Farsighted (Farsighted Series) (29 page)

“We’ve got to do something,” I yell over the chaos.

Simmi lets go of my hand and begins to walk toward the edge of the carousel, slowly, with a determination I just can’t understand, her scent receding.

“What are you doing?” I cry. “Are you crazy?” I circle my arms around her waist, but she fights free.

“Stay here,” Shapri warns. “Else the same thing that happened to that giraffe is gonna happen to you.”

Simmi doesn’t say anything, just keeps moving away. I try to follow her, but she breaks into a sprint and with all the other people and animals running around, I can’t keep track of her.

“No, no, come back,” I scream. When Simmi doesn’t listen, I beg anyone I can catch, grabbing at their arms as they hurry past me. “Save that girl,” I beg. “Keep her safe. Please!” They shake me off, selfishly worried more about their own safety than Simmi’s.

Dad retrieves me from the middle of the frenzy and takes me back to the carousel. “Stay with Shapri,” he orders, then he and Miss Teak run after Simmi.

“Don’t let him get her,” I shout, but they can’t hear me over the chaotic jungle of sounds and motion. I can barely hear me.

Days pass, months, years. I feel like I’m going to grow old and die clinging to this plastic carousel creature.

Then Simmi’s voice rises above the din, “Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm.” She chants over and over, just that one sound, “Mmm.” It drowns out the roars, quiets the screaming. The scene grows silent, as if sucked into a vacuum cleaner. The only sound is Simmi’s calming hum.

“Shapri?” I ask. “What happened?” Is Simmi okay? Where did the animals go?

“I can’t explain it exactly,” she answers between gasps for air. “She just started singing and then all the animals lay down in their places. Most of the people, too. Everything just…stopped.”

“What about Dax?”

“I don’t know,” she apologizes. “Some people are still awake, but they all look really confused. My guess is he’s one of them.”

“Stay here,” I command, rising from my crouch and walking into the scene. This new mixture of smells is a little confusing. Animal and human bodies are littered everywhere, gently breathing, as if they’re asleep. I’ve got to navigate with care to avoid stepping on them or hitting them with my cane. A rain of thuds comes from every direction, each preceded by a creak. People are coming out of the indoor exhibits, weakening, and falling to the pavement. The thuds slow, then stop altogether.

“Follow me, follow me,” Dad instructs in a calm, assertive tone from somewhere across the park. “We’ll need your help.” Some people ignore his request and leave the zoo; others amble over to him, forming a small and placid mob.

Simmi continues her soothing, rhythmic hum. Her song is pulsing out from a spot just next to Dad and his cluster of helpers. They are a human barricade. I can trust Dad to keep her safe. Now’s my time to strike. It’s time to finish this.

“Dax,” I call in my most ominous tone. “Dax, I know you’re here.” A reversal of our first talk.

“Well, it took you long enough,” someone answers in a snide tode. A form moves toward me in the stillness; each footstep is a drumbeat echoing through the open air. “Oh-ho, didn’t realize I was dealing with a cripple. This’ll be easier than I thought.” He cracks his knuckles about to throw a punch, or whatever his gifted version of that might be.

A gust of hurricane-strength wind shoots diagonally over my head and into the sky. Dax grunts and falls to the ground.

“Alex, run. Straight to your right. Go!” Shapri yells from where Dax was standing.

I waste no time in following her instructions. I flee to the side. I whack a few people with my cane on the way and hope I’m not hurting anyone too badly.

I trip over a heap of sleeping bodies, right before I run into a glass door.

“Inside, go!” Shapri calls. “You’ll be able to—”

Her voice cuts off, and hurried footsteps carry in my direction. I dart inside, and throw my body against the door as a barricade.

“Nice try,” Dax says as he uses another gust of wind to force the door open. It swings back and forth violently, sending my body flying until it hits the far wall of the exhibit. My nose breaks the horizontal fall. Blood spurts out like a geyser. I lift my hand in an attempt to staunch the flow.

My cane is gone. I already have no idea how my powers of second sight can beat out Dax’s telekinesis. But now, there’s no hope; I’m completely useless without my cane.

“Here,” Dax says. The cane floats through the air and wraps itself into my hand. “Let’s keep this fight as fair as possible.” He laughs at the absurdity of that statement. Unless something major happens fast, I’m going to lose.

Something furry zooms through the air and pummels me in the chest. More soft, fleshy objects fly at me, one by one, then in a deluge. High-pitch shrills accompany them as they approach. One hits me on the face, and I realize in horror that it is a small mouse-like creature. Its scaly tail whips my neck.

A larger object pushes through the air, creating a gust of thick wind as it rushes toward me. I life my cane and grasp an end in each of my hands. Pushing it out in front of me, I’m able to counteract the blow. The animal screams as it hits my cane, then scurries away.

“Stop,” I protest. “Why are you hurting these animals? Why are you hurting me?”

“Why are you stalking me?” Dax growls, sounding every bit as much like an animal as his weapons.

I suck in a deep breath of air but don’t respond. Groping along the wall, I search for something I can use as a weapon.

“Don’t want me to use the mice? Fine,” Dax shouts. Glass shatters and something new flies my way. It hits the wall just near my head, crunching a hole into the drywall, then falls by my feet. A massive rock. If that would’ve hit me, I’d be dead.

I have to strike. I have to get in my moves or this will all be over in a matter of seconds. My grip firms around my cane—my only weapon, my favorite. I kick back against the wall and propel myself forward several steps then throw my cane at Dax like a javelin, waiting for the satisfying sound of impact.

The cane reverses and crashes against my chest, knocking me to the ground. I scramble for it and attempt to get back on my feet, but an invisible hand presses me into the ground.

Silence.

Dax walks toward me, step by deliberate step. A lion examining his victim before taking the final bite of its jugular.

“I don’t understand what you want with me,” I whimper. More blood flows into my mouth, blurring my words.

“What
I
want with
you
? You’re the one who came to me, so why don’t you answer that question first.” He closes the final distance between us. I back away by dragging my body along the ground; I still can’t get to my feet. If only my superpower was something more useful, like walking through walls.

“I came to save Simmi,” I say, disdain tainting my taste buds more than the blood.

“To save Simmi?” he asks with a mix of shock and false humor. “Well, it’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” I can’t read his tone—does he even know who Simmi is yet? If he doesn’t, why would he say
it is too late
?

“Don’t hurt her,” I plead.

“I think you should focus on saving yourself, little man. I don’t like people who can’t leave well enough alone.”

I turn my head to the side and wait for the pain. Instead, a whirring sound comes from above, followed by a bunch of little clicks, and then everything is silent save for the confused squeaks of the exhibit creatures that haven’t yet been used as projectiles. The force that nailed me to the ground disappears. Whatever just happened has caused Dax to lose his focus. I jump to my feet before he can recover.

“I’ve cut the power, Alex,” Dad yells from somewhere outside of the building. “It’s pitch black in there. Now
you
have the advantage.”

My senses fight for attention:  the taste of blood, the pain radiating out from the center of my face, the sound of Dax’s breathing and Simmi’s humming, the smell of my Axe deodorant spray. My body acts before my mind can form the entire command.
Thwack,
straight to Dax’s face.

He cries out with a gurgling scream. Not as manly as Brady, I see. I hit him again and again, following the sound of his breathing and the motion of his shuffling feet as he tries to navigate the room without the aid of his dominant sense. I’m going to have to thank Brady for the pre-game fight someday.

I continue to bat Dax around like a ball of lifeless flesh, stirring up his unique aroma of berries and blood with each of my blows. He attempts to stand, but struggles in the darkness. How quickly our roles have reversed. Each time he makes a little progress in his upward climb, I knock him back to the floor. Dax gives up on returning physical blows and starts trying to best me with his powers. He sends gusts of wind out at random. Glass shatters around the room. Mice and other small animals scamper out of their exhibits and claw at the exit.

Thank God we’re not in the reptile house. This time, I laugh. It feels good beating the crud out of this jerk. He claws at the ground like the rodents, pulling himself across the floor. His fear is tangible; it tastes like sweat and broken ego. I help move him toward his destination by delivering swift kicks to his side. My nose doesn’t hurt so much anymore. It’s as if I’m transferring my physical pain to Dax with each strike.

He sends another gust of wind in the direction of the mice’s pitter-patter and blows the door off its hinges. A rain of barely detectable thuds sounds around the door as the animals succumb to the effect of Simmi’s sleep ray.

The light brought through the open door gives Dax his vision back, and a second wind of energy. He hurls me back, but this time I only stumble a few feet. He’s losing strength. I’ve beaten it out of him. Still, this gives him enough time to get away. The fight moves outside.

“Alex, no!” Dad races over, his feet pounding against pavement, and grabs my hand before I can deliver another blow. “He’s practically gone. Give him a chance to explain himself. You don’t want someone’s death on your hands.” His voice shakes, and he swallows hard. Dax must look like a complete wreck if it’s got Dad worked up. I’ve never known him to have a weak stomach.

Shapri moves to the other side of Dax’s body. He’s still lying on the ground and hasn’t addressed us yet, other than to moan in pain. The three of us tower above him, waiting for a response. Simmi continues to chant, but her throat is weakening. We need to act fast. Where’s Miss Teak in all this?

“Well?” I demand, delivering another kick to his side.

“I…I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” he sputters. “Honestly.”

“He’s lying,” I fume, readying my cane to give him another hit.

Dad blocks it with his hand. “Give him the chance,” he says again.

“I’m sorry,” Dax whimpers. “Really, I just wanted—”

“All right, but do you promise you won’t hurt me?” Shapri asks, cutting Dax off.

“I won’t hurt you. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Dax answers, sounding confused.

Shapri asks again, not making sense to any of us, “And you’ll leave as soon as it’s finished?”

“What are you talkin—” Dax begins, but his voice is drowned out by the overwhelming scent of cherries.

“Daddy, keep me safe,” Shapri cries, before choking and falling forward onto the paved walkway.

Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. We wait. Shapri pushes herself back up from the ground. She speaks, but it’s not her voice that comes out.

“Brother, what have you done here?” a young girl asks from inside her.

“S-Simmi?” Dax asks with a shiver, sitting up and leaning toward Shapri.

Chapter 24

For the traveler, it is his home, his center, which will assign meaning to life. Home will help to make sense of the journey long after it has finished.

I want to shout a million things at the top of my lungs, but I can’t make a single sound. I won’t. My head spins. What’s going on with Dax and Shapri right now? Why did he call her Simmi? I don’t need to wait long for these answers, because the two carry on their conversation as if no one else is around.

“Why have you done this? You’re not bad,” the young, cherry-dipped Shapri asks in a somber tone.

“I didn’t mean to kill you. It was an accident. The tennis ball—”

My body slumps into the ground, and I drop my cane. Why is he talking about the future like it’s the past?

“It’s okay. You didn’t know what your mind could do,” Shapri says with tenderness.

“I only thought it for a second, I swear. I just wanted you to be quiet for a little while…” Dax hurries through his words and then breaks off in a fit of sobs. His crying doesn’t sound a whole lot different from his usual laughter; both are violent and upsetting.

Simmi, Simmi, jeez, be quiet
, I remember hearing the boy who sounded like Brady but wasn’t Brady yelling on the first day of school. The pieces start clicking into place.

“Quit telling me you’re sorry. I’m not mad. I’m happy where I am. It’s nice. There’s always sunshine.” Shapri’s timbre lightens.