The Fray Theory: Resonance (21 page)

Dylan huffs a sharp,
exasperated sigh. And then another, releasing the tension he’s been bottling
up.

It’s too much. All of this
is too much.

How is he supposed to deal
with facts that have completely massacred his understanding of reality? With answers
that have raised even more questions?

And how does Alex play
into all of this
?

Dylan takes another scan
of the space, but not at the collage of intel.

He’s looking for an escape.

Because even if he
was
brought here by a Glitch who has little use for a door, that doesn’t mean this
place doesn’t have one.

He starts to feel around
for indents or protrusions in the walls, working his way around the room. Upon arriving
at the fourth wall, he leans forward onto the sand bags to check behind them.

Except, they aren’t sand bags.

At the touch of
rigor-mortised flesh, Dylan cringes and rips himself away, his mind racing back
to the gunshots he heard when he was trapped inside that dark trunk.

Do these bodies belong to
the cops who arrested him? Is this the work of the masked man who stuck him
with a needle?

If so, then he couldn’t possibly
be the Reaper from his nightmares, can he?

Backing away from the
bodies, Dylan brushes his hands over the rough texture of his jeans, desperate
to wipe away the sense-memory of cold, dead flesh.

He looks around again,
this time taking notice of the small crates scattered about.

He walks over and starts
to dig into them, hoping to find something that can aid in his escape—keys, a
weapon, a miracle?

 Instead, he discovers a rather
thin pillow, a worn blanket, a lamp, and several other personal items—basically
little else besides the bare necessities one would require to sustain himself
for a few days.

And then, beneath a
collection of files and folders, Dylan catches a glimpse of something familiar.

His heart sinks.

No
. He reaches in and pulls out Neve’s sketchbook
from under everything else, his pale face a portrait of terror.

This isn’t an old
keepsake. It’s Neve’s most recent sketchbook. He was flipping through it while
she was in the shower just…
yesterday
..?

Feels like ages ago.

But how the hell did it
wind up here? And why?

He flips through it at the
speed of shuffling cards, the black and white sketches blurring into abstract
shades of gray. And right before the blank pages take over, a familiar face jumps
out at Dylan and he slams the sketchbook shut.

It was an illusion
, he tells himself. Just an illusion, no doubt caused
by the drug that’s still lingering in his system. That must have been it.
An
illusion
, he keeps on insisting until his mind starts to believe it.

But his trembling hands
speak another truth.

He swallows and starts to
flip backwards from the end cover, one page at a time, until he is faced with a
frightfully realistic rendition of his worst nightmare.

He stares at the Reaper’s
feral eyes. At his sharp, sunken brows. At his squared hairline, and his dark
hair flowing down past his shoulders.

He stares at the face of
the man who has haunted him, hunted him, and hurt him for as long as he can
remember. The man Dylan always
knew
exists, while desperately hoping
that he doesn’t.

A killer whose existence
has now been validated by someone other than Dylan. And regardless of how Neve
came to know the Reaper’s face, and regardless of why she chose to draw him,
Dylan is now certain of one thing:

He is going to die.

Midnight
was the plan. The
old
plan. In truth, Neve was not expecting Romer to
actually show up. She had prepared herself for a long and lonesome wait, followed
by inevitable disappointment.

I
nstead, barely an hour since she and Romer were split up at
Galen’s, his arrival at the gallery put all of Neve’s doubts to rest.

Too bad
their rendezvous was as brief as a blink.

Fully conscious of her
surroundings, and skeptical of practically everyone, Neve follows
Romer with a twenty-foot gap.

‘
Keep your distance,
but make sure we’re always on the same block,
’ was the last thing he
instructed; far enough to avoid falling into the same trap, but close enough to
run to each other’s aid should something arise. So with half her focus on Romer,
Neve zigzags through the congestion.

With twilight on the
horizon, Gastown is as lively as ever. And Neve finds it ironic how the very
thing she has always cherished about this neighborhood is precisely what’s grating
on her every nerve. The only thing keeping her from snapping at all the
dawdlers blocking her way is not wanting to draw attention to herself.

Romer is now idling at the
intersection up ahead, waiting for the pedestrian light. So Neve lingers by a
small gift-shop, occupying herself with the colorful postcards on the rotating
racks.

Every single one of her
actions feels artificial. Can people tell? It doesn’t matter. It’s not the
crowd she’s putting on an act for, anyway.

She looks up just in time
to meet Romer’s gaze.

What is it
?
Danger
?
What are you trying to say
?

Her flustered thoughts are
immediately silenced when Romer winks at her over his shoulder, then resumes
his walk across the street. And it isn’t until the pedestrian light’s countdown
begins that Neve realizes she’s falling behind.

σ

Neve
follows Romer into the underground parking of the Vancouver Convention Center.

“Are you sure about this?”
she whispers, trying to keep up with him. “I think we’re still way too close to
your workshop.”

“Mmm hmm,” Romer responds
absentmindedly as they come to a stop next to a side-exit.

The door itself has no
handle, but there is a digital lock on the wall right next to it.

Romer pulls a keycard from
his wallet, and holds it above the lock. He closes his eyes as though saying a
prayer, then slides his card down through the slit.

The little beady light on
the system goes from red to green, at the sight of which Romer’s fists spring
up in the air triumphantly.

With a satisfied grin, he
swings the door open and holds it. “After you.”

“Should I even ask?” Neve flashes
him a skeptical smile and enters a sterile, white stairwell.

Snickering, “I
can’t
believe it worked,” he walks in after Neve and leads the way up the stairs.

 “I’m guessing you used to
work here?”

“Part-time security. Good money.”

“When was this?” she asks.

“A
while
ago.”

“They didn’t ask for it
back after you quit?” Neve indicates the keycard as Romer tucks it back into
his wallet.

“I—” he clears his throat,
“I didn’t exactly quit.”

Fired
, Neve wonders? That sure would explain the shame
registered on his face.

Romer starts to double his
steps.

Did she press a button?

“Does it work on all the
doors in this place?” Neve quickly asks with hopes of slowing him down.

“Only the building’s
circulation.”

“Well then—where exactly
are we going to hide?”

“The roof,” Romer says
rather proudly.

“Uh… Shouldn’t we be
looking for a dark hole to crawl into?”

“Oh, trust me, this is
perfect
,”
Romer stalls at the next landing and faces her. “We’re literally
right
next
to the seaplane terminal.”

Neve stops halfway up the
flight.
Why would that matter
?

“Vancouver Island is
probably our best bet. We’d be separated by a big body of water,” he resumes
his climb up the next flight, “but we would still be close enough that—”

“What about Dylan?”

Romer’s head peeks from
behind the wall. “What about him?”

Neve’s expression darkens.
“You’re joking, right?”

Squinting, Romer steps
back down on the landing. “What did you
think
we were going to do?” he
says as he leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “We have
no
idea
where he is.”

“Well—what happened to calling
his dad?”

“We can call him from
Vancouver Island.”

With that remark, she
finds herself at a complete loss for words. So she just stares, waiting for Romer
to come to his senses. Or to burst into laughter over his tasteless joke.

Arms still crossed, Romer
squares his shoulders.

“They were trying to
kill
us, Romer.”

“I know. I was there.”

Without uttering a sound,
Neve starts to make her way back down the stairs.

“Where are you going!?”
Romer squeaks, but Neve doesn’t even acknowledge his question.

I can’t believe him
…
I can NOT believe him
!

And the pounding of Romer’s
footsteps becomes louder and louder, until—

“Hey, hang on!” he grabs Neve’s
arm and pins her in place. “I asked you where you’re going.”

“Let go,” she says.

“Not until you tell me
where you—”

“I don’t
know
,” she
huffs, losing her patience.

“Exactly, which is why we
need to—”

“They’re going to
kill
him
, Romer!”

“They’re going to kill
you
!”

“Let me go, let—AH!” she
screams as Romer pulls her over his shoulder and lifts her up.

“OW!
Jesus
,” he
winces and tightens his shoulders.

“Put me down, Romer,” Neve
demands as he turns and resumes his climb up the stairs. “ROMER!”

“By all means, throw a
tantrum in the mix.”

Draped over his shoulder, she
starts to pound on his lower back. “Romer… RO—I
swear
to God!”

“There’s more cushion
south of the equator.”

“ARGHHHH!” she tries to
rise, but he clamps her back down.

“Could you grab the door,
please?” he asks with a cheery voice, and then pushes through the exit with the
bottom of Neve’s shoes. “Thank you!”

“ROMER, I—” Neve’s voice locks
in her throat as they emerge onto the Convention Center’s rooftop— onto a
secluded green summit with the blue harbor draping beyond.

Neve’s bewildered eyes
glide over the lush carpet of grass, and she marvels at the thousands of
daisies sprinkled onto it like powdered sugar.

She
knows
this
place… The memory of her horrid nightmare is draping onto it like a sheer veil.

Romer lowers her down onto
the slanted roof, but she can’t rip her gaze from her surroundings.

Yet another one of her
dreams has materialized.

What will happen next?

“You okay?” Romer’s voice
beckons her focus, but she just stares beyond him at the watermelon sky.

“Neve?”

“Do pink clouds rain
blood?” Neve finds herself asking. As though the answer could undo the horror
of being drenched in blood pouring from the sky. As if it could make her forget
the steely voice of the man she’s now come to fear with every fiber of her
being.

“Okay,
what
are you
talking about?” Romer asks.

Neve doesn’t utter a word.
Why
is she here? How many stars would’ve had to align in order to bring
her to this very spot? And at this exact moment?

“Hey,” Romer reaches out, but
she recoils at his touch. “Okay, now you’re scaring me.”

“I—”

Where does she even begin?

Concern taints Romer’s
expression. He sighs, and then sneaks a glance towards the seaplane terminal.

“We can’t go,” Neve says
decidedly. “We can’t just take off and leave him here.”

“Neve—we do
not
have a choice. If we stay here they’re going to find us, and then we won’t be
of any help to anyone.”

“I just can’t leave him,” she
shakes her head. “He got caught up in all of this because of me. If I wasn’t
dumb enough to take Galen’s book—”

“Oh don’t do that,” Romer frowns.

“If you want to go, just
go.”

“And just leave you here?”

“Why not? You don’t seem
to have a problem with leaving
him
behind.”

“They
have
him!” Romer
cranes his neck forward. “What—you’re just gonna walk into the lion’s den?”

“I’ll figure something
out,” she heads for the door, but Romer grabs her by the arms.

“Look—” he takes his
intensity down a notch. “I get it, okay? I know you think you’re doing the
brave thing. The
right
thing. And I know you love him—”

“Don’t talk down to me,”
Neve pushes off of him. “I’m not a child you need to handle.”

He tightens his lips and
exhales through his nose.

“And you don’t know a
thing about me.”

“What I know—is that we’re
in the middle of a shit-storm.
Not
a fairytale. And you thinking this is
one of those love conquers all situations—”

“Stop telling me how I
feel, Romer!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you
had your goddamn head screwed on straight!”

“
ME
!? You’re the
one blowing hot and cold every five seconds, still hung up on some
bullshit
feud!”

A small twitch tugs at the
corner of his mouth. He scoffs and looks away with a nonchalant smile, but the
fury brewing inside him melts it right off.

“What’s wrong?” Neve
coaxes. “Don’t like it when people tell you how it is?”

“You have
no
idea
how it is,” he glares.

“I may not know exactly
what’s going on, but it’s obvious you’ve been just
waiting
for the day
you’d get to stick it to him! You’re so goddamn petty that you can’t—”

“I lost EVERYTHING because
of him!” an icy glow emanates from his eyes. “
EVERYTHING
! MY HOME! MY
REPUTATION! MY
FUTURE
!”

Neve backs off against the
heat of his rage, feeling like a hare at the mercy of a ravenous wolf.

She was not expecting such
an explosive eruption.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“No you’re not,” his eyes
narrow as he shakes his head. “You don’t even know what sorry
is
.”

“What the
hell
is
it with you and apologies!?”

“Here’s an idea: why don’t
you get your goddamn facts straight
before
you run your mouth off? Hmm?
Maybe that way, you wouldn’t be apologizing every five seconds.”

Neve clenches her jaw, her
heart pounding.

“What?” Romer throws his
chin up.

She’d say something. Fire
back. But she can’t even formulate a coherent thought.

“That’s what I thought,” he
walks right past her.

Neve remains still, feeling
utterly paralyzed.

This can’t be it. Running can’t
be the only option.

But what else can they do?
Just stay here and wait for a miracle while her nightmare keeps replaying in
her mind?

She turns and looks at
Romer down the slant. He’s sitting at the southern brim of the rooftop, rubbing
his shoulder.

And Neve realizes that the
only thing keeping her back is her ego, so she swallows her pride and makes her
way down towards him.

Romer turns his head
slightly, letting Neve know he’s aware of her approach. But even once she’s sat
down next to him, he doesn’t acknowledge her.

So she just looks at him.
All
of him
.

His leather jacket is
badly scraped, his white shirt has a pink tint to it, and the loose strands of
his hair are swaying in the wind like golden willow branches.

He looks completely
haggard.

Neve looks back out into
distance.

She follows the slender strings
of headlights and brake lights flowing through the city’s veins, seeking Dylan
from amidst all possibility.

The first time she lost
Dylan, it was like dropping a priceless jewel into the ocean. And no matter how
hard she tried to swim into the depths, she couldn’t reach him. She couldn’t
find him. So she just kept on treading water, waiting for north to find
her
.