Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) (11 page)

Aaron
had only seen them in pictures. Now he was looking at a real one—an aitherscope—a
device that used a property of fused quartz to allow a viewer to peer inside
his own clairvoyant channel, thereby revealing his half. They were rare, and
you had to be licensed by the Chamber of Halves to even own one. Now, faced
with the truth so soon, Aaron wished he still had a week-long buffer. Yet he
couldn’t resist his morbid curiosity.

Up
close, the contraption smelled like rubbing alcohol, and Aaron saw why the
globe looked opaque from across the room. There were millions of web-like
cracks spreading out from its core. Aaron felt the urge to look away from the
glass, as if he was staring someone in the eye.

A
data cable ran from the back of the aitherscope to an open laptop on a stool.
Dr. Selavio unlocked the eyepiece with a key and slid it along two concentric,
grooved tracks, one labeled with the month and day, the other with the year. He
clicked it into place at the intersection of March 30
^th
and the year
Aaron was born.

“Go
ahead and peer through the eyepiece,” said Dr. Selavio. He pulled a pen from
his breast pocket and leveled his clipboard. “It’s streaming video, so I’ll
have the same image on my laptop.”

“And
what am I supposed to see?” said Aaron.

“Should
be an image of your half’s eyes—her iris pattern, essentially. Sort of like a
fingerprint. Once we get a clear picture, we’ll get it analyzed.”

Amber’s
green eyes flashed in Aaron’s mind before he could stop himself, and he wasn’t
prepared for the nervous rush that shook his body. He stepped up to the brass
eyepiece, and his heartbeat ratcheted up. He was scared to look, scared of what
he might see—or might not see. He inhaled slowly, but his pulse kept climbing.
Maybe just a quick glance. He leaned forward, closed one eye, and touched his
eyebrow to the cold brass.

Aaron
blinked, and a white circle filled his vision, cracks whizzed out of view. Then
it went dark. He shifted to get a better angle.

“It’s
a piece of junk, it’s all black—”

Just
then an image flashed into focus. He saw threads of white static, so bright
they stung his retinas. Aaron shoved the eyepiece aside, head spinning, and
staggered backwards. A throbbing pain gnawed at the back of his skull. He
clutched his scalp.

“Is
this some kind of joke?” he said. “It’s broken!”

“Why,
what did you see?” said Casler, glancing between Aaron and the laptop screen,
now blank.

“Nothing,”
said Aaron, “just static.”

Dr.
Selavio’s eyebrows shot up, almost to his hairline. He scribbled something on
the clipboard.

Aaron
leaned forward to see what it was, but Casler tilted the clipboard away from
him, still writing. “I’m sure Clive’s explained my work,” he said.

“Actually,
I’m confused,” said Aaron, and he pulled
out the crumpled appointment reminder. “What is
Abnormal Obstetrics
anyway?”

Casler continued his
frenzied notes. “Think of me as a plumber,” he said, “
I fix leaks in the clairvoyant channel. Mainly,
I deal with
childbirth, since virtually all abnormalities in the clairvoyant channel
originate during its formation at birth.”

“Is that what I have?”
said Aaron, trying to peek over the clipboard again, “an abnormality in my
channel?”

Casler
finished jotting notes in Aaron’s file and glanced up. “If it’s alright with
you, Aaron, I’d like to see you again. Preferably before your birthday.”

“What’d
you write in my file?”

“You
have my card, Aaron,” he said, tucking the clipboard under his arm. “You should
grab Dominic now so he can drive you home.” He flashed his brilliant set of teeth
one more time and reached out his hand.

“Is
something wrong with me?” said Aaron, but he didn’t need to ask. Dr. Selavio’s
too-firm handshake confirmed his fears.

“I’m
sure it’s nothing,” said Casler.

Aaron
eyed the medical forms on the clipboard, suddenly convinced that Dr. Selavio
knew something about him the other doctors didn’t. He needed to read those
notes.

Casler
wore a ring on his middle finger, which he clinked against the clipboard. It
was the only sound in the damp, concrete space. Frozen under Dr. Selavio’s
impatient stare and unable to formulate a plan fast enough, Aaron trudged
toward the exit.

“One
more thing,” said Casler, when Aaron reached the stairs, “I’m glad you’re
curious about my work. I think you should come on Wednesday.”

“What’s
on Wednesday?” said Aaron.

“It’s
kind of like a support group for men. We all need some time by ourselves, you
know, without our halves.” He winked. “Dominic attended last week, and I think
he enjoyed himself. Think about it, Aaron. Oh, and shut the cellar door on your
way out, would you?”

***

Aaron
snapped out of his daze when he emerged from the cellar and found himself in
the grandiose marble-tiled entrance hall of Dominic’s mansion. He simply had to
get his hands on that clipboard.

Feeling
ridiculous, he hid in the bedroom where he’d found Amber until Dr. Selavio came
out a few minutes later—empty-handed, he noticed.

When
the sound of footsteps vanished, Aaron rushed back to the cellar. Once again in
the dingy chamber, he scanned the floor around the aitherscope for the
clipboard, but the only other thing in the cellar was wine. Casler must have
carried it out with him. But the laptop too? Surely, he would have seen it
under Casler’s arm.

Aaron
twisted to leave, thinking he’d been an idiot, when he caught movement out the
corner of his eye. A rack of wine bottles against the far wall.

Heart
thudding, Aaron scanned the racks, but everything lay still. Then he saw it
again. The wine in each bottle was gently sloshing back and forth.

Dr.
Selavio must have bumped the rack. Or moved it. Aaron crossed the room, and his
scalp tingled against his skull like it wanted to peel away. Electricity hummed
in the air near the back wall, cold as frost.

He
knelt and felt along the edge of the wood frame, in between the wine bottles.
Yes, the rack was on hinges.

With
a tug, the entire section came loose and swung open, exposing the bare wall—and
a gaping hole the size of a doorway, jackhammered right through the concrete.
No wonder Dr. Selavio had stayed in the cellar.

From
out of the dark pit, dank air rushed up Aaron’s nostrils. Just inside the hole,
jagged steps dropped into the earth, and he couldn’t see the bottom. The cellar
was already underground, the stairs went deeper.

Before
he chickened out, Aaron stepped into the blackness and descended, pulling the
rack closed behind him. He had done enough stupid things tonight already. What
difference would one more make?

The
stairs got steeper, thinner. Slimy roots hung from the ceiling—at least Aaron
hoped they were roots. It was too dark to tell. Thirty feet down, he hit the
bottom. The air purred with the warm smell of machinery. Drips echoed around
him.

The
stairs had opened into a chamber, and a light switch glowed red on the wall
next to him.

He
flipped the switch.

The
scene that flickered into view made him gasp. It was manmade—but hardly. An
enormous granite cavern expanded around him, with rough columns carved into the
rock. Bulbs dangled from the ceiling, blinking like sick fireflies.

And
Aaron was certain he had found the source of the static electricity he felt
upstairs.

Anchored
to the bedrock and rising to the ceiling was a device that, if fitted with
lenses, could pass as a giant telescope in an observatory. From the machine’s
base, power cords snaked into the darkness. Something massive oscillated inside
its metal core, and the nauseating rhythm thumped against Aaron’s ribs.

Slouched
in a chair at the foot of the machine, casually winding a spool of rope, was
Clive Selavio. Blood had dried on his face in crusty black trails.

He
made another coil as he watched Aaron enter the chamber. “You know we’re
supposed to be together,” he said, “me and Amber.”

“What
the hell is this place?” said Aaron, and his voice echoed.

“Be
honest,” said Clive, letting the rope unwind through his fingers, “did you kiss
her?”

They
glared at each other, and Aaron’s blood prickled. Neither one of them blinked.

Aaron
nodded to the machine. “What’s this?” he said, still not looking away.

“It’s
my father’s.”

“What’s
it do?”

“It
makes an incision in the clairvoyant channel,” said Clive. He leaned back and
ran his hand along the steel shell.

“I
thought he
fixed
leaks?” said Aaron.

“He
does, but it’s very much like surgery,” said Clive. “You ever gotten surgery?”

“Not
my thing,” said Aaron.

“They
have to cut you open first.”

Aaron
finally broke their stare. He circled the machine, too curious to hold off any
longer. Around back, panels were missing. They hadn’t been installed yet, and
Aaron saw what was inside Casler’s device.

A
spider web of crystal fibers, sewn together and pulsing like strands of mucous.
They were organic, alien—
living
. But nothing was spinning—the thumping
came from the fibers themselves. Aaron smelled burnt ammonia and wrinkled his
nose.

The
machine telescoped down to a dull metal spike, which was aimed at an operating
table crisscrossed with thick nylon straps. The straps were meant as a harness.

“Don’t
tell me someone lies here,” said Aaron.

Clive
laughed. “I guess you could say that.”

And
Aaron noticed the odor of ammonia rose from a stain at the center of table—urine.

The
machine had been used recently.

Aaron’s
heart gave a jolt. Justin Gorski. So this was how Dr. Selavio sucked out his
clairvoyance.

The
clipboard lay on a broken concrete slab behind the machine. Aaron unclipped the
medical forms and began folding them. It was time to get out of here.

“Put
that back,” said Clive, “it’s my father’s.”

When
Aaron didn’t comply, Clive lunged and closed his fist on the wad of paper. He
yanked so hard Aaron thought his wrist would snap, but Aaron held on, and the
folded stack tore in half.

Aaron
had the side with the most writing, though, and before Clive realized, he
stuffed the wad in his pocket.

Clive’s
forearms tensed, but he didn’t attack him. Aaron wondered if it had anything to
do with the wounds on his forehead.

Clive’s
lips curled into a smirk. “You’ll be going on Wednesday, won’t you?”

“Yeah,
I’ll bring a bag of potato chips for the potluck afterwards,” said Aaron.

“We
provide the refreshments,” said Clive.

“Who’s
we?
”

“The
Juvengamy Brotherhood.”

Aaron
raised his eyebrows. “Is this the weekly social?”

“It’s
a bit more formal than that,” said Clive.

“Is
Amber going?”

Clive’s
smirk only grew. “You know, juvengamy halves
get marked for each other,”
he said. “Matching tattoos.”

“I’ve
heard about that,” said Aaron.

“Ever
seen one?”

Aaron
felt his heart quiver. He didn’t say anything.

Clive
turned his side to Aaron and removed his gray hoodie. He reached for the bottom
of his shirt and lifted the hem to his shoulder—giving Aaron a full view of his
side and back.

Aaron
stared at the marks on Clive’s torso, and a chill sank into him. The lines were
white scars, etched into his pale skin—as they had been since the day he was
born. The tattoo resembled a fingerprint, only more symmetrical, more
spiral-like. It wrapped around the side of his rib cage and over his shoulder
blade, but cut off at his spine.

“It’s
only half done,” said Aaron.

Clive
let his shirt fall back into place, and his lips twisted into a cruel smile.
“That’s because Amber has the other half.”

7 Days, 9
hours, 1 minute

At two in the morning,
Dominic skidded to a stop in front of Aaron’s house.

“That’s
twenty dollars for the gas, fuckface.”

“What
is this,
Europe?
” said Aaron, the image of Clive’s tattoo still vivid in
his retinas. He threw his last two ones at Dominic and stepped out of the car,
hardly caring that now the rugby player—and probably in a few minutes, Clive
too—would know where he lived.

Amber
has the other half
. Those words haunted him still, as Dominic’s Beamer
roared away from the curb, shattering the quiet of the sleeping neighborhood.
But Aaron had to see the tattoo on Amber to know for sure. Her shoulders had
been bare while they were dancing, but he hadn’t looked. The club was too dark.