Infusion Page 12

  “Kind of. ”

  We didn’t have to be connected to know we were thinking the same thing. We’d touched, and they’d healed me. “I don’t want to consider what would have happened if you hadn’t brought the team here.”

  “I didn’t have to bring them. They were searching the city for you, Rachel. As soon as I told them you were here, there would have been no keeping them away, even if I’d wanted to.” We lapsed into a long silence, then he added, “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You almost died, Rachel. How would we have managed, then?” His voice got softer. “What would I have done?”

  I tried to read the meaning behind his words. “But we know something else now.” The thought suddenly occurred to me. “We know those other things exist.”

  “Great. We know.”

  “Yeah, but now we can figure out how to beat them.” He snorted, and I rushed on. “And we know something else, too.” He raised his eyebrows as I held up my arm to him. “Look at it.” The skin was streaked with dried blood, but there were no marks, not even a scar where Margo stitched me up. “It’s only been two days. You know what that thing did to me. Not a mark.” He was silent, thinking about the possibilities. “I found the bridge in one of their minds.” I remembered the image from the first creature. “From their side of the dimension, anyway. I’m not sure exactly where it was, but I’d recognize the area if I saw it nearby.”

  “We should talk to the others.” He avoided the conversation.

  I was relieved. I talked a good game, but I had no idea where to go from here.

  “Do you mind if I take a shower?” Blood streaked my arm. My entire body would be a mess.

  “Of course. I mean, I don’t mind. Mom laid out towels for you already. She said you should only spot clean, avoiding the bandages. You don’t want to get them wet.”

  “Right.” I was pretty sure I wouldn’t need them. In the shower, I confirmed my suspicions, carefully setting the bandages aside. I turned the water on, as hot as I could physically stand. The water reddened and pooled around my feet. I felt a strange fascination: all that blood belonged to me. I’d seen the state of the bed, too, before I’d left his room. The mattress would probably be unusable now.

  I imagined the conversation: Sorry I almost died in your son’s bed and ruined your lives. Here’s a couple of hundred bucks for the damage.

  I froze at a knock on the door.

  “It’s Sarah,” a feminine voice from the hall called in to me.

  “Coming!” I turned off the shower and wrapped myself quickly in the light pink towel folded on the vanity. I opened the door a crack, and Sarah slipped in. Her eyes quickly traveled the length of my body.

  “Wow!” she breathed. “There’s pretty much no damage left.” I nodded. “How did we do that?” The hard edge was gone from her voice.

  “I don’t know. Am I forgiven?”

  “I guess.” She held out a plastic bag. “I brought you clothes, anyway.”

  I took the bag from her. “Thanks.” I pulled out the jeans and t-shirt. She was a little slimmer than I was, and a lot taller. I held them up against my body.

  “Don’t worry—they’ll be fine.”

  “You can tell the future now?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I picked my most conservative outfit for you. You can cuff the pants.” She wandered past me in the small space and opened the medicine cabinet, looking through their toiletries.

  I pulled the dark green, long-sleeved shirt over my head. It clung to the curves of my body, and I wished I could put Tyler’s roomy t-shirt overtop of it. Maybe she was still angry after all. I slid on the jeans next, sucking in as I struggled with the button. There were deep runs along the seams, up the legs of the pants.

  “See,” she said when she turned to me again. “They’re fine.”

  I wasn’t sure what her definition of fine was. I glanced in the mirror self-consciously. The shirt was lower cut than I was used to, but she was right. It was definitely less revealing than the one she wore.

  I stepped out of the bathroom and Tyler, leaning back on the couch, sat up abruptly and stared, his mouth open.

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered in my ear. She walked past me and plunked herself down on the couch next to Tyler, putting her feet up on the ottoman. “So, what’s the plan now, leader?”

  “I don’t know. Wait for the others and debrief.”

  Tyler jerked his gaze away, purposely avoiding my direction. “Sounds good to me.”

  “There was something though ...” I stopped.

  Tyler glanced at me briefly as I crossed the room to join them. Sarah moved her feet so I could sit across from them on the ottoman.

  “I remembered something. I’m not sure if it makes sense, but I remembered it when I was fighting those things, and again when I woke up. It’s fragmented, but it’s there.”

  “So show us.” Tyler extended his hand.

  I took it and held out my other one to Sarah.

  She grasped it, and I brought up the memory of Elliot’s face in the night, insisting we had everything we needed. He said something else, too, but the words seemed muffled, indistinct.

  “When was that?” Sarah asked.

  “The night Jared shot me.”

  “Who’s Jared?”

  I showed her the memory of Jared picking me up that night. His baggy green hoodie exaggerated his lanky frame. He grinned boyishly as we walked toward the field.

  “So was he, like, your boyfriend?” She sensed the warm feeling I had for him.

  “We were close.” I didn’t need to explain. They got the gist of the relationship.

  “So you were in the field to look at stars?”

  “Yeah. It was ordinary though. Jared was into that. But the next thing I knew, I was shot and lying in the rain, bleeding.” They experienced an echo-pain of the bullet wound and my confusion about Jared, who tried to stop the bleeding. I jumped the memory back again, to the image of Jared shooting me, his eyes wide. I flashed again to Elliot, slicing his hand open and pressing it against my wound, transferring his power to me. They felt my unfamiliarity with him. “This is my first memory of him. Or it was. But the conversation obviously happened the same night, before I was shot.”

  “That’s all you remember?” Sarah winced. “Think. There’s gotta be more.”

  I closed my eyes and struggled. He handed me something. It was important, though I couldn’t make it out. I opened my eyes again. It was the best I could do.

  “Try again,” Sarah insisted.

  “It won’t make a difference. I’d remember if I could.”

  “Try. Again.”

  “I’ve tried.”

  “Maybe you don’t really want to remember. I mean—it must be painful, emotionally.”

  Her words irked me, especially since I wondered the same myself. But I did want to know.

  “If I remembered what happened, maybe I’d understand why Jared did what he did. Everything would make more sense to me.” Jared would never hurt me. But for some reason, he did.

  “We’ll help,” Tyler offered, squeezing my hand.

  I nodded, closing my eyes. Their presence invaded my mind. They searched for the memories, trying to bring them back to the surface. They found the ones I’d already shown them. Elliot, handing me an object. The meteor shower in the background. But there was something else that time. Jared was there with us, standing beside me, staring down at the object in Elliot’s hand. Why was he with me here? And where had he gone before?

  He pulled the trigger, his eyes wide. The image was clearer than it had been the last time. “Jared used his dad’s gun when he ...” I couldn’t make myself say the words. I cleared my throat and continued, “But I just realized he wouldn’t have had it when he picked me up. He didn’t seem any different. There was no reason for him to have it. So maybe ...”

  Tyler finished the thought. “He went home to get it.”

  “Ma
ybe he took the object with him,” I continued. “That’s why it wasn’t there when they found us. Why nobody asked about it.”

  “Why would he have taken it?” Sarah asked the obvious.

  “Maybe Jared wasn’t really who you thought he was.” Tyler shrugged. “Maybe Jared used to follow World Maker, too. Maybe he’d turned.”

  “Jared was ... Jared. I knew him all his life.”

  Sarah shot Tyler a look. I knew exactly what it meant. Don’t push it. Stop being so jealous.

  “I’m not jealous.” Tyler countered her thought out loud. “Rachel wasn’t into him. And even if she were, it’s not like Rachel and I—” He stopped mid-sentence.

  I flushed. It stung, and I quickly withdrew my hand before they read my thoughts. “So I should go to Jared’s then. To see if it’s there.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Tyler stood.

  “His parents won’t let you in.” Besides, I didn’t want him there. I didn’t want either of them there. It was bad enough they pried through my rawest memories of him. I didn’t need them to distract me with their thoughts while I sifted through what was left of his presence.

  “Will they let you in?”

  “He was my best friend. They’ll let me in.” I got up, walking toward the door.

  “Here.” Sarah followed me closely and reached past me into the open closet.

  “Take my coat. You weren’t wearing one when you—came back.”

  “Thanks.” I put it on. It was thin material, long and black, furred along the bottom rim. The sleeves hung down to my fingertips. It was slightly oversized everywhere, which I appreciated.

  “That’s my favorite jacket,” she scolded. “Try not to go hopping into other dimensions and ruining it.”

  Tyler frowned but he didn’t say anything.

  “Sarah, do you want to hang out here without me till we get back? You can call Jonathan and check how he’s doing.” Tyler slipped into his black leather jacket.

  “You can’t come,” I reminded him.

  “You’re going to run there? In that?”

  I glanced down at the coat and back at Tyler. I didn’t need him to drive me, but it would save me the drama of wondering what he and Sarah were doing here without me. I tried to look reluctant anyway. “Okay, you can drive me.”

  “Thanks.” His lips turned up slightly at my gracious capitulation. “Oh, and you left this here before.” He handed me the sharp, cylindrical metallic weapon he’d tried to give me the first time we were at his place, when I freaked out. I had barely given it another thought afterwards, but as I shoved it into the deep pockets of Sarah’s jacket, I wished I’d had it with me all along. It felt good to have it back.

  “Wish us luck,” he called to Sarah as he followed me out. “Maybe we’ll find a way to save the world today.”

  I thought I heard her call, “Luck!”

  On the front street, Jared straddled his bike and waited for me, staring straight ahead. Wordlessly I climbed on, wrapping my arms around his body. I mentally showed him the directions to Jared’s, and he kicked his bike to life. I closed my eyes, resting my cheek against his back. I wasn’t in a hurry to get there. This was nice. In fact, sitting so close to him, on the back of his bike, feeling the road beneath our tires, almost made me forget about the earth’s impending doom.

  When we turned onto Jared’s street, he pulled up against the curb. “I don’t know if they should see me.” Tyler frowned.

  “No. I’ll walk the rest of the way.” I handed over my helmet.

  “I’ll be here when you’re done. Be careful.”

  “Always.” I walked quickly down the street, pulling Sarah’s coat tighter around my body. I rang the bell, like I had dozens of times before. I’d never felt awkward or frightened or sad. It was almost impossible to force myself to stand there and wait.

  Jared’s father answered the door. He worked nights, so I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him.

  “Rachel!” His eyes widened at the sight of me, reminding me of Jared the last time I saw him.

  I was glad Tyler parked down the street.

  “What are you doing here? Your parents called. They said you were missing.”

  “I’ve been taking some time to think about things. I’ve been back already.” I didn’t specify where I’d been back to. The last thing I needed was to have my parents show up and make a scene.

  “What are you doing here? Not that you’re not welcome, but—”

  “I just wanted—”

  “Do you know something? About his death?” He cut me off. He was just as lost in this as the rest of us.

  “I can’t remember. I’m sorry.”

  He sighed, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “I apologize, Rachel. I don’t know why Jared did what he did. He was crazy about you.”

  “I know. I miss him.” I took a deep breath. “I wondered if I could spend some time in his room. I need to say goodbye.” It wasn’t untrue. In fact, at that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than to lay down in his bed and be close to him, even for a moment.

  “Of course.” He straightened. “You’re always welcome here.” He walked ahead of me down the hall toward Jared’s room as though I’d need help finding the way. He opened the door for me. “Take as long as you need.”

  Suppressed anguish strained in his voice, and tears threatened beneath the veneer of calm. As I walked into Jared’s room, his father’s footfalls retreated down the hall. I closed the door gently, the reassuring click sealing me inside Jared’s sanctuary.

  The room was untouched. It was tidy and pristine, like Jared kept it, but his desk was strewn with books on stars and his school backpack rested on the floor. It was the perfect opportunity to search, and, maybe I should have been quicker, but I lay down in the middle of his bed. I smiled up at the green, glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling. I’d given them to him on his thirteenth birthday. He’d begged me to hang them with him.

  “Please, Rachel. I want to look up at them and think about you.”

  “I’m too short to reach the ceiling, even from your bed.”

  So he convinced me to try jumping on the bed to touch the ceiling. We spent the entire afternoon jumping on his bed and re-sticking the ones that fell. We laughed until our sides hurt, then collapsed on his bed, rolling onto our backs, admiring our haphazard handiwork.

  “Beautiful!” he exclaimed.

  I agreed. “We should do this professionally.”

  “Definitely.” Then he’d clapped twice, turning off his lights. The green stars glowed yellow. “It’s perfect.”

  “Perfect,” I echoed.

  The stars blurred, and I turned on my side, burying my face in his pillow. His scent lingered in the fabric and feathers. Sobs, muffled by the soft material, wrenched their way out from somewhere deep inside of me. I wanted to remember the way his laugh sounded, the exact color of his hair, the way his skin felt when he touched my hand to get my attention. Instead, I had this hole in my heart and a life that didn’t make sense without him.

  Tyler was right. I didn’t feel that way about Jared. It was more than romance. I’d loved him. Not like a boyfriend. He was a part of me. And now that part was ripped away, and nobody knew why. Least of all me. Sobs wracked my body until I was too exhausted to continue.

  I rolled onto my back and studied the stars on the ceiling again. I clapped twice, shutting off the lights. The ceiling lit up with the yellow glow.

  What were you doing, Jared?

  As my eyes became accustomed to the dark, I realized there was another, fainter glow under the door of his closet. I got up and crossed the room. Opening the closet, I looked for the source of the light. It glimmered behind his clothes. I reached up and moved hangers covering the sliver of light. A safe was seamlessly embedded in his wall. It was a fireproof box with an electronic keypad. He said it was to protect his stamp collection from fire. I thought it was a little extravagant, but Jared never did anything halfway. I helped him
put it away in his drawer. I hadn’t really thought about it after that, but there it was, built into his closet. From the sealed edges, a strange yellow glow leaked out—not as bright as the ceiling stars but somehow stronger.

  A safe. What was I supposed to do with a safe? I studied the keypad. On a hunch, I tried my birthdate. The lock hummed and clicked open. Jared hadn’t tried to hide the safe from me. He counted on me to find it.

  There were no stamps in the safe. Instead, a small, round, glowing, baseball-sized orb sat in the center. I studied the ball of light. I visualized myself in the field, Elliot across from me and Jared beside me. He stood close enough that his shoulder touched mine.

  “Take it, Jared. Keep it safe.” Elliot handed Jared, not me, the ball.

  “Keep her safe.” Jared wanted to protect me.

  I reached into the safe and carefully lifted out the orb. When I touched it, I experienced power with ultimate authority. I turned it over in my hands. It appeared familiar.

  I hadn’t brought any way to carry it. Shoved into Jared’s backpack, the light seeped from the seam, but I slung it over my shoulder. I closed the safe and silently let myself out of the room. Jared’s dad heard the front door open and intercepted me in the foyer.

  “Rachel.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

  I kept my body turned away from him. I didn’t want to explain the backpack.

  “I meant what I said before. You’re welcome here anytime.”

  “Thank you.” I left quickly before bursting into tears again. I ran down the street toward Tyler’s bike. It roared to life when he saw me coming.

  “What took you so long?”

  I got on the bike behind him. I didn’t have to answer. On contact, he saw me on Jared’s bed, crying into his pillow.

  He accelerated down the street. “I’m sorry.” He was.

  The memory was private. I pulled him away from it by bringing the bright yellow orb to my mind.

  His body stiffened and his energy sparked. “What is that?” He turned my way at a traffic light.

  “I don’t know. Something important. As soon as I touched it, I knew.”

  “Sarah’s going to flip when she sees it.” He wasn’t headed toward his place. He felt my question. “We’re meeting at the warehouse. School’s out in ten minutes and, since the rest of us don’t have anywhere to be ...”