by Cady Vance
He sighs and places his hands on the railing, leaning forward to stare down into the depths of the water. “Beautiful. Old. But sometimes quite chavvy where I’m from.”
“Chavvy?” I ask with a laugh.
“People can be rather loud and obnoxious in Liverpool, especially out at the clubs. Fights and that.”
“I think people can be like that everywhere, even in small, all-American towns like mine.” I look up at him then, I can’t help myself, and I catch the smile in his eyes. “I’ve always wanted to visit England.”
“I’d love to show it to you, America.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I’m glad the gray light doesn’t illuminate the red of my face. I imagine walking cobblestone streets of the old world with my hand in his. It seems so normal, so far from the reality of this horrible night. I can’t imagine how things can ever be like that, not after all this.
“Do you think everything’s going to be okay?” I ask him in a whisper.
I feel his shoulder move from mine as he turns toward me. His hands wrap around my shoulders, and he shifts me to face him. I look up into his face. A serious expression darkens it.
“I don’t know,” he says. “But I said I’m not going to let them hurt you, and I’m saying it again. I won’t. Not as long as I’m still breathing.”
His words make me feel both terrified and on fire. It’s one of the scariest things I’ve ever heard, but it’s also the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me. I feel my body leaning toward his involuntarily as the desire to melt into his arms shudders through me.
His face lowers to mine, and his mouth catches my lips. I feel his fingers tighten around my shoulders. My hands find the soft, silky strands of his hair. God, how I’ve wanted to touch his hair. We pull and push against each other, giving into a need I think we’ve both felt all night.
When we pull away from the kiss, I’m left breathless. He lets go of my shoulder and runs his thumb along the curve of my chin, bright blue eyes piercing into mine.
“You’re an amazing person, Thora.”
“Not as amazing as you.”
And slowly, as we stand here folded into each other, I remember why we’re here, standing only a few blocks away from the Brooklyn Bridge in the chilly early morning air. As much as I want to give into whatever is happening between us, I can’t right now. Not yet. So, I take a step back and turn my eyes to the fading moon.
“We’d better get closer,” I say.
Twenty-Seven
Do not supply aspirin to your child during migraine attacks, as this medication negatively affects his/her body chemistry.
- The Galvanism Handbook for Parents
We backtrack into building shadows and make our way closer to the bridge. Lucas leads the way, knowing where the clue drop-off point was planned to be. We stay quiet. The Sleepers won’t have this information, and they may be sneaking around in the shadows like us.
I feel as if my every sense is on high alert, and though spikes of adrenaline keep me moving forward, weariness weighs down my bones. My head throbs harder than it has all night, and it’s all I can do not to rest it on Lucas’s back for some relief.
Just a little longer, Thora, I tell myself. Though that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. Who knows how long this crazy night will continue on, extending into the next day and the next day and the next day. I shake my head, only making my brain rattle inside my skull, and I tell myself I can’t think that way. We will make it through this. Somehow.
Our steps lead us away from the waterfront and into the maze of streets, Lucas planning to come up on the Brooklyn Bridge from behind. We duck into an alley and crouch-walk our way past splattered green dumpsters that reek of rotting cheese and stale socks. When we spin around the corner, we step into what appears to be a deserted shopping area. South Street Seaport. I spot a Guess store before Lucas yanks me down into a crouch behind an odd art installation composed of large green cubes.
I glance around to see what set Lucas on alert, but the place looks deserted to me. My skin itches to move. My breath hangs in the air before me. My fingers twitch. I can’t help but shift and place a hand on Lucas’s shoulder to steady my balance. I squint and notice how bright the sky has gotten. The darkness has fully left us, and I suddenly feel as if I’m standing naked in Times Square.
But I still don’t see anyone or anything. Just pigeons tap-dancing their way across a large stretch of sidewalk leading to the curved stone steps of a closed cafe. They perch on top of the art installation above our heads, clustering together in the morning light.
I have to break the silence. I can’t stand it. “What did you see?”
Lucas shakes his head, puts a finger to his lips and points past several shops. I squint and see a guy dressed in all black standing in the shadows of the furthest building. He leans against one of the stone walls, gaze turned in the direction of the river.
This was my idea, but now that we’re here, now that there is a potential Sleeper in our path, I don’t feel so confident about my plan anymore. In fact, it seems completely and utterly full of fail. These are the people who have been chasing us all night, one step ahead no matter what we’ve done. We can’t really expect to sneak up on them without them knowing, can we? And then follow them all the way back to the Clinic without being caught?
But there’s nothing else we can do. They have my friends.
My legs spasm from squatting in the shadows. Lucas notices, looks at my legs and frowns. He reaches an arm around my back, resting his hand on my waist and letting me lean my weight against him. It helps, but I can’t stop my body from shaking. Now that it has started, I’m not sure I have the power to stop.
We wait here like this for what seems like hours but is probably only moments. Finally, the black-clad guy in the shadows moves from his spot and begins walking toward the waterfront. Lucas rises and motions for me to follow. When I stand, my legs continue to shake underneath my weight.
Lucas and I inch our way down the side of the building, hugging its curves and blanketing ourselves in what darkness we can still find. Although I’m sure if the Sleeper glances our way, we’ll be seen. No one else is here, and our creeping movements probably attract attention more than prevent it. After two more steps, we’re to the edge of the building. The guy ahead turns down a street leading away from the bridge.
“Okay, that’s rather odd,” Lucas says aloud. He glances at me with furrowed eyebrows. “Why’d he go that way? He’s meant to turn left.”
Lucas steps from the shadows and into the empty square. I bite my lip when I follow, hating how completely out in the open we are at this moment. I reach out a hand to stop him.
“We have to hurry,” he says, blue eyes searching mine with confusion. “Come on.”
“He went the wrong way, Lucas. Away from the bridge. I bet he’s not a Sleeper.”
He opens his mouth to argue just as a group of guys round the corner on the opposite side of the street. All in black. Every one of them. My gaze zeros in on the guy from The Strand who killed my brother. The one who cornered me. The one Lucas tased. Lucas’s grip on my hand tightens so hard I almost cry out.
They’re coming toward us. We’re out in the open, and I don’t know what to do, and my heart leaps up into my head. Lucas pulls me toward a telephone booth just before they see us, and I let out a shaky breath. We squeeze into the booth together, chest to chest. My back is pressed up against the glass, and I have to wrinkle my nose at the gagging stench emanating from the black phone perfectly level with my nostrils. It makes my head spin, rolls of nausea blurring my vision so much I can barely see.
“Shh,” Lucas says. “Come on, it’ll be okay. Try to stay still and quiet for me for just a few minutes, eh?” His voice is soothing and calm, and I try to focus on how nice it sounds. I breathe quietly in and out, focusing on the rhythm. In, out, in, out.
“Here, hold onto this.” Lucas wraps my hands around the yoyo and the chess piece hangin
g from my neck.
I hear voices. Muted because of the glass between us and them.
They won’t see us, they won’t see us, they won’t see us.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. A hint of the tangy iron shoots up my nose, and I grit my teeth. Claustrophobia claws its way into my skull. Black balloons swirl into my vision. They pop and explode into a thousand tiny fragments. When I look into them, I see the faces of Florence and Aiden. They’re screaming.
She’s losing it, she’s losing it, she’s losing it. The Sleeper voices taunt me. They taunt and taunt and taunt.
We’re standing inside a phone booth. The blue melts into bright, bright red. The steel curves and then snaps. Curves, snaps, curve, snap, curve, snap, curve, snap, curve, snap—
“Thora!” Lucas’s hands are rubbing my arms in a frantic motion, but I only now notice it. My eyes fly open. His head is a spinning disc of bright blue swirled with steely gray.
“I’m not feeling so great,” I choke out.
Some horrible rank stench is stabbing the insides of my nose, and I can feel it crawling up my nostrils like a tiny robotic cat. It snarls up into my skull where it scrapes, scrapes, scrapes. I reach up to touch my face, to yank out whatever is trying to stop my breath. My cheeks are covered in wet slime.
“Am I bleeding?” I whisper.
“Thora?” Lucas sounds strange. Scared. Far away, in a tunnel. I can see him though. He can’t be far away. I can see the blue. “Thora, focus. Thora, look at me. Look at my eyes. Focus on me.”
I try. I try to hold onto his words. His beautiful words, the only thing steady in this fractured world. I stare at him, my eyes following the blue as it spins around this cramped space, and I just want to get out of here!
“You’ll be fine.” His voice shakes. “Just breathe.”
I take in a big gulp and realize I must not have been breathing when the air stings my lungs. Something loud clangs near my ears, and Lucas pulls on my arms. I stumble, bright lights suddenly shining in my eyes and clean, fresh air filtering into my nose. I sigh in relief though the world still spins.
“I need to sit down.”
“We have to go,” he argues, though he doesn’t stop me when I grasp at the ground. “They’ll see us if we don’t go now. I’m taking you home.”
Home?
The sweet, sweet air mutes the overwhelming throb, and Lucas’s distorted head morphs to head-shaped again. His eyes are wide and full of fear, and he’s hovering over me as if to protect me from the world.
“You seem to be breathing normally now.” He keeps running his hands up and down my arms. “Are you feeling better then?”
Before I can answer, his head whips up. I turn to follow his gaze, but the movement makes my head swim. I have to lean on his shoulder for support.
“Fuck!” He kicks the phone booth, and the clash sounds like a thunderclap against my eardrums. It echoes, echoes, echoes. I cover my ears to block out the sound.
“They’ve seen us. We have to go. Where are all the bloody taxis!” He yells before turning to see I’m cringing from the sound. “I’m sorry. Come on. Climb onto my back, and I’ll carry you. I can run with you.”
“No, you can’t. You’re barely bigger than me. We won’t make it. Just hold my hand.” I slide my hand into his and let him pull me up from the sidewalk. After only a split second of hesitation, he nods and pulls me in a direction I cannot comprehend in my state.
I move my feet into what I think is a run, letting Lucas lead the way. Every step echoes in my skull. Pound, pound, pound. Buildings blur past. I try to see them, but I can’t. The only thing I’m sure of is the hand holding my own. It is my anchor. It is my lifeline.
The sky darkens. Night has returned. Have we been running that long? My foot slips from underneath me. My lifeline tugs, but my knees slam into concrete. It doesn’t hurt as much as my head does. White hot pain pierces my heart. I reach up and try to yank the scorpion away, but my fingers find only rough fabric.
The world goes black.
Twenty-Eight
Your child will feel no pain during Galvanism treatments.
- The Galvanism Handbook for Parents
A thousand tiny needles pierce my skin, and I scream. My throat is raw. The world is dark, and I don’t know what is up and what is down and what is sideways. My body is a shaking subway car. Electronic beeps echo in neverending patterns. That beeping is the only sound in my world until the needles tear into my skin again. They rip me down to my bones.
***
My eyes flip open. I immediately shut them again. They sting from the intense lights overhead. The back of my eyelids burn with their bright orange remnants. I crack open my lids again and see a white-gloved hand dangling a suction cup over my eyes before attaching it to my forehead.
“Nooooo.” I try to push myself up but find my body is trapped against an ice cold table. I struggle against the bonds but am too weak for my muscles to respond.
“Ready.” A muffled voice speaks. “Go.”
New pain shoots into every single cell of my body. It singes the very core of me. My body is fire. My body is pain. I scream.
***
The world rolls underneath me. I groan, aching all over. I clench and unclench my fists. Something is missing. My fingers feel empty. Lucas.
***
I awake to find myself curled in the fetal position underneath a scratchy wool blanket. I sit straight up, the blanket sliding from my shoulders. I look down and cringe at the white cloth nightgown I’m wearing.
My stomach clenches. My heart skitters; thunder roars in my ears.
Somehow, I am back in a Clinic.
I look around my tiny room, much more sterile and bare than my room in Connecticut, scrabbling for memories. They come in patches. Hiding in the shadows. Leaning on Lucas. Standing in a phone booth. Running. Falling. Screaming.
I failed us. If I had kept it together, we might have been able to follow the Sleepers here and get Florence and Aiden out. I run my fingers over my face and through my knotted hair. My headache still pounds through me, and my eyes feel puffy and swollen. But I feel more alert than I’ve felt in months, as if some new electricity is swirling through my veins.
They’ve given me the treatment. I’ve Collasped. I close my eyes tight and try to ignore what that means because I have to get out of here. I will not stay locked up in a Clinic, not after what they’ve done to my brother, not after I know the truth about everything. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and place my bare feet on the cold tile. I trot over to the utilitarian wardrobe, swing it open. It’s empty.
The door clicks, and I whirl around to see an unfamiliar doctor step inside the room. A kind smile paints his face, but I know better than to think it’s anything more than an illusion. I cringe and back up to the wardrobe door, steeling myself for some sort of standoff that hopefully doesn’t involve a taser meeting my heart.
“You’ll get your belongings when your parents check you out of the Clinic,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “You’ll be transferred back to your local Clinic instead of staying here.”
I jut out my chin and cross my arms over my chest. I know I should feel afraid, but getting caught has given me a new sense of anger and determination. “Right. Like that’s going to happen. I know why I’m here, and it’s not to send me back to Connecticut.”
He tilts his head and smiles like I’m a cute toddler who said something silly. “Thora Green, right?” He taps his clipboard with a fancy-looking pen. “We’ve contacted your parents, and they’ll be on their way to check you out tomorrow once you’ve fully recovered from your treatment.”
“No, that’s not true.” I repeat the words but feel the blood drain from my face. He looks so serious, but he has to be lying. He has to be…right?
“Sit down,” he says, gesturing to the bed. “And we’ll have a chat.”
Stunned, I move from the wardrobe and fold onto the bed, letting my bare legs da
ngle over the side. He can’t be serious. My parents aren’t on their way. Imagining the looks on their faces when they find out about Odin…I shudder.
“You didn’t really call my parents,” I say again. I think about what Lucas said about the experiments, and I wonder if they’ve already done them to me, while I was out cold after my treatment. But no, I feel no different. “You want to tell them what you did to Odin? I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to find out you guys killed him.”
His smile and eyes remain calm and steady, and it unnerves me more than if he’d busted in here with a heart-stopping taser, looking like the mad scientist he really is. “What are you talking about, Thora? Your brother is here, too, and he’s fine.”
I don’t know how to breathe. The world has turned into strange shades of orange and yellow, and I suddenly cannot tell if I’m dreaming or not. It’s like the floor has been ripped out from under me, and I’m tumbling into the gaping subway tunnels below.
“No,” I say in a weak whisper. “I saw them kill Odin.”
“I’m sure that was very difficult to see.” His voice oozes almost as much as Doctor Clark’s. “But it must have been a hallucination. Our team brought him here, alive and breathing, a few hours ago.”
Odin is alive? I cough, choking on my own breath, fighting the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. My heart charges through me so fast, I have to grip the sides of the bed to steady myself.
“I have to see him,” I manage to croak out. “Let me see my brother now.”
He shakes his head. “You may see him tomorrow.”
“Then you’re lying!” I throw myself off the bed, and then sit back down fast when the world spins under my feet. “If he’s alive, you’ll let me see him. How am I supposed to believe you after everything else? When I saw him die with my own eyes? When you’ve been hiding everything and experimenting on us like lab rats?”
“What are you talking about now, Thora?”
“You’re going to use us in some sort of galvanism experiment. Add weird things to us, like enhanced hearing. Maybe test our breaking points. See how far you can push us before we break.” I glare at him, clenching my hands into fists. I’m not going to let this guy get the better of me.