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SHE WAS emaciated, her gaze unfocused and withdrawn.
Bile crept into my throat. Stars of pain burst, trailing daggers across the backs of my eyes. My tear ducts flooded.
Plaka’s hand clutched my shoulder. “Breathe, Valcas,” he said.
I tore his hand from me and gulped a shallow breath. “Her! Save it for her!” For Calla.
Her cheeks sunk inward, tinted with gray, deepening the shadows under her eyes. Skeletal fingers raked through matted curls.
Gritting my teeth failed to repress my groans. I wanted to run to her, to hold her in my arms; but I feared that my touch would crumble her to dust—that I’d lose her, again. This time forever.
To my relief, Plaka reached out to her. He did something I’d never seen him do. Tears fell from his eyes. Tears for his daughter, his only child. Flesh and blood. Something I was not.
I receded, tried to blend in with the grays of Susana. The bile rose up again. How could I have deluded myself with the hope that I wasn’t to blame? What had I done?
Plaka looked back at me, evaluated my pain. How he could care about me under such circumstances was a mystery I’d never understand.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. It was all I could say. I had no excuse. I had nothing.
“I hold the TSTA accountable.” He focused once again on Calla, smoothing curls away from her eyes, cradling her chin. “Never had I imagined the agency would inflict such pain.”
“No. I am to blame. This is my fault.” I bit down on my lip, hard enough to taste blood.
Calla looked up. Her eyes roamed, following the sound of my voice. “Valcas! Valcas? Where is he? Where is Valcas?”
Her scream sent chills up my spine. “I’m here,” I said, my voice breaking.
The other Lost we’d encountered were searching for someone; they said that person’s name over and over. It was the first word that escaped their lips. Had Calla been searching for me? She’d fled from me—ran away. Why would she have been searching for me?
“Breathe, Calidora. We’re here now and promise we will not leave without you.” Plaka’s voice sounded distant, remote, as if he were in as much of an agony-induced daze as I was.
Calla’s eyes, as hollow as her cheeks, focused slightly. They were no longer dark, not even green. Like Susana, they were gray. The travel glasses had sucked the color and the light out of them. How long had she been running? To how many different times and places? Why had she been searching for me?
Recognition flashed across the dull pinpoints of her pupils. I tensed, not knowing what further reaction my presence would bring. Just as quickly, her eyes dulled again—unfocused—as she lifted her head to Plaka. He continued his efforts at comforting and healing.
“Excellent. Keep breathing.”
After another fleeting glimmer of recognition brought her eyes to life, she sighed. The tension in my muscles relaxed.
“We’re here now, Calla,” he said, circling his arms around her.
She turned her head. Her eyes focused on me. Somewhat dazed, she nodded, as if noting my presence. Something about her exuded madness, still; but she’d calmed down and had stopped screaming.
Light flashed to our left. Calla’s head jerked toward it. Even though the attack wasn’t meant for her, she shook violently, and then clung to Plaka as if her life depended on it.
“Dad—Dad, help.” She clawed at his cloak. “Help me please.”
“It’s all right,” Plaka rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “It will be all right.”
Relief. Anxiety. Anger. Fear. Jealousy. Pain—all of it swept through me. Broke me. Pierced my very core. It was too much, overwhelming. I slipped on the travel glasses, burned as much of these feelings as I could into the glasses, trying to push it all away from me.
I wanted to approach her. To comfort her as well. I wanted to run, to cry—to die.
“Valcas, did you find her?” Ivory’s voice rang out from somewhere behind me. I spun around to see her, Ray, Nick and Edgar’s silhouette approaching.
“Ah, it is her,” said Ivory. Her lips set in a thin line.
Nick stepped next to her and squeezed her hand. His and Ray’s faces were grim. Everyone appeared to be either grief-stricken or uncomfortable.
Everyone except for Edgar. He stepped forward. “Why, you gave us quite a scare, young miss. You—”
Part of me wanted to hear what Edgar’s silhouette would say to Calla in Susana—what his words of comfort might be. Perhaps I could learn something useful, for when my turn came. But I didn’t get that chance.
Calla snapped her head in Edgar’s direction, and then stared at him briefly. Her mouth parted, pulling thin lips back from her teeth as she screamed, again, stopping only to suck in air to fuel the siren. Plaka held her tightly, either to prevent her from falling, or fleeing—I couldn’t blame her in her present state. He closed his eyes as her shrieks morphed into gasping sobs.
“Oh no...” Ivory pulled Edgar back through the line to hide him behind her and Nick. She clenched her teeth. “Edgar, stay back. She’ll think you’re a ghost or a body resurrected from the dead. She was there when you died, remember?”
“Well, no,” he replied softly. His face paled. “I truly don’t remember.”
“Not the actual dying part.” Ivory cringed. “The part about how you’re a—” The air leaked from her cheeks. “Oh, never mind. Calla’s just not ready to see you yet.”
Edgar blinked and frowned. Nick patted him on the shoulder. After several more moments of uncertainty, Calla calmed. Plaka motioned for us to step forward.
“You came for me,” Calla said to no one in particular. Her lips were dry and cracked. “I hoped you would.”
“Valcas is here,” said Plaka. “And your friends Ivory and Ray.”
Her eyes passed back and forth along the lineup of our team. She stopped at Nick. Her gaze dropped to where his hand held Ivory’s.
She smiled. “You,” she said. “You’re the one Ivory was trying to protect...at the hearing.”
Neither Nick nor Ivory responded. Their lips froze, their faces cloaked with guilt and embarrassment. It was a rare moment, honest and real.
At the same time, the dock Calla had been standing on, and the silver replica of Lake Winston, began to fade. I dared to hope that she was coming back to us.
Plaka held out his hand. “Edgar, come here, please.”
I wouldn’t have chosen that moment to reintroduce a silhouette of the deceased, but then Plaka was the Healer, not me. He was the one with the insight. I waited, hoping the move wouldn’t result in a setback.
Edgar stepped forward, his shoulders rounded and his lips set in a hopeful smile. “It’s good to see you, Calla. I’m sorry to have frightened you.” He looked around as if it finally occurred to him that our surroundings were distasteful. “I hope you will travel back with us. I don’t think we’ll find much in the way of dinner here.”
“Edgar? You’re alive.”
“I’ve been told I’m a silhouette—that I’m no longer of these worlds; but I don’t feel any differently. Time is merely relative. We all are alive, in somewhen or another.”
Calla’s mouth hung open, but she didn’t scream. She gently pulled herself from Plaka and approached Edgar. “You look so real.”
As they embraced, the Lake Winston of the Lost shimmered. It faded again, as if it were drying up and receding back into the soil of Susana.
One by one our team members comforted Calla, and strangely enough, she appeared to be comforted in return. She was a miracle. Someone who’d been Lost and who was regaining her life, right before our eyes.
Plaka stood by, his forehead creased. Together, we watched as the last remnants of the dock and the lake disappeared, along with the clouds in Calla’s eyes.