Silent Symmetry (The Embodied trilogy) (11 page)

“There was a plaque here. For the
Temple of Truth.”

“The What of What?”

“It’s the organization my mom works for. Or religion or cult or something.”

“Okaaay
...”

“
Noon was part of it.”

Cruz’s eyes flicked down for a fraction of a second, then back up at me, searching for some kind of emotion in my face. I owed it to him to come clean.

“I’m worried about him, Cruz,” I admitted.

“Why?”

“Because I think there’s something going on. Something he was hiding from me or wanted to tell me, before they took him away.”

He looked incredulous. “What are you talking about? Didn’t his dad get a job in
Asia or something?”

“Look, I know it sounds kinda
retarded, but I think that Noon and Aranara were involved in a conspiracy or... I don’t know what.”

Hearing myself say those words, I almost felt embarrassed. Then I realized that Cruz wasn’t looking at me as though I was crazy. In fact, at the mention of Aranara, his eyes had widened and his breath that was visible in the frigid evening air had been interrupted for a few seconds.

“You felt something too. Didn’t you?” I wondered aloud.

He shifted his feet nervously. “I dunno. Maybe.”

An idea came to me. Could I risk asking him? Whatevs... I had to give it a shot or I’d be left wondering forever.

“There’s a secret tunnel in this building. In my apartment. And it leads to another apartment where
Noon used to live.”

Cruz narrowed his eyes, probably revising his opinion of me as a normal, sane girl.

“I need your help to break through the grille at the other end. Maybe we’ll find some kind of clue about what happened to Noon and Aranara, or where they are now.”

“You want me to help
you break into an apartment?” he said in disbelief.

I tried to reassure him. “No! Well, yes. But last time I looked, it seemed to be empty. And we’re not going to steal anything.”

“What kind of tunnel?”

I s
miled. He was going to say yes!

“It leads from a cupboard in my kitchen and goes for, oh, I don’t know, maybe two hundred yards and branches off into a couple of other tunnels. But the one I followed to the end leads to the apartment where the
Temple of Truth was located. It’s like a heating duct or something, and at the end of it I looked through the grille and saw Noon in a room with a bunch of other people one night.”

Cruz just looked at me with a strange expression.

“And I’m not crazy,” I added, hopefully.

His expression faded and he took my hand. “I know you’re not. It’s just that
...” He looked down at the ground.

“What?” I
ruffled his dark hair gently. Something really seemed to be troubling him. I grasped the back of his neck and pulled him closer until our foreheads were touching. “What is it?”

“I get
... I get...” He looked around, then exhaled. “I panic in small spaces. I think my dad might have shut me in a closet or something when I was a kid. Mom told me the story once.”

“
Eek. Poor you,” was all I could think of to say. “Forget it, then – I’ll try to figure something out. No biggie.”

He suddenly pulled away from me, his lips taut and his jaw rigid with determination.

“I’m not gonna let you do it on your own, Kari.”

“It’s okay, really,” I protested.

“No way,” he shook his head. “Hey, maybe I need to do this. Maybe you can help me overcome this... this messed-up fear.”

“But I’m worried that – ”

I was interrupted by my phone ringing. It was Mom.

“Take it,” said Cruz.

I sighed and answered. “Hey, Mom!”

She wanted to know what time I was planning to get home.

“Oh, I’m right outside. I’ll be up in two minutes.”

I hung up and looked at Cruz. “Sleep on it, okay?

He grabbed me and kissed me harder than usual. I melted into his muscular arms.

“I’ve made up my mind. Let’s do it tomorrow, before I change it.”

“You’re awesome, Cruz.”

He smiled and turned up his collar against the biting wind. As I watched him go back home I felt real
... affection for him. Yet everything we were planning to do tomorrow was because of Noon.

* * * * *

Tension filled the air as we stood in my kitchen. Just the fact that Cruz was there, in my home, gave me a rush. He flipped the claw hammer he was holding into the air then caught it, as though he wanted to show me how relaxed he was.

“Who goes first?” he asked.

“You decide. You’re the one who...” I tailed off, not wanting to mention his claustrophobia.

“Me first,” he said firmly, and grabbed the flashlight from the counter.

I opened the cupboard door and took out the bag of cat food. Mom couldn’t bear to throw it out, hoping against hope that Flash would waltz through the door.

“It’s through here. There’s a false wall at the back that swings up.”

He crouched down and shone the flashlight inside, reaching in with his other hand and pushing. I hadn’t realized how much tighter a fit it would be for his larger frame than mine, and suddenly got worried that he might change his mind. Or worse, start off, then freak out, with me blocking the way behind him.

Then, without saying a word, he crawled inside.
I stuck my head in too and called after him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he grunted and shuffled forward on his elbows.

As we made our way through the cramped tunnel I kept trying to encourage
him. All I could see was, well, his ass! It kinda took away some of the stress, but I was imagining him gritting his teeth and hoping the ordeal would be over soon. The problem was, I figured that when we reached the grille it would be even worse for him – like a prison or something.

When he reached the intersection, he paused. Because the tunnel was wider here he was able to look back at me. Even though the light was dim I could see in
his eyes that he was terrified.

“Left, right or up?” he said, his voice a dry whisper.

“Left,” I answered. “But we can go back if you like.”

He ignored me and took the left turn. Soon we were climbing the incline and I knew that the grille wasn’t far ahead.

Cruz reached the top and I heard him whisper, “I see it!”

My heart was pounding. Then it struck me – what if Cruz was too big to even fit through the grille? It was wide, but low. Maybe too low for him. Oh well, it was too late for that now.

Within a few seconds we were at the grille. I could barely see it past Cruz’s body. Man, it was gonna be a tight squeeze for him, even if he managed to open it.

“Hand me the screwdriver,” he said, then started to unscrew one of the four screws in each corner of the metal.

“Any sign of life in there?” I asked anxiously.

“Nope,” he grunted.

There was a clinking sound.

“What was that?”

“The first screw fell out.”

His breathing was getting shallower. Was it because he was breathless from the physical effort or about to have a panic attack?

A few seconds later all the screws were out, and before I could say anything, Cruz was hauling himself through the opening. I was impressed. It was almost like watching a cat squeeze through a crack that you’re sure it’s too big for.

I followed,
and a few seconds later we were both standing in a musty dining room. The blinds were drawn, but our eyes, used to the darkness of the tunnel, were drawn to the large Temple of Truth symbol on the wall.

“What the
eff is that?” said Cruz.

“Shhh!” I said, putting my hand on his back. His rugby shirt was drenched in sweat. He’d gone totally above and beyond to help me, but oddly enough, now we were standing there, I felt like something had snapped. The electricity I’d sensed in my kitchen had evaporated.

Either side of the ToT symbol stood two tall oak bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes, big and small. I was drawn to them, but Cruz had already wandered out of the dining room.

“Wait up!” I called in a loud whisper and followed him out.

The dining room had two exits: one was clearly to a kitchen, the other led to a hallway with several rooms branching off it, just like at mine and Mom’s place. Cruz was standing in the middle of the hallway, brandishing the hammer.

“Hello?” he said loudly.

I almost jumped out of my skin.

“What are you doing?” I
hissed.

He just stood there, listening for a few seconds. “See. No one here. We can stop whispering.”

I shook my head at him, smiling. There was something kind of crazy about him, maybe even fearless.

“Okay, can we just be as quiet as possible?”

Cruz smiled with a mischievous puppy dog look in his eyes. We opened the first door together. Behind it was a very plain room with a neatly made single bed in it. And when I say plain, I mean
very
plain. The only furniture was a simple wooden chair that looked about two hundred years old. What was weird was that it was placed directly across from the foot of the bed, so that if someone was sitting in it, they could have a face-to-face conversation with the person in the bed. Both the bed and the chair were centered in the room, and above the head of the bed was the only artwork on any of the walls: an engraving of the Temple of Truth symbol on a thin slab of stone.

My eyes turned to the built-in closet. I opened the door. Shelves inside with men’s sweaters and neatly pressed shirts. A rack of pants and jackets. All black. I mean, every single item of clothing was black. Black shoes and boots on the floor
.

“Simple tastes,
” I remarked.

“Uh-huh.”

We tried the next room. It was identical. Not only was the position of the furniture the same, so were the items in the closet! One was creepy enough, but two...

There were eight bedrooms in all, and I realized that the layout of the apartment was the same as mine but with six more rooms along the central hallway. And they were all the same inside: symmetrical. It was like a monastery or something. The only variation was when we explored the three rooms that were clearly occupied by women. In those the clothing had a bit more variety. Well, there a few white items as well as black.

“I’m gonna do a show called Temple of Truth: Extreme Makeover Edition,” I laughed nervously.

Cruz wasn’t laughing though. “Man, these guys are a bunch of total freaks. Let’s get outta here.”

I still hadn’t found the clue I was hoping for. Something that would help me track down Noon.

“Just a few more minutes,” I pleaded, heading toward the entry way.

Again, there was almost no furniture. One coat stand (empty), one shoe rack with three pairs of black men’s shoes neatly arranged on it. No mirror, no table to throw your keys on. On either side of the entrance were two closed doors. I opened the one on the right. It was a kind of living room. But man, I don’t think much living went on in there. There were two long couches facing each other, again centered on opposite walls. No TV, no plants, no coffee tables. Opposite a window that looked out onto 9th Avenue below was a wide, tall bookcase filled with old-looking volumes. I picked a large one off a shelf at random. It was bound in mustard-brown leather that had been worn shiny in places over the years, and even the name on the cover and spine had rubbed off.

“You know what’s weird?”
I murmured.

“Yeah. Everything. Can we go now?”

“There’s no dust.”

“So the freaks have a good cleaning lady. So what?”

“Even in the pages of this old book.”

I ran my finger across the tops of a
few other books on the shelf.

“No cleaning woman
in the world is
this
good. Cruz, these books are super old. They smell old. But there isn’t a speck of dust on them.”

“Alright, I got it.”

“And do you know where dust comes from?” I asked.

“Dust bunnies poop it out?”

I laughed. This was actually very funny.

“No, it comes from skin. From human skin. And with eight people living here, there would have to be dust.”

“Well, there’s no one here now. Maybe they’re in some other country, converting people to their cult or whatever. Maybe that’s where Noon’s gone.”

Maybe. I laid the book down on one of the couches and opened
it somewhere around the middle. The pages were stiff and yellowed. What were they made of? And they were filled with uneven, foreign writing. Totally filled – no spaces to show where one word started and another ended. The letters looked like English capitals, but many of them were weird. I could see H’s, M’s, P’s, E’s, T’s, but also a bunch of other ones that I didn’t recognize. A bit like Russian.