Continuum (31 page)

Another button reveals an assortment of uniforms--dark colored coveralls with the royal crest stitched in white.  The final button reveals a hidden compartment crammed full of books.  I start pulling random books off the shelves and flipping them open, scanning them in an attempt to distract myself.  

I was half dead on my feet as I hadn’t slept well last night.  I had dreamt of Ethan, the last time I saw him when he gave me the necklace.  It had filled me with a painful yearning as if the empty ache in my chest wasn’t enough of a constant reminder.  I did not want to risk falling asleep again.

Zefa comes up from behind me, surprising me with his sudden closeness.  I curse and drop the book in my hand as he pulls a thick, faded brown leather bound volume from the topmost shelf, his arm brushing against my shoulder.  

“Jeez, you scared the life out of me.  You are surprisingly quiet for someone your size.”  I bend down to pick up the book I dropped, but Zefa is faster, already handing it back to me.  My eyes zone in on the scar running along his jaw and then my eyes flicker back up to his impassive, gray gaze and I quickly look away, hastily replacing the book onto the shelf.

“I apologize, I did not mean to startle you.  I thought you might find this book insightful.  It chronicles the history of the Phynx.  This is the first volume.”

Weighing the heavy volume in my hands, I reply, “Thanks.  This will come in handy.  There's a lot I need to learn apparently.” 

Zefa takes a step back and gives me a curt nod,  “I have a transmission that I need to send out.  If you need me I will be in the control center.” 

I give him an awkward head bob back and Zefa disappears to the front of the ship.  I stare at the selection of books for a minute longer, but then settle on the history volume to bring back to my bunk.  I sit down at the edge of the bed and place the heavy book on my lap.  The book is easily three inches thick, its spine creased from wear.  

The faded brown leather binding is embossed intricately with the Phynx royal symbol.  I can't bring myself to open it.  Between these covers, was the history of my father’s people.  It would just make everything too
real
.  Slowly, I trace the symbol with my fingertip before setting the book down on the floor.  

I hop off the bed and crouch on the floor in front of my suitcase.  I unzip it and spend a couple minutes rummaging through it before I find what I am looking for.  I sit back on the edge of the bed, this time with a different leather bound book—my sketchbook.  I flip through the pages until I find the one I am looking for.  Carefully preserved under a sheet of tracing paper is my smeared portrait of Ethan from the sleepless night after he first kissed me.  

I try to remember how to breathe but my lungs struggle to fill the void that’s been left in my chest.  The sharp gasps of air make my whole body tremble.  I gently set down the sketchbook on the side of the bed closest to the wall.  I lay down next to it pulling the covers up to my chin, curling my arm protectively around the page.  

Even his picture taunts me, the betrayal in his eyes.  The knowledge that I have hurt Ethan eats away at me like battery acid corroding inside my veins.  The pain of that knowledge is almost unendurable.  But I know I can’t fall apart, no matter how much I needed him.  I would endure this pain a hundred times over to keep him safe.  I just wish I could have spared him the same pain.  Where had everything gone wrong?

When had I stopped thinking rationally and let this boy in my life?  And to what end?  So that I could run so far away that I wasn’t even on the same planet?  I was so used to protecting myself against the world that when I finally opened myself up to someone, it only wounded me more deeply.  

Even my mother, the person who loved and knew me better than anyone, found it difficult to accept my... abnormalities.  How could I expect anyone to accept me?  I couldn’t accept myself.  For as long as I can remember, my abilities were a curse, something that kept me apart from others. 
Gifts
, Zefa called them.  These
gifts
were the reason I have run from people my whole life.  These
gifts
were the reason I was running now.  But there is more than a broken heart at stake.  Eventually, I fall into a fitful sleep next to my open sketchbook.

When I awake, it is dark inside the living quarters and Zefa hasn’t bothered to turn on any lights.  As my eyes adjust, I can make out the outline of Zefa in the darkness.  He is sitting at the table absorbed by something on his tablet.  I quietly slide out of bed and stretch my arms out.  My body feels stiff from sleeping on the unfamiliar bed.

Zefa looks up from his tablet, his face glowing eerily in the light of the screen, “How are you feeling?”

“Uhm, fine I guess.  Just really tired.”

He frowns, his gray eyes sharp as they study my face, “You look ill.  Are you symptomatic?” 

“What?  No I'm not.  I mean I don’t feel ill.  Why?”

“You were asleep for a long time.”  

“How long was I out?”

He glances down at his screen, “Sixteen hours, four minutes, twenty-three seconds.”

I still feel dead tired despite all the sleep I got.  I am surprised by how long I was out given the dream I had about Ethan.  It was so vivid, it was like we were really together.  I guess it had been emotionally exhausting seeing him again.  “Oh, I guess traveling takes a lot out of me.  I need to shower and change out of these clothes.  Can you show me how to work that contraption?”

Zefa shows me how to work the panel to operate the shower before leaving me to do my business.  I stand in the stream of water, lost in thought.  The hot water releases some of the tension in my tight muscles.  For some reason, I’m reminded of the afternoon Ethan and I got soaked, running home in the rain.  If I were being honest with myself, that was the day I knew I loved him.  

Fresh anguish lances through my chest and I have to reach out and grab the handle of the door to keep from crumpling to the ground.  I slam shut that memory before it does more damage to my already ravaged insides.  Soap and shampoo are dispensed by little pods built into the shower.  I quickly soap my body and wash my hair before shutting everything off.  

I wrap myself up in a towel and use another one to wipe the steam off the makeshift mirror.  I study myself in the mirror.  My wet hair frames my face which is even paler than usual.  My green eyes seem bigger in my gaunt face, my cheekbones sharper.  Despite all the sleep, faint dark circles are etched beneath my eyes.  

After a moment, I turn away--I don’t recognize who I am anymore.  With my back to the mirror, I slowly towel off and change into my wool flannel pajamas.  I run my fingers through my long hair, pulling the tangled strands into a loose bun.  The drip of water from my wet hair reminds of how he had brushed my hair off my shoulder that day we were caught in the rain.

Thoughts of Ethan haunt my waking hours and when I sleep, I dream of him.  I feel so hollow yet each moment I spend thinking about Ethan felt like another chip was falling off.  Will I ever feel whole again?

I am sitting on a white chair in a white room.  The room is so blindingly white the walls melt into the floor.  As my eyes take in the room, I catch a flash of color in my peripheral vision-- a white chair matching the one I’m sitting in.  The only difference is that it is covered in livid, red blood.  Bile rises in my throat and I want to scream but I can’t find my voice.  Horrified, I scuttle away from the chair trying to get as far away as possible.  Then in the next instant, I am not there anymore.

For the first time, I am acutely aware that I am dreaming.  I touch the faded red picnic table in front of me.  I am back at Everest Heights High School, sitting outside the cafeteria.  The sun is shining brightly overhead, but the winter air still feels crisp.  I can feel how cold the bench is through my jeans.  This is not real--the rough wood under my fingertips, the coldness of the air.  The sensation is unsettling.

The trees are bare and their branches are stark against the pure blue of the sky.  It is ghost quiet, not even a whisper of wind between the trees.  I know I am supposed to be waiting.  Waiting for who or what, I don’t know.  The impatient drumming of my fingers against the peeled wood of the picnic table is thundering.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see a figure approaching from the parking lot.  I turn my head and almost fall off the bench in shock.  Now I know I am definitely dreaming.  It’s Ethan!  I scramble up and start running toward him.  I know my time here is limited.  My body is trembling with anticipation as he wraps his arms around me.  I fling my arms around his neck, pressing my face against his chest.  He feels so real, so solid in my arms.  I must be losing my mind, but I don’t really care at the moment.  

He presses his lips against my hair and inhales deeply, his voice is reverent and disbelieving at the same time, “It feels so good to have you in my arms.  You even smell just like I remember.”

Ethan was right, of course.  He smelled exactly as I remembered as well.  I pull back slightly so I can look into those mesmerizing blue eyes, “I miss you Ethan.”

His thumb strokes my cheek and my body comes alive under his touch, “I miss you, too.”  

This new awareness of being in a dream makes it much more difficult to stay asleep, “I wish I could stay here forever.”

Storm clouds darken the clear blue of his eyes as his expression falters, his voice filled with anguish, “Why does it have to be like this?  I always feel like you’re on your way out.  I thought we were going to try.”

“I'm so sorry, Ethan.  Things don't always happen the way we hope they will.  I don't know why I kept thinking things between us might have been different.”

He stares off into the distance, a sigh escaping, “I don't know what I expected you to say.”

His expression fills me with aching.  “It's not you.  I'm on a collision course with danger.  I shouldn't be here dragging you into this mess.”

Lowering his head so our foreheads are touching, Ethan looks down into my eyes, “I welcome danger if it means I get to see you.  I need this.”  He slides his hands until they're resting in the small of my back, my body pulled tight against his.  Our lips meet and then nothing else seems to matter.

When I open my eyes, there is only a single spot of light in the room.  A soft glow encompassing Zefa, who is still seated at the table.  He is busy at work and I don’t feel much like company, so I stay under the covers, hoping to drift back to sleep.

The eerie glow of the tablet’s screen reflects in his sharp gray eyes as they move back and forth.  His eyes remind me of the scanner he used to enter the ship, a machine receiving bits of information, processing rather than comprehending.

But then again Zefa is fully Phynx which means his mind is far more advanced than my own.  I wonder what other tricks he has up his sleeve other than the sharing and creating of memories.  Izic would have the best minds of the Phynxian army at his disposal.  Zefa must be equal parts lethal and loyal.  He seems to trust my father more fully than I ever have.  

My father, the enigma.  A quiet sigh escapes my lips thinking of Izic and his secrets, but Zefa doesn’t budge from his position at the table.  I think of the twin scars down my wrists.  The truth had been too much for me to process.  Then again, I am only half machine.  Exhausted, I close my eyes once more.  

I turn over carefully in my bunk and the room is completely dark.  I must have fallen asleep again.  My body feels stiff like I had slept for a long time again so I slowly stretch out.  My hand hits something soft and warm in the bed next to me.  Startled, I am alert in an instant and scramble back against the wall.  

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I recognize the figure lying next to me.  I blurt out in disbelief, “What are you doing here, Ethan?”

He rolls over onto his side to face me.  His eyes are still half closed, his voice hoarse from sleep, “He brought me here.”  Ethan sounded exhausted.  

“Why?  How?”

“You've been talking about me in your sleep and he could tell you were depressed.  Come on, let's go talk outside.  I’ll explain everything.  Zefa's sleeping.”  Ethan and I quietly slip out of bed.  We pull on our coats and boots.  He opens a panel next to the ship’s hatch and punches a pattern into the blank keypad that appears, releasing the stairs with a hiss.

We step on to a layer of perfectly untouched white snow that comes up to my knees.  The ship’s round shape offering no protection from the fiercely blowing wind, we huddle against each other.  The cold cuts right through my coat.  My breath comes out in little white puffs and my teeth chatter uncontrollably, “We shouldn't stay out here too long.  Zefa said there's too much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere for us to breathe out here for extended periods.”

“We're fine out here.  In terms of air quality, anyway.  Zefa just doesn't want you out of his sight.  It's easier to protect you when you're inside.  You would do well to heed his warnings.”

“Why did Zefa bring you here?”

“I'm here because you need me, Fallon.  Zefa's mission is to keep you safe.  He can't keep you safe if you're thinking about running off back to Earth.”  

“But how did you leave?  What did you tell your parents?  Scott?”

“My mom thinks I'm with you in London and my dad thinks I'm with you in Everest Heights.  I didn’t exactly give him explicit details but Scott is covering for me.”

“Does my father know you're here?”

“Probably.”

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, Ethan.”

He places his hands around mine and pulls me toward him, “I've spent every moment since you left thinking about you.  I've even been dreaming about you, Fallon.”  

His hands travel down to my waist, locking me close to him.  He leans down and kisses me, gently at first.  Then a hunger overcomes us both and I'm kissing him urgently.  I suddenly feel very warm despite the chill in the air.

Abruptly, Ethan stops kissing me and I hear his sharp intake of air.  His arms go slack around me and I pull back.  His eyes are frozen wide with shock and pain.  He staggers back, his hand gripping his chest.