River: A Novel (6 page)

 Nervously, I
walked over to Danny and tugged the back of his shirt. He spun around and
captured me in an all-encompassing hug. I breathed out a sigh of relief. This Dan
was on my side. He had to be.

After “
hugging
it out”
as Dan
used
to say, he kissed my forehead and nodded when I asked
feebly if he would, indeed, help me. He explained in code that we had to wait
for the reasons I’d guessed, and then we would go back to his place. Dan apparently
knew where “I” lived in River, but I disclosed quickly my reluctance to go
there. Even the concept that I had a home I couldn’t recall made everything too
real. Denial mixed with disbelief colored my perception, and in the back of my
mind I was hoping we would just happen upon the metropolis of New York by the
end of the night. Instinct whispered that it was unlikely, though the hope was
still there. There was also no way I wanted to be left alone in this strange
and more than slightly terrifying world. 

 We emerged
from the sound studio after the building had emptied. I was relieved to walk
into the hall; the lights were dimmed low with no one around. We moved quietly through
the mirror maze, and Dan was leading me with a hand lightly pressed to the
small of my back. I caught sight of my features and didn’t
recognize myself. My eyes were too
wide, with dark circles smudged under them despite all the sleep I’d allegedly had;
my eyebrows pressed together in anxious concentration.

 The maze
lasted a beat too long for comfort, and my rigid legs carried me past the vacant
ticket booth, ready to jump at the slightest motion. I felt massive relief when
the heavy glass door clicked behind us. Outside, the frigid air had me alert in
an instant. It was colder than I’d ever remembered. Noticing my lack of winter
gear, Dan wrapped his coat partially around me as I mimicked his
steps to avoid tripping and
accidently make a sound of some sort, securing my death. I shivered from either
fear or the temperature, most likely both.

 Paranoid of
unseen, unknown enemies, I focused on the somber violin evaporating into the
night. The ubiquitous music had no source I could pinpoint; it was just like
the air, everywhere and constant. We saw a few people while entering the
miniscule rail station. And although there were plenty of street lamps, it was
still creepy. The only other sounds were the subway-like noises, which were
hushed and opposite from the rattle-your-teeth jarring that I was used to
enduring. The classical music was at the perfect volume to bleed into white
noise, gradually easy to ignore.

 Of course,
it was a quiet walk from the rail stop to Danny’s apartment, a block away. The
low music streaming through the air was calming, and I felt my pulse slow to a
normal level. When we reached the doorway and walked through, I was downright
sleepy and hardly noticed an exchange between Dan and the doorman. By the time
the elevator stopped at his floor, my head was resting on Dan’s shoulder. I
disjointedly stumbled to a door and was pulled through it. Lights, shaking,
water… water on my face?

 I sputtered
and jumped up, wiping my face with my sleeve. The water was freezing. Dan had the
strangest expression as he handed me a towel: a blend of pity and anger. Was he
upset that I had nearly passed out again? Well it couldn’t have been helped. I
was more exhausted than I ever recalled feeling. 

 “Want to
explain that?” Scrutinizing his blurred form, I whispered incredulously while
drying my glasses. I glanced around quickly to be sure we were alone. The door and
windows were closed. Dan had also turned on some music, something more
Dan-like, but only instrumental—no vocals. “Don’t tell me it’s a crime here to
sleep, because that’s just breaking the laws of nature… ” My little rant
trailed off. He looked terribly sad.

 He made his
hold on
gesture again and left the room. I surveyed his apartment while
he was gone to see more sound equipment, a small, modern kitchen between two
hallways, and a living area in front of several curtained windows that held a
sleek leather sofa. It was as clean as a freshly made hotel room.
He
must
have a maid
, my worn mind reasoned. Dan came back with lined paper—the kind
used to write music. I about fell over when he began writing on it with
letters, not code. He turned the page to face me.

T
ell me
everything
, Lodie
.

 “I thought
you couldn’t write!” I fought to keep my voice down.

I
couldn’t there, they may have seen.

 He continued
to scrawl lightly on the paper. Actually, his hand writing was much better than
mine. Neater. I scowled.

 “Dan,” I
began, but was suddenly at a loss. I was so tired that my thoughts flurried
while my body stumbled forward and fell into the sofa. He followed, ignoring my
collapse, and continued to write on the coffee table.

I was hoping
the Lulling
wouldn’t work on you
,
because you can speak now
.
And apparently
read letters as well—they don’t
exist to most
people here
.

 I just
shook my throbbing head in confusion, reading over his shoulder as he wrote.

 “Lulling?”

 After
studying me for a moment, he began writing again. 

The music. It’s
how they
keep everyone
confined
. 
Like a drug
.  

 Dan waited
patiently for this to register.

 “
That
is
why I’m sleepy—the music playing outside?” Still drowsy while questioning him, and
though my head hurt just forming words, a distant alarm was going off in my
mind. I felt the way I had after taking cold medicine; every molecule of
wakefulness in my body had been swallowed up by heavy lethargy. He nodded, meticulously
erasing, while I hesitated to ask another question, the most important one.
“Why can’t you talk Dan?” My words slurred.

 He gazed at
me for a few seconds, then at the paper as he wrote. Solemnly, he turned it around
for me to read.

We all have
our voice
boxes
removed at birth. How did you
keep yours? Why didn’t you understand signing?

 My mind
went blank before envisioning the voice box being cut out of a Baby Danny and
then whirled sickeningly. “Oh, Dan. God, you had your
voice box cut out
?
Why…? Who…
? That’s terrible!” I cried, just as he clamped my lips closed
with his fingers. I was wide awake now—horror stories did that to me.

 “Sorry,” I
whispered after he’d freed me. Anger warred with nausea as I wrapped my arms
around my torso, staring at Dan. How could someone have done this to him—to
anybody? It was atrocious, mutilation, torture. Someone had
tortured and
mutilated
my
best
friend. The one who hogged the karaoke stage when he was on a roll, who would sing
seventies punk in an unintelligible British accent on crowded buses while I pretended
not to know him, and who had burst into drunken torch songs
on the
street under Petra’s dorm window the night of the party when we’d met. His
voice was the biggest part of him, next to his heart. I felt as if mine had
just been strangled with the knowledge of what had happened to him, and I
couldn’t stop it… I couldn’t change it.

 “I can’t
believe that was done to you,” I said in a choked whisper, feeling guilty for
still
having a voice. I’d
never used it much before, taken it for granted.

It happened to
you, too. Or so I thought
. 

 He wrote, and
I read reluctantly. This story was just getting worse. He tapped my shoulder
because I had looked away, lost in remorse for my friend.  

Why
can’t you sign Lodie
?

 I shrugged listlessly;
the weight of my shoulders felt like one thousand pounds. Assuming he meant the
complicated gestures I’d seen him do outside the theater, I murmured, “I don’t
know how.” Suddenly, all the shock from this unbelievable new knowledge rapidly
drained away. I leaned back with weary tension. Danny was looking all
apprehensive again, and I wanted to cry.

 “Look, Dan,”
I said quietly. “Something’s not right here, besides the obvious.” I pointed at
my mouth. “We need to go over some stuff. Like the past and the present, all of
which I’m not sure about.” Next to me, he threw his arm around the back of the
sofa. It was something he would have always done.

 I looked at
my best friend in the world, my only friend in
this
world, and sighed. “I
am
so
tired. I think I need to crash and maybe my brain will work better
in the morning… along with my memory.” He took off my glasses and smoothed the damp
hair away from my forehead. It felt nice, sort of a boyfriend thing to do. But
I really couldn’t think about that. My fuzzy brain had gone past overload a
while ago and desperately needed to sleep. I hoped in vain that upon waking, everything
would be right again.

 Dan pulled
me off the couch and led me to a hallway. My arms and legs felt as if they had
anchors attached to them. “What’s wrong with me?” I mumbled, struggling to keep
my eyes open, as though I’d been given a tranquilizer, or five. 

 “Shhh…” It
was all he could do. He must have known there was no way I could’ve translated
any code in my state. We had to figure out a better way to communicate… first
thing on the list to do tomorrow. Dan opened a door for me, and I fell on top
of a mattress, noting the military-precision sheets. For some reason, this
melted through the layers of stupor.

 “Do you
have a maid?” I had to know.   

 A breathy
chuckle was his response. With no volume, it sounded like a stealthy laugh during
some somber event. My thoughts faded when he helped me kick off my shoes and
pull down the sheets. I left the rest of my clothes on, unable to move. Through
the slits of my eyelids, I watched Dan lean in and kiss my forehead, his hand
grazing my cheek. Then I was gone.

..................

God, oh
no, no! They’re gaining on us! Why? We didn’t
do
anything! 

 It occurred
to me at this point that I was dreaming. With a landscape that changed so
abruptly, there was no way I was any place on Earth. I was also not concerned
at all that the person I followed had a death-grip on my hand, pulling me so
hard that my feet were flying across the snow… pavement? The unstable ground
was in constant flux. The maze we were in changed from city blocks filled with
vendors in colorful tents to forest and snowy pastures. Objects were in our
way:  bicycles, boulders, and people with batons. We mowed right over them. It
was because of me. It had been my fault that we fled. This was all I was
certain of, until we were in the strange marketplace again. The vendors sold
anything and everything. I stopped abruptly at a table. A man sat there holding
a deck of cards. I looked away for a second; the hand that had been in mine was
gone.
He
was gone.

 I can’t
think about that now… I have to concentrate.

 The man in
front of me gestured to a seat
.
I shook my head. No time to sit—I had to
move
. He
shrugged and laid out three of the cards from his hand. The first was a bottomless,
tunneling cavern whose depths I could
see
into, full darkness. Tearing
my eyes from the mystery, I was unable to make out the next card because it
glowed as bright as the sun in a heat wave.  The harder I looked at it, the
more impossible it became. Dropping the second card and on to the next, my
anxiety was so great that while clutching it, the card shattered into bits. The
man wore an empathetic smile when I flung the pieces back at him, already running.
A melodic chuckle followed.

 I had the
feeling I was being watched.

 My mind
slowly pulled away from the dream. I felt very strange… dehydrated? Feverish
and weak, I was having a hard time breathing and hearing. Everything on the right
side of my head was muffled with cotton. I could still hear, couldn’t I? While
unsure, I was trying to get back into the previous dream for there was something
I needed to know, to remember. There was an annoying beeping sound… an alarm.
What
do I need to get up so early for today?
Well, it wasn’t happening. I
breathed out my nose in a huff and went back under to find what I was looking
for, or running from.

 This time,
I was alone at night in a deserted parking lot. Everything was gray and black—a
murky and impenetrable gloom. When I walked past an abandoned brick building, a
quiet terror lurked in my chest and bled into my mind. Then there was the sound
of water. It was a gully far below the edge of the lot, behind a fence. Unable
to pass through the chain-links, I couldn’t force my dream body to climb over. There
was something over there. I would walk the length, looking for a way in, or
just give up and—