Twins (6 page)

Gaia shut her eyes. She couldn't bear to look at the doctor's dark red eyes for another moment. She couldn't bear the gunfire and the blood and the primal screams of all these brutal and efficient murderers, whoever the hell they were. She was in pain, and she was … desperate….

I'm scared.

That had to be what this was. Fear. Didn't that have to be what this was? This awful racy feeling. This
overabundance of sweat. This desire to hide her eyes from death and destruction. When had Gaia ever wanted to shield herself from blood or mayhem or … anything? This had to be fear or some version of it. The injection, it seemed, wasn't a fraud. She was almost sure of it.

So now what?
she dared herself. She'd just started an entirely new life here on the bloody glass-covered rug of this tastefully eclectic torture chamber. She wasn't about to let it end only two minutes in. This moment, in its own twisted way, was something Gaia had been looking forward to her whole life. A chance to overcome fear. A chance to be brave, just as she'd promised herself only minutes ago.
You want to be brave? Then get your head out of your hands and get off the floor.

She didn't pause to think again. Nor did she pause to feel this dreadful alien sensation or the merciless ache in her muscles and joints. She simply raised herself to her feet and reacted.

The shiny black metal of a rifle was in her face. She grabbed it with both hands and shoved it back into the black-hooded face of her assailant, denting his nose with a high-pitched crack. He let out a howl and dropped to the ground, writhing in pain.

Two more hooded gunmen loomed directly behind him. They charged at her. Gaia ducked to the floor, tucking her body into itself and becoming a stumbling block for the attacker to her right. She ripped the
machine gun from his hands as he toppled over her and then whipped the butt of the gun against his head before he'd even had the chance to reorient himself. The second man lunged for her, but she crammed the barrel of the rifle deep into his stomach.

“Oomph,”
he groaned. The gun fell from his hands, and he doubled over. Gaia didn't give him another moment to think or regain his balance. She zeroed in on his chin and snapped his head backward with a pinpoint front kick to the face. But there were already two more coming at her from either side.

She used all the momentum of one to flip him a hundred and eighty degrees and send him crashing into the other. It might have looked like the playful stunt of a professional wrestler, but the sound of the collision was more like the blunt, unholy thud of a traffic accident. She heard no cries of pain, as they had clearly gone unconscious on impact.

Gaia whipped around for the next attack, but when her body stopped spinning, her field of vision did not. The entire room began to tilt to the right, twirling around her like a carousel on fast-forward. And she couldn't make it stop. She could see more hooded soldiers in black, but they seemed to have gathered in a circle around her and begun to revolve, like a vindictive gang of taunting terrorists playing ring-around-the-rosy. She tried to narrow her focus, but it was impossible. Everything had turned into one
big peripheral blur. Not only was the room spinning, but the lights had begun to dim.

No, not now,
she pleaded with her body.
Not yet.

But it wasn't something she could control. She might have the bravery to take on ten men, but she'd overestimated her physical limits. Adrenaline had masked her substantial weakness for a few moments, but now reality was kicking in. Her strength had been ravaged by that injection. Her postbattle blackout was announcing itself prematurely. The room grew dimmer in a matter of seconds until it had begun to match the black hoods that surrounded her.

So
this is it,
she thought with cold resignation. Sixty seconds. Sixty seconds of a “normal” life was all she'd be granted by those assholes, the fates. One minute of bravery and now she'd be gunned down defenselessly. She wouldn't even be conscious for her own death. How perfect. How totally appropriate.

Gaia dropped to her knees, holding on to the last vestiges of consciousness as she felt what seemed like a hundred hands grab at her arms and stretch them—almost from the sockets. And then it was over.

I
wonder what fear feels like?
It's the question I've asked myself every day for as long as I can remember. Until now—now I wonder if I
want
to know what fear feels like.

I mean, normal people would probably think I was the asshole of the century right now. As far as I can tell, people spend at least three quarters of their day wishing they
weren't
so scared. Scared of whatever—scared of the dark, scared of boys or girls, scared of failing trigonometry, scared of their boyfriend falling for that bitch who's always flirting with him. Scared of their boss or their father or poverty or loneliness or death. Everybody's scared, right? Except me.

But here's the thing: at least they know how to live a life filled with different fears. They know what life
feels
like. You tell me, if it's such a gift to be fearless, then why the hell does everyone but me always seem
to be smiling so goddamn much?

I think I know why. I think it's because they're taking all these little pleasures every day that I know nothing about. It's like they can't even feel like valid human beings unless they're overcoming some kind of fear. That's what it is. That's what their smiles are all about. They smile when they get an A because deep down, they were terrified they'd fail the test. They smile when they get a job because deep down, they were afraid they'd live out the rest of their life unemployed until, someone found them in a Dumpster clinging to a bottle of Jack Daniels. They smile when they get a date because deep down, they were sure they were going to end up alone in some rocking chair, knitting sweaters for their sixteen cats. Hey, they even smile when someone says hello to them in the hallway. Because somewhere in their fearful heads, they were actually worried that this might be the day when all their friends
took a private meeting and decided to hate them for the rest of the year.

You know, come to think of it, I guess fear can be a pretty pathetic monster. But still. There's no denying it. Overcoming these little daily fears is what gives people … I don't know … joy. It's what gives them a reason to live, I guess. So where does that leave me?

I think I know the answer to that question, though. I think a lot of what I'll do every day will be the same thing. Only now it won't just be to pass the time. It won't just be a way to cope. Now maybe it will actually bring me some joy. Maybe I'll experience some of that mysterious pleasure that I've been standing here and watching everyone else have.

Because I won't be fearless anymore. No, this time I'll feel the fear … and I'll overcome it. I'll finally know what it feels like to be brave.

red velvet lips

His grin doubled in size as he turned up to the woman's face and gazed at her adoringly.

“HEATHER! WAIT UP!”

Heather shut her eyes and froze at the end of the hall. It was Megan.
Dammit.
And Heather was only two steps from the stairs. She'd been paying strict attention to all of their schedules—Carrie, Megan, Melanie, and Laura—to make sure that she didn't run into any of them for the rest of the day. She'd made it as far as sixth period, but somehow Megan had caught up to her in the third-floor hallway. Heather hung her head. Megan must have bagged her last class just to seek Heather out. Just to get the scoop. The scoop that Heather didn't have.

Heather turned around slowly, applying the most comfortable smile she could manage. But the smile didn't hold. Megan wasn't alone. All four of them had apparently bagged their last classes and formed a very giddy semicircle behind her.

“What's up?” Heather asked, feigning ignorance.

“Come on,” Carrie said, bouncing slightly in place. “Did we, like, save Gaia's ass yesterday or what?”

“Yeah,” Melanie chimed in. “How did our faux-blond full-force posse work out?”

“Um, excuse me,” Carrie said. “Quick correction. We may have all worn blond
wigs,
but we are not
all
faux blonds.”

“Yeah, right,” Melanie replied. “Why don't you just give me the three hundred bucks you spend at Privé every month, and then you can be officially discharged from the faux-blond full-force posse?”

I have to get out of here,
Heather thought, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.

“Okay, quick lesson,” Carrie shot back. “Highlights are not faux; they are called
enhancements—”

“You guys!” Laura interrupted. “Later, maybe, you think? Can we stick to the matter at hand here?”

“Yes,” Megan bubbled apologetically. She turned to Heather. “The matter at hand. Is Gaia okay? What happened last night?”

Heather surveyed the well-made-up, perfectly coifed, desperately excited faces of her dear friends, and her sickness morphed into the very feeling she'd been trying all day to avoid. The feeling she'd been putting off ever since her unfortunate encounter with Ed.

The terrible feeling of failure.

The fact was, even if their little antistalker plan had been Gaia's idea, Heather was still the one who'd gathered her “soldiers” for the “operation.” She knew her friends all had their own reasons for agreeing to the big stunt, but in the end they'd really done it out of loyalty to Heather. And now she felt… well, kind of like a general who'd led her troops into battle and couldn't even tell them who'd won the war.

“Um—um…,” she stammered through her smile. “I'm… not sure.”

“What do you mean?” Laura asked.

“Did you talk to Gaia?” Carrie asked.

“Did you talk to Ed?” Melanie tacked on, overlapping them both.

Heather felt her toes scrunching inside her shoes. Had she talked to Ed? The one she'd risked her life for? And the lives of her friends as well? The one she'd been trying so hard to prove herself to, to make a real sacrifice for? Yes. She'd talked to him. He just hadn't really talked to her. In fact, he'd pretty much flat out ignored her.

Being confronted by her friends had only served to magnify the awkward and uneasy sensation that had been growing inside Heather since the morning. She had behaved more nobly than she ever had in her whole life… and the only responses she'd gotten so far were angry words and a door basically slammed in her face. She had no idea what to think. Was Gaia in much deeper trouble than she thought? Or had she just moved on from New York without a word, in her own inimitable, existential loner fashion? Maybe that was it. Maybe Gaia had just had it with New York and VS
and
Ed. Maybe that's why Ed was so upset.

Or did it have something to do with Sam? Maybe Ed was just sulking because Gaia had run off and worked things out with Sam. If that was the case, then welcome
to the club, Fargo. Welcome to the side of Gaia Moore you seem to have been missing for the past year.

Whoa, Heather. Watch yourself. You're slipping.

She had to get hold of her frustration. She wasn't going to let herself slide back into selfish pettiness based on nothing but a bunch of unanswered questions. And that was really all she had right now. That and an increasingly frustrating sense of wasted nobility. And four friends who deserved better.

“I talked to him, but…” Heather left the sentence hanging.

“But
what?”
Megan asked insistently.

Carrie stepped forward. “Heather, hello, what's going on?”

“Yeah,” Laura agreed, frowning. “Why are you acting so
weird?
They're simple questions. Is Gaia all right? And did you talk to Ed or not?”

The troops were getting restless. Simple questions, maybe, but not such simple answers.

“Well, here's the deal,” Heather began, trying to share some reassuring eye contact with each one of them. “I
did
talk to Ed, but I'm not sure we understood each other so well.” That was one way of putting it. “So I think we'll need to have another little chat.”

None of them looked very happy with the reply. And Heather couldn't blame them. Her reply was lame. Unfortunately, though, Ed was the only person who had the answers they deserved. Which
meant that she'd have to go back to him. A repeat of the morning's conversation was not high up on Heather's list of self-esteem builders, but she supposed it would have to be done. She would have to march back up to Ed for some well-deserved clarity. If not for her own self-esteem, then at least to satisfy her faithful soldiers. Although… probably more for her own self-esteem. And maybe it didn't have to be today….

Hmmm. This whole “unselfish” thing was much harder than it sounded.

“GAIA? CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

The voice was so familiar. A man's. Her father? Her uncle? She couldn't think. Thinking hurt. Everything hurt so bad. Every limb on her body was being pecked by invisible vultures. Or could she see the vultures, hovering over her face? Were her eyes even open yet?

She was so hot. Maybe she was in the desert? Buried in the sand? No, mud. She felt like she'd been buried in hot mud… or a cake? That was it. Someone had dropped her into boiling batter, and now they were trying to bake her into a cake.

“Gaia, open your eyes,” the voice said. “You're safe now. It's over.”

Fine. Just please turn off the oven and stick a fork in me.
Her eyes fluttered open, but the shapes came much too close—the talking vultures, like white oval apparitions. Heads that could float. Or faces? Faces were watching her. Gaia chose the face hovering over her to the left and tried to pencil in all the missing details. The chin came through first, covered in salt-and-pepper stubble. Then the weathered cheeks and finally the translucent blue eyes. The eyes …
My uncle's or my father's?