Infatuate (13 page)

“He looks like a mean motherf—” she said with a smile.

“River,” Connor cut her off, with a laugh. “A quarter in the swear jar for you.”

That’s when I saw its long pebbled form stealthily inching up in the water. It reached the marshmallow and rose, its jaw snapping at the stick and stealing the treat before sinking back into the swamp. Drew yelped. Max jumped back a step, looking sheepish. He fanned himself with his hat. There was applause and someone exclaimed, “Whoa!”

“Hey, Lafitte, just wanted you to meet some friends,” Connor said to the gator.

Lance chuckled. “He’s named after the pirate? Jean Lafitte? That’s hilarious.”

“Smart man, thank you,” Connor said. “Yeah, there was always talk his treasure was buried here somewhere, so I thought it fit. Anyway, there are plenty more where Lafitte came from, along with all sorts of other wildlife that make this guy look like a kitten. We’ll be running trips here with some elementary school kids from the Ninth Ward. We’ll bring ’em out here next weekend, give ’em a tour, then go into town to this place famous for their fried catfish . . .” As he explained the details, baiting a stick with a marshmallow, I felt the tension in my body ease: it seemed the old Connor was back. I breathed a sigh of relief. Sabine had opened her eyes, but focused them on her feet, still looking pained.

“Just wanna direct your attention over that way.” Connor pointed to a shack on stilts in the distance, perhaps a football field or two away. “That’s where we’re headed.” He paused. “But I’m afraid this is as far as I’m taking you.” We all looked at one another. It seemed everyone thought they had heard him wrong. Connor smiled, a devilish grin. “What? Y’all thought I was gonna give you door-to-door service? Gotta work for things around here.”

“Um, do you want me to drive?” Max offered. “My uncle has a boat like this in Florida. I could—”

Connor started laughing. “You’re a sweet one, Max. But I don’t think y’all are getting it.” He walked the length of the boat. “You. Are. Going. To. Swim.” With each word he slammed the stick against the side railing, making us all jump. Then he stopped and smiled again.

“We’ll be eaten alive,” Brody said, scowling in disbelief.

“You can go first, buddy,” Connor said calmly.

“You’re a nutcase.”

“You’re going. Now.” With that, he smashed the stick against the railing, breaking it in two. “Get in there!” he yelled at Brody.

“Why the hell would I do that?” Brody said, standing up, looking him in the eye. Lance stood now too, like he was ready to pounce. I sized everything up, thinking
How can I get out of here? What’s my escape route?

“Maybe because your life depends on it. All of you. Your lives depend on getting the hell in that water right now. Go, now!” he shouted. Brody still stood there and Connor grabbed him by the shirt, dragged him, kicking and flailing, to the railing and, in one swift motion, flung him in the swamp. Brody screamed as he splashed into the water. Connor lunged at Tom next, but Tom just sprang up and leapt off the railing himself, joining Brody, who had already begun swimming feverishly to shore. We were all on our feet now. Except Sabine, who dropped to her knees, breathing ragged. She was hyperventilating.

“Go! Go! Go!” Connor yelled at us. Sticks in both hands now, he crashed them against every possible surface, swinging wildly, trying to hit us all like he was swatting flies. Everyone fled, sustaining sharp, stinging smacks in the process, some already flinging themselves from the railing to greet the horrors of the swamp rather than be left with Connor.

Across the deck, Dante and Max, exchanging a quick glance, synchronized their jump, hitting the water together. Wailing now, Sabine cried, “I can’t go! I can’t!” amid the frenzied splashing below. Alligator jaws snapped across the water pursuing this stream of new prey. Connor had just finished pushing Drew in and he set his crazed eyes on me, Lance, and Sabine. Sabine’s body shook with fear and she had broken out into a sweat. Being pushed seemed a much worse way to go and no one had successfully fought Connor off yet. Lance jumped in and Connor turned his attention to me, swiping at my head then my feet. I pulled Sabine up onto the metal railing and tugged her until she fell over the side with me, screaming.

The warm water washed over us, our legs kicking against so many obstacles: the brush of tangled plants reaching out, creatures traveling along beside us. Were they alligators? Or worse? I could feel them as I kicked to propel myself. We seemed surrounded. There was so much splashing it was impossible to tell who was responsible, man or beast. Connor ripped the boat’s engine back on and zipped past, spraying us. His eyes were fixed in the distance as he left us for dead without so much as a glance back.

I had never been such a strong swimmer but I pushed through the water, relentless, my arms and legs burning, and caught up with the front of the pack. Sabine was a body length behind me, and her head bobbed under the water. She gasped, arms waving. I swam back, grabbing her around the waist, intending to swim ahead with her, when Lance appeared on the other side.

“It’s okay, go on. I’ll take her in,” he said, his arm weaving around her, like a lifeguard. “Meet you on the shore.”

I swam ahead, my limbs stinging. I could feel the gators clipping at my feet. I heard that pop of their snapping jaws all around us, and it only made me swim faster, overtaking Brody to reach land, where I dodged a trio of boars scavenging for food along the water’s edge.

I saw something unusual halfway up toward that elevated shack—which looked as if it was made of rotting wood—and ran toward it, through wet, thick soil, tripping over the vinelike plants that ensnared me with each step. My left foot felt twice its normal size, stinging each time it hit the ground, but still I ran. Finally I reached it, regaining my breath as the others grew closer. A branch had been speared into the earth, like a javelin, with a sheet of paper hanging off one of its limbs. I ripped it off and read:

Welcome Wing-Seekers,

I’m your trainer and your guide. And I’m sorry I had to do that to you. Come on up, and I’ll explain everything. Promise.

Connor

Brody caught up with me first, then seconds later the rest of the group trickled in, fanning out around me. My mind tried to make sense of what I read in those few short sentences. Lance stepped forward from his perch beside Sabine, who sat on the ground. He took the paper from my hands, read it, and furrowed his brow in a way that said he couldn’t believe it either. I turned around, looking into each set of eyes as if it was my first time seeing them. How was it possible? Now, suddenly, different as my housemates all were, they felt like a part of me. I was comforted and yet . . . intimidated, too.

The cabin was larger and far better appointed than I might’ve guessed from the outside. A long wooden table had been set with an array of sandwiches. The fridge had been fully stocked. All of our bags sat in a neat row in a spacious alcove where at least a dozen hammocks had been strung up on wooden posts. We had wandered up in complete silence, passing the note to one another, as though each of us felt that something so weighty needed to be experienced individually. It had been enough to think that Sabine was like Dante, Lance, and me, but
this
was more than I could begin to understand.

“So we’ve got some stuff to talk about, huh, guys?” Connor’s voice had greeted us as we entered the cabin, all of us soaking wet and reeking of swamp water—a peculiar mix of fresh, overgrown plant life and something rancid. None of us said anything about being hungry or wanting to change out of our wet, miserable clothes. Instead, we all gathered quietly around the fireplace where Connor stood.

“I want you all to take a look at yourselves,” he started. “You swam with alligators today. I watched you and you all got bitten. Every single one of you. Haven,” he singled me out. I jumped, startled to hear my name. “How’s your foot?”

“Huh?” I asked. I had my legs curled under me on the floor, my wet jeans stiffening now as they dried. I stretched myself out and discovered a hole had been taken out of the side of my sneaker. I put my fingers through the gaping opening.

“Yeah, you got a bite from a snapping turtle—those things are so nasty they eat gators. But what’s going on there? You’re missing part of a shoe and you’ve got a couple scratches.”

I pulled up the leg of my jeans: no blood, just some red slashes. I nodded.

“Check your limbs everyone—no one’s
missing
any limbs, right? Digits all intact? Anyone have anything more than a scrape?” We all looked ourselves over, watching one another from the corners of our eyes. “There’s a reason for that. You’re not human. Not anymore, at least.” He paused to let that fully sink in. “Everyone here has already passed a test. Am I right that you all faced some tough times last year?” He scanned our serious faces. After some shifting of eyes, a collective reluctance to give ourselves away, we all nodded. “You had to fight to save your souls? Well, sorry to say, the fight is going to get tougher. But you’re on your way to getting your wings. And I’m here to help. Any questions so far?” One by one, every hand went up.

“All right, I’m not surprised.” He exhaled, gearing up for the attack. “Shoot.”

What followed was the kind of rapid-fire press conference that happens on the news after some sort of crisis or natural disaster, when the networks need to preempt regularly scheduled programming.

“Who the heck
are
you? What’s your story?” Brody called out.

“Good question. All you need to know is I’m your best friend and occasionally, like today, your worst nightmare. I’m with the administration,” Connor said with finality, as if that was supposed to mean something to us. When he got no reaction, he went on. “They’re the governing body.”

“Of, like, angels?” Dante asked in a tone that suggested he couldn’t believe he was actually asking a question like this out loud. He received a nod in confirmation. “Are there elections? How do they work?”

“Who cares,” River cut in. “Are you stronger than us?”

Then miscellaneous questions from the rest of the group.

Tom: “Why should we believe you?”

Drew: “How do we get our wings?”

Jimmy: “Whoa, so
everyone
went through crazy stuff before getting here?”

“That was the first test,” Emma said, rolling her eyes, then she turned back to Connor. “There are three tests? So what’s the second one?”

Max: “Do you know how we got this way?”

Lance: “What can you tell us about the training we’ll be doing? And why, exactly, wasn’t even one of us eaten alive today? Given the speed of alligators, the sheer quantity of them, and the number of us invading their space, I don’t entirely understand why we’re all still breathing.”

“Why did you
do that
to us?” Sabine spat the words, the bitterness in her voice putting a sudden stop to the barrage of questioning. I thought of Lance clutching Sabine, pulling her to safety through the water, and I felt a sickness at the pit of my stomach, which I wasn’t proud of.

“Sabine.” Connor sighed, looking away for a moment, guilt setting into his eyes. “I didn’t want to have to do that. There will be more things I may do that I wish I didn’t have to. But to answer you both, a big part of our work together is on cultivating your overall sense of fearlessness. When you conquer your fear, you won’t believe what you’ll be capable of. But it’s much harder than you might think.”

It finally hit me, and I had to ask. “So, that’s it then: we really are immortal now?” I felt everyone’s eyes on me and a deep hush fall over the room.

“Yes,” Connor said, giving a mighty weight to the word. “Yes, you are.”

Lance leaned forward, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “But then what does that
mean?
We can’t be killed?”

“That means that the kinds of things that might kill a mortal—swimming with alligators, getting shot, jumping out of a plane with no parachute—will not kill you. You may still get some injuries, like your scratches today, but whatever you receive will be nothing compared to what should have happened.”

“So we’re invincible. Awesome!” Brody clapped his hands once.

“That’s where I gotta stop you,” Connor said in a stern voice. “No. You
can
still be destroyed by representatives of the underworld. They can seize your souls and then you’ll be committed to an eternity of . . .” He seemed to be searching for the words. “It’s worse than being killed.” He sat down, hands on his knees, leveling with us. “Listen to me: They’re looking for you. You’re being hunted. They
are
going to find you. Look to your right and to your left . . .” He paused as we all did this. I glanced at Sabine and then Lance, whose eyes read pure concern. I could feel his mind working, sorting through all this. “One of them may not be among us in a few months,” Connor said in a tone that chilled me. “It’s going to be up to all of us, working together, to keep one another safe. Hear me?” Everyone nodded.

“Pardon the question, but dude,
how?
” Dante asked.

Connor thought a minute before replying. “That’s something we’re gonna spend every minute of every day trying to figure out.”

10. The Thrill of the Chase

After giving us a chance to wash the reek of the swamp off ourselves, change, and eat something, Connor led us out of the cabin and over to a patch of grassy, mossy land where five objects had been set along a fallen tree trunk.

“Hey, my suitcase!” Dante said the minute we got close enough to make out the animal print. “That thing better not have a scratch on it.”

Connor stood in front of the tree trunk. “Sorry, buddy,” he said. “As Dante noticed, I helped myself to some of your things for this exercise.” In addition to the suitcase, there was a can of hair spray, Max’s fedora (which, according to Dante, was one of many since Max preferred to cover up the scar on his head), a basketball, and, as Lance pointed out to me, one of my worn gray T-shirts. I didn’t like the idea that Connor had gone through our bags. I was surprised people had managed to pack such frivolous, fun things at four in the morning. I hadn’t even been clearheaded enough to grab one of my nicer shirts. I was just grateful Connor hadn’t taken my phone. No one had asked about those mysterious messages. It seemed every other major question had come up, even though Connor hadn’t answered them all. I wondered if there was any significance to those omissions.