Zero Sight (13 page)

“
Your technique was incorrect,” Rei grumbled.

“
My technique was desperate. He only gave me a narrow opening, and I was not the strapping lad you are looking at today. I only weighed like 130 pounds.”

“
And I weigh even less,” she replied. “You shouldn’t select a tactic you lack mastery in, Dieter.”

“
Technique? I never learned any techniques. I wasn’t taught martial arts as part of a ‘balanced education’.”

“
Then who taught you to fight?” she asked. “You can’t just know.”

“
No one taught me.” Visions of a particular birthday party danced in my head. “I just…”

Rei waved off the question with her hand. Something in her eyes told me she knew what I was trying to say.

“
You said you were involved in five fights?”

“
Yea.” Was I that easy to read? “After the fourth fight, I realized that all I was doing was making myself look like a bigger challenge. I was
attracting
fights, not scaring them off.”

“
Indeed. That much is obvious. You masqueraded about like appealing quarry. Defeating you was a chance to earn prestige with very few downsides.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Right.” Again. “And to make matters worse, the fifth kid was a bold little prick. He picked a fight right off the bat. It was in the center of the cafeteria at lunchtime. It was a bad place to fight. Too many people. Too many obstacles.” Too many distractions for my Sight. “Anyway, he was quick, wiry, and even faster than I was. I wasn’t used to that. It was like fighting against myself. I was on the defensive from the start. I tripped over a table. He nearly managed to get on top of me—then I hit him in the head with a lunch tray.”

“
Metal?”

“
Na, plastic.”

“
Unfortunate.”

“
Na, it was good enough.” I smiled. “I hit him with the edge. It dazed him good. But I was pretty mad by that point. My lunch was on the tray—and there wasn’t anything in the fridge at home—so I grabbed him by the hair and kneed him in the nose.”

Rei covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh, there must have been a great deal of blood.”

“
Yea, it splattered all over the cafeteria.”

Rei giggled. “A food fight. How charming!”

“
Actually, the blood ruined my burrito. Anyway, I kneed him again. And again. And again. When he dropped to the ground, I kicked him in the kidneys. I dumped a few plates of food on him, poured a carton of milk on his head, and made him lick it off the floor. They called it Bloody Lunch Day. I got suspended for a whole week. It’s on my permanent record.” I scratched my head. I was getting a little too excited talking about this stuff.

Rei frowned. “A suspension? What is…ah, yes, like when Zack Morris and the Screech forged their identity papers in order to enter the dance club. But, Dieter, I do not understand this. The boy challenged you to a fight. Why were you the one punished?”

“
Fighting isn’t allowed at school,” I said with a shrug.

“
But—”

I laughed. “Gosh, where on earth did you grow up exactly?”

Rei frowned and crossed her arms. “Just north of Chicago.”

We talked for a few more minutes. She asked questions about life in Las Vegas. What were casinos like? Did people really just gamble away all their money? It was the stuff that outa-towners asked. I could sense she was enjoying the conversation, but it was becoming kinda awkward for me. I felt like she was sizing me up, checking my limits, seeing what I knew. Maybe it’s just me, but I think there should be a certain amount of tit-for-tat when you talk. That just wasn’t happening. No matter what I tried, she just kept steering the conversation back to me. I didn’t get to learn a thing about her.

It must have been around midnight when the conversation died off awkwardly. I returned to
Ulysses
, and Rei pulled out a copy of one of those Harry Potter books. Her face was expressive when she read, and I kept sneaking glances. Someone must have done something exceedingly vile to Harry, because Rei’s hands were tense, and she grimaced as she read. I envied her book choice. Reading about kids running around blasting monsters sounded way more appealing than cataloguing Leopold Bloom’s self-involved bullshit. I decided to finish the book off in one last push, but I was going to need some help in the doing. I busted out my thermos and readied an anti-sleep grenade. I was taking my first sip when I realized Rei had put down her book.

“
Dieter, is that coffee?”

“
Um…yes?” I sniffed my cup again to make sure.

“
Father never allowed me coffee.” She eyed my thermos. “How does it taste?”

“
Well, coffee has a complicated flavor that verges on—wait, did you just say you’ve
never
had coffee before?”

Rei shook her head in the affirmative.

Ah, so she was a Mormon. That explained a lot.

“
Well, some people think it’s too bitter. Others find it too acidic. Coffee does have a strong taste, but there’s a lot of variation. The beans taste different depending on where they are grown, how long they are roasted, and how they’re brewed.” I paused to struggle for words. I loved coffee, and Rei’s question was making me get nostalgic. All the cram sessions coffee and I shared together, the video game marathons, that barista I had a crush on back in junior high…

“
How does it taste?” I asked rhetorically. “If I had to put it into words, I would say it tastes like the sun mixing with the earth.”

I cringed at how corny that sounded. Man, I was a dork.

Rei considered my words with total seriousness, then turned to me and stared. I was regretting the dopey line, plus that headache was coming back again. All that reading was straining my eyes. I took a sip, telling myself the caffeine would help.

“
Dieter, I desire a cup of coffee. Serve me one.” She said it with such force. More like a command than a request…like a spoiled little princess.

“
No problem, princess,” I said with a smirk. “Just let me grab another cup out of my bag.” I stood up and scrounged for a cup. When I bent down to hand it to her, Rei looked distracted. I had to get her attention before she’d even take the cup. It must have been that princess line. I must have come off like an ass.

“
He certainly has a sense of humor…” Rei mumbled.

“
Sorry?”

“
Nothing,” she said, waving her hand at an invisible fly. “I apologize, my mind was wandering.”

“
Are you going to try it?” I asked.

Rei turned her attention back to her cup, sniffed it warily, sat up straight, and braced herself. As she gave the black goodness a probative sip, her features scrunched up. “You spoke truthfully. It does taste like dirt.”

We both laughed.

What little I knew of Rei Bathory, I liked. Blunt, hot, mysterious—how could you hate on that?

Too bad she wasn’t headed to rural Connecticut.

I sighed. Such is life.

We spent the rest of the night reading quietly. Somewhere around dawn, I finally killed off
Ulysses
. I knew it was a stupid ritual, but it sure beat biting my nails. The Sword of Damocles lifted from my throat, I drifted off to sleep.

The bus was already pulling into a station when I woke. I looked out the window at huge building that surrounded us. We had arrived in New York City, and stars above, was it big. Rei was roused from her sleep as well. She had nestled back in her hoodie and looked as groggy as I felt.

“
It was nice riding with you,” I offered.

She covered her mouth and yawned. “One moment,” she said, leaning over.

She drew so close I could smell her skin.

I swallowed.

With a single gloved hand, she reached up and ripped my Band-Aid off.

“
Youch! What about a little warning, first?”

“
What would be the fun in that?” Rei asked dryly. She examined my forehead with interest. “The bleeding has ceased. There is no need for a new one. You heal quickly.”

I shrugged. “Good genes, I guess.”

“
Indeed,” Rei said with a smile.

The mass of people in front of us was clearing. I watched as the little girl next to us hopped into the aisle and ran towards the exit. “Well I guess this is sayonara. It was nice to meet you, Ms. Bathory.”

Rei shook her head and sighed. “Dieter, ‘sayonara’ implies we will never see each other again.”

I knew what sayonara meant. That’s why I chose it. When did she expect to see me again exactly?

“
Fair enough, Ms. Bathory. I guess I’ll see you when I see you, then.”

I bowed grandly as I stepped into the aisle.

Rei nodded, and turned to collect her pack.

So that was that. She wouldn’t even mention why she was traveling. I assumed she didn’t want me to know. I decided it was best to avoid dragging out the awkward parting, and headed down the aisle—but the further I got, the more I regretted not asking for her number. I began to doubt my read. What had Rei meant by that last line? Was that a cue for me to do something? Say something?

Frustrated, I thought about turning around, but I was already caught in a wave of people. Running away was far less complicated. I chickened out, hustled off the bus, grabbed my duffle, and ran all the way across the station. My retreat complete, I found a bench and sat down.

According to my watch, I had a four-hour wait ahead of me. What to do? Maybe I could spend some time checking out the city. I looked around. We had enormous buildings in Vegas too, but it was amazing how they managed to pack so many of them into such a small place. If one tipped over, it looked like the entire city would go down like a cascade of dominos. It took a special type of hubris to pack so many people so close.

I shook my head. New York City lived up to the hype—but it was also as hot as balls and smelled like donkey butt. From across the station, I watched Rei shuffle off the bus, her enormous black hoodie wobbling about, totally oblivious to the heat. That girl was capital S strange. I was sitting there chuckling at little black riding-hood when my Sight caught fire.

I wasn’t prepared, and I sucked in air like I’d just been burned. I started hyperventilating as thousands of tiny blades raking against my skin. The image of Tyrone, rock in hand, forced its way into my mind. I knew I was still sitting on a bench in New York’s Penn Station, but I could see the rock flying at my head, feel the inhalation of energy, the blinding whiteness, the heat of the explosion, even the spray of blood on my face. My sense of balance faltered. I flopped off the bench and landed in the anonymous grim below.

The fall knocked the wind out of me, and my emotions were a jumble as I struggled to my feet. Fear, terror, and excitement all mixing together in a confusing jumble. I couldn’t control my breathing. My lungs were constricting like an asthmatic. Air came in short, rapid spurts. I realized if I didn’t fight the panic, I was going to pop—and this was most definitely not the time to pass out.

Instinct told me there was something lethally dangerous nearby. This was no misfire. This was the real deal. I needed to break the cycle, and I needed to break it fast. As the fear dumped adrenalin into my bloodstream, I strained my muscles against the panic in my head. My body quivered in protest, but the effort stopped the worst of it. I focused on steadying my rasping breath—and as I calmed down, more clarity came to my Sight. The source of the icy cheese grater was isolated to my left side—but it was moving, as though someone in the crowd was shedding it as they walked. I threw my will into sharpening my Sight. I was running on a mix of instinct and intuition, but it seemed to be paying off. Moments later, I thought I had located the source. It wasn’t easy, there were a lot of people around, so it helped that he stuck out from the crowd.

He moved smoothly through the masses. Or rather, they parted as he walked. He was a tall man and wore a well-tailored black suit. A gaudy piece of red jewelry hung from his neck. Flanking him were two giants. One wore a blue sweat suit, the other, a red one. Stone-faced, they walked a step behind, a broad wall of flesh that said quite loudly: Do. Not. Disturb.

Some sort of bodyguards? I wondered. I turned my attention back to the tall man in the well-tailored suit. He was just
oozing
energy. It hummed off his body as he walked, and it was near identical to the sensation I felt when Tyrone tried to kill me. So this was killing intent. The man in the nice suit was preparing to take a life. But what was the deal? Tyrone only emitted death-rays for the briefest moment, only when he had committed to caving in my face…I frowned. Maybe it was because Tyrone wasn’t a killer. He was sadistic, sure, an asshole, sure, but he had his limits. I had challenged him to a fight, embarrassed him in front of his entire crew, and ruined his playing career before he lost it. The man in front of me was a different animal. That instinct we all have—the one that kicks in when a rabid dog turns and snarls—it was screaming at me.

Its advice? Back-the-fuck-off.

In the meantime, the part of me that likes to build with blocks was jumping up and down shouting for attention: “I just wanted you to know,” it bleated helpfully, “that if Mr. Badass and the Sandbag Twins are following a straight vector, they’re headed straight over to the nice girl in the black hoodie.”