Skyquakers (17 page)

She shook her head.
‘
I feel
stupid talking about this.
’

‘Why?
’

‘Because it
’
s not normal.
’

‘Why does it matter if it
’
s normal or
not?
’
he said.
‘
Why does
anything matter if it
’
s normal? We
’
re
the most
ab
normal species to ever walk this planet.
’

‘How do I know you
’
re not just making fun of me?
This is just some sort of troll, isn
’
t it?
’

‘What? No. I would never.
’

‘I
’
m sorry.
’
She got up to leave.
‘
I made a mistake. I was never
…
I mean, it was just a dream and
—’

Then Psycho recited the key phrase,
‘
The cow says moo
.
’

Lara paused where she stood, half in and half out of her
seat. She stared at him. He held her gaze and smiled.
‘
Fructzul
een
mrauu
. I looked it up. It doesn
’
t mean
anything in any language. Google had it confused with something between
Romanian and Dutch. But you know what it means, don
’
t you, Lo?
’

Reluctantly, she answered,
‘
The cow
says moo.
’

He nodded and offered her to take a seat again. She did. He
ordered them some scones and jam from the waitress and then returned to smiling
politely.

Lara and Dylan argued for nearly a week. He claimed she was
ignoring him; ignoring his calls, constantly making up petty excuses not to see
him, as though he took her three
A.M.
hang-ups personally. Their overlapping day and nightlives
had not changed, but Dylan sensed the changes in the little things, and her
constant distracted mind led him to believe she was trying to keep secrets from
him. In part, it was true, but it was nothing significant enough that it
warranted all this arguing: she had a new online friend, so what? Dylan didn
’
t
know Psycho. They didn
’
t share any common interests,
so why did he care how many times a day he emailed her?

It wasn’t the content of their conversations which bothered
him though; it was the blatant exclusion of it all. Dylan would walk into the
room and see Lara giggling over her phone. When he asked what was so funny, she
’
d
declare,
‘
Oh, nothing,
’
and
continue admiring her screen. When he called her during the day, asking if she
wanted to have lunch on Chapel Street, she told him she already had plans. She
spent a lot of time on her computer on whacky sites, and if he asked about
them, she
’
d simply say they were for her studies. But of
course, these were all lies to keep Dylan from the embarrassing and inevitable
long talk she would have to have with him in order to explain all her actions.
By separating her two worlds, one lived by Lara and the other by Lo, she
unfortunately left Dylan to only wonder if there was something –
or someone
–
else keeping her from him.

But Psycho never intended that to happen; he had no interest
in anything but the continuous search for the truth. He declared his social
life, and the social lives of others, were not of any interest to him. Lara
disagreed. She wanted to know about this kid, where he came from and what his
story was, but he kept reiterating that it was all so boring and mundane. Even
his real name was too boring to share with her.

‘Come on, what is it?
’
Lo typed
on her VVEE chat screen.

‘Not telling.
’

‘Okay, boring names
…
John?
’

‘Nope.
’

‘Allen.
’

‘Nope.
’

‘Norman. Oh, it
’
s got to be Norman.
’

‘Hell no.
’

‘Normal Norman of the norm.
’

‘Nope.
’

‘What do people call you then?
’

‘They just call me Psycho.
’

It soon became apparent that meeting Psycho at Two Birds One
Stone was a mistake. Partly because of the fighting it caused soon after, but
also because Lara
’
s dreams rapidly intensified
from that night onwards. Her upright jolts in bed were so sudden and so loud
that they woke Dylan and frightened him half to death.

‘What is it? What? What?
’

She calmed herself and placed her hand on her rapid heart.
‘
It
’
s
nothing. It
’
s nothing.
’

‘No, it
’
s not nothing,
’
he insisted. He turned on the bedside lamp.
‘
Are you
okay? What
’
s wrong?
’

‘Nothing!
’

‘Lara, seriously, I can
’
t help you
unless you talk to me.
’

She shook her head.
‘
You can
’
t
help. It
’
s just a nightmare.
’

‘About what?
’

She rolled over.
‘
You wouldn
’
t
understand.
’

He pulled her back.
‘
You
’
ve
never tried to explain.
’

‘I
’
m tired. Stop.
’

‘No,
’
he demanded.
‘
This
has been going on for too long. Something
’
s not right
and I deserve to know.
’

‘You
deserve
to know?
’
    

He stared at her for a moment.
‘
Is there
someone else?
’

She blinked.
‘
What?
’

‘Is there another guy? Is there someone else?
’

‘Why would you ask that?
’

‘It
’
s a pretty simple question,
Lara.
’

Angrily, she gritted her teeth and hissed,
‘
No.
Happy?
’

‘No!
’

‘Why are you so keen to know what
’
s going on
in my head all the time? Or who I
’
m texting? Or who I have lunch
with and what sites I
’
m on? And why does this matter
at one
A.M
.?
’

‘I just want to know! I need to know,
’
he begged.
‘
Why won
’
t you just tell me?
’

‘Because it
’
s embarrassing.
’
Lara threw aside the sheets and turned to sit on the side of the bed.
She hung her head and fiddled with her fingers in her lap.

Dylan shuffled over and waited for her.
‘
Tell
me,
’
he whispered.
‘
Tell me
what
’
s wrong.
’
He paused.
‘
Oh,
Christ, are you pregnant?
’

‘No,
’
she half-laughed.

‘Oh, good.
’

Lara shrugged and softly mumbled under her voice,
‘
I
…
Well, I believe I was abducted by aliens.
’
Then she
turned and looked at him, to see what his immediate reaction was. Outrageous
laughter or a sour face of resentment was the least she could hope for.

But Dylan only said,
‘
You
’
ve
told me that before, you know.
’

‘
I have?
’

‘Yeah.
’
He swung his legs around and
sat with her.
‘
But I thought it was a joke.
’

‘Up until a few months ago, so did I. But I keep having
these dreams and they
’
re getting worse.
’
She rubbed her head, as though these visions were causing her physical
pain.
‘
You must think I
’
m crazy.
’

He shrugged. She didn
’
t like that
response.
‘
Come on, Lara, really? You
’
re a
scientist.
’

‘I
’
m a sociologist.
’

‘Still a long stretch from aliens and UFOs.
’

‘It
’
s more than a belief though.
It
’
s a memory. Right down to the
mrauu
.
’

‘The
mrauu
?
’
he asked.

‘
The cow says moo
,
’
she recited.
‘
I learnt how to say it in
another language when I was really young and
…
Oh, god, I
’
m
a crazy person! Listen to me!
’
She collapsed onto her pillow
and curled up into a tight ball.

Dylan comforted her and stroked her hear as she hid her face
in her hands.

‘I don
’
t want this,
’
she mumbled into her pillow.
‘
I don
’
t want this
in my head. I just want to sleep.
’

Dylan found her some sleeping pills in a kitchen drawer and
offered them to her, to help her relax and get a good night
’
s
rest for once. She gulped them down with some water and then waited for them to
kick in. Dylan sat opposite her, smiling. He promised to take care of her
through this stress. That
’
s what he called it:
‘
stress
’
. Lara smiled back
dopily and was then escorted back to bed. She slept without a stir for the rest
of the night.

‘
We need to meet.
Now
,
’
Psycho texted.

‘I can
’
t. I have a presentation to
give on Friday and I need to work on it. We
’
ll catch up
on the weekend.
’

‘Ha-ha, funny one.
’

‘What
’
s funny?’

‘Wait, you
’
re serious?
’
he asked after a lengthy pause.

‘About my presentation? Yes. The whole board will be there
and I have to get my data in order.
’

‘Lo,
’
Psycho wrote,
‘
there
’
s
not going to be a presentation. There
’
s not going to be a board.
There
’
s not going to be a weekend.
’

Lara felt something quiver in her gut. She cautiously keyed:
‘
Why?
’

‘
What did you dream of last
night?
’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘I took some pills.’

A pause.

‘Oh, no.
’

‘What is it?
’

‘You didn’t see it.
’

‘Didn
’
t see what? What are you on
about, Psycho?
’

‘We have to meet
right now
.
’

‘Lunchtime, maybe.
’

But Psycho couldn
’
t wait; he showed up at the
community centre an hour later to eagerly find her. She didn
’
t
want to meet with him today – she honestly did not have the time – but he
chased after her down the corridor and caught up with her on her way to get
some coffee. To the sound of her screen-name being shouted, Lara, arms full of
papers, spun around and was shocked to see him in her workplace. As usual,
young Psycho was dressed in the most indie of clothes, this time a flannel
shirt and brown jeans, with a
Live
Below The
Line
rubber bracelet on one arm.

He adjusted his glasses once he came to a halt and panted,
‘
Found
you. Finally.
’

‘I can
’
t do this right now,
’
she said.
‘
Can it wait until tomorrow?
’

‘Ha!
’
he laughed.
‘
Is
there somewhere private we can talk? Do you have an office?
’

‘I only have a cubicle.
’

‘Okay, well
…’
He dragged her hastily down
the corridor by the hand. They weaved through a series of cubicles and social
welfare workers’ offices until Psycho spotted a stationary closet where the
printers and fax machines were stored, along with shelves of paper, pens, and
envelopes. He dragged Lara inside and shut the door behind him.
 

Lara was becoming agitated.
‘
This is a
really bad time.
’

‘Damn it, you shouldn
’
t have
taken pills!
’
he barked. She had never heard him raise his voice
before, but he was mad.
‘
Now you
’
ve missed
everything.
’

‘What do you mean?
’

Psycho paced around the tiny room in aggravated circles.
‘
It
was crucial,
’
he hissed.
‘
These
dreams were crucial. By missing just one, you
’
ve missed
all the important information they were trying to give us. Months and months of
preparation, gone! This could ruin the whole process.
’

‘What process? What the hell are you talking about?
’

Psycho pinched the bridge of his nose.
‘
Last
night was it,
’
he said.
‘
Last
night was the last dream you
’
ll ever have. The last dream we
’
ll
all
ever have. Lo, the reason we
’
ve
both been having these visions, and the reason they
’
re getting
more and more frequent and more intense, is obvious, isn
’
t it?
’

She stared blankly at him. He spun away and puffed his
cheeks. ‘Jesus, I can
’
t believe you haven
’
t
got it yet.
’

‘Psycho, for god
’
s sake,
what
am I meant
to be getting?
’

Psycho just shook his head at her, but then his expression
of serious concern switched instantly into girlish, jittery laughter.

At Two Birds One Stone, Lara and Psycho sat awkwardly across
from each other, eating scones and sipping coffee. Although they had never met
in person before, gradually they both settled and came to realise they were no
different to their online personas, which they had been sharing with one
another for the past few weeks. Despite their one obvious connection, there was
little else which made either a unique individual. They had both grown up with
relatively normal lives, normal family structure, normal schools and normal
ambitions for the future. They enjoyed movies and mojitos and both thought
money was ruining politics. Neither were perfect students. Neither had been in
trouble with the law. Neither could bear to watch reality TV.