Unbreakable (Unraveling) (7 page)

Struz can either tell how close I am to losing it, or he just gets it, because he pulls me into a hug. “It’ll be okay, J-baby.”

I know that’s not true, but it still makes me feel better.

When everyone is here—everyone being fifteen other FBI agents, most of whom I know from when they were part of my dad’s team—I start over. They all seem to be aware of what happened four months ago, so I start with the missing-persons cases, the ones Deirdre and I have been working on over the past couple of months. I tell them what Barclay told me.

The only thing I don’t tell them is that Ben is a suspect.

I don’t care where he is or what he’s doing. I won’t let myself think about why he didn’t stay at home with his family or why he hasn’t come back. No matter how much it’s eating at my insides, the facts are that he’s not there and he’s not here. But I know he has nothing to do with a human-trafficking ring, and I’m not about to make him a suspect here.

I tell them what Barclay told me about the human trafficking and that the missing people—our missing people—are being abducted for who knows what and pulled into some other universe where they can’t get back, and we can’t go rescue them because we don’t have the technology.

When I finish, no one says anything. A few people exchange looks, but Struz is clearly thinking something through, and no one else is about to jump in. I start to count the seconds as they pass, and it’s a full minute before anyone speaks.

Then Struz says, “Well, fuck me.”

“So we need to figure out how people can combat that,” Deirdre says. “The first priority has to be that we can’t lose more people. Then we can figure out how to get back the ones we lost.”

Several agents jump in and start talking over one another. There’s mention of the Multiverse Project, something Struz has started. The goal is to prove that the multiverse exists and to figure out interverse travel. Struz recruited a few renowned scientists in Southern California and gave them the necklace Barclay told me I could wear to portal safely as well as a few other things he left behind.

A couple of agents are intent on brainstorming ways to fight against the portals. Someone says they need to tell the public. Make some kind of announcement. Explain to people.

At that, Struz shakes his head. “I’ve already violated a presidential order by telling you what Janelle went through in September. And I’ve just violated it again, by having her share this new information.”

One of the agents I don’t know laughs bitterly. “Who cares? That guy’s not our real president, anyway.”

“Wait, we still have a government?” another guy says.

“Let’s save the jokes for later. We can’t make an announcement until we know how people should keep themselves safe,” Deirdre says.

Struz nods. “We’ll only create more panic.”

“We should change curfew,” I say. The side chatter stops. I feel everyone’s eyes on me and even though I don’t know what I’m doing either, I’m bolstered by the respect most of these people have for me. “All of the abduction cases so far have been people grabbed when they were alone. The night curfew could still be in effect, but we could push it up an hour or two to make people feel better, while at the same time saying that no one should be alone. Institute a buddy system.”

A couple of people nod. The guy who doesn’t care about our president shrugs. “We could work with something like that.”

They continue talking about it, but I’ve had enough. I excuse myself and head up to my bedroom. No one minds since we’re beyond my realm of usefulness anyway. I can’t stop thinking about Ben. Not just because of what Barclay said. But because he’s out there and maybe in trouble. What if he’s stuck somewhere—or what if he needs me?

I think of the way my skin tingled when his fingers touched mine, the way I felt warm from the inside out when he wrapped his arms around me, the sense of calm that was impossible to ignore when my head was against his chest, the soft thump of his heartbeat under my cheek.

The intensity of missing him is so strong, it’s physical. It starts as an emptiness in my chest and radiates outward until my hands are shaking and I feel like I’m gasping for air. I have to put a hand on the wall to keep my balance.

I wonder if I’ve made the right decision.

Barclay wanted me to go with him. I haven’t changed my mind—I still don’t understand what I can do to help. And I still don’t think that following Barclay blindly without knowing his plan is a smart thing for me to do. I’m
not
Ben. I can’t portal around on my own. He wouldn’t want me lost in some other world.

But even knowing all that, even repeating it to myself, I can’t silence the thoughts that say:
Maybe Ben needs me
.

Maybe I should go
.

I
wake with a start, drenched in sweat, my heart racing. A shadow is looming over me, a hand heavy on my shoulder. For a second it reminds me of the first time I really noticed Ben—when I came back from the dead to see his silhouette leaning over me. I open my mouth to say his name.

But the fog of sleep disappears, and I recognize Deirdre’s blond hair.

“What happened?” I ask. “Is Jared okay?”

“He’s fine,” Deirdre says. “But there’s been a distress call. We need to go to Qualcomm.”

I nod and roll out of bed automatically. My jeans are in a pile on the floor. I put them on and grab my hoodie and my gun and am out the door just seconds after her. Deirdre hasn’t said what the distress call is for, but she doesn’t need to.

Qualcomm, the middle of the night. Another missing person.

When we’re in the car, I pull my hair back into a ponytail. My watch says it’s 3:38 a.m. We’re the only people on the road except for the Marines at the checkpoints. They check our IDs and wave us through, their faces pulled into tight expressions.

I think about Qualcomm, about Cecily and how she’s going to take this. I never told her about the multiverse, not because it sounds crazy—between her obsession with all things science and her love for anything new and different, Cecily is probably the one person who would believe me without a doubt—but when I was with her, I was trying to hold on to the aspects of my life that were almost still normal. Telling her about the multiverse, about the portals, about Ben leaving me for his world—it would mean thinking about it. Hanging out with Cee is one of the only times I’m distracted enough to relax.

But now she’s getting dragged into it anyway. I’m going to have to tell her so she can do something to help protect people at Qualcomm.

I wonder who will be missing now—and what kind of slaves they’re going to become—and it makes me feel sick. Other than a buddy system, I can’t even begin to think of a way to combat more abductions.

I need to see Barclay.

I almost say it aloud, to Deirdre, before I stop myself. She might not go for my plan. She might not see the logic in it because it will mean letting Barclay go. I’ll talk to Struz when we get back and ask him to make some kind of deal. If Barclay can give Struz something concrete that people can do to arm themselves against traffickers, or some way for us to track them when they disappear, or something, I’m sure Struz will let him go back to Prima.

We need to be working with Prima—with IA—not against them.

Because I know who would win, and it wouldn’t be us.

When we get to Qualcomm, Cecily’s aunt is awake to meet us, her eyes bloodshot and her face red and splotchy. The stress is obviously getting to her, too. “Thank God you’re here,” she says, and as soon as we’re close enough, she pulls me into a hug.

I cover my surprise by getting down to business. “Two people are missing?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, as she pulls back. “Jack Wright. He’s eleven.”

I can feel the bile moving around in my stomach.

“Where did this happen? Was he alone?” Deirdre asks.

Cecily’s aunt nods. “Both his parents were killed in the quakes, so we’ve housed him with the other kids who are alone now. Cecily and some of the girls have been taking care of them.”

No wonder she’s so upset. This is going to be hell on Cee.

“He’d gotten up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night,” she adds. “He was gone a little too long, so Cecily and Kate got up to check on him.”

I glance off to the side and see Kate, a blanket wrapped around her. She’s shaking a little with her head down, as if she’s crying into the blanket. I’ve finally gotten over the way she turned on me and traded our friendship for popularity. We’re not exactly friends again, but I’ve let go of the hate.

I look around for Cecily, since she is usually quick to comfort anyone who’s crying, and a shiver moves through my body. I don’t see her anywhere, and when I look back at her aunt, the question almost freezes in my throat.

“And the second?” I ask.

Her eyes water and Deirdre says, “Please tell us it’s not another kid.”

It’s not, but for me, this answer is worse.

“It’s Cecily.”

I
first met Cecily my sophomore year. She was the only freshman in AP Chem, and when it came to answering questions and playing teacher’s pet, she gave Alex a run for his money. She sat up front with a crisp notebook and eight different-colored pens, and she practically fell out of her seat with enthusiasm every time Mr. Easterly asked a question.

She was blond, bubbly, and far too excited to be at school. She was perkiness personified.

Alex had a huge crush on her, and I hated her a little on principle.

Then I got stuck with her for a lab partner.

Alex was at some special “best students in California” weekend up at Stanford, and Easterly was trying to discourage Mason Rickman from coasting through class by letting Cecily do all the work, so he stuck me in a threesome with the two of them, knowing I’d badger Mason into doing his fair share. The lab itself was essentially analyzing a few different chemicals in commercial bleach. My plan was to just get it done—even with Mason slowing us down, it would be an easy one.

But then Mason spilled some of the bleach and Cecily said, “God, Mason, just because Janelle is here doesn’t mean you have to get all weird. Stop letting her make you nervous. It’s like you have a crush on her or something.”

Mason snorted. “Well, I certainly don’t have a crush on you.”

“Thank goodness. I don’t need another stalker. I mean, it’s hard enough to leave my house as it is.”

Mason looked at me and rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face.

“Don’t worry, Janelle,” Cecily said to me. “He’s a little funny looking, but I promise you he’s pretty harmless. In fact, if we let him, he’d probably just go to sleep.” Then she handed me a beaker. “Here, fill this before he manages to spill it and get it all over our clothes.”

I realized Cecily was funny. She made fun of Mason—and me—constantly. And she loved it when we managed to think of something witty enough to make fun of her right back.

She was smart and hard-working—like me, if I was less serious and more friendly. When Alex came back, she and I stuck him with Mason on most of the labs and worked together. Though he hated working with Mason, he loved the attention he got from Cecily as a result.

I’ve already lost Alex. Cecily is the only friend I have left. I can’t lose her, too.

I try to listen to Cecily’s aunt as she describes what happened. Kate and some others heard Cecily shout, “Fire!”—it’s the one thing you can shout and guarantee that people will come running—and got up and ran to the hallway in time to see her disappear through some kind of black hole. But there’s something wrong with either my ears or my focus—or both. I feel like I’m caught in some kind of air tunnel and the wind is roaring in my ears.

We’re on the first floor of Qualcomm, where the small children and families with young ones are staying, where the crime took place. Despite the time, handfuls of people are standing around watching Deirdre and me.

And I can’t stop staring at them, memorizing each one.

Their faces all ask variations of the same question:
What are you going to do about this?

A young boy is missing, which is tragic enough as it is. But Cecily is missing too—the girl who kept this place together, the girl who gave people hope. Underneath the lines of anger on their faces is a desperation—you can see it in their eyes. Because without Cecily, how will they keep going?

The faint singed line of a burn on concrete—what I now know is the mark of a portal flaring to life and disappearing quickly—draws my eye, and I squat down to touch the end of it with the tips of my fingers. It doesn’t feel any different. There’s nothing about this soft mark to suggest that two people were just ripped from this world.

I look a hundred feet south, toward the bathroom. In my mind I see Cecily in pink sweatpants and her
I ONLY DATE NINJAS
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt coming out of the room where she sleeps and heading toward the bathroom. Her white-blond hair is mussed, probably from tossing and turning, and she has circles under her eyes from not actually sleeping.

I see her stop and her head swivel at a sound—maybe a shout or a yell, maybe just something unusual and therefore alarming—and then I see her take off running toward us, toward an eleven-year-old boy with sandy-brown hair struggling against one or both of his captors. She shouts for them to stop, and one of them turns to her, grabbing her when she gets close, deciding that taking her is far better than leaving a witness. A girl who just turned sixteen, a girl who’s petite, and thin, with blond hair and innocent doe eyes—she’ll be easily placed as a slave.

She shouts, “Fire!” as one of the abductors covers her mouth and jabs her with a syringe. Then they’re vanishing through the portal.

S
truz is awake but still home when I get there. He’s drinking coffee, black and probably drowned in sugar, one of the few luxuries he’s made sure we still have.

He opens his mouth, probably to ask about our newest case, but I don’t let him get that far.

“Don’t leave yet,” I say, walking past the kitchen and toward the stairs. “You and I are going to see Barclay.”