John Gone (18 page)

“Maybe a miracle will happen and it won’t be
necessary,” John said.

“Miracles are just improbabilities that occur
at odd or convenient times,” he said. “There is nothing that can
help you now, improbable or otherwise. I’ll stop bothering you, but
the longer you search for a magic trick, the more risk you put me
in. And yourself. There. That’s the last I’ll say of it.”

John slowed, now travelling down the street
where Molly lived. He watched the addresses printed on the
mailboxes as he drove by and searched for the number that would
identify her house.

“Who is this Molly person, anyway?” Kala
asked.

“My girlfriend,” John said. “Why does
everyone keep asking me that?”

John found Molly’s house and turned into her
long driveway. He cut the engine and walked his scooter the rest of
the way up the pavement toward her sprawling one-story house.

“Oh,” Kala said, “I thought Ronika was--”

“Was what?” John asked sharply.

“None of my business,” Kala muttered.

“That’s exactly what she is,” John said. “Can
you turn off the light show? I don’t want Molly to freak out.”

“As you say,” Kala answered. His image
dissipated.

“Can you still hear everything?” John
asked.

“Yes, believe it or not, the microphone is
located in the watch, not the hologram,” Kala answered.

John ignored the jab. “Can you turn off your
speakers, then? I’d like some privacy.”

“I
can
turn off my speakers.”

“Will you?”

“Fine.”

“How will I know?”

“That I’m not listening?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t.”

“Can I trust you to do it?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“There’s no way you were a Scout.”

“Scientist’s honor then. What do you want
from me?”

“I have no idea.”

“If I do as you ask, then how will I know
when to turn them back on?”

“3:14, the next jump.”

“Alright, then.”

“So you promise? No speakers until 3:14?”

There was no response.

John walked up to Molly’s front door and
looked at her white rectangular doorbell. He imagined Molly’s
father opening the door instead of her, yelling, maybe even calling
the police if he recognized his face from the news.

Dismayed by the idea of it, John decided
against the front, and circled her house to find a better way in.
There was a side door that led out into the yard, but he knew that
disturbing it carried similar dangers to the front.

John continued to scout the house’s
perimeter, now focused on the windows instead of the doors. Most
were closed with white slat blinds or bland beige drapery. In
John’s mind, Molly’s window would be dressed with large pink
curtains. To his amazement, he was right.

A large window, completely enclosed by wavy
white and pink curtains, was in front of him on the wall. He
considered knocking on it, or maybe throwing gravel at the glass
like people did in the movies. After quick consideration, he
decided against both. Molly was already furious with him, so being
scared abruptly from sleep wasn’t going to help his chances at a
calm and reasonable dialog. And anyway, he thought, throwing gravel
at a first-story window would be a bit silly.

John wanted a foolproof strategy before
destroying what would probably be his only shot at saving a
relationship with Molly. He bent down and sat in the grass under
her window while he thought of one. He was still tired from last
night’s hike through the woods and had gotten no sleep under the
leaves as he’d originally hoped. Sleep had been impossible knowing
the Advocates were hunting him nearby.

Thank God they can’t find me here
, he
thought.

A moment later, he realized that he had no
idea why they couldn’t track him back to the Longboard warehouse.
He opened his mouth to ask Kala before remembering that his
speakers were turned off. He thought about Boone. He wondered if
the man had survived the night. He hoped so.

John awoke the next day to the swift kick of
a rollerblade. Its front wheel connected with his badger bite. He
winced and opened his eyes upward to his assailant. It was Molly.
The girl was difficult to see beneath the harsh sunlight reflecting
off her bright red helmet, but who else would it be? Molly lifted
her rollerblade to kick him again.

“No,
ow
, stop,” he said, scuffling
onto his feet. “Didn’t you see the dried blood there where you
kicked?”

“What do you think I was aiming for?” she
said. “And what are you doing beneath my window, Creepy?” She asked
the question between two pursing, accusatory lips. John preferred
the name “Johnny” to “Creepy,” but decided her pet name for him
wasn’t top priority in this already difficult conversation.

“I fell asleep,” he said, rubbing the back of
his head where he’d been leaning against the brick.

“You’ve been here all night?” she asked.

“Yes,” John answered, thinking it might earn
him some sympathy. He was wrong.

“That’s disgusting. Tell me why I shouldn’t
call the cops!” Molly demanded.

“Tell me why you should,” John retorted.

“Uh, murder much? It’s all over the news,
John. That one guy from that business place on the island or
whatever, and that thing with the bus or something,” she said.

“Well, at least you’re well-informed.”

Molly kicked him again.

“Quit it,” John protested. “I’ve got a brock
bite there.”

“A what?”

“Listen, Molly,” John said calmly. “I came
over here because I wanted to explain everything to you.”

“Okay, go,” she answered abruptly.

John suddenly realized he had absolutely no
plan to explain something so complex and unbelievable. He had
neither Mouse nor Kala to admit into evidence, and he couldn’t have
her try to take the watch from his wrist without risking her
safety.

“I, uh,” John started poorly. “All you need
to know is that I didn’t kill anyone. I’m caught up in something,
and it’s not my fault.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Molly mocked. “And
standing me up three days ago? Was that your fault?”

“I ... what? You mean our date?” John asked,
incredulous. Molly stood silent. “Is that all you can think about?
I’m suspected of murder!” he yelled. “Don’t you care about me at
all? Don’t you know me well enough after our three weeks of dating
to know that there’s a reasonable explanation?”

“I’ll tell you what I know,” she spat.
“Everyone is looking at me funny now. No boy will ask me out. I had
to join a roller derby league just to get friends who’ll talk to me
without making fun of me because of you!” she exclaimed, loudly
flicking her plastic knee guard as if to prove the tale.

“Ask you out? It’s only been three days!”

“Of hell!”

“For
you?
You have no idea what I’ve
been going through.”

“You are so selfish!”

John was taken aback. Every wound on his body
hurt at once: his jaw where Adam had punched him, the rope burns on
his hands, the badger bite in his leg, and the cuts he couldn’t
clean beneath his watch. He closed his eyes, forgot it all, and
rebooted. Slowly, he raised his eyelids and looked at Molly. She
really was pretty.

“You mean everything to me,” he said.

“You mean nothing to me,” she replied. “Get
your criminal self off my street and away from my house. Take your
electro-bike thing with you. It’s in the middle of my driveway, and
Daddy is leaving soon. As much as I’d love him to back over it, I
don’t want it denting his bumper.”

She turned and skated away from him before
allowing a response. Soon, she was six houses away, and soon after
that she was gone from his sight completely. John walked slowly to
the curb in front of her house and sat down. He cradled his face in
his hands.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he said. His
eyes swelled with water.

“Who does, really?” Kala answered softly.

“I knew you wouldn’t turn off your speakers,”
John said, his words muffled by his hands. “I knew you were there
the whole time.”

“No you didn’t,” Kala replied.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I can be.” Kala’s hologram appeared on top
of the watch as John lifted his head. “Honestly, though, I am sorry
about Molly. But there’s no going backward, John. Not from
here.”

John turned the camera in his watch away from
his face and rubbed a tear that had slipped from his eye to his
nose.

“I lost someone special once,” Kala told him
sincerely. “A girl someone. She’s why I’m trying to get back to the
surface. By the time I find her, I don’t know if she’ll even
remember who I am. She might not even be alive. But I have to find
her, John. I have to.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t turn off your
speakers.”

“I’ve been alone with no one to talk with for
over thirty years. I couldn’t bring myself to turn them off.”

John laid back into the grass behind the curb
and looked into the clear, blue sky expanding above him.

“I’m not spoiled, you know,” he said.

“What?”

“Earlier, when we were driving here, you
called me ‘some spoiled sixteen-year-old.’”

“I just assumed--”

“Why? Was it because I live on the beach?”
John answered quietly. “It’s not what you think. My dad left my mom
three days after getting her pregnant. Three days. He didn’t tell
her goodbye, he didn’t explain anything. All he did was leave her a
house key in a crumpled up piece of paper with an address written
on it. My mom won’t sell the house because she thinks it’s the one
nice thing we have, but she’s wrong. It’s the worst thing we have.
My mom has to work as a waitress, barely making enough for us to
live on, while everyone else on that island has never worked a day
in their life. We’ll never fit in there. We’ll never be accepted.
All I’ve wanted my entire life is to get off that damn island, so
yes, I understand. There’s nothing worse in life than being
trapped.”

“I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions
before,” Kala said.

John sat up. “When you do get out of there, I
hope you find that girl you’re looking for.”

“Me, too, Mr. Popielarski. And don’t worry
about all this,” Kala said reassuringly. “Maybe that miracle you
want is just around the corner. Maybe there’s some other solution I
fail to recognize. What do I know?”

“More than I do,” John said.

The elevator slowed to a stop, decelerating
so smoothly that Felix didn’t realize the ride was over until its
large curved doors slid open before him. Karen stood up from her
chair and offered a hand to him.

“We’re here. Are you ready?” she asked.

“If one can ever be,” he answered, accepting
her hand and standing to his feet.

Felix peered out of the elevator to the
massive room beyond. He tried to think of a comparable space,
a
shopping mall lobby, perhaps?

Hundreds of people buzzed throughout the
room, each carrying a clipboard or file folder toward an unseen
destination. The clockwork of their motion was staggering, and
Felix struggled to determine from where they started and ended,
finding neither. The room was in a state of perpetual motion, and
none of its inhabitants paused for even a moment to eye the
facility’s new addition: the tall, gangly man in glasses stepping
awestruck from a giant elevator.

“Welcome to the hub,” Karen said, watching
his reaction with glee.

“That’s a good name for it,” Felix replied.
“Though the term ‘beehive’ comes to mind equally fast. How does
anyone get any work done? I see no tables, no equipment, no science
being done at all.”

“The labs are private. This is more of a
bureaucratic station, a place for the Red and Blue Badges. And
before you ask ... ” Karen pulled a lanyard from beneath her coat
and held the solid blue card it supported toward Felix.

He took the card by its edge and examined it.
The glossy plastic was completely blue. There were no markings,
lettering, nor images present. “I’m failing to ascertain the
purpose of such an indistinct square of plastic,” he said.

“The information it contains is invisible to
the eye. A special light is needed to see it. It aides in
confidentiality.”

“And the difference between the red and the
blue?”

“It’s a distinction of responsibility, job
tasks, and importance.”

“And which is superior? The red or the
blue?”

Karen grinned wryly. “I’ll let you figure
that one out on your own.” She placed the blue badge and lanyard
back beneath her coat.

“Ah, Karen!” a voice called from the crowd
ahead of them. A gruff-looking man was walking toward her and
Felix. The Red and Blue Badges parted as water from his path,
allowing him quick access to the elevator doors.

“Dr. Castler,” Karen said in a professional
tone. She turned to face the man as he approached. “Let me
introduce you to Felix Kala, quantum biologist. Mr. Kala, this is
Dr. Castler.”

“Doctor, actually,” Felix grumbled.

“Yes?” Castler replied.

“No, I meant I’m--”

Castler reached for Felix’s hand and shook it
heartily. “A pleasure,” he said. Castler failed to make eye
contact, seemingly distracted by something across the room. “Karen
will show you the ropes from here.” The man departed as quickly as
he’d appeared.

“Who was that?” Felix asked.

“That was the overseer,” Karen answered.
“He’s in charge of everything at this location.”

“You mean there are more of these?”

“Let’s continue the tour, shall we?”

Karen lightly placed her hand on the small of
Felix’s back and guided him in a walk around the perimeter of the
large room.

Felix looked at the wall beside them as they
traveled. Its tall, curved steel supported no art or special
design, just one large imposing door after another. Only two meters
separated each door from its neighbors, and all were closed with no
marking to suggest what rested behind them. Felix counted them as
he passed.