Intrepid (34 page)

“
What
?”
 

“Oh, Texi. I’m so sorry. Michael was on duty that night. He thinks your Papa was lucid when he heard us talking about how y’all died. We think he somehow got outside to be alone. He must have been unable to find his way back when he slipped back into another episode,” she explained. “The Sheriff’s Department searched for days, but we couldn’t find him.”
 

I closed my eyes to the news. Papa was gone. The Ortizes were gone. All the answers were gone. Papa was supposed to explain what the other half was. Why would Lindsay send me back to Geronimo for answers if she knew Papa wouldn’t be here?
 

“I’m so sorry, hon,” Rebecca said again, misreading the despair on my face. She went back behind her desk and withdrew a small box with a ribbon on it. “He had one last gift for you, though.” She set it on the counter, and I took it with shaky hands. What good would a stupid trinket do me? I needed Papa, and I needed his answers.
 

Where did Sheriff Garza hide him? Maybe if I went to the Sheriff, he could help me contact Papa. But then again, maybe he’d also contact Ringo.
 

Coming back here was a waste of time.
 

I opened the box, and inside was the white queen, smooth and marbled. This was the missing piece from the Chess collection he’d slowly given me. Each piece had been sprinkled in with all the other strange gifts he’d left me on his windowsill, and I kept wondering where the queen was and when he’d finally give it to me. It made me want to hug it and throw it against the wall all at the same time. Instead, I rolled it around in my fingers before I looked at the felt bottom. Papa’s chicken-scratch handwriting angled the lines so that they made a sharp, clear letter V.

V.
 

What did that mean? What good was a stupid queen with a stupid lett—

Every chess piece had a letter!
 

It was a word!
 

All the gifts Papa used to leave on the windowsill next to the fern? The newspaper articles and odd clippings? Was he trying to tell me something? Maybe they were things he couldn’t explain until the Change happened, and perhaps he knew I’d return to him for answers—but he wouldn’t be here to give them to me. The box under my bed may have all the answers we were looking for.
 

“Liam,” I whispered. “We have to go.”
 

Rebecca stepped back from her desk and put her hands on her hips. Her lips drew a straight line of disapproval across her face, and she asked, “Go where, missy?”
 

“Yeah. Where?” The words that echoed Rebecca’s were vice-grips squeezing down on my heart, and I looked to the door where Sully stood. His broad shoulders took up the width of the door frame, and I let out a choked gasp. I stepped towards him out of habit, but had to still my movement. This wasn’t
my
Sully. This was traitor Sully.
 

I looked towards Liam. He was examining Sully with the appraising way he looked at everything, and I could see a plan forming in his eyes as he said, “You look smaller in person.”
 

“Funny, dude.” Sully rolled his eyes at the comment like he was flicking away an annoying fly. I’d seen him do this so often in class that I wanted laugh like I used to at the gesture. “But now’s not the time for cleverness. Texi, I need to talk to you.”
 

Rebecca reached over for the phone on the counter that surrounded her desk, and began to push in numbers. She glared at Sully and warned, “There’s a warrant for your arrest,”
 

At this, he laughed that old, familiar laugh. “Let me guess. He thinks I burned the Ortizes’ house down. Rebecca, I didn’t.”
 

“I’m calling the cops,” she said, punching in the rest of the numbers.
 

I closed my eyes, and thought about what Lindsay said about duty having a funny way of twisting the things we love. Sully loved me, or at least part of him did. What was he doing here, and how did he know I’d come back? But even that was a silly question. Sully understood the things I cared about, and the way I felt about the old man. Of course I’d eventually return to Papa, and if he wanted to find me, this was definitely the place to wait.
 

“There are others, you know. Like Liam,” Sully said.
 

I opened my eyes and tried to breathe.
 

“I know where some of them are,” he added.
 

I shook my head, trying to shake the words back out. There were others like Liam? We weren’t two of a kind? I looked at Liam. His eyes were a hard cerulean pulsing with the heat of turquoise. “Are there more like me?” I asked, backing into the counter that surrounded Rebecca’s desk. There was too much and not enough space between Sully and me, and it made me feel alone and claustrophobic all at once. He was jumbling up my thoughts like a wadded piece of paper.
 

Sully frowned and stepped forward. “No,” he said. That word hurt in strange ways. If what Sully said was true, Liam had others like him. That meant Liam wasn’t going through all of this completely alone. One day, he might meet other Saltador Movers. But me? I’d always be one of a kind. Like others. Similar to others. But never the same. I’d be the only one of Lindsay’s Intrepid that could Splice.
 

 
Sully took another step towards us, and Liam reached out to grab my forearm. The Energy inside of his touch jolted me back into clear, clean thoughts. It made me remember. It made me think.
 

I wanted to trust Sully, but I couldn’t because he’d never given me a reason to. I’d promised myself I’d judge a person by their intentions, and Sully’s were uncertain. I pulled away from the feeling of safety I used to hear within his voice, and I reminded myself of the new truths I believed.
 

I had to trust myself.
 

I had to trust Liam.
 

The swirl bloomed in my eyes, and I knew where to go. I looked at Liam and nodded.
 

It might be a mistake to Bucket Hop in front of Rebecca, but we were out of time and options.
 

“Don’t go,” Sully pleaded, reading my mind like he’d always known how to. “Stay with me.” There was pain in the begging, but I didn’t know if it was an act. “I miss you, Texi. I’m so sorry. You have to know that I lo—”

But I didn’t wait for the rest of it. I’d already closed my eyes and dragged Liam through the Nothing and into my old room.
 

I let out a startled gasp when I looked around. My room had been ransacked. Furniture was moved or toppled, drawers were left open, the mattress had been sliced into, and nearly everything I owned had been tossed onto the floor. My old life had been ripped and torn apart, but there was no time to let grief in.

I shoved my bed frame a few feet to the right and sighed with relief when I saw the floor board was still intact.
 

Ringo built me the cubby when I was seven. “A girl needs a place to hide her secrets,” he’d said.
 

“What if I want to hide things from you?” I’d asked.
 

“Why would you, kiddo? Besides, I’m pretty sure your secrets are far too boring for me. But never tell anyone about this, not even Sully,” he’d said, and I never did.
 

I reached under the metal frame of the bed and grabbed the tiny piece of metal I always used to pull the board up. It creaked as I pried it open, and I let out a relieved sigh when I saw that the box was still there.
 

I grabbed it, and Liam followed me down the hall. It was weird how well he could read me. He didn’t seem to need to ask me why I had to come back here. It was as if I’d already explained my plan inside of the Nothing without actually saying it out loud.
   

When we entered Ringo’s office, it looked as if the contents of the room had been tossed into a salt shaker, shook around, and re-sprinkled across the floor. Papers, chairs, books, the desk. It was a mess.
 

I went to the small table by the window where Papa and I used to play chess. I righted it, and found the board crushing the bodies of strewn pieces. When I lifted it, the hardwood floors looked like a battlefield of dead, stone-bodies strewn about.
 

I began rummaging through the box to pull out all the white pieces that had settled to the bottom under the haphazard papers. “Help me set them up,” I said.
 

But Liam looked at the board helplessly. “I’ve never played,” he admitted.
 

I didn’t have time for laughter, but I did it anyway. “Seriously? What planet were you born on?” I asked.

“A better one than you, I’m sure,” he bit back. I was starting to like this new Liam, or maybe it was the old Liam—the one I’d never met until now. Who knew what kind of person this boy was growing up to be on that boat in the Middle of Nowhere, Multiverse? “How do you know which direction to line them up?”
 

I looked at the board where I’d started lining pieces up in what I thought were their right places. Without realizing it, Liam brought up a major kink in my plan. The mix of pawns could make up any number of words, and the doubles of rooks, bishops, and knights posed a similar problem. I frowned and picked up a rook. I pinched it in my finger and looked at the felt on the bottom. An S, and it could go on the left or the right of the board.
 

I rolled the rook between my fingers and thumb, and I closed my eyes. “Think,” I whispered. “Think.” With my eyes closed, I felt the marbled curves in the rook more intensely, and I noticed a slight scratch in the smooth surface. I opened my eyes and brought the piece up to my face so I could look at it more closely. Underneath the top part of the rook, a miniature H1 was scratched. It was so minute that I wouldn’t have seen it before the Change when my eyes were not freakishly sharp. But now? I could see it perfectly.
 

I laughed, and put the piece down in the right, bottom corner. “There’s an entire chess grid,” I explained to Liam as I picked up a pawn. I rolled it around until I found the tiny scratches where it began to curve into its bulbous head. C2. “Papa marked each piece with the location they go.”
 

As I set a knight down on B1, I could hear Papa yell out from the kitchen as he added spices to his famous chili, “Move my knight from B1 to C3!” That man could play an entire game while multitasking. Perhaps he didn’t care about the game. Maybe he’d always planned to, addled or not, leave me these clues. That whole being-trained-under-the-surface idea really had a way of morphing even the most innocent of memories.
   

“Go find a pad and pen in this mess,” I said, shoving the idea aside so I could find all the other scratches. While he rummaged near the desk, I lined up all the pieces on the board. The pawns. The rook, bishops, and knights, with the king and queen in between according to the directions Papa left.
 

“Found them!” Liam said, hurrying back to where I knelt. Then I took a deep breath before I lifted up the left rook. An A. Then the knight. S. Liam wrote each letter, and by the time I lifted them all, he had written in his surgically, neat handwriting: Asmovers.

“What the hell are Asmovers?” I asked.
 

Liam sighed. “Beats me.”
 

The pawns weren’t much help either. From left to right, their letters spelled Trubanal. Liam said the two words together. “Trabunal Asmovers. Okay. Like that helps Asmovers make any more sense.”

There was something we were missing, and I said it again. “Trubanal Asmovers.” I didn’t make sense. “What if we flipped it around?” I asked.
 

Liam wrote the letters in the opposite direction and asked, “Srevomsa Lanuburt?”

“Do you know of any cultures in any universes with that name?” I asked. It would make sense that Liam might know more than I did, since he’d spent his entire life examining data about the Multiverse, but he shook his head no.
 

“I do know, however, how to work the search forums.” He pulled up his screen and began typing things in, while I mumbled over both sayings. I scribbled on the pad Liam had abandoned next to the board, then I began rearranging the letters in case it was an anagram. Maybe the words ‘other’ or ‘half’ were in there, but there wasn’t an ’H’. By the time I pulled out the words Sun Trouble Ramvas, I realized I was chopping down the wrong tree, and I went back to the origin of our search. “TrubanalAsmovers.” I said it over and over again until the break in the letters adjusted into new words. Then I laughed. “Movers!”
 

“What?” Liam pulled his head up from his screen to look at me.
 

“It’s not Asmovers. It’s Movers. And the first word is Trubanalas! Mrs. Ortiz used to tell me stories about them?”

Liam cocked his head and grinned. “I know of them!”
 

“The Trubanalas?” I whispered. They were the ones with interlocking circles between their eyebrows when they got married.
 

He grinned. “The Trubanalas—these Movers Sully spoke of. Maybe they are there?”

“Crap!” I yelled and hopped up.
 

Liam’s body went rigid, and his stance grew alert. He scanned the room, looking for whatever’d startled me. “What?”
 

“Sully! We shouldn’t have done this here. It was stupid to stay this long. Sully’d think to look here before long. He might be checking out our other places first.”
 

Liam frowned, and I knew the look of frustration that ran across his expression. He was pissed he didn’t think of the same thing sooner. He stepped forward to grab my arm so we could go, but another thought made me step back.
 

“Wait a minute,” I said. I gathered the scattered clippings and other clues left swimming in the shoe box and stacked them in a neat pile. Once the papers were organized, I realized it was a smaller stack than it appeared to be. I found a paperclip from the floor to hold them together.