a familiar lilting voice, and I look up from the Sleeper’s twitching body to see Lucas holding the taser limply by his side. “Are you okay?”

  “No. Yes. No?” Words are failing me now. Those blue eyes have zapped them from my pounding brain. “What did you do?”

  “I am so sorry. I’m such a nobhead. I should have known this would happen.” He reaches out and brushes soft fingers against my cheek. The painful throbbing seems soothed under his touch, and I can’t help the gasp that pops from my lips. His hand drops, and the pain flares back into my cheekbone. “They hurt you.”

  My eyes are drawn back to Gym Memberhip boy’s body where he still twitches on the ground. My voice sounds hollow as I voice the thought I can’t ignore. “Is he going to die?”

  “I don’t know.” He sighs and glances down the street. “I hope not. Just in case he doesn’t, we need to get you out of here. Aiden and Florence are fine. They’re right behind me.” As he speaks the words, they turn the corner, see us and start running our way, both looking mostly unharmed. “You need to get to the next location as soon as possible.”

  “Who are you?” I clench my fists again, this time not for a fight but because I’m determined to get some answers.

  “Not yet. But soon.” He takes two steps back. “Don’t worry. I won’t let this happen again. You and your mates need to get going, though.”

  “Can you stop being so cryptic?” I call out to him as he disappears between two buildings. I start to follow him, but Aiden appears, stepping into my path. I look up and cross my arms over my chest. “I’m glad to see you’re okay, but seriously? Move.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “What’s the deal with this guy? Who is he, Thora?”

  “His cheshire cat act is intriguing.” Florence pops up by Aiden’s side, earbuds happily in place. It seems she got her iPod back after all.

  “I have no idea who he is. He won’t tell me anything.” I look up at Aiden and search those strangely cold gray eyes of his, hoping he can see the truth.

  “No idea?” he asks.

  “I swear.” I touch my cheek and feel the burning flames, both from my scratch and from the memory of Lucas’s touch. “I’ve never seen him before tonight.”