chapter FOURTEEN
Plus 2 Days, 23 hours, 45 minutes
“No—” he gasped, “talk her out of it, tell her she can’t.”
“We tried,” said Tina, “but she’s not thinking straight. She heard Casler say he could use your clairvoyance to make his machine work, and she freaked out. She volunteered herself instead.”
“But she knows what it will do to her,” he choked, barely forming the words. “She doesn’t have any left to give.”
He heard Dominic’s voice in the background, and then the rugby player came on the line. “Number eleven?”
“I’ll volunteer. Just tell her she can’t.”
“She’s not listening to anybody, f*ckface.”
Aaron squeezed his eyelids shut. “She never does.”
“Dr. Selavio’s warming up the machine right now. They’re doing the operation at eleven.”
Aaron held the phone away from him, stared at it. It was a nightmare, surreal. His heart sounded far away, buried, and the whole world rippled when it beat. He pulled the phone back to his mouth.
“I’m coming right now,” he said. “Why the hell didn’t Dr. Selavio wait for me? We had a deal.”
“Amber made him swear not to contact you,” said Dominic, “and he decided she would be better anyway. She’ll let him take more out.”
“Jesus. Just tell him I’m coming,” said Aaron. “And tell him we had a deal.” He flung his phone onto the passenger seat and reached for the ignition.
What the hell was Amber thinking?
The operation would drain her body of something she could never replace. She would be docile afterwards, helpless, pathetic. She would follow Clive around like a pet, taking orders and feeling sad when she was reprimanded, happy when she was rewarded. Never defiant. On the outside, she would still be the same girl—Clive’s trophy—with only a tiny scar at the back of her head to remind her that she was hollow.
They would do this to her, and in fourteen minutes, she was going to let them, all just to protect Aaron, a boy who wasn’t even her half.
He had to stop her.
Aaron ignored the burn of the ignition wires, and his Mazda fired to life. Fourteen minutes. On a bad day, the drive to Dominic’s house could take twenty. He wasn’t going to make it in time—
Aaron hadn’t even found first gear when a figure loomed to his left. He glanced up as two large hands closed on his collar and dragged him out of the car.
***
“Amber, turn around,” said Dominic. He stood in front of the cellar door, swirling a glass of whisky—blocking her.
Amber stopped just short of him. “What are you doing here?”
“Trust me, you don’t want this,” said Dominic.
“You mean you don’t want this?” she said.
“No one does.”
“It’s my choice,” she said.
Dominic scanned the entrance hall behind her and raised his eyebrows. “No Selavio?”
“I’m all alone,” she said. “Does that excite you?”
“Nah.” He tilted his glass, and the ice crinkled. “My birthday’s in five weeks.”
“Am I invited?” she said.
“Depends on how much of you is left.”
She sighed. “Can you please move?”
“Seriously though,” he said. “He’s going to stop you.”
“Clive?”
“Number eleven.” Dominic wrinkled his nose and sipped his whisky.
Amber felt a twinge in her heart. “He won’t. Not anymore.”
“Let him volunteer instead of you. He’s already halfless; no one’s going to miss him.”
Amber glared at him. Then her eyes flicked to his glass. She snatched it from his hand and poured the rest on his head.
He flinched, then shook the liquid off his letterman jacket, kind of like a wet cat. “If that leaves a stain,” he said, “you’re paying for it, Amber.”
She smiled sweetly. “Can I go now?”
He stepped to the side. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Before he changed his mind—or she changed hers—Amber pushed through the door. In the cellar, the silver haze of the aitherscope made her feel see-through. She held her breath until she was safely past it.
Her stomach still hadn’t unknotted from her final, heartbreaking conversation with Aaron. On the phone, it had taken all her strength not to burst into tears, not to cave and confess she loved him. But somehow, she had to push him away. It was the only way to protect him. Whether or not they were supposed to be halves hardly mattered. Even if Casler agreed to reconnect them, the operation would be her second switch, and she wouldn’t survive it—at least not all of her.
And she never wanted Aaron to see her like that. As long as Casler left him out of it and promised never to touch him, he could do whatever he wanted to her. In fact, the more he took out the better. When it was done, she wanted to feel nothing.
She couldn’t stand another excruciating minute as Clive’s half. Up until now, he had kept silent about his father draining her clairvoyance, though she knew it terrified him. In his own way, he did love her; he wanted to own her just the way she was, not hollowed out like other juvengamy girls. He wanted her to love him in return, to really love him, and he knew that would only come from the feeling, thinking, self-aware part of her, from the part she would be missing after the operation—but Amber would rather throw it away than let him have it.
Clive had never let her see his father’s studio before, and before today, she had never wanted to. She took the stairs one at a time, not sure how deep they went. She reached the bottom and peered into the darkness, and when her eyes adjusted, she felt her brain go numb with panic.
It wasn’t the white hospital room she’d expected.
Amber traversed the dingy cave and found herself under a huge machine, suddenly terrified—suddenly aware of everything she was about to lose. The thing hummed above her, dripping oil, and she could already feel it pulling at her, trying to get inside her.
***
Aaron was slammed against his car, which had stalled in first. He felt the edge of the doorframe cut into his back as he stared dumbstruck into the wild eyes of his best friend, Buff Normandy.
“Don’t touch me,” said Aaron.
“Buddy, you can’t go,” said Buff.
“You don’t even know where I’m going.”
“Tina called me and told me what happened,” said Buff. “You made a deal with that doctor.”
“In thirteen minutes,” Aaron spat, “she’ll be worse than dead. Let me go—” Aaron slapped Buff’s hands aside and rushed the car, but Buff grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against the rear door again.
“No bullshit!” he said. “Not after all the things you told me about him.”
Aaron was aware of every heartbeat, every second Amber didn’t have. He glared into his best friend’s eyes. “Do you know what she’ll be like when they’re through with her?” he said. “She’ll be a pretty little shell—that’s all!”
“It’s a trap, Buddy. You know that.”
“He wants clairvoyance,” said Aaron. “It’s either mine or Amber’s.”
“Says who? Make him use his own shit.”
“Just get out of my way,” said Aaron.
“Buddy, she’s not even your half—”
Aaron shoved Buff backwards, and his friend stumbled to the ground. Then he climbed into his car.
“I’m not coming with you,” said Buff, climbing to his feet.
“I don’t want you to,” said Aaron, “you’d only get someone killed.” He restarted the engine and burnt rubber. Behind him, black fumes boiled off his tire tracks. Buff chased him down and kicked his bumper before he squealed down the street.
So much for friends.
Aaron drove a hundred and ten on the freeway. He passed cars as if they were parked. The wind tore inside the cabin, ripped at his clothes and blinded him. His Mazda leaned dangerously around curves, right at the edge of traction. At this speed, it was like cornering switchbacks.
So Casler lied about making them halves again. Why? All he wanted to do was drain their clairvoyance. But he clearly preferred Amber’s.
The needle on his fuel gauge teetered on empty, then crossed it. There was enough fuel to get him there, to Amber—and that was all he needed.
Grassy hills swam around him, shimmering pollen-green under the bright sun—as green as her eyes had been when he sat next to her at the bonfire, more than a month ago, and gazed into them for the first time.
He didn’t have the strength to face the rest of his life without her, alone. Halfless. He had to stop her, even if it meant giving up his own clairvoyance so she wouldn’t have to.
Half a mile from Dominic’s house, he felt it. A cold patch in the air. Static electricity. The hairs on his forearms rose and swayed, as if swept up in an underwater current, and there was no question as to the source.
At ten fifty-seven, Aaron mowed over the dry brush outside Dominic’s gate, scaled the wall, and sprinted up the driveway. He felt the ground buzzing through the soles of his shoes. He circled the house.
At ten fifty-eight, the laundry room door creaked open, and Aaron slipped inside. It was like swimming through needles.
Only the house was empty.
He ran upstairs, Clive’s room—empty. The bed had been made, the walls stripped bare. As if he never lived there. He ran downstairs and checked the kitchen. Through a broken window, a breeze fanned the stench of rotting fish. It wafted over him, warm and nauseating. Flies swarmed over piles of crusted-over china, oil-smudged paper plates, and dripping take-out boxes. Sunlight burned streaks through the humid haze.
Perhaps they were already down below.
At ten fifty-nine, Aaron plunged through the aitherscope’s frozen glare. At the end of the corridor, the jagged stairs dropped into the Earth. His eyes watered from the gases rising out of the dark shaft.
Aaron took a deep breath, then stepped down.
And he found Amber at the bottom.
***
Suspended from the ceiling, dim bulbs flickered red-orange in wire cages. Moisture gleamed like blood on the rough cavern walls.
She was sitting on the operating table, dwarfed under the machine’s pulsating mass. She held her legs against her chest, and her hair fell loosely in front of her eyes.
She was waiting.
Above her, the machine idled, purred—it did something to the air, made it ripple. The edges of the black steel blurred in and out of focus, as if the structure itself was oscillating between worlds. A single green indicator light blinked on the side.
It too was waiting, like Amber. Waiting for the surgeon.
“Amber!” Aaron yelled, but the machine’s hum swallowed his voice. He ran to the operating table, and his footsteps faded behind him. Only when he touched her arm did she glance up.
Her mouth fell open. “Are you dumb?” she whispered. And suddenly her eyes glistened with tears. “You can’t be here!”
“I can’t let you do this,” he said, his breath misting.
“You think everything’s about you, don’t you?” she said. “I meant what I said on the phone . . . and I don’t need your permission.” Her eyes darted to the stairs then back again, almost imperceptibly. “It’s not like you’re my half.”
“Maybe I am,” he said. “The only reason you called is so I wouldn’t come.”
Suddenly, her tone changed. “Aaron, please—” She glanced behind him again, her eyes panicky. “Do you think I want you to see this?”
“See what? The operation? Or you?” he said. “After they’re finished with you.”
She just glared at him.
“Get off the bench,” he said.
“So now you’re ordering me around?”
“I’ll drag you off the bench if you prefer.”
“I already made a deal with him,” she said. “I made him promise, and you can’t do anything about it.”
“Promise what?”
“To leave you alone,” she said.
“In exchange for this?”
“He said it’s completely painless.”
“I’m sure,” he said. “And what about after?”
“Isn’t that the best part?” she said, smiling weakly. “Clive can do anything he wants to me and I won’t remember a thing.”
“You’ll remember what’s missing—” Aaron felt an itch at the back of his head, and he glanced back at the stairs. They were empty. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “It’s eleven o’clock.”
“Did you hear what I just said?
“I’m sorry,” said Aaron. “I made a deal with Casler first.”
“Too bad. He likes me better.”
“I’m not worth you throwing half of yourself away,” he said, and the itch in his scalp became a burn. “Now let’s leave while we both still can.”
She opened her mouth, but at that moment, Dr. Selavio, Clive, and Dominic emerged from the dark stairwell, and the halogen lights ignited like blue suns around the perimeter of the cave. They made the dimmer bulbs look like burned out cinders.
***
“Dominic said you’d come,” said Casler, flashing his dazzling white teeth. He stepped up to the operating table, set down a worn leather bag, and rested his hand on Aaron’s shoulder. He beamed at Amber. “You’re free to go,” he said. “Aaron’s volunteered to take your place.”
Figuring he’d play along until Amber was in the clear, Aaron nodded. As soon as she was out of the dungeon, he’d run for it, blockade the cellar door, and light the house on fire. Then he and Amber could split the country.”
Amber glanced between the two of them, horrified. “You promised,” she said to Casler.
“Clive, why don’t you take her upstairs,” said Casler, opening his medical bag. “She’ll be safer up there.”
“But Aaron’s supposed to be safe!” she said, and as Clive limped forward, she scrambled backward off the operating table. Clive circled the bench, grabbed her arms, and lifted her off the table.
“Let go!” Amber tore at Clive’s hoodie, and for a split-second, Aaron glimpsed the scabs on Clive’s shoulder—the ones he’d made the previous night with the car door—before Clive swung her around and clamped his palm over her mouth, choking off her screams.
Aaron felt his muscles tense, but he held himself back. He just wanted her out of the dungeon.
Clive paused halfway to the stairs and glared at Aaron. His pale eyes burned between his slitted eyelids, challenging him—daring him. Then Amber jerked her head against his chin, knocked him backwards, and broke free.
She ran to Aaron and grabbed his hands.
“Are you crazy?” she gasped, as Clive struggled to his feet behind her. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I’m in love with you,” said Aaron, “and I can’t stand the idea of him taking away everything that makes you who you are. Now go upstairs.”
Amber blinked, and for an instant her eyes were completely unguarded, exposed. “No,” she whispered, and moved closer.
Casler sighed. “Can somebody get her out of here?”
Dominic appeared at her side. “Come on, Amber. Upstairs where it’s safe.”
But Amber ignored him. Her green eyes never left Aaron’s. “I want you to be safe,” she said.
“There’s no point if I don’t have a half,” said Aaron, and he winked.
She looked confused.
“Just go upstairs,” said Aaron, and he tugged his hands out of her grip.
“But you’re the only thing that matters,” she said. “You can’t let him do this to you!”
It took both Clive and Dominic to drag her toward the stairs. She squirmed and clawed at their arms, and her hair whipped behind her. “We had a deal!” she yelled.
“You’re right,” said Casler. “I just don’t need your end anymore.”
“Casler, you double-crossing liar,” she gasped.
“Please—” He gave a weak smile. “Call me dad.”
While she kicked and struggled, they dragged her out of the dungeon. As soon as she was gone, Aaron breathed out a sigh of relief.
Casler leaned over his medical bag. “Now,” he said, extracting a surgical mask, latex gloves, and a syringe. “Let’s begin.”
***
“You think I’m stupid?” said Aaron. “I’m not donating my clairvoyance either.” He started toward the stairs, ready to sprint if Casler pursued him.
“If you’re thinking of running away with her, it won’t work . . . ,” said Casler.
“That wasn’t the plan.”
“ . . . because she and Clive are still connected. They need to be near each other constantly, especially in the beginning. If you kidnap her now, she’ll get separation anxiety. She’ll get sick. Eventually, she’ll die. I don’t think you want that, Aaron.”
“No shit.” Aaron slowed and glanced behind him. “That wasn’t the plan. I just wanted her off your operating table.”
“And I agree with you,” said Casler. “As her half-father, I didn’t want to let her donate anything, but since she’s eighteen, it’s her choice. Aaron, I didn’t lie to you this morning. I did want to make you two halves again, but Amber wouldn’t let me. She insisted I leave you alone. As I said before—and as you can clearly see—her decision to donate clairvoyance is separate from her decision not to be your half.”
The words stung. Aaron spun around to face him. “She thought it was either her or me.”
Casler smiled. “Trust me, I’m not taking anybody’s clairvoyance without their permission. No, the real reason is that as Clive’s half, she’s facing a lot of pressure to conform. She wants the operation done so she can be like the other girls in the Juvengamy Brotherhood. Just a thimbleful . . . I’m not willing to take out any more than that.”
“This is getting really sick,” said Aaron.
Casler nodded, his face somber. “I know. I don’t like the influence the Brotherhood has on her either . . . ” He scrunched his eyebrows, brooding. “There is another solution.”
Aaron stared at the doctor, hardly knowing what to believe anymore—and still clinging to the hope that somehow he and Amber could end up halves again. “Bullshit,” he said.
“I can make it safe for you two to run away together. As much as it would hurt Clive, I want her to be with her original half . . . and I want her to be safe.”
“If we’re not halves, then how?”
“Right now, we just need to sever her channel,” he said, and seeing the look on Aaron’s face, he added, “we’ll put Clive in the machine. Remember, her channel can heal like yours. You won’t be connected like halves, but at least she’ll be free.”
“Forget it,” said Aaron. “You’re not cutting her channel again.” He marched toward the stairs, but Casler called after him.
“Once you leave, Aaron, she’s just going to come back down here. She gets what she wants, you know.”
Aaron hesitated. He was right. She would come back down here, and anything was better than that. The next instant, Casler stood over him.
The man grinned, flashing a row of perfect white teeth as he slipped the white mask over his nose and mouth and snapped the gloves into place. “Keep her safe,” he said, “and bring her back in a few months. I’ll make you halves then.” He winked.
Casler’s cologne filled Aaron’s sinuses, calmed him. Tempted him. He knew it was wrong, though. But even as he edged away from the doctor, his brain scrambled for a reason—any reason—to trust him.
“You’d really put Clive in the machine?” said Aaron.
“All I need is a tiny sample of that scar tissue so he’ll survive without a half.”
“No way. You’re not drilling a hole through my head.”
Casler chuckled. “That was for the autopsy, Aaron. It’s a noninvasive procedure. I’m going to give you an injection that dissolves some of that scar tissue into your bloodstream. Then, all I need to do is draw a sample of your blood. Then you’re free to go . . . and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“That’s it? Just two shots?”
“Just two shots.”
Aaron considered the risks. When it was explained like that, his doubts seemed absurd. All the guy wanted was a sample of the scar tissue; he had made that clear from the beginning. If Aaron complied just this once, it would at least get the guy off his back and buy him more time with Amber. Also, he would force the doctor to show his hand. The worst Casler could do, short of injecting him with poison, would be to tranquilize him and strap him into the machine anyway. And Aaron wasn’t that stupid.
He felt his mouth widen into a smirk. “I’ll do it on one condition,” he said. “You inject yourself first.”
Casler peered into his eyes, then ruffled Aaron’s hair with his palm. “Gladly. I think this is the right thing to do, Aaron.”
And Aaron knew it wasn’t.
“Any allergies I should know of?” said Casler, as he rummaged through his medical bag. His voice was deep and soothing behind the mask. He was a doctor, after all.
Aaron shook his head, gaping in disbelief as the doctor filled two syringes with a clear liquid. This was actually happening.
“Okay, I’m injecting myself.” Casler rolled his sleeve up to his elbow, plunged one of the needles into his own forearm, and drained the plunger. Then he lifted the second needle.
Aaron swallowed hard, wishing he hadn’t agreed to this, and averted his eyes as Casler rolled up his sleeve.
“There—” Aaron hardly felt the prick. Then Casler daubed his arm with a cotton ball and slapped on a bandage. “Give that a few minutes. Then we’ll draw the blood.”
Clive limped into the dungeon, his cheeks scratched up and swollen.
Dr. Selavio stared at his son. “Was she too much for you to handle?” he sneered.
“No, Father.”
“If you ever embarrass me like that in front of company again—”
“I’m sorry, Father,” he said.
“Learn to discipline your half,” said Dr. Selavio. “I didn’t give her to you as a toy.”
Clive’s pale eyes flicked to the machine, still humming in the background.
The chemical was taking effect. Suddenly woozy, Aaron lowered himself to the floor. A thousand suns wobbled above him, the quartz-halogen lamps. Their blue glare pierced his pupils.
“I want more,” Clive blurted out, his eyes still on the machine.
“More of what?”
“More of her clairvoyance.”
“You have enough,” said Casler. “Now help me start the machine.”
Aaron stared at his hands. They had paled to the color of frost. He felt his own blood pooling at the back of his head, as if he was hanging upside down. Meanwhile, Casler barked orders to his son, completely unperturbed. The stuff was only affecting Aaron. God damn it.
“Alright Clive—” Casler wheeled a chair in front of his laptop and typed something fast. The screen spit out line after line of green code. “Let’s spin.”
At the machine, Clive coiled his fingers around a massive switch and shoved. At first it didn’t budge. The tendons bulged in his forearms, and his shoulder trembled with exertion. Then the switch chunked into place.
The halogen lights dimmed, sputtered, then failed completely. They were plunged into midnight.
Aaron’s blood continued to pool at the back of his skull. He wanted to scratch it, but where? The itch was inside him.
The lights flickered back on.
Then the oscillations began.
From the machine’s belly, the first revolution struck Aaron’s chest like a shockwave and knocked the breath out of him. It echoed off the granite walls. The second revolution hit his skull, the third his heart. Faster and faster. The machine revved up, growled.
The bulbs rattled in their aluminum funnels. Dust and bits of granite sprinkled from the ceiling. The revolutions blurred into a deafening drone. The pitch climbed.
“Clockwise—two degrees,” Dr. Selavio shouted to Clive. Meanwhile, his fingers blurred across the keyboard. “Keep the field stable.”
Clive spun a wheel on the side of the machine.
Aaron stared at its looming mass. Its edges flickered, blurry, sometimes not even there. Sweat dripped into his mouth. No way Casler was putting his son in that thing.
“Clive, watch the drift,” said Casler, his voice closer. He appeared over Aaron, his gaze radiating warmth. “How you feeling, bud?”
“What the hell did you inject me with?”
“A chemical agent. Like I said, it’s dissolving that scar tissue into your bloodstream. Give it three more minutes.”
“How much is going to dissolve? A sample, or the whole goddamn lump?”
Casler just smiled, patted Aaron’s shoulder, and returned to his station. And Aaron had his answer. Of course. The chemical agent was dissolving the scar tissue that had kept Aaron alive for eighteen years—dissolving all of it. Casler was simply removing the plug from Aaron’s severed channel. Without the scar tissue, Aaron would suffer half death. Of course the doctor was immune; he had a half.
Three minutes. Aaron had three minutes before his clairvoyance started to evaporate, before his soul leaked into the gaping hollow at the back of his head.
Well played, big man. If there was any flaw in Casler’s execution, it wasn’t that he had gone through all the trouble of starting the machine, then not used it. It wasn’t that he’d lied unnecessarily. It wasn’t even that every smile and every word that crossed his foul lips stank of treachery. It was only that he might have warned Aaron, given him half a minute, thirty seconds—just to contemplate his own death.
And to remember Amber.
Aaron collapsed on the floor, muscles limp. His cheek slapped cold stone. He could already feel something flowing out the back of his head, but the sensation was painless, surreal. Peaceful almost.
The machine whined ever faster, but Aaron had already done what was required of him. At least Amber was safe.
Fatigue weighed on his eyelids, closed them.
“Clive—” It was Casler’s voice, somewhere high above him. “Bring Amber back down here, would you? The machine’s ready for her.”