Theo dreaded coming here, but this was his job now. There was something he needed to find on this wall. He was the only one who could do it.
He kept moving without any idea of direction. Up, down, left, right. It all looked the same. It was only when he moved toward the wall that he could make out the infinite beads of light that comprised its surface. Each one was burning agony on his thoughts, like a magnified sunbeam. He kept his distance and never stopped moving. He had so much area to cover. Too much. Whenever he thought about it, an arch panic overtook him. I can’t do it, Peter. The wall’s too big. The string’s too thin. I’ll never find it. I don’t even think it exists.
And yet he kept traveling, searching the wall for the one little strand that meant everything to everyone. The only thing worse than being in this cold and dreary hell was leaving it, since he knew he’d have to face his companions and tell them once again that he failed.
Though they always thanked him for trying and assured him that tomorrow would be a better day, Theo could see the heartbreak behind their expressions. They knew as well as he did that there were only so many tomorrows left. While he flittered and flailed on the other side of the wall, his friends were merely waiting. Waiting for the sky to fall again.
—
He jerked awake on the futon, his chest moist with sweat. He did a double take at the clock when it told him that it was 2:12 in the morning. Theo had slept nearly a full day in this dingy little office. Even his coma didn’t last that long.
He relieved himself in the bathroom, gargled a shot of mouthwash, then lumbered down the stairs. The smell of sizzling bacon made his mouth water. He’d barely had a bite to eat since Nemeth.
The moment Hannah saw him, she dropped her spatula in the frying pan and hugged him.
“Thank God. I was starting to get worried. How you feeling?”
“Like Rip van Winkle.” He saw Zack and Mia at the table. “You’re having breakfast at two A.M.?”
“We did some heavy sleeping ourselves,” Zack said.
The cartoonist seemed awfully chipper for a man on vampire time. Mia, by contrast, looked thoroughly morose. She aimed a dull gaze at her lap through her tangle of bangs.
Hannah pushed him to the table. “Sit. I’m making waffles too.”
Theo studied her carefully as she returned to the stove. He knew her well enough to recognize the “everything’s fine” voice she used when she was bottling her anger at someone. He could practically hear the creak of the crossbow string. Mercifully, the quarrel didn’t seem to be aimed at him.
He took a drowsy gander at the map book in Zack’s hands. “We leaving today?”
“I don’t know. Depends on David.”
“Well, you know what he’ll say.”
“I’m talking about his health, not his preferences. If Amanda says he’s not ready, we’re staying.”
Theo gazed out the window at the lumic lamppost. “She’ll be waiting for us in New York.”
“Who, Melissa?”
“Yeah. She knows exactly who we’re going to see.”
“Peter’s a dozen steps ahead of the Deps,” Zack replied. “He knew just where your truck would be, how many agents were guarding you. I don’t think those people are a problem for him.”
“You think Peter’s an augur too?” Hannah asked.
Zack shook his head. “No. I’m guessing he’s more like Mia. The two of them have some kind of portal juju going on.”
Mia’s expression grew darker. She’d received two new messages from her future self earlier, neither of which offered any practical value. One of them was cruel enough to make her cry. If Peter shared her affliction, she pitied him.
Theo jerked a lazy shrug. “I’m still not sure what to think of the guy, to be perfectly honest. I just hope—”
A sudden stabbing jolt caused him to wince and press his temple. Hannah rushed to his side.
“Theo!”
“I’m all right,” he assured her. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. If your problem’s coming back—”
“It’s just a headache. I’m fine.”
Zack eyed him warily. “Have you had any premonitions since they drugged you?”
“Not a one,” Theo said, hoping that was true. The great white wall still loomed large in his thoughts.
Mia’s stomach gurgled with stress as she recalled the first vague note she’d received from her elder self today.
Don’t get too comfortable. You’re not out of the storm.
—
Amanda sat quietly on the guest bed, tending David’s wound with edgy distraction. Though the widow had steeled herself with five deep breaths before knocking on David’s door, she was pleasantly surprised to find him genial. His pain was just a fraction of yesterday’s. The stumps of his fingers showed no signs of infection. Amanda thanked God for the double mercy. She couldn’t have handled a second attack of scorn. Not in her state.
David studied Amanda warily as she unwrapped a new roll of bandages. “How’s Mia?”
“She’s all right. Worried about you.”