He was in the central square. The same music still droned from the loudspeakers, the same group of old men still sat hunched together on a bench along the southern wall, saying nothing, waiting for someone to come and take them home. Across the square he saw Egan wander in with several other kids. He recognized them from school, but without hearing their voices, he couldn’t remember who was who. For a moment he thought about calling out to Egan, but his friend’s name died in his throat. He watched as the group broke into laughter—probably at some joke of Egan’s—and then separated, retiring to their respective tiers just as he and Egan had done almost every day since they’d begun school.
When they were gone he turned and headed north into his own tier, weaving around people in the street. No one paid him any mind. It was just like before. An impulse struck him, and he stopped to make faces at a group of three women walking slowly toward him, their expressions sour as they chewed over a neighborhood rumor. He struggled not to laugh as they passed by, oblivious to his teasing. Turning, he froze at the sight of two men coming in his direction, carrying another on a stretcher between them. As they passed, Jacob recognized the man being carried. It was Tobin Fletcher, the sick neighbor Jacob had witnessed stealing food a couple of weeks ago. Tobin’s eyes were open as he lay on his back, his head tilted toward Jacob, unmoving. Jacob felt a chill at the unblinking eyes, and he backed up, suddenly afraid those dead orbs could see him. With a flash Tobin disappeared. In his place lay the skeleton Jacob had encountered in the basin, its tattered clothes fluttering in the breeze. Jacob blinked and Tobin was back.
He turned and ran up the street. He needed to get home. He passed the fountain and cut into his neighborhood. Soon he was on his street, and then before his door. He glanced over to the Fletchers’. Tobin’s wife, Penny, was sitting in the doorway, her head buried in her hands.
He went to his door and threw it open. Light streamed in, revealing the interior of the house, and his heart raced at the sight of his mother sitting at the table. Her hair lay loose over her shoulders, not pulled back in its normal ponytail. A breeze picked up behind Jacob, sending the chimes by the door singing, lifting a tuft or two of his mother’s hair. She didn’t seem to notice.
He looked around as he entered. There was no sign of his father. Pulling out a chair, he sat down across from her. She was holding something in her hands. It was a small cube of metal—his music box. She wound it up, and its little song began unfurling. Jacob winced at the plinking notes. The song was in a different key than the doorway chimes, still ringing in the breeze, creating an awkward dissonance. If it grated on him this much, he could only imagine how it must sound to his mother, blessed as she was with perfect pitch. But she didn’t seem to notice.
“They let you go, I guess,” she said, lifting her head. “They didn’t keep you long. I’m glad.”
“What?” Jacob said, confused. Who did she think he was? “It’s me. Nobody let me go. I came back on my own. I wanted to see you.”
Worry crept across her face. “I don’t know who you are,” she said. “But you’d better leave. My husband will be home soon.”
“Ma!” he shouted, banging the table, so that she started. “It’s me, Jacob. Don’t you recognize my voice?” He could feel the tears gathering in his eyes.
“Jacob?” she whispered. She shook her head. “He told me you were—”
The chimes suddenly stopped. A shadow came over the room. Jacob turned toward the doorway where Delaney’s father stood, one hand on the open door.
Jacob jumped up from the table and leaped for the door as it began to shut. He slammed against it just as it closed, smothering the room with darkness. He began banging on the door, crying to be let out.
Now he realized he could see his hands, ever so faintly, as the slightest glimmer from behind him grew, casting a red glow about the room, illuminating the door before him. Heat licked against the back of his neck. His nostrils flared at the scent of smoke. He whirled around—she was there.
“Delaney!” he cried out, stepping toward the figure.
Once more there was fire in her eyes, only now it began to grow, stretching out tendrils of flame that crept toward him. He withdrew, pulling away from the unbearable heat until his back was against the door, but the burning snakes whipped forward and wrapped around his wrists. They began dragging him toward her, into her outstretched arms, and he screamed for her to stop, screamed her name over and over, hoping she would hear him and have mercy, but she had none. He reached out as she drew him in, clasped his hands around her throat and squeezed, but he had no strength left in him, nothing to make the burning stop.
* * *
Jacob sat up in bed, gasping for breath. His heart was racing. He could hear it pounding in his ears, could feel the sweat along his brow. He turned to sit on the edge of the bed and looked down at the patch of sunlight shining on the floor at his feet. That dream—it just wouldn’t let him go. No, it wasn’t the same. It was a different dream. But the ending was nearly the same, as was the lucidity. He pushed the hair back from his eyes and sighed. He had never had dreams that felt so real before. When he closed his eyes, he could still see his mother. The memory was worth the pain.
He dressed and went downstairs. Xander wasn’t there. There was fruit on the table and some rolls. He must be outside, Jacob thought, and sat down to eat. He finished breakfast and still the house remained silent. After putting the leftover food away in the refrigerator and clearing the table, he went out onto the deck and looked over the railing. The cruiser was gone. He hadn’t heard it leave. Xander must have taken off while Jacob was dreaming.
He looked out at the view. The shadows were long—it was early. The sun was small and white behind him in the east, and the pink moon still shone on the western horizon, a fat crescent hanging above the city.
From where he was, he could see the far-off towers gleam as they caught the morning light. Hopefully Xander would be back soon. It was painful to see his goal before him in the distance, calling to him, waiting for him. He just wanted to get to the city as soon as possible. He didn’t even care about the Seers anymore. Who knew if he could have a life with them? After yesterday, he was starting to have his doubts. All that mattered was finding Delaney. It was the only thing left that was keeping him going.
He went back inside, settled into an armchair, and waited, watching through the windows for Xander’s cruiser to come growling out of the trees and into the yard. An hour passed, then another, and Xander didn’t come. Jacob rose now and then to stretch his legs. On occasion he took down a book, scanning the mysterious symbols, wondering what stories they told. He didn’t dare poke around too much in case the man came home to find him snooping. Noon came. He took some leftovers from last night out of the refrigerator and ate lunch.
After he finished, he went to the window again. Still no Xander.
He fell back into the armchair and sighed. Maybe he should leave, strike out for the city now. He wouldn’t reach it until at least tomorrow, but what difference did another night or two sleeping under the stars make? As for food, he figured he could take some from Xander. The man had already been generous in feeding him. Jacob couldn’t imagine he’d mind him borrowing more. In fact, he still had some of those dry bars left—he could just rely on that if he had to. It seemed as if he was wasting time sitting here. Besides, how did he know Xander would even bring him to the city? In spite of yesterday, the man had been reluctant to help him before. All in all, he didn’t know what to think of Xander. He couldn’t even tell if the man really wanted him here or, if he did, for how long. All he knew was that Xander lived alone in the middle of nowhere, was moody, and used to kill people. It didn’t strike Jacob as a good combination.
A part of him, though, hated to go. The man had saved him, had shown some kindness. It was comfortable here, and it felt safe. Wouldn’t it be rude to leave without at least thanking him?
Unable to make up his mind, he lingered for the remainder of the day, waiting for his host to return. Around sunset it suddenly occurred to him—he’d forgotten his morning ritual. Happy at least to have something to do, he retrieved the finder from the pack in his room and went out onto the deck. He watched the sun descend behind the city’s towers. She had to be there. He knew she was—he felt it. He had followed her this far, and the finder didn’t lie. On the other hand, what truth did it tell? He reached into his pocket and felt the weighty metal of the sounder he’d found yesterday clinging to the skeleton’s shirt.
Pressing the button on the finder, he took a deep breath and then spoke her name. There it was, the reassuring beep. But something wasn’t quite right. The tone was too low. He rotated away from the city and, to his shock, the pulse picked up. It took him all the way around in the opposite direction before it peaked. The house was before him with the hill behind it. Beyond both was where he’d come from. He must have passed her, he realized with a sinking feeling. Somewhere during the ride from the lake to this house, he went by her. He rushed off the deck and scrambled up the hillside behind the house. Reaching the crest, he took another reading.
Now he was totally confused. This time the finder pointed west, back toward the city. So she was there after all. How could that be? It must be broken, he thought, heading back down the hill. The sinking feeling grew. How could he trust it from now on? Then it suddenly occurred to him—what if it had been broken to start with? What if he had been following a ghost the whole time? What if he’d left Harmony for nothing? Worst of all, what if Delaney had been dead all along?
He stumbled onto the deck. Almost completely numb now, he decided to try one last time. To his chagrin, the finder again pointed east. He closed his eyes. Then it really was broken. Unless . . . His eyes snapped open, settling on the house in front of him.
He ran inside and turned all about, his excitement growing as the finder fluctuated wildly. He raised it above him, and the pulse quickened as the finder pointed toward the upstairs. He climbed the stairs, gripping the banister tightly, listening as the tone swelled with every step. He reached the top and made his way along the balcony. The finder led him to a door. It led him to Xander’s closed door.
Forgetting his earlier shyness about snooping, he opened the door and went in, his heart pounding. As he approached the bed a noise made him stop. He turned the finder off and listened. It was a note. No, it was two pitches, a chord of two sounders coming within range of each other. One pitch he hadn’t heard before—it came from his pocket. He pulled out the sounder he’d taken from the body and held it in the palm of his hand. Sure enough, its tone rang strong. But that wasn’t the sound that caught him, that made his hand shake as he moved closer to the nightstand. It was the other pitch, the other note—it was her sound. Tapping the sounder in his hand silent, he opened the nightstand drawer and removed the singing piece of silver. There was no mistaking the note he’d heard so many times before. It was Delaney’s sounder.
He turned it off and sat down on the edge of the bed. His head was spinning. A sudden image rose within his mind’s eye—the sight of Xander cutting through the tall grass, before bending down to touch the body perfect in its stillness, to tear the metal disk from its tunic, from her tattered tunic.
The image faded, replaced by another which made his heart beat harder. This time, Xander was climbing the steps to his house, escorting the figure of a girl, that same grim smile on his face that Jacob had seen yesterday at the lake, leading her into a house she would never leave.
He had to go, escape while he still could.
He jumped up and ran out into the hall, and then froze at the top of the stairs. If he left now, he’d never know what happened to Delaney. Then where would he go? What purpose would he have? The man knew nothing of his discovery or of his connection with Delaney aside from their shared birthplace. He had to stay and somehow find out, play dumb and wait for the moment to strike.
The growling of an engine sounded outside. Xander had returned. Jacob dashed back into the bedroom, closed the drawer, and left, careful to shut the door behind him. He kept Delaney’s sounder, though, making a vow never to lose it. He went down the hall to his own room, and crawled into bed, burying himself beneath the covers.
A moment later, Jacob heard Xander come into the house. His bedroom door was closed, and for a minute, there was no sound from below. Then he heard the stairs creak, heard Xander make his way down the balcony hall to his door. He buried his face in the pillow as the door behind him creaked open, hoping the blankets were thick enough to muffle his pounding heart. To his relief the door closed again, though he didn’t resume breathing until Xander had gone back down the stairs.
* * *
Jacob crept through the trees toward the light. From time to time he could catch glimpses of the flames, hear the crackle of the fire as he closed in, drawn by the smell of smoke. Gripping the long kitchen knife he’d swiped from the house, he took slow, cautious steps, careful to avoid a cracking twig or upturned root. Soon, he was close enough to see him. Xander’s back was to Jacob, a dark profile silhouetted by the fire.
Jacob was at the edge of the clearing now. Almost there, he thought.
He had waited over an hour in bed, listening to Xander below as he made supper, ate, and then cleaned up. The whole time Jacob tried to think of what to do, of how to confront the man. How could a boy like him force the truth from someone like Xander? Then it was quiet below. Jacob waited a while before slinking to the door and opening it a crack. Nothing stirred. Slipping downstairs, he opened the deck door to confirm his suspicion. Sure enough, the fragrant smoke of Zephyr wood lingered in the air. He grabbed the only weapon he could find from the kitchen and headed out into the dark. He didn’t know if this would work, but he would do his best to make the man talk. One way or another, he would find out what had become of Delaney.
Now, as Xander pitched a small log into the fire, Jacob debated how to cross this last stretch of open terrain. Make a run for it and get the point of his knife up against the back of Xander’s neck before the man could react, or continue his silent creep? So far, Xander hadn’t looked around or shown he had any idea he was being stalked. Jacob decided to opt for quiet.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the shadows and started toward the figure with slow steps. The knife hovered before him, occupying the space between himself and Xander, seeming to fill it. He was close now. He reached out with the knife, readying the words of confrontation he’d been practicing over and over again for the last hour.
It was as if he were moving in slow motion, or even frozen in place, compared with the man who, without a word, turned and reached out silently with one arm, grabbing the wrist of Jacob’s knife-wielding hand. He could do nothing but watch as the man pulled him in, relieved him of his knife, and flipped him over onto his back in one motion. Time resumed its normal pace as he hit the ground, grunting with impact. He was pinned, with Xander on top, looking down with what certainly wasn’t surprise but perhaps the slightest bit of amusement. The flames cast shadows that danced across his face.
“Not bad, Blinder. But you’re going to have to move quieter than that if you want to surprise me from behind.”
Jacob cried out, struggling to free his arms, trying to get at least a kicking foot free, but Xander had him firmly restrained. This is it, he thought.
“I knew you weren’t sleeping,” the soldier said, shaking his head.
“What did you do to her?” Jacob shouted. If he was going to die, at least he’d know the truth.
“Who?” the man demanded.
“You know!”
Xander frowned. He rose, lifting Jacob with him off the ground, and placed him, panting, on his seat. He sat down across the fire on a rock.
“She’s fine,” he murmured. “At least she was when I left her.” He looked up at Jacob. “How’d you know?” he asked. Jacob took the silver whorl from his pocket. It glinted in the firelight. Xander’s eyes narrowed.
Jacob didn’t feel like explaining. “Just tell me what happened to Delaney.”
Xander sighed. “It was a few weeks ago. Two, three, I don’t remember. I picked her up on the plains maybe ten miles east of where we met—a Blinder like you, only this girl really was blind. She was in terrible shape—dehydrated, hadn’t eaten in days, cuts and bruises all over her. I noticed this flash of white clothing on top of a rise, and it turned out to be her. She didn’t say much at first. She was scared of me. I figured she was lost, offered to take her back to Harmony, but she begged me not to. Kept asking that I take her to the city. Insisted on it.”
“So what did you do?”
“I did what she asked,” Xander said with a shrug. “I drove her to Melville. Wasn’t sure what to do with her, so I brought her to Mixel. They said they’d take care of her. I haven’t been back yet, so I don’t know what happened.”
“How’d you end up with this?” Jacob asked, holding out the sounder.
“She gave it to me as a gift when we parted. Said she wouldn’t need it anymore. Said she didn’t want it.”
Jacob shook his head. A part of him was elated to know Delaney had survived. But the joy was tinged with dismay, even resentment, toward her rescuer. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
Xander picked up a chunk a wood and flung it into the fire, sending up a shower of sparks. “Look, Jacob,” he said at last, “to be honest, I didn’t really want to get involved in all of this—saving her, saving you. That’s not what I came out here for.”
“Then why did you?” Jacob asked. Xander looked away without answering.
They were silent for a long time. The fire began to burn down.
“I heard you calling out her name last night in your sleep,” Xander said, breaking the quiet.
“They told us she was dead,” Jacob whispered. “But I knew it wasn’t true.”
“So you two were friends, huh?”
Jacob wasn’t sure how to answer. All that kept flashing through his mind was the memory of the last time he had been with her, on the hill during the delivery, the sadness in her voice, the way in which she had held his hand, pleading.
“My mother’s a musician and Delaney was her apprentice. She was at our house almost every day. She was practically a sister—always nice to me, but sad, too, and restless. It wasn’t until the end that I realized how much she was struggling, as if she was lost. I didn’t know how to help her.”
“Some people are just lost souls. Isn’t much you can do for them—they have to figure it out for themselves. Kind of like you.”
“Thanks,” Jacob said.
“Well, that’s how it seems. I mean, why did you leave, anyway?” Xander asked, placing another log on the fire. “I told you who I am—or who I was—now it’s your turn.”
As the fire burned and sparks drifted up into the night, Jacob recounted the story. He told Xander about the movement into sight, about everything he had seen, and about being led to the ghostbox for correction. The man listened quietly the entire time, watching in the glow of firelight. When Jacob finished, Xander remained silent for several minutes before speaking.
“That’s quite a story. I thought the army was strict, but your people have us beat by a mile, at least when it comes to discipline and loyalty.”
“What do you know about Harmony?” Jacob snapped. The defensiveness in his voice surprised him. Xander nodded.
“See what I mean? After everything that happened, you’re still sticking up for them. That’s loyalty,” he replied. He poked at the glowing embers with a stick, then continued. “Oh, I know about your home. Every once in a while I end up there while I’m driving around. I don’t get too close, but I watch through the scopes from my perch on the western ridge, watch the people working in the fields and walking along the streets. Never stay long. Gets old pretty fast—like watching a colony of ants, everyone going through the motions. Place is kind of dreary, if you ask me. Course, I guess that doesn’t matter if you’re blind.”
“It’s not that bad, you know. I was pretty happy until . . .” He knew the words but didn’t want to say them.
“Until you began to see? Until you began to see for yourself the kind of place you were living in?”
“I guess.” Jacob paused. “You don’t seem to like my people very much,” he said in a strained voice.
“Your people, huh?” he snorted. “I don’t dislike them, Jacob. I don’t even really know them. I suppose I know you, and you’re not so bad. Actually, in a way, they interest me—they’re dedicated, you have to give them that. And maybe they’re not even that different from everyone else. People are always searching for the perfect place away from all the garbage out there in the universe. Sometimes they’ll go pretty far and do extreme things to get there.” He paused, taking time to select his words before continuing. “But I don’t respect the Blinders, Jacob. They’re about rejection, about running away from the truth. You can’t cut yourself off from the pain of the world.” He paused. “It doesn’t work,” he finally said.
They both stared into the fire in silence for a few moments. Then Jacob said, “Those last few days were horrible, and every time I remember them, all I can picture are those strange faces in the crowd at the last Gathering. Their eyes are open, but they don’t see me. I don’t like the feeling that leaves me with. It’s not right.”
“Tell me something—is there anything you really miss about Harmony?” Xander asked.
“I miss knowing my place in the world, the feeling that I belonged to something, though I guess I lost that even before I left Harmony,” he said, then paused. “My family—I miss my mom and dad. I never got to say good-bye. I used to think they were perfect, just like Harmony; my mother was talented, my father was strong. Near the end I got to see that they weren’t so perfect, that maybe they weren’t even happy. What’s funny is that it makes me miss them even more.”
“Family is like that,” Xander said.
“What about you? Do you have a family?”
Xander stirred the fire with the blackened end of his stick, collapsing the glowing chunks of logs into embers. “It’s getting late—I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow. I’m going to bed,” he said, rising. He broke the stick across his knee and threw both pieces into the pit before disappearing into the darkness.
Jacob didn’t follow him. For another hour he fed the fire twigs, watching each one ignite quickly, flare into brief and sudden light, then disappear into the bed of coals that brought the next to flames.