Farsighted (Farsighted Series) (28 page)

***

We eat all of our meals at McDonald’s on this trip. Mostly because the food is cheap and the restaurants are everywhere. Simmi is none too thrilled, since she’s stuck eating garden salads and empty hamburger buns. I order like five sandwiches off the dollar menu and a large strawberry milkshake. Last supper or not, I enjoy the meal thoroughly.

“What have you figured out?” Simmi asks as she rips a bun into little pieces and sets them on a crinkly wrapper.

“He’s running from something, and he knows I’m watching him, which pisses him off. As far as I can tell, he’s in the
city
city. There’s always tons of noise around him, cars honking, tires screeching, people yelling into their cell phones.”

“That’s good. What else?” Miss Teak asks.

“Dunno. There’s almost too much going on to pick up on any individual hints. I need to wait for him to go someplace quieter. But I think he knows that, too, so he’s purposely staying in busy areas.”

“Maybe you should take a break,” Shapri says. “You look tired.”

“A break might throw him off his guard,” Miss Teak adds. “Stop for a few hours. Take a nap if you want.”

“Then sneak back up on him and—
kapow
!” Shapri says, slapping the table and making us all jump.

“Girl, you seriously need to calm down,” Miss Teak says, then laughs. I try to remember if I’ve ever heard her laugh before. I don’t think I have.

Back in the car, I doze off for a few hours, which gives the others a chance to actually talk to each other—I can only imagine how bored they must be, sitting in silence for hours upon hours.

When I wake up, they quiet down so I can check in on Dax.

He’s somewhere different than before. Noise roars like an ocean all around me, but it’s not the sound of a city street. The delicious aroma of hotdogs and popcorn soured by the bitter stench of beer hangs in the air. Music plays, and people cheer.

An old rock song booms over the speakers. The crowd stomps their feet to the rhythm, causing the whole place to rumble. I can’t make out Dax in the ruckus, but he’s got to be in there somewhere.

“Here comes Posada to the plate. The season’s just started, but he’s been white hot. More RBIs than any other player so far. Could he lead the team to their twenty-eighth World Series win?”

“If anyone can do it, Posada can,” another announcer says. “Here comes the pitch…”

And there goes my vision.

“Call Dad,” I tell the others. “Call him first, and I’ll tell you all together. I figured out where Dax is. I’ve found him.”

Simmi dials and puts Dad on speaker, passing me the phone. “Dad, I just saw Dax at a baseball game. What do you know about RBIs, Posada, and twenty-eight World Series wins?” I ask, ticking off each new piece of information on a finger.

“Ack, those damn Yankees. Haven’t got anything on the Sox,” Dad grumbles, wearing his accent as a badge of pride rather than an indication of power. Baseball talk has a way of doing that to him. “We’re closing in real tight. The kid’s in the Bronx.”

“How should we proceed?” Miss Teak asks from the back seat as Shapri continues to drive.

“I’ll get us a motel closer to our target and call back with the new address. Meanwhile, give it a rest, Alex. You can track him again once everybody’s here and ready to strike. I want the guy to relax, to think we’ve let up.”

“And then
kapow
,” Shapri cheers, honking the car’s horn and drawing a reprimand from her mother.

“Right,
kapow
!” Dad says, laughing as he hangs up the phone.

***

The trip goes by much faster now that I’m not expected to play spy. We’ve got an endless supply of jazz music to accompany us on our journey—as one station starts fuzzing up, Shapri flips through all the channels until she finds a new one. It all sounds the same to me, repetitive chaos, but I do like having the background noise.

We reach the city at about ten, and our motel at eleven thirty. Who would’ve thought traffic could be so bad this late at night? As soon as I step out of the car, I recognize the smell of sewage mixed with pizza. The exact same odor that clung to the sky when I saw five of us fight with Dax. Then I held Simmi while she bled to death. It’s do-or-let-Simmi-die time. I’ve got to be on my sharpest game. Can’t let the others see how scared I am.

Dad has reserved only one room with two beds to accommodate the five of us, because city motels are super expensive. He and I sleep on the floor and give the girls the beds. The carpet smells like feet, making me want to barf up all of those hamburgers, milkshakes, and chicken nuggets from earlier in the day, but luckily I don’t.

I do have one nightmare. When I wake up, I pad over to the edge of Simmi’s bed and touch her face. She sleeps so peacefully, so securely. She trusts me with her life. Knowing nothing can happen to her when I’m so near gives me solace. I go back to sleep and don’t wake again until the next morning when I hear Dad messing around with a zipper.

“Didn’t you bring any sweaters?” he whispers to me. “It’s snowing out.”

“What about global warming and our reverse-Indian summer?”

“You think I make this stuff up for fun. Go see for yourself,” he hisses.

I pad outside with bare feet and step onto the cement balcony that joins all the rooms from outside. Sure enough, a snowflake lands on my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I told you,” Dad teases as I come back inside. “This is not going to be a good day. New Yorkers turn into animals when the weather gets bad, especially when they think the season for it’s through. Here, take my jacket.” He tosses his thick lumberjack coat at me, and I slip it on over my pajamas.

“Not now,” Dad teases. “For later. When we’re actually outside.”

“Eh, whatever,” I say, refusing to take the jacket off. It smells like the outdoors and is cold at first, crisp, even.

“So, where’s our man?”

“I haven’t checked yet.” I yawn.

“Well, go check already.” Dad’s voice is a hurried whisper.

I stand back up and head to the bathroom for a little privacy. After peeing, I tune into channel Dax—all crazy, all the time. The air is cold and his breath is shaking. Outside without a jacket, no doubt. He’s striding across the pavement.

A bird caws in the distance,
aah-aah aah-aah
instead of
chirp chirp
.

“Just couldn’t stay away, could you?” He addresses me with a shiver in his voice. “Did you have a good night’s sleep? Because you’re going to need it.”

I don’t say anything, just keep listening. A trumpet sounds, the six millionth trumpet I’ve heard in the last twenty-four hours, thanks to Shapri’s taste in music.

“Have you figured out where I am?” Dax taunts. “C’mon now, it’s not so hard.”

He enters a building. The air is uncomfortably warm, sending shocks to my system. It smells like liquid poop. Feels that way, too.

“Ssssstill haven’t figured it out?” Dax asks with an overdrawn hiss. He turns around and goes back outside.

“Why do you want me to know?” I ask.

“Well, if you insist on following me everywhere, I think it’d be nice to meet face-to-face, don’t you? I’m waiting for you, you know.”

A chorus of voices mixes together—babies, kids, and adults. A gust of wind sweeps by as a group of people walk past, speaking a language I don’t quite recognize. Chinese maybe?

“Now Alex, don’t be stupid. This isn’t a difficult puzzle to solve.” He jogs down the path a ways before speaking again, this time to someone else. “Hey, buddy. Can you introduce yourself to my dense friend? No? Okay, but only because you made me.”

Something falls in the distance. An animalistic roar rings through the air.

“Thank you, that’s all I was asking for.” He speaks to me again. “You get it now, my mediocre friend?”

I gulp. Yeah, I get it. The snow, the sounds, the people, the roar—I’ve had this vision before and it ended with people running away screaming and crying. Dax is waiting for me at the Bronx Zoo, ready to make his next big move.

Chapter 23

The traveler has reached his final obstacle. Success will unite the celestial and earthy realms. Failure will return him to blind helplessness.

“This is clearly a trap,” Simmi says as the five of us pile into Miss Teak’s car.

“But at least we know where he is,” Dad says, jerking in and out of traffic, honking every few seconds and yelling profanities at the other drivers.

“And he probably doesn’t expect a group of people, just you,” Shapri adds, slurping one of my energy drinks.

“I agree with Simmi,” I say. “I don’t think you should all come with me. You should stay behind and let me handle Dax.”

“I don’t think so,” Dad says, forgetting to ratchet it down to his inside-the-car voice.

“Everything will be okay,” Miss Teak adds. “We’ve prepared you as much as we can. And we don’t know for sure whether Dax is really dangerous or not.”

“Don’t know for sure? Don’t know for sure? Aw c’mon, how can we not?”

“Alex, talk nicely,” Dad commands. His tone shows there is no room for compromise here. “Oleta’s right. We
don’t
know for sure. There are two types of prophecies—”

“Yeah, yeah. Those that can be stopped and those that’ll happen no matter what. I get it.”

“Maybe by finding and helping him now, we’ll change his entire course. The universe may have been sending you these strong visions as a way to make sure we’d go and get him,” Simmi says from my left. She lays her head on my shoulder and reaches for my hand.

I give her a kiss on the forehead. We’ve been dating for a few weeks now, but we’ve never gone out on a normal date. It’s always been about improving our gifts so that we would be ready for what we have to do today. If we get out of this alive, I’m bringing her a dozen of Mom’s best roses and taking her to a fancy five-star restaurant.

Shapri grabs my right hand and squeezes hard.

“Ow, what are you—?”

“We’re going. We’re going already. Aren’t you happy now?” Shapri whispers and then sniffs back the salty beginnings of tears. Scents of cherries permeate the car.

“Monster does weird stuff to you, too, huh?” I laugh.

Dad reaches back from the driver’s seat to slap me on the knee. “Shut up,” he hisses.

Then Shapri speaks again. Her grip on my hand tightens. “Please, please, go away.” She erupts in tears, and Simmi lets go of my hand, so I can hold my weeping friend with both arms.

***

By the time we reach the zoo, it’s noon. The air is a little warmer, but the occasional snowflake still falls from the sky.

“Okay, what do we do now?” I ask as we each take turns pushing our way through the turnstile.

“We find him. Obviously,” Shapri says.

“We work together to find him,” Miss Teak corrects. “Alex, zoom in, tell us what you see.”

“Dunno,” I say after I’ve had a few minutes to search my mind. “There’s too much going on, but he’s definitely still here.”

“Let me see what I can do,” Dad says. We spend the next half hour waddling after him like little ducklings as he follows the noise of people’s brains, trying to pinpoint our psychic. Of course, New York is a huge hotspot, so this task isn’t easy.

Simmi and Shapri flank me on either side, helping me maneuver around this unfamiliar place. Dad continues to lead us in circles, winding from the African Plains to the sea lions to the gift shop, round and round again. Each exhibit smells horrible, but distinct. On our third go-around, I feel as if I could navigate the zoo myself.

At this rate, the park will close before we find Dax. Should I seek him out, talk to him again? That will completely throw our chances of making a sneak attack, but at this point what choice have I got?

I spin my bracelet and let my thoughts race around like a pool of feeding fish, until I find him. I stand in place as people continue walking by on both sides of me, laughing, chatting, and playing. A sharp scream pierces the thin, cold air. The sound waves reverberate like daggers. Several more screams, running, crying. A loud roar rises about the commotion, followed by a low, deep laugh.

I’m jostled out of the vision when the girls grab tight on my arms and force me to run. We step onto a moving carousel and clutch the dancing figures as frantic children dismount and dart to the exit.

“What’s going on?” I demand. A new explosion of smells and sounds assaults me. Animal musk, wet fur, the hot breath of carnivores, people screaming, shouting, and crying—it all whirls around me. I hear Dad, but he’s far off, somewhere to my right. I can’t hear Miss Teak at all.

“The animals have been let out of their cages,” Simmi shrieks.

Something large gallops by. Something else roars. Seconds later, the smell of raw flesh explodes in the air. Blood splatters everywhere, including on the carousel its few remaining passengers. I gag. The stench of this sideways rain shower is almost too much to take.

A gigantic carcass falls forward with a wet plunk and slides across the pavement, its corpse continuing to flee even though it’s too late to escape. Children scream. Someone’s voice blares through a megaphone telling everyone to stay calm, but no one listens.