Mine (18 page)

He pointed beyond her. “Apartment.”

F
ORTY-ONE

The Translator

T
HE TRANSLATOR RIPPED
himself from his [
secret place
] and curled up on his bed, hyperventilating.

What had happened?

She was there. The Satellite was in his [
secret place
].

He had not wanted that, but somehow he must have summoned her.

Numbers passed over his lips in an unending loop—more information for the Reclaimer—the sound, as it always did, calming him. “One, four, four, three, four, eight, one, two, three, six, four, three, two. Three, two, three, nine, seven, seven, seven—”

“Shut up!”

The Translator twisted around and saw the Beast glaring at him from the other bed.

“Shut up, or I’ll do it for you!”

It was an empty threat. Like every night, the Beast was restrained to keep him from doing bad things.

The Translator snarled at him, showing he wasn’t scared.

“In the morning I will kill you,” the Beast told him.

But he wouldn’t do that, either. In the daylight, the Beast was not a beast, but a docile, repentant man-child. It was the darkness that brought on the Beast’s demon. The Translator knew all about him and had long ago sent his story to the Reclaimer.

He flipped over so his back was to the Beast, putting the monster out of his mind and concentrating once again on important things.

On the Satellite.

Not only had she been in his [
secret place
], but she had
seen
him and even tried to
talk
to him.

You should have let her
. A boy’s voice, one of the first the Translator could ever remember hearing.

Are you crazy?
another said, this one more familiar, his everyday protector.
Dangerous! Much too dangerous!

You should have spoken with her
, the boy said.

Impossible. Impossible!

You should have.

The Translator began rocking.

You should have. You should have. You should have.

“One, four, four, eight, four, two—”

“Shut up!”

“—zero, nine, three, nine, four, three, two. Three, two…”

F
ORTY-TWO

Leah

L
EAH SAT UP,
gasping. She was on her own bed, in her own apartment, the forever room of the dream gone.

The…Secret Place.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no. Not yet.”

She lay back down, closed her eyes, and tried to force herself back to sleep. While the Secret Place had initially confused her, she knew now she needed to get back there and talk to the changing man. She needed to make him understand there was no reason to be frightened. She was convinced he was a key to unlocking what had happened to her and Joel.

Try as she might, though, her mind refused to fall back to sleep, and instead whirled with thoughts of what she’d seen and what it could mean. Finally acknowledging it would be a while before she drifted off again, she focused on the details of the dream.

She started with the items displayed on the shelves. She had no idea what many of them were, but others she recognized right away: popular action figures, games, toys, all from at least a decade ago. Even an old computer with a big heavy monitor and a wide keyboard. Other things, too. Stuffed animals and competition ribbons and pictures and DVDs.

She then thought again about the man’s shy approach as he grew taller and older, and then the reverse when he retreated. He had changed from old man to newly minted senior to nondescript middle-ager to starter adult to growing teen. He was changing again when she was pulled from the room, his new form younger still.

This last glimpse felt…familiar. Like she knew him.

Annoyed, she climbed out of bed and opened her closet. Along with her clothes and shoes were two stacks of boxes filled with personal items she’d slowly been bringing to California from her parents’ place in Denver. She’d told herself that someday she’d unpack everything, but someday had yet to come.

The box she wanted was in the back row, second from the bottom. Under an old sweater and several
Wired
magazines she’d kept for some unknown reason, she found her high school yearbooks. One by one she went through them, searching for the face of the boy in the Secret Place. Though there were a few guys who, if she squinted just right, might have been him, none was an exact match.

Not high school, then, and since most of the kids she went to middle school with had also attended Verde High, she could rule them out, too.

So where did she know him from?

Camp Cedar Woods? Now there was a possibility. She’d seen plenty of teen boys passing through camp. She thought for a moment, her near perfect memory of that time allowing her to clearly see each camper’s face. But none belonged to the changing man.

Camp Red Hawk?

If that were the case, she was out of luck. Camp Red Hawk was like a black hole from where few memories escaped.

She had to give it a try, though, so she lay back on her bed and attempted to recall that summer. She was surprised when a few things actually filtered through: a fire in the pit, a cookie she shared with one of the other girls, and the cannonball competition again.

And the Hershey’s bar.

She smiled at that. She still had the wrapper, protected by a plastic bag and hidden at the bottom of her jewelry box.

“You had a, um, pretty good jump. I-I’d say you came in second.”

“It wasn’t that good.”

“You were in the water. You couldn’t see it.”

“True.”

“Um, would, um, you like some?”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

The Hershey’s bar in his hand, then hers.

With this image, she finally crossed the line between awake and asleep, but the dream of the Secret Place did not return.

F
ORTY-THREE

The Translator

T
HE TRANSLATOR WAS
terrified that the Reclaimer would find out about the visit from the Satellite, that somehow someway the meeting would be revealed. If that happened, the Reclaimer’s punishment would be fierce.

Perhaps she would even cut him off and wall him inside his own head, unable to touch the minds of others, to hear their voices. That would be the end of him for sure. He would go mad. Not that he wasn’t mad already. He knew that. He knew he wasn’t like the others, and yet he was one of them. But he would rather the Reclaimer kill him than sentence him to forever without the connections that had become his everything.

And what would happen to the Satellite?

Oh, God, no.

He couldn’t allow her to be hurt. No, no. He could never let that happen.

He steeled himself, ready for the inevitable.

But time and again, the Reclaimer made no indication that she knew what had happened.

::ARE YOUR CHANNELS OPEN?
she would ask.

Yes.

::ARE YOUR RECEPTORS WORKING?

Yes.

::ARE ALL LINKS INTACT?

Yes.

And that was it.

He suspected for a while that she was stringing him along until the mood to punish him hit her. So he concentrated on his translations, sending each packet off to her as soon as it was ready, all the while staying away from his [
secret place
].

But the anticipated trap never sprang.

::ARE YOUR CHANNELS OPEN?

Yes.

::ARE YOUR RECEPTORS WORKING?

Yes.

::ARE ALL LINKS INTACT?

Yes.

F
ORTY-FOUR

Leah

W
HILE LEAH CONTINUED
attending classes and doing the associated work, she had come to the realization she was spinning her wheels. She was never going to find the answers she sought within the confines of a university.

Every night when she went to sleep, she attempted to reestablish a connection to the changing man and his Secret Place. The first few nights, her efforts worked no better than they did when she tried breaking through the wall to Joel. But then one night, as she was drifting off, she saw a spark. Though it vanished almost as fast as it appeared and did not return that night, she knew it was the way back.

The following evening, the spark lasted longer, and the next longer still. Night after night it added to the crooked path it was tracing through the darkness. After two weeks she realized it wasn’t a path at all, but more like a slit in a piece of fabric. She focused on it, picturing the two sides pulling wide enough apart for her to slip through.

Sure enough, the hole opened and she moved once more into the Secret Place. Unlike her first visit, however, she could sense the changing man was not there.

“Hello?” she called, but the room remained still. “Hello? Are you there?”

Nothing.

She felt strange being in the room without him, like she was trespassing in his home. Tentatively, she approached the nearest shelf. On it was a stack of books, a deflated football, a square stone, and a dozen other equally commonplace items.

“Hello?” she called again.

When she didn’t receive a response, she decided it was time to go.

She turned to the spot where she’d appeared, assuming the exit would still be there, but it was gone. She had a moment of panic before remembering what had happened on her last visit. The changing man had sent her away. Could she do it herself?

“Home,” she said.

The slit opened in the wall, and after she stepped through, she woke in her bed.

She’d done it. She’d forced herself into an enhanced dream, to the exact place she wanted to go.
And
she had left on her own terms.

If I can get into the Secret Place, I should be able to break through to Joel, shouldn’t I?

Eager to test this, she closed her eyes and gave it a try. She didn’t reach Joel, but it wasn’t a complete waste of time. She found his wall, could actually
see
it, the darkest of gray against the blackest of black. She’d never been able to do that before.

For the next several weeks, she would visit Joel’s wall first, and when she couldn’t find a way through, she’d go to the Secret Place, hoping to see the changing man again.

F
ORTY-FIVE

The Translator

A
S SOON AS
he was sure the Reclaimer had no knowledge of his meeting with the Satellite, the Translator wanted to return to his [
secret place
]. But he knew he couldn’t just rush right off, so he bided his time until a suitable opportunity arose.

When it did, he jumped on it.

The [
secret place
] held everything important to him. It was his link to [
life before
].

Upon arriving, he stopped in the middle of the room and breathed in the air of freedom.

Yes, yes. That’s it
, he thought as his worries melted away.

He shuffled along the shelves, heading toward the item with which he always started. [
The most important picture ever taken
] lay on a shelf between a Slurpee cup and a stack of Playstation games. He picked it up and smiled as his finger caressed the faces of the two people standing behind the child-him in the photo.

“Are those your parents?”

He nearly dropped the picture as he whipped around.

The Satellite was standing behind him. She was here in his room
again
!

How? He had done nothing to bring her this time. He had purposely not thought about her for days.

“Go!” he yelled. He wanted to back away from her but she had him pinned against the shelves.

“Not yet.”

“Go! Apartment!”

His command should have sent her away, but she didn’t disappear.

“You know me, don’t you?” she asked.

“Please, you must, must, must leave.”

“I told you my name. Do you remember it?”

“Please!”

“Just tell me.”

“Y-y-you are the Satellite,” he said.

Her brow furrowed. “The
satellite
?”

“Yes. You are the Satellite.”

For a moment she said nothing, her eyes uncertain. “What was the name
I
told you last time? I’m sure you remember it. Just say it.”

He didn’t need to remember. He already knew. “I cannot.”

“You can.”

He had to get out of there. Now. He closed his eyes to summon his exit, but the Satellite touched his hand, sending a jolt of electricity through his whole body.

“Who am I?” she asked, her hand still on his.

“L-Leah.”

She grinned. “That’s right. I know who you are, too.”

“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t.”

F
ORTY-SIX

Leah

L
EAH WAS JUST
thinking it was time to go when the changing man appeared. If his eyes hadn’t been closed upon arrival, he would have seen her. But this had given her the moment she needed to hide among the cabinets.

From there, she had watched him walk with purpose to a specific shelf, his form shifting from an old man to young adult. When he arrived at his destination, he picked up a picture, one she’d examined on a previous visit. It was of a boy standing in front of a man and woman who were obviously his mother and father.