WE’RE BY THE SEA. Even with the windows closed, I can hear the rumble of the ocean, and I’m instantly curious. I’ve always wanted to see the ocean.
Linus parks beside another car under an overhang made of coruscating plastic. Dark rows of pods and debris line its gullies. A nearby cottage, caked in peeling stucco, perches on a steep embankment, with stilts supporting one side. I’m disconcerted by a pair of signs nailed to the front porch.
CONDEMNED: EARTHQUAKE HAZARD
OLBAID EVACUATION ZONE. STAY OUT.
“I thought you were taking me to Lavinia’s,” I say.
Linus pulls the key out of the ignition. “This is her old place, from before she was relocated. She said we’d have more privacy here.”
“Do you know how far we are from the power plant?”
“A couple miles.”
I take another look at those rickety stilts. “Do you think it’s safe?”
He tilts his head, peering out. “Comparatively.” He turns back to face me and nods toward Dubbs. “How is she?”
“Still asleep.”
“Hold on. I’ll come around for her.”
A moment later, he lifts my sister away from me, and he’s careful to shelter her blond head against his shoulder as he straightens. His tenderness triggers a tug of longing in me, and I glance away. The sky has turned overcast, and the air is suffused with soft gray light. Far below, the shoreline churns with the lacy white lines of the incoming waves, and the horizon is so huge, it seems like an optical illusion, both distant and flat.
Stepping warily in my socks, I follow Linus around to the front porch where a rotting board gives under my feet but doesn’t break. Before we can knock, the door opens, and Lavinia waves us in.
“You had me worried,” she says. “Where’d you find them?”
“By the fence. They were on their way out,” Linus says.
While Linus lays Dubbs gently on the couch, Lavinia holds a couple pillows, and then she tucks them around my sister and settles a creamy blanket over her wet gown. Lavinia leans over her to hold Dubbs’s wrist for a pulse, and then, with a satisfied expression, she straightens.
“What do you think?” I ask her.
“She has a nice pulse. I think she’s sleeping and she’ll wake when she’s ready,” Lavinia says. “She has a sweet face. She’s eight, you say?”
“Yes,” I answer.
Lavinia turns her gaze to me, and I’m startled to find she’s changed from when I last saw her in her apartment. She’s brighter and clearer. Her gray hair is whiter, and her updo with the braid is looser, for a softer effect around her face. Her lipstick is a more muted, flattering hue, and she’s wearing a pearly green, cottony outfit that brings out the color of her eyes behind her glasses. Her old home must agree with her.
A hovering seagull outside the window catches my eye before it drops from view. Lavinia’s place isn’t nearly as shabby inside as it is from the outside. I can tell it was once lovingly cared for. Pale blue walls are offset with white trim. Two folding beach chairs with woven seats face the curved wicker couch, while a wood-burning stove, darkly solid, sits in the corner. A wooden crate is overturned as a coffee table. Half a dozen glass balls of red, yellow, and blue hang in an old fishing net, and glass doors fogged with moisture close off a back porch that hangs directly over the steep escarpment.
The best thing, though, is the view to the water. Or maybe the soft, airy light. I can’t decide which.
Lavinia sets a hand on my shoulder. “How about you?” she asks. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”
“I’m pretty wiped out,” I admit. “How long was I gone?”
“Four nights,” Lavinia says. “This is Saturday, April second.”
“Four nights!” I echo, astounded and bereft.
They must have kept me asleep longer than I realized. And my parents! We still don’t know where they are. Berg has had them since early Monday. That’s six days!
“Have you heard anything about my parents?” I ask.
“I guess that means you didn’t find them,” Lavinia says grimly. “There’s been nothing in the news.”
I have to check Peggy’s Facebook page. “Do you have a computer here?” I ask.
“Of course. Hang on,” she says.
I sink down on the couch near Dubbs’s feet, and as soon as Lavinia passes me her laptop and the slow Internet kicks in, I pull up Facebook and Peggy’s profile. She has nothing new posted, and neither do her kids. Deflated, I push the laptop onto the crate and slump back.
“Nothing,” I say. “I can’t believe this.”
“Tell us what you found at Grisly,” Lavinia says, taking a seat in one of the folding chairs. Linus takes the other. “I saw that wild business with the dragon and your sister when you first arrived. Quite an effect,” she says. “But then where did you go?”
It takes a while to tell them about my discovery of the vault of dreamers, and then my dark hours after I was caught. They’re outraged to hear I’ve been mined again, and clearly impressed that I was able to escape, rescue Dubbs, and find a way out.
“But the biggest problem is that I still don’t know where my parents are,” I say, frustrated. “Whistler told me they weren’t in the vault, but Lavinia and I saw the footage of the truck arriving at Grisly.”
“Either Whistler was lying, or the truck dropped off Dubbs and took your parents somewhere else,” Linus says.
“Why would Berg do that?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” Linus says. “Could he have known you were going to Grisly? Maybe he was worried you’d find them there.”
“I never know what Berg knows,” I say darkly. I hate mysteries.
With a faint click, Lavinia fingers her bead necklace. She juts her chin at me. “You did a good job setting up my cameras. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I say.
Beside me, Dubbs sniffs. She shifts to tuck her fist under her cheek in such a normal motion that it gives me hope.
“Dubbs? You awake?” I rub her arm lightly again, but she doesn’t respond.
“She’d probably be better out of that wet gown. You might as well look through my drawers for whatever you can find for her and yourself as well,” Lavinia says. She stands and reaches for her keys. “I’m going back for Tiny, but I won’t be long.” She nods at a cardboard box on the counter. “There’s food and bottled water. My computer’s battery should hold, but otherwise, there’s no power in the house, and no water. I rigged a pully system for rainwater on the roof for the toilet, but that’s it. Let’s see. What else. I don’t normally bring company out here. Do you know how to use a camp stove?”
“Yes,” I say.
I’m uneasy about her leaving alone, though. Linus offers to go with her, but she won’t hear of it.
“I shouldn’t be more than two hours. Three, tops, if Tiny doesn’t come right away,” Lavinia says. “She does this now and again, sneaks off for a good prowl, but with this rain coming, she’ll probably be waiting on the fire escape when I get back.” She frowns at me. “Are you thinking of calling Berg?”
My gut turns cold. He’s the one with answers about my parents. “I have to think about it,” I say.
I glance at Linus, but he doesn’t say anything.
“All right, then,” Lavinia says. She waves her fingers in her silvery way again. “Look after that little girl. I’ll be back soon.”
The door closes softly behind her, and the quiet of the cottage settles in over the rolling noise of the waves below. She’s probably right that we should change into dry clothes, but I don’t even want to move. The thought of calling Berg makes me ill. I settle back on the couch with one hand on Dubbs’s blanket, and I look across at Linus. He runs a hand back through his dark hair, and then shucks off his shoes so they topple to the side.
“Berg authorized my mining,” I say. “He knew I was in the vault. He could have killed my parents by now.”
“You can’t think like that,” Linus says.
“He thought they had me secure,” I say.
“But he didn’t mine you himself,” Linus says. “Isn’t that what he wants?”
I frown, considering. Linus might well be right. I can imagine Berg using my parents and threatening them to terrify me, and then following my fear into my dreams. Berg did say he had some plan for a host body for his hybrid and it was taking some time to line that up.
“It’s impossible to guess what he’s scheming,” I say.
“Then you have to have hope,” Linus says. “We have to assume your parents are still alive.”
“Somewhere,” I say.
“Yes. Somewhere.”
I feel like I’m missing something, like I should know where they are. I was so sure they’d be in the vault. I shake my head, frustrated again. Six days. Where could they be? Berg has to know I’ll keep looking for them.
Linus sets his hands on his knees and pushes up to standing.
“Hungry?” he asks.
I am. I’m starved. And my damp clothes are getting smelly. I should really change before I eat. I’m so sore and stiff that getting up is going to be awful. What I wouldn’t give for a hot shower.
“I need to change. Help me up?” I say.
He steps over and reaches out both hands to me. I grip his fingers, and he hauls me smoothly to my feet. That should be the end of it, but his fingers are so warm, I don’t want to let go. Energy lights up in my lungs, and I lift my gaze to his. He tilts his head, eyeing me in quiet speculation, and then he drops his gaze toward our joined hands. He hasn’t kissed me yet. Surely he must notice.
When he lightly releases me and steps back, a jolt of disappointment rocks me to my socks. Say something, I tell myself, but I don’t know what.
“I’ll just get my suitcase from the car,” he says. “There might be something you can use.”
“Are we—?” I begin uncertainly.
He regards me doubtfully. “Are we what?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Okay?”
“You’re ready to talk about us?”
Actually, I’m not. I’m a total coward when it comes to us. If we have to talk about us, we’re a problem, and I absolutely don’t want that. “What is there to say?” I ask.
He squints briefly and turns toward the door. “Exactly,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
He heads outside, and I bolt for the bathroom.
What is wrong with me? I think. He isn’t kissing me. So what? He must have his reasons. Life isn’t all about kisses.
Except maybe it is.
No. Stop this.
A plastic gallon of water rests next to the bathroom sink, and I wash up as best I can. By the time I move into Lavinia’s room, a small brown duffel has appeared on the bed. I look through Linus’s things and set aside a shirt for Dubbs to use later, but he doesn’t have much to begin with and I don’t want to use up his clean things if I don’t have to. Lavinia has a small closet with a curtain drawn across it, and inside is a small dresser with three drawers. The top one has folded sheets, a box of safety pins, and a bar of French milled soap, almost scentless now it’s so old. The next has a few sweatshirts, a couple nighties, and an assortment of swimsuits with brittle, loose elastic. In the bottom drawer, I find a pair of men’s cotton pajamas with little blue sailboats on them. Score. The waistband is way too big, but that’s what safety pins are for.
By the time I’m comfy in rolled-up pajama pants and a red sweatshirt, Linus has some soup warming on the little camp stove in the kitchen. He glances at my attire without comment. I grab Lavinia’s laptop and curl up next to Dubbs again. It worries me that she’s still in damp clothes, but she seems warm and comfortable enough.
I wait out the slowness of the Internet, and soon I’m into my Tor site where, sure enough, there’s a message from Burnham.
From: BurnFist51
To: LKRose
Sent: Tues 3/29/67 10:29 PM
Subject: FW: Hey
Tried to call you. I talked to Thea. Amazeballs. Call me.
From: BurnFist51
To: LKRose
Sent: Tues 3/29/67 11:02 PM
Subject: FW: Hey
Where are you? We need to talk. Thea wants you to call her, too.
The messages are both dated late Tuesday, the same day we last talked, I realize. He’s probably worried about me. I look up to find Linus watching me.
“Bad news?” he asks.
“No. I just need to call Thea and Burnham. Do you have any recyclable phones?”
He pulls out his phone and starts tapping. “I don’t have any recyclables, but I can route you through a proxy. It’ll be secure that way.”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I heard the doctors talking down in the vault and they said Berg was tracing all your calls. They even knew you’d called an ophthalmologist.”
“That’s from my other line,” he says. “I keep one going that I know they tap, like a decoy. I call for pizza and stuff on it. I’ve upgraded my security again for important calls, and I go through a proxy. It’s secure, I promise you.” He listens for a second, and then passes the phone to me. “Go ahead. Dial up.”
I have to refer back to my earlier emails with Burnham to find Thea’s number, and then I dial.
When Thea comes on, she sounds anxious.
“Rosie?” she asks. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” I say. “I have Dubbs. She’s sleeping, but I think she’ll be all right.”
Thea lets out a huge breath of relief. “Thank goodness! Can you bring her here? What about Ma and Larry?”
“I haven’t found them yet,” I say. “I hit a few snags.” I fill her in about Grisly Valley and my time in the vault of dreamers. She wants all the details, and I go over everything I can remember, ending with my escape with Dubbs up the ladder. The only thing I leave out is the new presence in my brain that showed up after they mined me. It’s been dormant lately, and I’d be glad if it stayed that way. “I’m with Linus now. We’re staying at a friend’s house.”
Linus wordlessly offers me a bowl of soup, and when I glance up, I see he’s listening carefully to my end of the conversation. I take the bowl but set it on the overturned crate.
“How long were you actually down in the vault?” Thea asks. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“Since Tuesday,” I say.
“I can’t believe you were mined again,” Thea says. “I’m so sorry. I wish you’d come here. Bring Dubbs and come. I promise you’ll be safe, both of you.”
“About that. When I was down in the vault, I overheard a conversation between the doctors and Berg. It sounded like your parents invited a doctor over from Chimera to check on you. I wouldn’t trust him one bit. He’s there to mine your dreams.”
A light patter sounds on the roof, and I glance out to see the rain has started.
“You mean Orson. Orson Toomey,” she says slowly.
“That sounds right.”
“What else did Berg say about him?”
“Nothing, why?”
Linus is sitting opposite me in the beach chair again, quietly consuming his soup. He holds it close beneath his chin.
“We’re family, right?” Thea says. “We’ll always be family, no matter what. Don’t you agree?”
“For lack of a closer word,” I say dryly. “What’s going on?”
“There’s something I need to tell you,” she says, with a note of dread in her voice. “I should have told you days ago, but I never had the right chance.”
I can’t imagine what it might be. “I’m listening,” I say.
“It’s about Dad,” she says. “Not Larry. Dad.”
I’m surprised she’d bring him up. She knows how much we don’t like to talk about him. I tuck my free hand under my leg. “Go on.”
“It turns out someone found his body,” she says. “He was recovered from an icy crevasse a few years ago in Greenland, but the people who found him never reported it to the authorities. They were scavengers. They sold his frozen body to a research facility in Iceland, and those scientists never reported him, either.”
A dark, ugly idea starts to form in my mind.
“Wait,” I say. “Just hold on. Not the Chimera Centre.”
“Yes,” she says.
“And then what? Didn’t he still have his uniform?” I ask. I’m picturing his frosty corpse laid out on an operating table. “They experimented on him, didn’t they. Is that what you’re telling me?”
Linus is still in the chair opposite me, but he has set aside his soup, and he’s leaning forward tensely, his elbows on his knees.
“It’s more than that,” Thea says quietly. “A doctor at Chimera seeded a dream into Dad, and he woke up. He became alive again, only he wasn’t our dad anymore. He had a different mind inside him, the mind of his seed donor. Like me.”
I almost laugh. It isn’t possible. What are the chances this happened to two of us from the same family?
“I don’t believe this,” I say.
“Rosie, listen. I know it seems impossible, but it’s true. I’ve met him. I’ve talked to him.”
“You’ve talked to him!” I shriek. I can’t be hearing this. I pull my feet up onto the couch and curl into a tight ball. I shake my head, refusing. He was dead. How can he be alive?
“Rosie?” Thea asks.
I can barely hear her. It’s hard to breathe.
“No,” I say flatly.
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” she says. “I was shocked, too.”
I let out a laugh. Shock doesn’t begin to describe it. “You’re completely serious,” I say.
“Yes. On my life.”
I glance across at Linus, barely seeing him.
“And how long have you known this?” I ask.
“Since I was at Chimera. I found out there,” she says.
“Months ago?” I ask, my mind reeling anew. “And you kept this to yourself? What’s he like? What did you say when you talked to him?”
“He looks a lot like Dad, only a little older,” Thea says. “Same dark hair. Same eyes and nose and everything, but he isn’t Dad. You’d know that immediately if you met him. He doesn’t laugh like him or say what Dad would say. He’s a stranger. A doctor.”
And now it falls together. “From Chimera,” I say.
“Yes,” Thea says. “I guess he’s more of a scientist. He does the research experiments in the lab. He’s the one who developed the method for putting your dream seed into me, the one that expanded and took over. He’s the one staying here at the ranch with us now.”
“Unbelievable. Why on earth would you trust him?”
“I don’t, but my parents do,” she says. “He saved my life, Rosie. It’s complicated.”
Dumbfounded, I try to grasp all that she’s telling me, but it’s too much. This is my dad we’re talking about, my own father. The pain of missing him has sunk into the dirt of me, the subterranean, fatherless mire of me. I may not examine it often, but the loss is as raw and strong as ever.
And now he’s alive? But not really alive? And he’s actually staying at her ranch?
“Why didn’t he call us?” I whisper. “He should have told us, me and Ma.”
“He thought it would be better not to,” Thea says. “More merciful, instead of opening old wounds. I’m not saying I agree with him, but that was his reasoning.”
But you did the same thing, I think. You didn’t tell, either.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” Thea adds. “I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know how. It was a shock for me, too.”
“Hey,” Linus says gently. He’s hitched his chair nearer.
“She’s telling me my father’s alive, sort of,” I say to him, dazed. “He’s an evil scientist now.”
From his sympathetic expression, I see he’s been following my end of the conversation.
“He can’t hurt you,” Linus says. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Is Linus there?” Thea asks.
“Of course,” I say, and I hold the phone blindly away from me for him to take.
Linus moves to the other end of the room, near the little black stove, and when he speaks, it’s into the phone. “It’s me,” Linus says. “Hold on. Slow down.”
His voice is the same, like he sounds when he’s talking to me. Another cruel surprise.
“Yes,” he says. “That’s a good idea. Okay. I’ll tell her, of course.” And then, “Don’t cry, Thea. She’ll understand. It’s not your fault.”
It is her fault. It’s all her fault.
“Does Ma know?” I say. “Ask her, Linus. Does Ma know?”
Linus looks back at me, and then asks the question into the phone. He glances at me again and shakes his head. “No. Your mother doesn’t know.”
It’s going to destroy her. Bad as it is for me, it’s going to be even worse for her. She isn’t going to understand who he is. Nevertheless, she’ll have to be told. It’ll fall to me to tell her. I can see that now.
If she’s still alive.
Wouldn’t it be something, I think, if my mother’s dead, and the doctor in my father’s body seeds a new mind into my mother’s body? Wouldn’t they make a fabulous pair?
I let out one horrible, ugly sob before I clamp my hands over my mouth.
I miss my dad. I miss his goofy laugh. I miss how safe I felt with him. After all this time, I can hardly bear to scratch the surface of my memories of him because the hurt is too deep. And now I could actually see him walking around, alive?
My left hand loosens from my grip and through no effort of my own, my fingers stroke slowly down my cheek. I get that this thing inside me is trying to comfort me again, but it’s way too much for me to handle right now. Way too much.
“Stop that!” I say sharply. “I won’t be screwed up. I’m sick of this!”
My fingers still. The tingling stops. Then it grows stronger again, stronger than before, like a burning. It’s insistent and angry, the way I feel myself, and suddenly I’m stronger. Certain. A kick of adrenaline burns through my veins, forcing me to my feet. I leave the couch and step over to the porch door, where a film of moisture still coats the glass. My right hand lifts of its own volition, and my index finger traces six capital letters in the cool gray moisture: A-R-S-E-L-F.
My hand tingles as it drops away. I stare at the word. It’s a name.
“Arself,” I murmur, testing the sounds.
A light flashes behind my eyelids and a rushing fills my ears. I stagger back, still staring at the name on the glass. I can hardly breathe. It’s like getting ripped to shreds and being put precisely together at the same time.
“Rosie, what’s wrong?” Linus says. “What’s happening?”
But I can’t answer him.
Can you hear me now? says a voice in my head.