Tunnel Vision (31 page)

*   *   *

I run the whole two blocks. It’s pretty big for a regional library, gray marble, an arch above the front door. It gives me a familiar twinge to see it. I used to be here constantly too, back when I thought I was going to be a historian, do research for a living.

Christ, what if the librarians recognize me? This was beyond stupid. Dedushka was supposed to be the one doing the drop—no one would know him. I pull the baseball cap down. I’m going to have to sneak in.

I watch the entrance for a while. All I see are people I don’t know going in and out. Fine. Okay. Go.

I try to walk normally, casually, through the scanners. From the front door I can see the librarian’s desk. She looks up, eyes on the door, on me. But I’m lucky—it’s not someone I know. I don’t know how I would have explained it if it was.

It feels like the walls are closing in on me already. Trapping me.

I pick up the pace, cut to the left and head past the children’s room. It’s huge, one of my favorite parts of this place. When I was little it was mostly just picture books and stuff, but they’ve added to it a lot.

Myk and I talked about hiding the pin in a picture book, something like
Where the Wild Things Are
that I read to her over and over when she was little. But it’s too heavily trafficked, with little kids who see small, hidden things. Too unpredictable. I head past it, up the stairs to Nonfiction.

Damn, I’m up stairs now, separated from the outside. How easy it would be to lock me in here. I breathe deeply, force myself to relax. It’s a huge, public building, Jake. You’re fine.

I see Genealogy, where I used to spend a lot of time working on my senior project. I feel a tug even now. What if I could disappear into that aisle and everything would be back the way it was six months ago? When my biggest worry was whether I’d get into Stanford, and whether Rachel Watkins liked me. But back then I thought Dad was dead too. Gone forever.

I pass the aisle and head to Chemistry, Myk’s domain. Run a finger over the call numbers, my pulse pumping. 540 Asi. 540 … there it is.
Asimov on Chemistry.
Myk loves this book. I pull it out. The book’s old enough that there’s still a pocket in the front where the card used to go. I feel inside, and there it is, solid in my hand. Dad’s tie tack, a small gold air force logo. There’s a folded note too.

I open it. Myk drew a picture of a bottle of Elmer’s glue. Underneath she wrote
soon
.

Glue. Our family ritual. Dad’s.

I wish I could tunnel to him
now
. But I can’t do it here.

As if to prove my point, a guy in a tracksuit comes around the corner and stops at the other end of the aisle. He glances at me before turning to the shelf.

An agent?

I shove the note in my pocket, but keep the pin in my hand. I don’t want to let go of it. I’ll go with Dedushka later, in a safe place. I duck my head and go out the aisle, trot down the stairs.

“
Jake
?”

Her voice—I know that voice—freezes me. There’s shock in it, and disbelief.

I turn slowly, even though I know I shouldn’t.

Rachel. Right there in front of me, in front of the kid’s section, staring. Her eyes shining with tears.

36

“Rachel” by Thomas Cunningham

“It is you,” she whispers. “But you’re … you’re…” She steps forward, one hand stretched out, like she thinks I’m a ghost. Or wants to prove I’m not.

“Dead?” I smile, sort of. Sad. “Not quite.”

“Oh my god. I went to your funeral.” Her hands tremble. Mine do too, but I keep them clenched tight by my sides. So I don’t accidentally reach for her. God, she’s gorgeous. I had her like a still picture in my head, or the hallucinations. They don’t match up to the real thing. I know this is bad, dangerous for her, for me. But part of me is happy to see her. One more time.

“I’m so sorry … Rachel…” The pin scratches my palm, reminding me that I can’t stay here. I can’t do this. Dedushka’s waiting, and someone could be coming any minute. I shift, look over my shoulder. “I have to—”

“No.” She crosses the gap, grabs my hand. Fierce. Her hand is hot in mine. “I’m not letting you disappear with no explanation. What happened to you?”

“I can’t—”

She clenches her jaw and looks up at me, pinning my hand in hers, her eyes still wet. “You leave without talking to me, and I scream.”

I go still. “What?”

“You’re trying to avoid attention. I can see it. I’m not letting you leave here without telling me where you’ve been, what really happened.” Her voice hitches. “I’ll scream, and you’ll have to stay here until they sort it out, and I bet you don’t want that.”

I look at the librarian who’s got her eye on us. The claustrophobia’s getting bad too. I feel the tremors tickling under my skin. I can’t stay here. But I definitely can’t let her scream. “Let’s go outside.”

She studies me carefully. “Promise you’ll tell me? You won’t bolt?”

I was going to bolt. I have no idea what to tell her. But I sigh. “Promise.”

She squeezes my hand, keeping her grip on it, and we go through the doors like that. Holding hands like a couple.

Once outside, I do a once-over quick for any danger—and for somewhere we can talk without attracting attention. She pulls me around the corner. We’re behind bushes, but I can still see the entrance. Not bad.

She lets go of my hand, and for a second mine feels cold. I tug the baseball cap lower over my eyes. I glance at her face—tight, waiting. Her hair’s in a braid over her shoulder. That strand of hair is loose again, almost touching her lips. But her eyes … her eyes are so confused, hurt.

Damn it. I don’t know what to say.

“It’s because of that thing you did at the party, isn’t it? Tunneling?”

I inhale sharply. With everything that happened after, I’d forgotten she knew about that. Witnessed it. “Yes.”

How strange to tell the truth.

“You’re in trouble. Were you not supposed to do that or something? Is it secret? Can I help?”

I meet her eyes. She’s leaning forward, intent. Right now, she reminds me of Myka. Laser focus. She’s already switched from bewilderment to puzzling it out.

More than anything I hated lying to my sister, to Rachel, to everyone. Hated leaving them. And what did it help? Where did it get me, all the lying, protecting DARPA? I don’t want to lie anymore.

“They’ve been keeping me locked up in a government facility,” I blurt. “Spying for them. They pretended I was dead, set it all up.”

She purses her lips. Her cheeks are flushed, bright pink. “And you escaped.”

I think she thinks I’m crazy. Lord knows I sound crazy.

“Yeah. My grandfather helped me escape.” I scan the entrance again for anyone suspicious. It’s clear. “But I have to go.”

“They’re looking for you?” She plucks a leaf from the bush next to us and folds it over and over, her eyes still on me. “But why are you back? What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to find my dad.”

It’s a mistake telling her that. I know it as soon as it leaves my mouth. It was dumb to tell her anything, but that was spectacularly dumb. I guess I’m rattled, seeing her. If Liesel ever thinks to talk to Rachel … crap.

Her gaze is sharp again. “I thought your dad was dead? I remember…”

“He isn’t.” I shake my head. “Like I’m not. It’s complicated.”

She drops the leaf—it spins to the ground—and leans forward again. She’s so close. She’s wearing a summery short skirt, her legs so long, tan. “Take me with you.”

That wipes all thoughts of legs out of my head. “Why would you want to…?
No
. No way in hell.”

“I graduated,” she says, sounding all reasonable and sane, and like I didn’t even answer. “I don’t have anything going on all summer. Not until I go to California for college. My dad’s gone. My mom’s a mess—crazed. We’re not getting along at all. I could
help
you.” She reaches up and gently, hesitantly, touches my cheek, and my pulse goes psychotic. “My dad’s gone, and doesn’t want to be found. Let me help you find yours.”

I want her to keep touching me. I don’t want this to stop, to be alone again. But.

“You don’t understand. It’s not like hiding from the principal, or a couple security guards or something. These are people who—” My voice trails off.

Across the parking lot I see Myka, blithely walking to the library, a backpack bouncing on her back.
Myka
. I want to shout at her, hug her—protect her—all at the same time. A hundred yards behind her, there’s an agent. In tan slacks and a short-sleeve shirt, the bulge of a shoulder holster underneath. Another agent on the other side of the street, a woman. Her hand in her purse. They’re so obvious, I don’t even think they’re trying to hide. They’re both actively scanning the area. I’m suddenly sure they’re going to see me, sense me. I duck down to the grass, pull Rachel with me.

“Trouble?” she asks, low.

I glance at her. The panic must be clear in my face, because I see it shift to hers.

“Them.”

I need to run. Without actually running, or alerting anyone’s attention. I need to leave Rachel and Myka here, safe, and find a way to—

“Come on,” she says, and grabs my hand again.

It flashes through my head that she’s going to kiss me. Like she did, but more, like they always do in TV shows to hide. On TV, no cops or bad guys think of looking at a kissing couple. But she doesn’t. She tugs me up and pushes me back and to the side, into a little space I didn’t even see behind a stucco wall.

It’s a line of recycling bins, hidden from outside view, with a tiny entrance on that side. I turn back to her, surprised, and her mouth curves. She looks excited, alive.

“I’m working here this summer. Well, I was.” She keeps pushing me, all the way along the building, until the wall ends at the back of the library. We stop. The passage dumps into a sidewalk, then a thick cover of trees. There’s a street beyond. I can get out this way easy, without anyone seeing me. Circle back around to Dedushka. Then all I have to do is tunnel to Dad, find out where he is, and head out.

Wait,
was
working here?

“You can’t come with me,” I say. Quiet, but clear.

“I’m coming with you,” she says in the same tone.

I face her. I’m almost a foot taller than her, but it feels like she has the upper hand. “You wouldn’t scream. Not when you know what would happen. They’d take me back, Rachel.”

She flinches, but maintains eye contact. “I wouldn’t. You’re right. But I’d follow you.” She swallows, hard. Her eyelashes are wet. “I will follow you. And won’t it be less obvious if I’m with you, than trailing behind while you try to ditch me? They won’t be looking for a couple.”

We stare for another long minute, neither of us giving.

“You’re back,” she says very low, her voice breaking. “I thought you were dead.”

God. I can’t fight her now. I’m doing the same thing, going after Dad, not letting anything stop me.

Maybe she can help with Prius dude if Dedushka hasn’t handled it. Use some of those girl wiles. But then I’ll say good-bye and leave her here, and go with Dedushka. She is
not
coming any further than that.

We run. Side by side, like we’re jogging together. She smiles up at me. It’s like she thinks this is an adventure, like she’s Veronica Mars and she’s going to save me, easy as pie.

I don’t smile back. Nothing is easy anymore.

*   *   *

When we get close I see Dedushka sitting in the truck reading a novel, parked a few spaces down from the accident. The munched Prius is still there, but the owner is gone.

I stop half a block away, before Dedushka has seen me. Us.

“This is it,” I say. “You have to leave me here.” I frown. I don’t know how to do this. “Thank you.”

She slips her hand into mine again. “I told you I’m coming. Lead on.”

I yank my hand away, suddenly angry. Her and Myk, both of them. Endangering themselves, endangering me. Why don’t they understand?

“You don’t get it,” I explode. “I have been
locked up.
By the government. For four months. I didn’t see the sun, Rachel. I didn’t step outside for
four months.
They used me—” I close my eyes for a second, breathe. “For all sorts of things I’d never tell you. And it would’ve gotten worse. It
will
get worse, if they find me. This is
real
.”

She watches my face, solemn.

“People have been shot. Right next to me. Because of me. I don’t want that to happen to you, okay? I want you to be a normal part of my—” I pause, searching her dark eyes, but push on. “My past. Not part of this…” I wave my hand.

Dedushka pulls up next to us, the truck rumbling. Glaring at me through the windshield. He points at the door. I glance at Rachel—quiet, her lips pressed together—and open it.

She steps up and in, sliding next to Dedushka.

“No!” I yell, over the deafening engine. “Get out!”

“Get in, foolish,” Dedushka growls. “We will sort this later.” I get in, shut the door, and he takes off, shaking his head. “Shouting in the street. Do you try to make people look?”

We drive. No one says anything until we’re well away in a neighborhood. Dedushka pulls the truck over and parks, cuts the engine. Then he turns and looks at me. At Rachel.

“How’d you manage the Prius?” I ask. Distraction for a moment.

Dedushka shrugs. “Play dumb and pay money. That cost us much of our cash. Now you explain…” He gestures at Rachel, sitting between us. She folds her arms defiantly.

I open my mouth, but she answers. “I saw him, and made him bring me.”

Dedushka’s eyebrows rise in a way that reminds me of Pete.
Idiot
.

My cheeks go hot. What does he think, I decided to bring my girlfriend along? That I didn’t try to stop her? “She threatened to scream. And then Myka was there, and agents, so she helped me get out.”

His eyebrows snap down at the word
agents
. “Yakob. How much did you tell her?”

I sigh. “Everything.”

He swallows. “She knows what we are doing here?”