Broken Mirror (28 page)

People said this was his plan all along, but I believe it was the loss of his wife that drove him to it. They were not estranged, as some have suggested. They felt a deep, abiding love for each other, and nothing hurts more than a loss before its natural time.

—Robbie Eastmore’s
Register of Resonant Earth Discrepancies

Elena and Victor found the cabin at the end of a bumpy set of tracks right where Ozie’s coordinates had indicated it would be. Dry pine needles littered the forest floor.
We’re lucky
, Elena thought,
that this dried-out part of the Sierra Nevadas hasn’t burned down
.

The cabin was not impressive, just a small hut with a peaked roof. The interior consisted of an entryway, a living room with a wood-burning stove and a metal chimney shooting up to the center of the roof, a sliver of a kitchen, and a bedroom that held a twin bed and a wardrobe. Elena sighed. No toilet. There must be an outhouse nearby. Although it was heating up outside, the interior was cool. The walls were well-insulated, and the cabin would keep them warm at night.

“Welcome home,” Elena said, curtseying and nearly knocking a lamp over. “Let’s hope the well hasn’t run dry.”

Victor said, “It beats sleeping outside or in the car. Bears are hungry for human flesh out here.”

Elena sat on the couch, sending a cloud of dust into the air. “And bobcats,” she said. “And the wandering women. And whatever mountain dickies call this place home.”

“There are no dickies in SeCa,” Victor said.

“Of course there are—just not in the Bayshore. They run all the abandoned places from here to the border with the Louisiana Territories. And Las Vegas, of course. Where the King lives.” She noticed his skeptical look. “It’s not a joke. Everyone calls the Corps’ chief the ‘King of Las Vegas.’”

“I didn’t know that,” Victor said.

Elena got up and searched the cupboards for food. Cans of vegetables, hard pasta, and other foods not disposed to spoilage crowded the shelves. “It’s fully stocked,” she told him. “I’ll give Ozie credit for that.”

She ran the tap and drank a glass of cool water that tasted of earth, and then a second one. “An automated well,” she announced.

Victor said, “Ozie can’t enter SeCa without being arrested
—
he’s a Class Two.” He froze and sniffed the air. “I wonder if this cabin is Pearl’s.” He bolted outside.

Elena followed Victor as he ran around, looking at the ground. “What are you doing?”

“Maybe she had a garden here.” He paced over a thick layer of pine needles. “I need more herbs. What I took from Pearl’s shop will only last me a week.”

She could see a storm brewing in his eyes. He wasn’t doing well. Damn, she’d been looking forward to getting everything off her chest, but now she couldn’t risk saying anything to upset him.

Maybe he needed a distraction.

“Let’s go see the lake. Please?” Elena asked.

Victor looked up, met her gaze, seemed to realize he was acting strangely, and agreed. They were soon back in the car, heading south toward Lake Tahoe, which neither had seen before. He said his parents rarely took him on vacations when he was young, perhaps because they thought he needed a strict routine. Elena’s parents had always been too busy to take vacations.

“Where have you been in SeCa?” she asked.

He listed aquariums, farms, and vineyards on the north and central coasts and small farming communities throughout Long Valley before they became too dangerous. She smiled to herself; he was so cautious yet naïve at the same time. She’d made the right decision to help him. And to not tell him about her past.

***

Three months earlier when Victor’s ma had called, Elena had been in the R.O.T., lying on a stained and bare mattress pad, staring at the ceiling, and resting between stim-fueled manic phases. Linda’s voice came through the sonobulb sounding like a not-quite-human MeshNews reader. “I want you to come to SeCa,” she said. “Victor needs you.”

Elena took the phone away from her ear and stared at it. It couldn’t be a prank. It was his ma’s flat, nonemotive voice, no question about it.

Linda said, “He needs your help. Are you there?”

Elena rubbed her face, trying to remember the last time she’d spoken to Victor or his ma. “Why does he need
my
help?” Elena asked.

“He’s withdrawing from us, regressing.”

“We haven’t spoken in five years. Why me?”

“He’s never had another friend like you,” Linda said.

Elena’s heart cracked open to hear that.
Shocks, I miss him.
She sat up and looked around. The abandoned house she was sharing with other stimheads could blow apart in a strong wind. Dirt caked the floors, except where her frenzied drug mates wore the wood planks clean with their pacing.

“I don’t . . .” Elena couldn’t see herself leaving this house, let alone traveling all the way to SeCa. She wasn’t well enough.

“We’ll take care of your treatment,” Linda said.

Elena looked at the MeshBit in her hand. Her heart beat rapidly, suddenly fearful that she was hallucinating this conversation.

“We know about your addiction. I’ve booked you into the Holistic Healing Network clinic in New Venice.”

“New Venice?” The name sounded familiar, but her brain had turned to sludge.

“You remember, don’t you? In the Louisiana Territories? Christ, Elena, are you witless? You’ve been to the Eastmore estate! A car will collect you tomorrow morning. They say you don’t need to bring anything, and it’s better not to. You want to start fresh.”

“I’m not sure—”

“We know everything. Your suicide attempt. Your affiliation with the Puros. Give us some credit. I’m not reaching out blindly. You obviously need help, and we need yours. You’ll get clean, and then you’ll come to SeCa and help Victor stay on the right path. I can trust you to do that much. And we’ll pay you, obviously.”

“I—I’m not sure I can leave.”

“Elena, I never met anyone outside the family who cared as much about Victor as you. He hasn’t handled your absence very well. I’m sorry if this is stirring up bad feelings. But he’s shutting out his family, Linus and myself included, and I’m afraid of the consequences. You might be able to reach him. Will you try?”

Elena felt a tug in her chest. She would try. Her out-of-control frenzy had to end. Up until this moment, she had been sure it would end badly. Now she had a way out.

“I’ll try.”

“Oh, and don’t worry. He doesn’t know about your history. Be ready tomorrow.”

Elena waited for details, but none came. “Mrs. Eastmore?”

“Can I ask you something, Elena?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think we failed him?”

“What? No.” The words jumped out of Elena’s mouth before she thought about them. “He’s going to be fine.”

“We love Victor. We provided the best treatment. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for him. But he won’t let us in.” She didn’t sound desperate, or tired, or angry. She didn’t sound human at all. “Ever since Oak Knoll closed, he’s started getting worse, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

Another long pause. “You were always a tough young woman. Keep him safe for me.” Linda hung up.

Elena felt like a boxer on the ropes after a furious volley. The Puros had helped her stand up and get clean, and then, in a willful act of self-mutilation, she’d tumbled down on a stimsmoke binge. Now the Eastmores were giving her another chance. She had to keep fighting.

***

The car carrying Victor and Elena jostled along a mountain road that hadn’t been maintained for years, and it took an hour to reach the pass. When Elena got out of the car, she gasped at the sight of incredibly vast terrain, an entire cosmos filling their view. Although they could see the resort towns ringing the lake, they were far above, alone and unwatched. They could finally breathe.

A seamless blue sky soothed her. Victor seemed to relax too. Sporadic tufts of redwoods sprouted from remote ridges and valleys, crowded out by decades of fervent construction. Every flat surface and some of the milder slopes carried huddled buildings on their backs.

Victor asked, “What do you think this looked like?”

“When? In winter?”

“No, before we were born. Before all these people, the towns.”

Hotel towers and tourist businesses clustered near the shore and climbed the mountainsides. The lake’s surface sparkled almost like the ocean. Blue-green water, inflected with deeper green in places where too much organic material bloomed and clouded the formerly crystalline basin, stretched many kilometers across.

Elena tried to imagine a pristine lake, one without the dozens of rafts decorated with giant helium balloons in the shapes of animals. Victor explained that the rafts trolled the lake to absorb waste materials and pollutants. He seemed eager to describe the science behind the restoration efforts. She thought the crafts were about as attractive as such human-made additions could be. Without them, the lake would have long become another corrupted natural wonder of the West.

Elena made a square frame with her fingers and panned across the view. “I’d love to see real-pics from back then. It would have been beautiful.”

She widened her stance, thrusting one hand forward and the other toward the heavens. She said, “An ancient scene: sun and sky, terrain and trees, the clear crystal depths of a mountain lake.” She let her arms fall. “It’s porn for poets up here.”

“Hmm, that was original.” Victor smiled, and his boyish expression charmed her.

Elena slipped her hand inside his hand and squeezed. She took a few deep breaths. “Try it!” she commanded. “Do you feel it? The altitude?”

He breathed deeply, puffing his chest like a bird. Then he exhaled. He shook his head and tried again. After the sixth breath, he claimed he still hadn’t induced an oxygen high. Around the tenth time, he teetered on his feet.

Elena crossed her eyes at him and started to tickle his ribs. He backed up a few steps. She tried again, but he shied away and frowned at her.

She must have looked disappointed because he mumbled, “Sorry.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Sometimes I don’t like being touched.”

Discouraged but not deterred, Elena wrapped an arm around his back, and hugged him to her side. “I remember,” she said. “Just relax, okay?”

He didn’t pull away. Together they looked out onto the lake. They couldn’t pick up where they had left off
—
more than friends, less than lovers
—
but maybe they could start someplace new.

As she turned toward the car, Victor’s hand reached out to Elena’s shoulder. “Wait.” He took a small item from his pocket and presented it to her, a red jewelry box with a gold foil Chinese character pressed into it. She traced the sweeping strokes shaped like a capital
F
fused with a smaller
x
, almost like a function symbol
—
her Chinese zodiac sign: the Dog.

Their hands enfolded the box. It could be anything, even an engagement ring. She froze. They’d talked about the rules. He shouldn’t be doing this. Yet how could she stop him without hurting his feelings?

He gently lifted the lid.

It wasn’t a ring. Elena sighed—
Thank the Laws!

Inside the box a lumpy green pendant rested on a bed of cotton. It shone with a high-gloss polish. Lumps and divots rendered the pendant almost unrecognizable. But she had recognized the symbol on the box. She picked up the jade dog by its gold chain, which was lighter than she expected. The jade’s contours were smooth and oily against her hand.

“I love it,” she said.

“We used to watch all those movies of the Great Asian War, and you were always rooting for the Chinese.”

She laughed. “And the Koreans. And the Filipinos. Anyone except the emperor. ”

Victor laughed. “You made me watch
The Burning Shore
at least a hundred times.”

“Because it is a masterpiece. I had to root for my fellow dog, General Lu Meng, may his ancestors protect him.” She rubbed the pendant. “Where did you get it?”

“Little Asia.”

She smacked him in the arm. “You know how dangerous that is.”

“It’s nothing compared to what you say about Texas. Anyway, I survived. See, I can take care of myself. And I thought of you. That shows how amazing I am.” He smiled and almost looked like a different person, someone carefree and zany.

“You’re in a mood,” she teased.

“I know! I hope it lasts. Anyway, I got this to say thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“You might not have realized it, but you’re probably the main reason I’m not locked in an asylum. All those years together. Being close to you saved me.”

“Don’t say that word.”

“What word?”

“Asylum.”

“You like ‘Class One supportive living facility’ better?” Victor asked, still smiling, but bitterness had crept into his voice.

She sighed. “No.”

“It doesn’t matter. All I wanted was to say thank you. Will you let me?” He pointed to her neck.

Elena pulled back her hair. He clasped the chain around her neck and gave her a peck on the cheek before he pulled back. Something was wrong though; he was staring at the ground.

“What is it?” Elena asked.

Without looking up, he said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you. To explain. I didn’t contact you after you moved because
—
because I thought that you would be better off without me. That I was holding you back.”

She put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek, feeling it flush hot beneath her lips. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said as she felt warmth rising in her chest. It might have been affection, but she knew better. It was shame, and as long as she kept deceiving him and leading him on, it would grow until it consumed her.

Back at the cabin Elena lay on the sofa while Victor made a meal of pasta with canned tomato sauce. She glanced through Victor’s dreambook, wondering how she could read such graphic descriptions of violence without feeling anything but relief that her sleep wasn’t so troubled.