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  Victor shook his head and smiled at Remmie. She smiled back and they all had a laugh.

  “Kyle, let me out, friend?” Anthony said. “You laughing too?”

  “How did you afford this?” Kyle said to Victor. “Is this really your place?”

  “It’s kind of my place.”

  It was kind of his place? Victor was lying. Remmie was pretty good at picking those things out, a skill she had acquired from her subpar relationships. Victor also rolled his eyes a little and put his right hand on the back of his neck. He was a horrible liar, which actually made her more comfortable.

  Victor suddenly turned a bracing gaze toward the front of the cabin, like he sensed a wild animal. “We need to leave—”

  “Vick!” a commanding voice said, from the cabin.

  Remmie’s chest began to knock.

  A man emerged from the front door into the dim light, a man who bore a striking resemblance to Victor. Victor’s doppelgänger? She took a step back, her eyes fixated on the mysterious figure who was approaching. As he grew nearer she turned to Victor, who by now looked like a child about to receive a beating. The man and Victor were identical, except that the man was dressed better—black slacks, starched blue shirt, shiny dress shoes—his hair was trimmed close, he wore glasses, and he was thinner around the midsection. But the man had a battlefield expression aimed at Victor.

  Victor seemed to dissolve into himself.

  “Oh my God. You have a twin.” Remmie felt a terrified excitement, like when she’d gone to the Convulsive Terror Haunted Cornfield last Halloween and been chased by a kid with a chainsaw.

  The man then looked Remmie and Kyle over.

  “Not expecting me, brother?” the man said, monotone. “So, I guess you went through with it after all. Even after all—” His voice crackled. “Well, it’s done now. You best all come inside.”

  Anthony flung his body halfway out of the car, his bound hands exposed. “What’s happening?”

  “You didn’t.” The man lunged toward the Caddy.

  Victor stepped in his path. “Eli. Please.”

  Eli slammed Victor against the Caddy and lifted him off of his feet. Victor twitched and struggled, taking short breaths, but his resistance seemed halfhearted, as if he felt he deserved this. Then Eli dropped him and stepped back, seemingly unresolved, turning a contemplative gaze toward the valley.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Victor said, “but you have to trust me. I’ve screwed up—a lot, but this is how things are. And we gotta be smart about it. And I’ll pay the price if I’m wrong. You know me, Eli.”

  “Yeah, I know you. What happened back then . . . we’re not done there. But for now . . .” He turned his guarded stare toward Remmie and Kyle. “Come inside. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Eli looked down at Anthony, who had an expressionless face, a narrow stream of saliva crawling up his hanging cheek. Eli walked back toward the house, waiving for the others to follow.

  Remmie was feeling alive for the first time in her life all right, but that feeling came at a price. Whether Victor was crazy or not, watching him fighting with his twin in the wilderness told her that her life was never going to be the same, if she had any life left to live. She felt as though she’d just passed the point of no return. And Kyle’s expression echoed hers. He helped Victor pull Anthony out of the car. Victor unbound Anthony’s feet and reminded him what a bad idea it would be to try anything. In the morning light, Anthony looked old, his will broken, his pants darker around the crotch.

  “I don’t have to pee anymore,” he said.

  Remmie said to Victor, “I take it you weren’t expecting Eli to be here? Are you going to tell us what’s really going on?”

  “You’ll get the whole story, soon. And here? Inside is the truth. You won’t question again after you see what I have to show you.”

  “What about me?” Anthony said. “Will I be hurt?”

  “Not unless I have to,” Victor said. “And Eli? He’s pretty far gone at this point. But if we can fix you . . .”

  Eli motioned from the front door.

  Victor led Kyle and Remmie to adjacent rooms inside the cabin, each with its own bathroom. He told them to clean up and rest. Eli disappeared with Anthony down a hallway.

  “I’ll come and get you for lunch, in a while,” Victor said. “Then I’ll give you the proof you need.”

  Victor left them. Remmie looked at Kyle. He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Well, I guess you’ll finally have that shower,” Kyle said, with a half smile.

  She smiled back, tentatively.

  TWENTY

  REMMIE LEANED OVER Kyle’s bed. Her disco ball freckles stretched as she smiled, her tongue slithering over her upper lip, and Kyle was draped in the arousing scent of perfume and shower gel. Remmie’s small, firm breasts pushed their shape into her lacy-hem T-shirt.

  “Why don’t you join me here?” Kyle pulled the silky sheets aside. “I think this is a king size, so there’s plenty of room.” So clever and witty he was.

  “First let me slip out of these confining clothes.”

  A pounding knock jolted Kyle awake.

  “Lunchtime,” Victor said, through the door. “Just take the hall back toward the front door and then take a left.”

  Kyle was reminded of his mom’s shrill voice, breaking into his beauty sleep. But then he remembered where he was and why, and that lunch was waiting.

  He leapt from bed and scanned his room. It was the most upscale room he had ever stayed in. There was a large window that overlooked a forest and an endless valley beyond. The furniture was modern, with odd angles that seemed to work together and high-end materials. The shower was as big as his entire bathroom back at the apartment, shower heads on three sides, little black stones in the sink. Things weren’t so bad.

  There was another, gentler knock at the door.

  “Hey, Kyle. You ready?” Remmie said. “I don’t want to walk around this place by myself.”

  Kyle pulled on his jeans and laced up his sneakers. He had slept in yesterday’s underwear and an oversized t-shirt Victor had given him. He opened the door. “How was your shower?”

  Remmie smelled mountain fresh, for the first time—not unlike his dream, minus the perfume. She pressed her lips together, an attempt to prevent a smile? But a smile escaped, rosy red flooding her cheeks. She looked at the floor.

  “It was wonderful,” she said. “This is a nice place. I wish we were here under different circumstances.”

  Kyle wondered what she meant by that. His contemplative face spawned a smirk.

  Her smile faded, her eyes snapping back upward. “Not those circumstances. I meant like I was on a vacation or something.”

  “You mean us?”

  “Shut up. Let’s go eat. I’m starving.” She tromped down the hall.

  Kyle felt like he hadn’t felt since his last high school dance. All that mattered at that moment was how Remmie felt about him. He could get eaten by the twins or be taken over by aliens, it didn’t matter. And with these luxury accommodations, he wasn’t a prisoner and didn’t feel threatened. It wasn’t such a bad adventure. Yes, adventure. He straightened his posture and followed Remmie. As he walked the grand hallway, he imagined he was visiting a rich relative, and Remmie was his cousin’s friend, staying for the week.

  In the dining area was a large, thick, rustic table, overshadowed by a wall of windows with the same view as was visible from Kyle’s room. It must’ve been a million-dollar place, or it was a cheap deal because of its remote location. And the hardwood floors were spotless. Kyle wondered how Eli kept the place so clean by himself.

  Kyle’s eyes found Remmie’s butt, the first time he had actually taken a good look at it. It was hardly existent; it fit her just perfect. She placed it in a chair.

  The sound of abrupt whispers came from the corner hallway. It was Victor and Eli. Kyle couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it sounded like an argument. He took a seat nex
t to Remmie.

  “Don’t sit so close,” she said.

  He scooted his chair back a couple of inches.

  “It’s a big table,” she continued. “You don’t have to sit so—”

  “I’m sitting close because I figured you’d want to say something about them,” Kyle whispered. “Can you make out what they’re saying?”

  “I don’t know. It almost sounds like they’re arguing.”

  “That’s what I thought too. Are you worried?”

  “I don’t know. Not so much right now, but I go back and forth on it. This is all a bit overwhelming But this place is so nice.”

  “The view is beautiful. It’s all so big. I wonder how Eli keeps it so clean.”

  Remmie gave Kyle a look of surprise. “I hadn’t thought of that. There’s no way it’s just him. He’d be spending all day every day cleaning. Maybe he has elves in the basement.” She grinned and snickered. “Hey, speaking of creatures in the basement, I wonder what they did with Anthony. I’m kinda worried about that.”

  Kyle violently gripped the sides of his chair. He’d forgotten about Anthony entirely, but she remembered him, was worried about him. “I guess Anthony’s the man once again. I guess he’ll have you too—”

  “Oh my God, really?” Remmie whispered loudly. “You don’t even care that we’ve been all but kidnapped. It’s all about your stupid ego and getting out-laid by some . . .” She smacked her palm on the table.

  Kyle looked toward the window. Why had he said that? It was one of those self-fulfilling-prophecy things his dad was always talking about. He was driving Remmie into Anthony’s arms himself, unable to manage his own emotional reactions.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know . . . this is all so weird and complicated.”

  “No, it’s not,” Remmie said. “You’re weird and complicated. You don’t care about anything but yourself. You’re just like all the rest, the proverbial clingy leech—untrusting, paranoid—the guy a girl just can’t get rid of.”

  Kyle realized that now he and Remmie were having an argument. He looked up to see Eli and Victor standing over the table, staring at them. He almost fell out of his chair.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Victor said, one eyebrow raised.

  Victor and Eli had a couple of platters of scrambled eggs, sausage, and those French pancake thingies. They placed the food on the table and took seats a few chairs apart.

  “Go ahead and dig in,” Victor said, almost with sarcasm, not unlike the tone Kyle’s mom used to take with his dad after a long day cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

  Kyle and Remmie shared a look of concern, their whisper argument on hold. The demeanor of the twins had changed. They were distant, agitated.

  Words fell unchecked from Kyle’s mouth as he grabbed a couple of sausages. “Is this our last meal? Are you guys going to carve us up?”

  Eli took a bite of eggs doused in hot sauce, taking a moment to chew and swallow. Victor watched him, expectant.

  “We’re not going to hurt you,” Eli said. “We’ll do everything we can to keep you safe. I realize this is strange, crazy—”

  “I was just thinking that myself,” Kyle said. “The crazy part, I mean.”

  Remmie elbowed him in the side, then turned to Eli. “I want to know what you’ve done with Anthony?”

  “He’s safe, for now. Victor said he happened along with you guys. Is he your boyfriend?”

  “He’s not her boyfriend!” Kyle said.

  Remmie dropped her fork.

  “Look,” Eli said, “you have no idea what Victor has gotten you into. You better take all this a bit more seriously. You’re cushy, easygoing lifestyle is over. You just took the red pill—had it shoved down your throat.” Eli pointed his fork toward Kyle. “What Vick said to you both, about the Dames, is true. But we each have a different perspective on what they’re actually doing.”

  Victor’s posture straightened. “That’s where I disagree, adamantly. They’re not benign. Why are so many people after us if they aren’t doing something? Every human being on Earth operates within their control. Humanity is enslaved.”

  “You know why Vick chose you, right?” Eli said. “To be the ones?”

  “What do you mean?” Remmie said.

  “There’re more people out there with Malclenersy than just you two.”

  “I chose you because—” Victor began.

  “Wait,” Remmie said. “I want to hear what Eli has to say about it.”

  “Victor wanted help,” Eli said. “He needed to find someone with Malclenersy he could get on board quick, easy. He needed someone naïve enough to believe his story and passive enough to go along with him. And here you are.”

  “What? I don’t understand . . .” Kyle said.

  Remmie whipped her gaze to Kyle, attempting another shot with her elbow. He blocked it this time.

  “He chose the right one in you,” Remmie said. “Eli is saying that Victor chose us because we were stupid enough to be on the road to Nevada in less than twenty-four hours after hearing his crazy story.”

  “That’s not true,” Victor said.

  Eli sat back and folded his arms, half-smirking.

  “It’s not because you’re stupid,” Victor said. “Let’s call it open-minded. Perhaps easily persuaded . . . not much going on in your lives to lose, but at the same time with potential, smarts that just aren’t being used.”

  That was good enough an explanation for Kyle. “I agree. I am easily manipulated into craziness, but I’m smart too. I bet probability played a role t—”

  “Yeah, he’s stupid,” Remmie said. “But I’ve never been on board with any of this—”

  “Bullshit,” Kyle said. “You’re here, aren’t you? Don’t insult me and make yourself out to be some kind of victim.”

  “Victim?”

  “Enough,” Eli said. “Doesn’t matter. You’re both here; you’re both in over your heads. Just be quiet and finish your lunch. Then I’ll show you the proof.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  REMMIE SWALLOWED HER last bite of crepe—light, fluffy, heavy cream, blueberries. Lunch had been delicious, but her stomach was unsettled. No such thing as a free lunch. The vast beauty of the valley caught her eye, a pale scalp beyond a thick stubble of trees. As colorless as the valley was, it exuded a warm, open energy, symbolizing all that remained to be seen and experienced in her life’s journey. Then she thought of her dad’s car, left atop an abandoned gravel pit, and that she was something like seven hundred miles from home and her parents were probably sick with worry. And no matter what the truth behind her current circumstance, the outcome would be bleak. Either she was at the mercy of crazy twins, or the world was not what it had seemed, including her parents. Or maybe not—her dad had been sick a lot when he was a kid. Maybe he had Malclenersy too.

  The sound of Eli’s voice shackled Remmie’s attention.

  “Time is short.” He stood from his chair, dropping his napkin on the table, a suspicious gaze scanning Remmie and Kyle. “Follow me.”

  Victor remained in his chair, his hollow stare aimed at the wall. He had barely touched his lunch. He turned his silverware to a position indicating he was done eating.

  “Well, go ahead,” Victor said. “I’ll wait here, clean up.”

  Remmie and Kyle followed Eli, past the kitchen and down a hallway. At the end was a solid gray door, wide, like the kind you’d find in a hospital. Eli pulled out a key ring and unlocked the door. His chiseled features became ominous in the dim light as he began his descent down a baleful stairway.

  The thick stained-wood stairs were wide, the walls pale. The steps creaked and crackled. At the bottom, a vintage Led Zeppelin poster hung on the wall. To the right was an open door that led into darkness. Eli reached inside and flipped a switch. Bright light flooded the entryway, and they emerged into the corner of an immense room with gray walls and a tall white ceiling. Three rows of track lighting lined the ceiling. The floor was cement, except for a few sc
attered rugs and floor padding. The air was cool and damp, giving Remmie a brief chill. The smell of pine incised her nostrils. Cheap air freshener.

  The room was rectangular, exercise equipment spread along the longer left wall: treadmill, Universal training machine, exercise ball, free weights. In the center of the room was a hospital gurney—white sheets, retractable guardrails, adjustments, metal frame—and a rolling IV pole. Along the right-hand wall was a worktable made of thick metal that spanned the length of the room, scattered drawers and cabinets underneath. On the table was a workstation, toolbox, and some electronic equipment. A couple of the devices looked like ones Remmie had seen in her years in hospitals. But there was a narrow break halfway down the table, at an electrical wall panel. Underneath the panel was a large horizontal lever. The room held a vacuous silence.

  Eli approached a device vaguely familiar to Remmie, near the gap in the table—a vertical cylindrical column with what looked like binoculars protruding from the bottom, an old tube TV screen on the left. On the right was a console littered with buttons and small screens.

  “You ever see an electron microscope?” Eli said.

  “My uncle talked about those before,” Kyle said. “He’s a statistician.”

  Remmie felt an unsettling fascination, too distracted to be annoyed by Kyle being Kyle. Her pace slowed, anxiety charging as she processed what her senses perceived, but her gaze was drawn to the three doors on the far wall. One, a bathroom, the others shut. She wondered if Anthony was behind one of those doors but hesitated to ask for fear she would throw Kyle into a tizzy.

  “I’ve seen one,” she said, “on a documentary a while back.”

  “I’ve been able to retain a sample that contains several Dames. It’s good Victor isn’t down here. What he believes isn’t entirely accurate.”

  “What do you mean?” Remmie said.

  “The Dames aren’t active. There may have been aliens here at one time, but they abandoned this world, and their devices, long ago. What’s in us is all that’s left. The Dames are robust. They migrate from host to host in seeming perpetuity. But they don’t actually do anything. I think they could be capable of affecting their hosts . . . with the right stimulation.”