“You can’t let him do that.”
“I know, but I have no way to warn my parents,” I say, frustrated. “They don’t have a phone. I’m scared, Burnham. He could take them anywhere. Anywhere in the world, actually, even Iceland. The Chimera Centre’s there.”
“He can’t take them personally, though,” Burnham says. “He still has to show up regularly on The Forge Show. He could hire people to kidnap them, but I doubt he’d take them out of the country unless he had you, too.” A tapping comes from his end. “This isn’t good. I could get a PI, but that would take time. Do you have any other ideas? Why are your parents in Las Vegas?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. “I’m not even sure Berg was telling the truth about them being there. My neighbor Peggy said my parents had a lead on where I might be and that’s why they left. Vegas might have been their destination, or they could have been heading somewhere west of there and just stopped on the way.” I frown out my window as a shimmer of dust passes through my headlights. “There’s supposed to be another vault of dreamers in Miehana, California. A big one. I can’t help thinking it’s important.”
“You mentioned that once before,” he says. “Miehana,” he adds slowly. “Isn’t that near the Olbaid Nuclear Power Plant? The one that blew up?”
The name tickles a memory of a story from science class. “Possibly,” I say. “Let me take a look.”
On Freddy’s tablet, I do a quick search for the Olbaid Nuclear Power Plant, which is right on the Pacific coast, about halfway between L.A. and San Francisco. It had a major meltdown in 2048, about twenty years back. The town of Miehana is thirty miles inland, just outside the Olbaid Exclusion Zone. Images of the OEZ show the rusty ruin of a roller coaster and decaying, overgrown summer cottages.
“You’re right,” I say, impressed.
“Okay,” he says. “We’ll see what we can find out about that vault in Miehana. And here’s another idea. I can search the Fister database to see if there are any significant sleep med orders in that part of California.”
“You think that vault of dreamers uses sleep meds?” I say. “The dreamers are already asleep.”
“They used sleep meds for you when you were at Onar, didn’t they?” Burnham says.
He’s right. They did. “But I was an exception,” I say. “Berg buys bodies from a pre-morgue. They’re legally dead. He’s just found a way to boot up their bodily functions. He can reignite their brain stems.”
“Who told you this?”
“Berg did,” I say, remembering Gracie, a little dreamer girl from the vault under Forge. “From what he said, the dreamers are sort of half back from the dead, just enough for their old dreams to stir. Berg uses their brains almost like potting soil. He could implant dreams from Forge students into them and they’d take root. That’s what he said, at least.”
“Holy crap,” Burnham says. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t come up.”
“That is one creepy dude,” he says.
No kidding.
“Hold on. I’ve got another thing,” I say. I locate the pill box I took from Ian and fish out a few of the little pills. I turn on the overhead light so I can inspect a red one. “See if you can find out anything about a red pill marked ‘Echo eight,’ and a yellow one. I think this is a double theta marked on it.”
“Send me a picture.”
It takes me a couple seconds, but I do. “This phone camera’s not the best.”
“That’s okay. Where’d you get the pills?” Burnham says.
“I found them on a guy who works for Berg. Remember Ian? He came looking for me in Doli.”
Burnham wants to hear all about that, too, and I tell him how Peggy and I stuck Ian in the closet.
“You’re really not safe anywhere, are you?” Burnham says.
I focus out my window again. The place where I’ve pulled off is still dark and quiet. If I turn off my headlights, I’ll practically disappear, but I’m too anxious to stay here doing nothing. I switch the phone to speaker and prop it on my knee. Then I start the car again and turn back toward the freeway.
“I’m going to keep driving toward Las Vegas,” I say. “I’m going to hope Peggy warns my parents about Berg in time and they start driving back toward me.”
“Sounds good,” Burnham says. “But maybe get some sleep in there.”
I laugh. Like I could sleep. “And you’ll do your research and send a phone to Thea,” I say.
“What’s her address?” Burnham asks.
“I don’t have it on me. You’ll have to look it up. Her name’s Althea Flores. She lives in Holdum, Texas, and her family owns a ranch. They’re super wealthy.” I realize he’ll learn a ton about her online, but that’s for another conversation. “How long will it take to get her a phone?”
“I can have it delivered first thing tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Burnham,” I say. “This is so nice of you. I mean it.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says. “I’m glad to be back doing something. I was worried about you.”
A louder shifting noise comes from his end. I think he’s about to say goodbye, but instead, he clears his throat.
“Listen. Do you have another minute?” he asks.
I’ve just reached the highway again and I turn on my blinker, which clicks in loud rhythm. I look to my left for oncoming headlights and wait while a pair of headlights gets bigger.
“Sure. I’m just driving,” I say.
After the car passes, I pull out onto the road and pick up speed.
“I was talking to my sister, Sammi, yesterday,” Burnham says. “I kind of told her about when you were staying with me here in Atlanta. That night. After you had your nightmare.”
I know exactly what he means. A cold furball lodges in my lungs. I can’t believe he told her about us.
“I remember,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “What about it?”
“Sammi says I owe you an apology,” Burnham says quietly. “She got me thinking I came on too, well, strong, and then I wasn’t exactly cool the next morning.”
I feel a snap of relief, like a cord breaking. I grip the steering wheel harder and aim straight ahead as an overpass whooshes above. “Wow,” I say.
“So she’s right?”
She’s brilliant is what she is.
“Yeah,” I say.
“I’m sorry, then. I really am,” he says. “The trouble is, I can never tell if the vibe between us is good or bad, or if I’m just imagining it, you know?”
I do know, unfortunately. It’s not like I have everything figured out. “Let’s just agree never to kiss each other again,” I say.
“Not ever?”
I throw up a hand. “Burnham!”
“I’m apologizing,” he says. “I’m trying to be straight-up honest with you.”
“And you’re making me really uncomfortable,” I say. “Just stop.”
“Okay. All right,” he says. And then, “Just tell me one thing. One last thing.”
“What?”
“That picture of you in Linus’s bed. Does that mean what I think it does?”