IENDE Page 8

  But as the snow began to fall in greater volume he remembered how crappy rear-wheel drive was in the snow. And Anthony’s double-bacon-burger tummy wouldn’t be enough weight to make those back tires grip.

  “These flurries,” Kyle said, “I hope they don’t get worse as we approach the top. This car . . . it’s not so good in the snow.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Anthony said. “Maybe after we meet Victor we can stop by that pub back at the highway turnoff. If we do, I’m gonna have a bunch of brews. I bet they brew their own beer.”

  “You’re on your own,” Remmie said. “If we go somewhere, we’re all going dutch, got it? I hope you’ve got cash or a card.”

  “Hey, Kyle, can you spot me some cash?” Anthony said. “I know your mom still gives you an allowance. I’ll pay you back when I get paid. I’m good for it and this is—”

  “I’ll spot you, ’kay?” Kyle said.

  “Kyle,” Remmie said after a moment, “why do you cater to this guy?”

  Kyle was frostbitten by Remmie’s rebuke. He could feel it was about more than spotting Anthony some cash. He always thought of the allowance from his mom as bonus money—mad money, his mom called it. It was money to burn, and he could do with it whatever he chose.

  But why choose to support Anthony?

  “Anthony is my friend,” Kyle said.

  “I was just looking out for you. I don’t think Anthony’s good for it.” She turned to Anthony. “Are you?”

  “You don’t know me,” Anthony said.

  Everyone fell to silence as the car began to slide. Kyle dug his fingers into the dashboard. The drop-off was now to the left, but close enough. Remmie was able to steady the car and switched on the headlights. The snowfall was thickening.

  They emerged at the top of the road, at a parking lot cracked and littered with potholes as badly as the warehouse had been. The old gravel pit had been closed down for a decade. There were tattered conveyers and tall structures in the distance, once used to slowly dismantle a mountain. It all felt ancient and desolate, like the warehouse, like the park. Remmie shut off the car. Kyle grabbed his phone. There was no service.

  “My back’s hurting,” Anthony said. “Getting slammed around earlier and having to sit in this cramped back seat—”

  “Sorry, but we’re fresh out of diapers if you need a change,” Remmie said.

  “Hey, forget you!”

  “Stop it. Both of you,” Kyle said. “Where’s Victor?”

  “There’s nobody else here, it seems.” Remmie opened the door and a wall of icy air washed into the car. “And it’s freezing outside.”

  “I’ll keep you warm,” Anthony said.

  “I’d sooner die on this mountain.”

  Kyle imagined punching Anthony in the mouth. Then he felt his heart fluttering, his chest tightening. He needed to get out—the altitude.

  “There’s not enough air.” Kyle grabbed at the steering wheel and pulled, ready to fling himself from the car and sprint down the mountain where there was more oxygen.

  “My God, Kyle,” Remmie said.

  Remmie stepped out. Kyle followed, feeling unstable on his feet. Dry icy air scratched at his limbs as he stepped beside Remmie. He thought of his jacket, which was in his backpack, back at the apartment, where Remmie had left her jacket draped over the plastic chair.

  Remmie rubbed her shivering arms in the dense, milky swirl of flurries. Kyle wanted to put his arm around her, but he didn’t have the courage.

  “What should we do?” Kyle said.

  “Wait.” Remmie’s teeth chattered as she spoke. “We aren’t prepared for this weather and the snow’s getting worse.”

  He laid his hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. “Hey, we’ll be okay.”

  She smiled dourly and touched his hand. “Thanks, Kyle.”

  Kyle felt a crackling warmth from her touch.

  Anthony strode up next to them. His shiny white T-shirt was inhaling the flurries. “It’s colder than a prude’s bed out here.” His eyebrows raised at Remmie, as if implying something. “Can you start the car and crank the heater while we wait for Victor?”

  Remmie said to Kyle, “Let’s get warm.”

  They returned to the car. There were low clouds, stout flurries, and the daylight was fading. Before long it was after 4 p.m. Remmie climbed out of the car again.

  “We should go to that pub,” Anthony said. “I’m staying in the car.”

  Kyle followed her and they stood facing the buildings.

  “It’s getting dark with all those thick clouds,” Remmie said. “This is not good. Maybe we should head back to town. Maybe Victor was caught, or this is a diversion so they can all skip town before we blow their cover.”

  Kyle moved closer to her, her presence the only warmth he needed. Maybe she would let him put his arm around her if he could convince her that it would be smart to share body heat. His only desire was to be close to her, that mountain the only place in the world he wanted to be.

  Behind them they could hear a car emerge from the road. It was a black Caddy.

  SEVENTEEN

  REMMIE FELT HER limbs wither as Victor materialized from the Caddy, his tall, weathered boots like thick pillars, his black overcoat adding mountainous exaggeration to his shoulders, black-gloved fists like sledgehammer heads. His face was resolute, his chin high. He was a dark void before a dense backdrop of white powder, those flurries that dared graze his forehead melting away like gypsum walls under a wrecking ball. His ominous gaze swayed between Kyle and Remmie, and she was certain that whatever Victor’s will, he would impose it. She was trapped, unable to move, a hollow piece of cracked granite, yet she shivered—from paralyzing cold, from trepidation. He would kill them slowly. Of that she was certain. Then he would slice them to pieces and eat every chilled bite. Why had she chosen to meet up with him? She turned her defeated eyes to Kyle, searching for solidarity.

  He was beaming, a bounce in his shivering step like he’d just won a lifetime supply of beer. “Victor!”

  “I’m so glad you made it,” Victor said. As he spoke his features relaxed, shoulders shrunk, and he radiated a warm, laughing smile. “Get in the car and get warm. Surely you believe me now. We’re heading to Nevada.”

  Remmie stopped feeling the cold as an angry heat blossomed in her. “We’re not going anywhere with you. We were accosted by more guys back at Kyle’s place, barely got away. And what about my dad’s car?” She took an aggressive step toward Victor.

  Victor’s gaze moved past her, toward the Trans Am. The inviting emotion slid from his face as he elevated his fists. She thought he was reacting to her words, until she realized he was staring past her. She turned.

  Anthony was stumbling out of the car.

  Victor rolled his shoulders like a wrestler preparing for a bout, then dug his hand into his coat pocket.

  Anthony sauntered up next to Kyle and Remmie. “Hey, it’s—”

  Victor lunged, shoving a black, box-shaped object into Anthony’s chest. There was a clicking, zapping sound. Remmie instinctively leapt backward. A short bellow spewed from Anthony’s mouth. Victor moved his body behind Anthony’s, the box still shoved into Anthony’s chest, and Anthony fell to his knees, a fifth-of-rum look on his face.

  Remmie felt paralyzed, wondering what she should do. “Stop!” she said.

  Victor knelt with Anthony, then put his arm around Anthony’s neck, squeezing. Victor pulled the box away and lowered Anthony’s face to the to the rocky curb, where his cheek pressed into the soft snow. Then Victor pulled yellow plastic ties from his pocket and bound Anthony’s hands and feet.

  Anthony moaned.

  “What the hell did you do?” Kyle flung himself toward Victor, but stopped short.

  “Not a good idea,” Victor said. “You’ve got to trust me. Anthony’s not safe. He’s one of them.” Victor’s tone was commanding, his breathing abrupt as he caressed the stun gun in his hand. “We’ve been compromised. Nobody’s safe.” Victor
stance was prepared to take on something, anything, from every direction. “You gotta trust me.”

  Victor knelt and dug into Anthony’s pockets.

  “What are you doing?” Anthony groaned.

  “Shut up.”

  Victor removed Anthony’s cell phone, popped out the battery, and then threw the phone and the battery in opposite directions into the woods.

  Remmie thought of the gun in the glove compartment.

  Victor continued to fiddle with Anthony’s effects. She needed a diversion and looked to Kyle, motioning toward Victor, sending Kyle a hint, a request. But Kyle just stood there and shrugged his shoulders. By now Anthony’s wallet was in Victor’s hand. He shoved it into his overcoat pocket.

  Remmie said to Victor, “You can’t do this. Are you going to . . . kill him?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Victor said. “I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to hurt anybody. As for Anthony, there’s still hope we can fix him. I’m not going to kill anybody.” He opened the Caddy passenger door and held out an inviting hand to Remmie.

  Remmie wanted to get the gun, but there was no way she could manage it. But, truth be told, part of her felt better with Anthony bound. All the events of the day were spinning in her head. She again became aware of the bitter cold. Kyle was still aloof, his hands in his pockets, his body convulsing in the cold. Remmie started thinking in terms of odds. If Victor’s claim was true—and there was a chance it was true with all the crazy people they had encountered—then he was doing the right thing. But if he was crazy, which was still a possibility . . . it was still good, particularly if he believed what he was saying because then he wouldn’t harm them. Anthony was a loose cannon, and annoying. And what could she do? As long as Victor didn’t bind her or Kyle, she would feel okay. Then they would stand a fighting chance if it turned out Victor was playing them.

  “Look,” Victor said. “You’re in deep now. There’re people after all of us. I can end this, but I need your help. I have a plan; I know how to survive.”

  “But there were more guys that showed up at Kyle’s apartment,” Remmie said. “You said we’d be okay. You sent us back there to get our effects.”

  Victor’s shoulders fell and he looked away, toward the buildings in the distance. “I’m sorry about that. They’re why I was late. I needed to be sure you weren’t followed. Now you’ll be on my watch, and safer. We have to trust each other.”

  “I hate this!” Remmie ran up and slammed her fist on Victor’s chest. “Why’d you have to bring us into this?”

  He just stood there. “Either way you’re safest with me. You’re targets now, as I am. We have to fall off the map; that’s all we can do. It’s what I’ve been doing, until I decided to engage you. That’s when I seemed to be discovered, so we need to fall off the map again. Look, I have your illness—we share that common thread.”

  “You’re taking our lives away,” Remmie said.

  “You call that a life?”

  Remmie smacked Victor on the chest again.

  “I’m sorry I said that,” Victor said. “But come on, it’s not like you have much to lose.”

  He was right about that. She looked at the Trans Am, with its lopsided grill and missing bumper, like looters had already begun to strip it. “What about my dad’s car?”

  “I have a prepaid cell phone, untraceable. You can call your parents later. Just don’t tell them anything. Tell them you’re taking a break from life.”

  “But I have no life,” Remmie spoke with pointed sarcasm. “Right? I’m just a big loser.”

  She caught Kyle’s eye. He looked like he wanted to speak, but no words came from his mouth.

  “Kyle, can you help me put Anthony in the back seat?” Victor said.

  Kyle grimaced. “I don’t want to be an accessory.”

  “I took him down, not you. I forced you to help, right? Besides, if we don’t get him in the car, he’ll freeze.”

  “I’m already freezing,” Anthony mumbled.

  Remmie looked off at the buildings in the distance again, barely visible in the thick white blur. The world felt like a stranger, as unfamiliar as it had ever been. But had it ever been familiar? She didn’t trust Victor, but her instincts felt more at ease with him than with those guys back at the apartment. They would find her for sure if she went back to town.

  She climbed into the passenger seat of the Caddy. The heat felt good and her chilled muscles began to relax.

  She watched through the window. Kyle tried to grab Anthony by the shoulders, but Victor was waving his hand, as if to indicate that Kyle take the feet. Good idea. Anthony was top-heavy and Kyle had the biceps of a six-year-old. The car dipped and shook as they flung Anthony into the back seat, feet first—Victor flung him. Kyle took a seat next to Anthony’s head. She felt sympathy for them both. And with Kyle sharing her experience, she felt safer, less isolated. And he was going along too. As goofy as he was, he wasn’t stupid, per se, so that was two votes for going with Victor.

  Victor hopped in the driver’s seat and shut the door with care, a curious smile on his face. He said to Kyle, “You got everything you need out of that car? My gun, perhaps?”

  Kyle looked up at Remmie, silent, then exited the car to grab the gun.

  Victor said to Remmie, “I’m glad you two had a chance to bond a little. I sent Kyle for the gun because I’m not so sure you wouldn’t try something.”

  Remmie was silent, wondering if Kyle would try something, but maybe he wasn’t smart enough to try something that would lead to success. Maybe that was another reason Victor had sent him.

  Kyle returned, holding the gun to his tummy, a newly formed snow hat on his head.

  “Well, Kyle?” Victor said. “If it’s loaded, now’s your chance.” Victor’s expression was inviting, too inviting.

  Remmie’s palms were like leaves littered with an April morning dew. She was hopeful Kyle wouldn’t take Victor’s invitation. But Kyle handed the butt end to Victor and then looked up like a dejected kid who’d broken a vase. But he had made a good decision.

  “That was a good move, Kyle,” she said. “I would have done the same thing.”

  Victor let out a lighthearted chuckle. “Shut off your phones. We could be traced. You saw what I did to Anthony’s.” Victor pulled onto the road.

  Remmie studied Victor’s features. She tried to convince herself that he at least believed what he had told them. He was crazy either way, that was for sure, but maybe with the best of intentions. She had to believe that or she would go crazy. She felt safe, for the moment. But was she ready to let Victor drive them to Nevada?

  As the distance grew between her and the Trans Am, she thought of how she’d ruined her dad’s car, and how her parents would be filled with grief when she didn’t come home. But that was what she would have done with the car anyway, leave it to her dad to figure out what to do, like she always did when anything in her life went awry.

  “What are you gonna do with me?” Anthony said. “Kyle? My wrists and ankles hurt.”

  “Don’t worry,” Victor said, “we’re gonna fix you—bring you back, okay?”

  Remmie felt the kind of sympathy for Anthony she would for an annoying kid who’d just taken a beating on the playground.

  “No more getting physical or this is done. Got it?” she said. “We’re on the fence about all of this, and we’ll turn on you if you cross the line.” She reached her hand back to tap the seat, to get Kyle’s support. “Right, Kyle?”

  “I agree with Remmie.” Kyle’s voice crackled at first but then stabilized. “We’ll turn on you. No more electrocuting or sleeper-holding anybody.”

  “I’m sorry,” Victor said. “I guess I’ve been in the know for so long . . . I know how crazy this must be for you. Agreed. No getting physical. I only want you to believe. We need to learn to trust each other.” He watched the road with a face that reminded Remmie of a thick book—so much underneath the cover.

  Kyle pushed his head between the
seats. “If there are Dames in Anthony and ones in us that aren’t affecting us but still working . . . can’t the aliens track us no matter where we are? Like the apps you share your location with?”

  “No,” Victor said. “The Dames are all just cookie-cutter copies. They’re full of complexity, but they’re simply there to interfere with the brain’s functioning, respond to external signals that trigger what they interfere with, maybe, but that’s it. Their masters won’t be able to figure out who or where we are from the devices inside of us, or those in the people we’re around.” Victor scratched his head and then pulled off his gloves. “To those under control, we’re just other people, anybody else, unless they know by some other means. Trust me. Besides, if they were connected to some mother ship in an intelligent manner, I would have been taken down a long time ago. It seems they’ve been on to me by other means.”

  “Can you tell us your story, Victor?” Kyle said.

  Remmie’s curiosity flared, the kind of curiosity that would keep her watching a horror flick, and she hated horror movies.

  “Let me get us back to the highway,” Victor said, “then I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  EIGHTEEN

  REMMIE’S FINGERS STILL held a prickly burn from the cold, unable to fully assimilate the warmth of the car. The highway was dry, the weather now tame. She flinched at Victor’s abrupt movement to put the car on cruise control.

  “I guess we have some time now,” he said. “I’ll tell you what I know.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the center console and took a generous gulp. “Need any water? There’re a bunch of bottles in the back. Kyle, you can reach them—”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Remmie said. “But I need to call home.”

  “I’ll let you call them for your piece of mind. I just ask you choose your words carefully—you’re taking a well-needed break from life, right? But please wait a little. Let me tell you more. Let your nerves cool down.”