While You Were Gone (19 page)

Every cut, every scratch on my body stings, and the water tastes salty. Waves slap against the sides of the pod. My arms reach out as my feet search for the bottom. It isn't deep. The water is warm, though, and strange. When I stop struggling, it lifts me up. The stinging begins to numb. Soon I don't feel the water at all. I lie still, listening for any sound outside the pod, but all I can hear is my own breathing. I'm floating in darkness. Lost.

Lights blink on and I squint. Blue and purple colors splash across the domed ceiling. Despite the earplugs, I hear whispering through the water. A single voice—can't tell if it's male or female—starts low: “I feel safe and secure. No one wants to harm me.”

A second chimes in, also low, echoing the first. “I feel safe and secure. No one wants to harm me.” The voices weave together, a chorus of whispers overlapping, fading in and out with the colors. “Compliance is good. I relinquish control. I feel safe and secure….”

The colors dazzle my eyes. Swirling in slow circles, they draw me in, pulling me closer. My eyes lose focus and my muscles go slack. The desire to fight slips away. The whispering voices calm my mind.

This is good. This is good.

Wait, where am I? I blink. The colors come into focus, then slip away again.

It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. This is good.

A sudden cold blooms across my chest. Every muscle contracts. My arms grasp for something to hold but there's only static in my ears, darkness in my eyes. As I fall, I feel the other Danny pressing through. I force my eyes open and see a warped image of the Rage poster above my bed at the foster house, the slashed screen on my window, the stop sign over the door. Through the static comes Brent's booming voice. The sound is raw, like feedback through a busted amp. Like the sharpening of knives. It feels like it'll shred me into pieces.

I can't go back there. I won't.

My legs kick as I fight the other Danny back. I force air into my frozen lungs, bite down and growl until the pain blooms colors back into my eyes. Blue and purple glow on a white domed ceiling. Waves slap against the walls of the pod. Whispers tell me I feel safe and secure, but now they're just words, just noise.

As Jonas drives to the Executive Tower, Mom chatters away about the guest list, the catering, the many things she still has to do. She's excited, and for good reason, I suppose. All is right in her world. I slip my phone out and check again for missed calls or messages, then, disappointed, put it away.

“…don't you think, honey?”

“Huh?” I have no idea what she's going on about now. “Yeah. Totally.” Sometimes it's better to just agree, whatever it is.

“I think so, too. I figure the more choices we give them, the better. Some people don't like mushrooms, you know.”

Ah. She's circled around to the food again. I stare out the window, watching the buildings, cars, people. A pink-orange sky peeks out between the high-rises. I bet the sun setting over the water is gorgeous right now. Wish I could see it. With Danny. I check my phone again. Still no calls. Wherever he is, I hope he isn't cooped up somewhere listening to someone rattle on about mushrooms. I look across the car at Mom. Even in the darkening light, I can see she's beaming. This is her thing. She's in her element. She feels about this stuff the way I feel about art. Who am I to resent her for that?

“What?” she says, noticing me smiling at her.

“Thanks for taking me shopping.”

“We had a nice time, didn't we?”

Our goodbye is short. Jonas pulls into the parking garage and leaves the car running at the curb while he gets the bags from the trunk. “See you soon, honey.” Mom gives me an awkward hug across the backseat. I watch her gather her things and go inside.

By the time we're back on the road, the sun has set and night crouches over the city. Jonas steers the car through the last tangles of rush-hour traffic. I peer out at the lights shining down on businesses, neighborhoods. There's something anxious about them, something eager. Or maybe that's just me. My hands fidget, clicking the
MUTE
button on my phone off and on, off and on. When the freeway rises and the blacked-out site of the attack spreads to the south, I sink back into the seat, struck by the stark contrast. For some, the world is all glittering parties and fun. For others, it's dark and full of fear. For me, somehow, it's both.

First they throw me my clothes and watch me get dressed. Then they throw the hood back over my head and load me into the van. I play along, sitting motionless with my back against the metal side. Whatever that was, it was meant to make me obey. It was effective, too. Before the other Danny broke through, I could feel it taking hold. Better pretend it worked or they'll do it again—or worse—until I really am their monkey.

The van jolts forward. I try to figure out where we are by the direction of turns, the number of stops, the sounds outside. It's impossible, though. I don't know the city well enough. I count two rights, a left and another before losing track.

Finally, we stop. The doors open. In one swift movement, they pull off the hood and push me out. I crash onto the sidewalk. The tires smoke as the van pulls away.

I look around. The sky is dark. The street is empty. It must be after curfew. I've been gone all day. On the corner is the gas station where Dad filled up the truck before we took the boat out. Which means home is—I turn around—this way.

When I open the door, Mom, Dad and Germ rush at me. Mom's eyes are red from crying. They bombard me with questions, with hugs. I hold out my hands, stumble to the nearest chair and collapse.

I'm home. I'm safe.

“I ran over here right after,” Germ says, talking fast. “Your dad's been making calls all day, but—”

Dad rests a hand on Germ's shoulder. Mom takes him by the elbow and moves him back so Dad has room to crouch in front of me. He peers into my eyes. “How are you, son?”

How am I? “Waterlogged.” I take a deep, shuddering breath. “I'm fine. Everything's fine.” His eyes widen, and I realize I sound like the whispering voices. “No, not fine. I mean, I'm just banged up a bit.”

Dad stands and nods at Mom. “Hydro.”

She covers her mouth. Germ puts his arm around her and looks at me like I'm infected with some kind of virus. I push myself up from the chair. “It didn't work, guys. Whatever it was, I'm fine.”

They don't believe me.

I get in Germ's face to make him pay attention. “
Something happened
during that…procedure. When the voices started, it was like my brain switched off and
went somewhere else.
”

He gives me a questioning look, then mouths,
Really?
I nod. He understands.

Dad exhales, looking up at the ceiling, his hands on his hips. The light casts harsh shadows across his face. “This is my fault.”

“What?” Germ and I say at the same time.

“They're warning me,” he says. “Or punishing me.”

Mom walks to the stereo and turns on classical, loud. When she returns, the four of us stand in an awkward circle beneath the spinning blades of the ceiling fan.

“There's this group,” he says, his voice just under the music. “They approached me about getting involved with…” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well, let's just be real here. They're against the government.”

Germ and I exchange looks. “You mean like Red December?” I ask.

“No. Not that bad. But…” He shakes his head. “It started with just meetings. Gripe sessions, venting, that kind of thing. But then it changed. Less complaining, more action, and I agreed to do what I could to delay the installation of the Skylar transmitters.”

That's
his job?

“And you know, it worked. For a while. The last bit of hardware was installed on Monday, two whole months late. The guys, though, they came up with a new plan. Something I just couldn't get behind. When I suggested a different idea, they kicked me out. Thought I was a government spy.” He shakes his head, a wry smile on his face. “Me. A spy.” Then he puts his hand on my shoulder, “I'm sure this was their way of keeping me quiet. I'm just sorry they took their anger at me out on—” He covers his face with his other hand.

First time I've ever seen him cry.

“I told you—it didn't work,” I say, but between the music and his crying, I don't think he hears me. I wrap my arms around him instead. His shoulders tremble.

After a few minutes, he steps back, his hand holding my face. Then he inhales sharply and wipes his eyes. “I can't tell you how good it feels to tell you. The stress has been killing me.”

I look at Germ. He has a look in his eye that says,
Don't.
Mom's face is resigned. No sign of shock or surprise. “Did you know about this?”

She nods.

Unbelievable. All these secrets. They're like waves that keep crashing into me, throwing me off balance. I open my mouth to speak but Dad says, “The question is, what now? Where do we go from here?”

“Don't say it, Parker.” Mom's tone is stern. “Just don't even—”

“I've seen smuggled photos, Becca. It's not as bad as they say.”

“What's not?” I ask.

“Outbound,” Dad says dismissively. I remember the conversation with Germ on our way back from Eevee's school. Dad isn't actually considering moving us to the DMZ, is he? “If we stay here,” he says, “we'll always be—”

“Look at me!” Mom's voice rises above the music. She motions to her legs. “Look at me.
I can't
.”

“You're right.” Dad takes her in his arms and says, “I'm sorry,” again and again.

“What if it isn't your fault?” I ask. Germ's eyes go wide and he shakes his head, but I say it anyway. “What if I've been getting their attention?” He throws up his hands and turns away.

Mom and Dad look at me, confused. My head and heart both pound so hard I feel like I'm about to have a stroke, but I start talking, telling them everything—about Red December and Warren and M chips, and that I'm not their Danny, that I jumped here from another world and that's why I've been acting weird and don't know things, and that I'm sorry for messing it all up but maybe it doesn't matter because I probably won't be able to stay anyway—and I only stop when I run out of words and see Mom's hand tightly gripping Dad's arm. Germ still stands farther off with his back turned. I breathe and wait for that feeling Dad had, that good feeling from getting everything off his chest, but it doesn't come.

“Danny.” Dad takes a step toward me. “It's late and you've been through a lot.”

Germ turns around, surprised.

“You should get some rest,” Mom touches my arm. “We can talk about this again in the morning.”

They don't believe me.

They don't believe me.

Later, when they're asleep and I'm not, I turn on the desk light. I can't stop thinking about what I've seen during the episodes. The other Eevee under the stars. That room with the Einstein poster. My old room at the foster house. I wish I knew what was happening there. I wonder if the other Danny senses what's happening here.

The drawer is full of pens, but it takes a few scribbles to find one that works. I tear a page from a notebook and write.

Danny,

If you're reading this, I'm back in my world again, and you're here in yours. I've been trying to figure out how it works. It has something to do with Skylar, the new surveillance system they're setting up. Every time they test it, you and I meet up between here and there. They're supposed to flip the on switch for good next week. Who knows what will happen then.

I don't blame you for wanting your life back. By now you have a good idea of what I go through there. Maybe you can understand why I don't want to go back, and why I'm fighting so hard to stay. But if you're reading this, then I guess it doesn't matter. You won.

You have it so good, Danny. Mom and Dad. Germ. Eevee. I hope after all of this, when you're with them, you'll remember me. I hope you'll appreciate them and your life.

Don't screw this up, man. And whatever you do, don't hurt Eevee. She's the most amazing thing that's ever happened to either of us. If you hurt her, I swear I'll find some way to reach back through and pound you.

Danny

P.S. Germ knows about the jumping.

P.P.S. Hug Mom. A lot.