It rained during the night. A sheet of water had turned half of the parking lot into a rippling reservoir. A trick of the morning light made the depth of scant inches seem bottomless. When you’re a kid, something like that is so . . . shit, “miraculous” is the only word. Just a little thing, but through a child’s eyes it would be a lake so crystal clear that you could sail across glass to the distant shore. There would be trees that blazed autumn colors year-round, animals with the silver eyes of a benevolent moon, and amber gold grass would sing with every whisper of the wind.
It would also be a shore where children had never learned to kill. I stepped into the massive puddle and broke the illusion. Water soaked through my sneakers as I popped the trunk to the car. My eyes burned from lack of sleep and even the rays of a cloud-shrouded sun felt like needles. Michael had slept a few hours, from what I could tell, but I hadn’t. I don’t think I’d once closed my eyes the entire night. Michael had finally come through with some hard information, as I’d wanted. Ask and you shall receive, right? Unfortunately, what he had told me was right on the edge of being more than I could handle. I’d once thought my brother had been taken by a sexual predator, a twisted perverse monster. I was wrong and I was right. There had been a predator. There had been a monster. But sexual abuse had nothing to do with the nightmare Michael had lived through.
There are all kinds of monsters.
Yeah, all kinds. And the one that had taken Michael was even worse than the pale slavering creepers with long probing fingers I’d concocted in my nightmares. Placing the duffel bag in the trunk, I slammed the lid with unnecessary force. The sound echoed through the deserted lot and sent a knot of birds screeching angrily toward the sky. Crouching, I checked the fasteners on the license plate to make sure they were tight. I’d switched the plates with another car last night just after we’d checked in. The original one was bound to be in the state cops’ computer system as stolen by now. The Toyota was an older car without any of that satellite transponder crap that made life so difficult; I’d made certain of that. For some reason that thought tugged hard at my mind. Unable to catch the kite tail meaning of it as it flew, I gave up and shook it off. If I kept changing plates, I could get a few days before I had to get us a new ride.
“Here’s your soft drink.”
I looked up, startled by Michael’s presence at my elbow. I’d sent him across the lot to a soft drink machine against the building. “Sorry. I was thinking.” Taking the can, I popped the tab and took a swallow and reveled in the life-giving caffeine. “Thanks.”
Rubbing a finger in the condensation tracking the metal of his can, he asked diffidently, “Am I still invited? Or should I catch a bus?”
The can dimpled musically under my clenched grip. He thought I’d desert him, that I was afraid of him. He thought I saw him through his eyes, as he saw himself . . . as yet another monster. Clearing my throat, I growled, “Get in the car, Freud, or you won’t see sugar for a week.”
The relief in his eyes came and went so quickly that it was possible I imagined it, but I don’t think I did. When we were in the car, I rested a hand on the wheel. I could feel the weight of his gaze centered on the small bruise on the back of my wrist. I pulled my sleeve down farther to cover it. “A bus?” I said, hoping to divert his attention. Rolling my eyes, I started the car. “You wouldn’t have the first clue how to catch a bus.”
He frowned instantly. “I took . . .”
I finished the sentence with him. “A class.” I laughed and after a second he smiled along with me. It was a small smile, and hesitant, but it was genuine. Sobering, I offered, “You’re my brother, Misha. As far as I’m concerned, you walk on water. Nothing you could say or do will change that.”
“Except sink?” The smile quirked, then disappeared as his eyes were dragged with obvious reluctance back to my bruise. “No one at the Institute can do anything good. No one who lasts.”