Gone (9 page)

1. To soften him up that much further with a host of gentle caresses and flirtatious tickles. And…
   
2. To place a nice long break between her calculated moves. Too much manipulation in one sitting would be too obvious.
   

Now she realized just how deeply insulting this whole movie-watching MO of Skyler's was. It was nothing more than a classic babysitting maneuver. Put the baby in front of the idiot box and the baby will stay silent, still, and subdued for hours. No tantrums, no questions, no “trouble.” It was just another form of Rodke hypnosis.

Watch the moving pictures on the big box, baby Gaia. Aren't they pretty? Don't they make you want to sit here and think about nothing for hours and hours? Good. Because we don't want you to think. The last thing we want you to do is think.

But this time all she had done was think. Think
and think about her next move. She needed proof. She needed cold hard evidence of their plans. She had already found that small batch of research files in Skyler's “roommate's” desk. But there was nothing literal enough in those files to convict anyone of anything. There was no specific mention of Gaia's name or of what they were actually planning. And Gaia could think of only one other potential source of hard evidence in this prison of an apartment. But to get to it, there would have to be some more sucking up and some more lying. And the time was now.

Skyler flipped off the TV and took a long, luxurious stretch on the couch. Gaia took this opportunity to lie down in his lap. If that didn't scream “sexual tension,” she didn't know what did. He looked down at her and smiled, placing his hand on her forehead and running his fingers through her hair.

“Wasn't that awesome?” he said. “Is Brando not the man?”

Gaia didn't answer. She was waiting for him to notice the angry expression she had now placed on her face. Which he did.

“What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry.” She sighed. “Yes, the movie was awesome, but I'm still just so pissed at
Jake.
I mean, I was nice enough to call him back, and I tried to be polite
about the whole prom thing, and he was
still
such a jerk about it.”

“I know,” Skyler agreed. “What a freak. You'd think he'd never gotten dissed before.”

“Yeah. I can't believe I ever spent any time with that guy. It was all just a big mistake. I must have been out of my mind. What kind of girl spends all her time with a guy whose ego is that humongous?” She stared straight at Skyler.

Careful This is no time to get clever.

But Skyler didn't seem to catch the subtle barb. After all, egomaniacs of Skyler's proportions were never aware that they were egomaniacs.

“You know what?” she said. “I want to write Jake an e-mail. I do. I want to give him a piece of my mind. I mean, high school's over anyway, right? What high school relationship has ever made it past the first two weeks of college? I should just give him one big fat official kiss-off. A last goodbye. You know?”

Skyler perked right up at the notion—even more than Gaia had expected. “A last goodbye… ,” he mused. “Yes. I think that's a brilliant idea. He deserves it. A nice little well-written ‘Dear Jake' e-mail. Oh, you've got to do it.”

You'd just love that, wouldn't you, Skyler? You'd love to see me clear the decks of anyone who stands between you and sole ownership of Gaia Moore. You make me sick.

“Can I use your laptop?” she asked.

“Absolutely.” He grinned. “Hell, 'd0Éhelp you write it.”

Of course you will Aren't you just oozing with generosity?

Skyler grabbed Gaia's hands and lifted her off the couch, pulling her across the room to his laptop and placing her in his desk chair, hovering behind her as he massaged her shoulders.

With her back to him, Gaia took this rare opportunity to actually wince at his touch. She'd been holding in all the winces for so long, she had to at least let one of them go. Then she pulled his laptop closer.

Here it was, sitting right in her hands. The only other potential source of evidence in this apartment. Skyler had surely deleted anything incriminating from his hard drive. But that still left his e-mail. There was still a chance that she could nab something legit from an e-mail folder. There was just one little problem…. She would need his password.

Gaia went online to get web access to her e-mail. She quickly typed in her user name, and then she entered her password.

The absolutely wrong password.

The expected message popped up in red.
Invalid entry. Please reenter your password.

“Whoops,” Gaia muttered. She typed in the very wrong password again and waited for the message
again. “What the hell?” she groaned. She typed in the wrong password again and again until she finally got a message suggesting that she contact her e-mail server to correct the problem.
Perfect.
She smacked her hand down on the desk with gusto. “Goddammit! Stupid computers. I
hate
these things.”

Then she leaned back slowly, rubbing her head up and down against Skyler's flat stomach, staring up at him with that doe-eyed girlie-girl expression she'd been practicing all day. “My e-mail sucks” she pouted. “Can we use yours?” she asked helplessly.

Skyler laughed and gave her a condescending pat on the head. “Sure,” he said.

Such a gentleman.
Such a stupid gentleman.

Gaia stood up from the chair and let Skyler sit down to sign in to his e-mail. She could tell he was hesitating to enter his password with her standing so close, so she immediately stepped away and turned for the kitchen. “I'm going to need a drink for this,” she joked.

She took a few more steps toward the kitchen until Skyler felt secure in typing his password, and then she whipped her head back over her shoulder and focused in on the keyboard. Here was yet another thing Skyler didn't know about her. Her vision was far beyond average. She could pinpoint the smallest of moving targets from fifty to a hundred yards away. Which made this child's play. Her eyes
darted along the keyboard, following his fingers as he typed each letter.

S-k-y-M-a-s-t-er-1-6.

Bingo. Thank you, Skyler. That was all I needed.

She turned back for the kitchen and grabbed a soda from the fridge.
SkyMaster16
… How disgustingly appropriate. One simple password spoke volumes about his conceited ass. He really did see himself that way. As a “master.” Or more to the point, as
her
master. Once again Gaia had to clamp down on her temper. Because it was all so hopelessly familiar. It was shades of Oliver all over again. She'd seen enough of Oliver's top secret memos in the past year—memos referring to her as the “subject.” It was her least favorite word in the world. And it had to stop. Gaia had to prove it once and for all: She was nobody‘s Subject. And no one was her master.

“Okay,” Skyler said excitedly, giving up his chair to Gaia. “We're good to go.”

“You're so sweet to help me with this,” she said, squeezing his arm in just the right place. “What would I do without you?”

“Nothing, I hope.” He smiled.

Gaia pulled the laptop closer and they began to work on her “Dear Jake” e-mail. She could explain the whole ridiculous scenario to Jake later, once this whole thing was over. Which Gaia hoped would be very soon.

From:
[email protected]

To:
[email protected]

Time:
8:37
PM

Re:
Last goodbye

Dear Jake,

Don't be confused by the e-mail address. I'm writing to you from Skyler's house, which I actually think is pretty appropriate. Maybe you'll finally accept where my loyalties are.

That last phone call really pissed me off, Jake. I was trying to be polite and have an amicable conversation with you about this whole prom situation, but you had to turn it into another stupid fight, which is pretty much all we seem to do now. Fight.

I know your oversized ego probably won't be able to deal with this, but I'm writing to you to make it official. Whatever we had… it's over.

Let's face it, Jake. School is ending, and I think that we should end with it. You'll be going off to college, and I'm not even sure what I'm going to do next, but whatever it is, we never would have lasted long distance. Our lives are just headed in completely different directions.

I hope in the future you can grow up a little and learn how to control your ego. Because it's just going to keep getting you into trouble, Jake. And leave you feeling very much alone.

Let's try not to complicate this too much. You don't need to write back. Let's just try to end it gracefully and go our separate ways, all right? Don't write back with some angry e-mail and drag this out any further.

So this will be our last goodbye, Jake.

I hope you have a nice life.

Best,

Gaia

JAKE CHECKED HIS WATCH. NINE P.M. on the dot and not a soul in sight.

He stood alone in the center of the vacant lot on West Twelfth Street, spinning slowly in place, checking and rechecking every dark corner, waiting for Chris Rodke. But there was nothing. Just two half-shattered streetlights casting dim, ugly light on the broken gray asphalt.

There wasn't an ounce of wind blowing, which made for an eerie stillness. It was a bit like standing on the surface of the moon, looking out into nothing but a vacuum of black space. There wasn't a star in the polluted sky. The only sound was the distant din of the cars down on the highway, more and more of them approaching and then whizzing by without a sign of Chris.

Jake could literally feel each minute ticking by far too slowly, and it was starting to get to him. It was making him antsy. Nervous, even. He began to walk, listening to the sound of his footsteps scraping across the garbage and the broken glass on the ground. But he could walk only so far in any direction. Every corner tapered off into a pitch-black alley or the cold brick wall of a meat-packing warehouse. It left him no choice but to turn himself around and walk the length of the lot again and again, crisscrossing the empty space like a rat in a cage.

He'd spent the entire day trying to convince himself that Chris wouldn't stand him up. But after ten minutes of pacing the abandoned lot, his heart began to sink.

That lying son of a bitch. This supposed meeting was just another joke to him. Another humiliating slap in Jake's face.

After fifteen minutes had passed, Jake shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to accept it. Chris wasn't going to show. It was time to give up and move on. He dropped his head and began a slow, plodding walk back toward the street.

And then he heard it. The whispering of his name.

He stopped in his tracks and whirled around to trace the origin of the whisper.

“
Jake,
” the voice whispered again. It was coming from the pitch-black alley, just around the corner of the warehouse.

“Chris?” Jake stared at the dark alley. “You're late, asshole.”

There was no response.

Jake was getting pissed. “What are you
hiding
from, Chris? It's just me. I'm alone.”

Still no response.

“Jesus, what is your problem?” Jake barked. He moved toward the alley. “Just come out where I can see you.”

“Eat me,” the voice whispered.

“Excuse me? Come out of there, you freaking coward.”

“
Eat
me, asshole,” the voice replied. Now Jake could hear him laughing.
Laughing.

Jake's fists clenched up like rocks. He stomped toward the dark black hole. If he had to drag Chris out into the light, that was more than fine with him. He stepped into the darkness and reached for any part of Chris's body he could get his hands on.

And then Jake howled. From the pain. The excruciating pain…

His hand.
A bat… or a lead pipe… crushing his hand against the wall. The sound of his own guttural scream echoed off the brick walls of the narrow alley. Jake fell to his knees, cradling his shattered hand against his chest. But the rock-hard heel of a boot kicked his head back, knocking him to the ground, where the shattered glass sliced into the back of his neck. Jake screamed again from the pain.

And then they were everywhere. Pouring out of the alley like cockroaches. Jake's eyes were spinning dizzily out of control from the kick. The Droogs were swirling in and out of his crooked field of vision. Shaved heads and shirtless wiry torsos. Maniacal grins and black dilated pupils. Bats and pipes and broken bottles were suddenly raining down on every inch of his body. Relentless kicks to his chest and head.

Jake's brain was only half functioning.
Trap,
he hollered at himself.
Setup. Ambush.

But the screams in his own head were being drowned out by the gleeful giggles pouring from the mouths of the Droogs.

“
Eat me,
” they chanted between howls and giggles. If they weren't whaling on him, then they were aimlessly smashing their pipes against the ground, bouncing up and down like a pack of wild animals who'd just escaped the zoo. “
Eat me, Jake! Eat me!
”

They were collapsing in a huddle over him, ugly faces darting in and out from overhead. There was no chance to think, no chance to move. Just blow after agonizing blow. An overload of exquisite pain.

But finally one last thought made it through to Jake's consciousness. One primal thought fueled by rage and adrenaline…

Fight. Get off the ground and rip these lunatics apart.

Jake dug down and found a well of untapped energy. He rolled to his side and swept the legs of three of them, sending them toppling to the ground. Then he focused all his power on his back, shooting himself up off the ground and landing squarely on both feet. He whipped around and snapped himself into a state of pure focus. Adrenaline had momentarily stripped his entire body of pain. And he needed to use that moment for all it was worth. He put his hands
forward in a combat stance and reminded himself that the Droogs weren't even animals. They were all just insects—cockroaches. Aimless and mindless and easily crushed.