Trespassers: a science-fiction novel (31 page)

“
Let
’
s make another memory for you,
”
Jeremy said, as they walked along the crooked path beside the water.
“
This is something we used to do as kids. Close your eyes and keep walking.
”

She did this.

“
I
’
ll tell you when to turn,
”
Jeremy said. He noticed her slowing.
“
Keep up your speed. You have to trust me. That
’
s the fun part.
”

“
Oh, I thought the fun part was when you watch me crash into a bush.
”

“
Just trust me.
”

She sped up, but put her hands out for protection.

“
Turn one notch to the left,
”
he said,
“
and put your hands down. You
’
re not going to hit anything.
”

“
What
’
s a notch?
”
she asked.

“
It doesn
’
t matter. It
’
s whatever you want it to be. I
’
ll just adjust my directions based on how you move.
”

She moved a
notch
to the left and kept going, despite the sensation that she was about to smack into a tree.

“
That
’
s good,
”
Jeremy said.
“
Now turn two more notches to your left.
”

Jeremy continued to lead her through the winding path. And after about fifteen notches this way and that way, she finally dropped her hands and let herself go. She was completely trusting him, and it felt wonderful. It felt as though her whole body was smiling.

They must have covered a half mile or more when he finally told her to stop and open her eyes. What she saw was completely out of sync with her bearings. They were on the other side of the lake and facing a different direction than she expected. She looked back at the twisting trail that had led them here.

“
No way! I did all that?
”
she said.

“
One turn at a time.
”

“
Oh, that
’
s so cool,
”
she exclaimed.
“
I want to do you now.
”

He knew what she meant and let the obvious joke slip by unsaid.

“
Okay, tell me where to go,
”
he said, as he closed his eyes and started walking.

“
Where
are
we going?
”
she asked.

“
Let
’
s just get lost.
”

“
That
’
ll be easy,
”
she said, as she looked at the unfamiliar woods that lay ahead.

She took a quick step to catch up and began calling out directions. Being new at this, she had a few close calls and almost lost him in the vines on two occasions, but he kept his eyes closed the whole time and carefully followed the directions that he could make out amid her laughter.

She finally got the hang of it, and it became second nature. They traversed another half mile, talking and laughing. Then she brought him to a complete stop.

“
This part is going to be a little tricky,
”
she said.
“
Keep your eyes closed.
”
She planted herself directly in his path.
“
Okay, move forward very, very slowly.
”

“
What is it?
”

“
Just trust me, and go slow.
”

As he eased ahead, he sensed something very close, but he kept moving, until he walked right into her outstretched lips, which she had positioned to perfectly meet his. With his eyes still shut, his hands rose to take hold. She was the only landmark he had and the only one he needed.

Sara quickly turned, and Jeremy opened his eyes to see her walking away. This was part of the game. He was supposed to pursue her. He was supposed to capture her and kiss her again
—
she wasn
’
t supposed to be initiating all the kissing.

Unfortunately, Jeremy didn
’
t know this game. Instead of pouncing like a wolf, he scampered along beside her like a confused puppy.

“
Is everything okay?
”
he asked.

“
Yeah.
”

Jeremy thought maybe he shouldn
’
t have kissed her.

Wait. She kissed me. In fact, on the roof last night .
.
. and in the field yesterday .
.
. she was the one who made the first move. How could she possibly be mad at me, if she
’
s the one doing all the kissing? Jeremy failed to realize that this was precisely why she was upset.

Jeremy led them back to the house, where she led the way through the door, slid out of her shoes and sat Indian-style on his bed. She asked about the trophies on his wall. He explained where he had gotten each one. She asked about the posters, and he explained that one was from a concert, one was a gift, and he couldn
’
t remember much about the third
—
it had always just been there.

She finally tapped the bed, as if calling a pet. Right on cue, he curled up at her feet. And they began talking about dreams
—
one of the few things she could remember in perfect detail.

“
Sometimes I dream of strange foods and strange places,
”
she said,
“
almost like they
’
re memories .
.
. almost like the dreams fill in the space where the memories should be.
”

“
Well, after you have the dreams, they do become memories,
”
he pointed out.

“
Yeah, that
’
s true. I hadn
’
t thought of that. But they seem different. Like I
’
m dreaming about things I
’
ve done.
”

“
That
’
s how dreams feel.
”

“
I guess so,
”
she conceded.

“
But it
’
s probably a much stronger feeling for you,
”
he said,
“
since you don
’
t have any memories from your past.
”

Sara agreed.

North 40
°
23
’
47.53
”
and West 86
°
20
’
34.84
”—
the coordinates that Lyntic relayed over the phone
—
turned out to be a farmhouse, surrounded by vast cornfields, where a dog named Mattie shared her home with four visitors from another galaxy.

Stewart stepped out of the passenger
’
s side of the SUV and surveyed the area: a house, a barn, a few cars. There was no sign of anyone. Web, Mindy, and Lambert all stepped out and took a look for themselves.

“
Hit the horn,
”
Stewart called over his shoulder to Lambert, who reached back through the open window of the driver
’
s door and tapped out a few honks.

Still, the house was quiet, and there was no sound to be heard, except for the gentle breeze that rustled through the thick cornstalks.

Maybe this is a trap
, Mindy thought. Lambert had already been thinking this, but on a much grander scale. As the military specialist on the team, it was his job to think it. If it were an ambush, they would be sitting ducks where they were. Of course, this might be a diversion, to waste their time while these trespassers were off somewhere else, doing something else. Lambert kept a steady watch on the surroundings, checking the rows of cornstalks for prying eyes and possible threats.

“
Maybe we
’
re early,
”
Web offered.

“
Or late,
”
Mindy added.

“
We
’
re fine,
”
Stewart replied.

Just then, the front door opened. Lyntic stepped onto the porch, with Dexim right behind her. Tobi and Jin hung in the doorway.

“
Let me talk to him alone, first,
”
Lyntic whispered to her brother.

Dexim rolled his eyes, but didn
’
t protest.
“
Don
’
t give him any information,
”
he ordered.
“
I want to talk to him before we tell him anything.
”

“
He
’
s reasonable,
”
Lyntic said, as if she were saying it for the thousandth time.

“
We
’
re not here to reason. We
’
re not on a diplomatic mission. We have a job to do, and it
’
s unlikely that he
’
s going to help us do it.
”

Lyntic shook her head, mostly to herself.

Lyntic stepped off the porch and started toward Stewart. Mindy watched as the two came together in the middle of the yard.

“
Who
is
that?
”
Mindy whispered to anyone who might answer. She squinted at this strange woman who
—
in Mindy
’
s opinion, anyway
—
always seemed to be sending Stewart the wrong signals.

Stewart knew Lyntic was stronger than he was
—
hell, she was stronger than anyone. He knew she had the will to put their history to bed and focus on the mission at hand.

“
Remember the flowers?
”
she said softly. Well, what do you know? She still had the ability to surprise him.

With these three words, she penetrated whatever semblance of armor he had and touched the core of his soul, as if she belonged there. His heart ached. Of the thousands of memories they had collected together, this one took up only a few seconds of time, but it would outlive the universe itself.

She could have mentioned the grassy bank of the lake where they used to spend hours talking. She could have mentioned the swing suspended from that large oak tree, where they spent hours laughing under the falling leaves. Or she could have mentioned the blackberries, which they picked and washed and fed to each other while following a recipe for strawberry muffins. They figured blackberries could substitute for strawberries and that ceramic mugs could substitute for a muffin pan. They were right on both accounts.

Stewart remembered the process as being a phenomenal aphrodisiac. Each detail was another level of foreplay, as the two naked lovers focused on baking. Except for eating blackberries from each other
’
s fingertips, there was to be no physical contact until the muffins rose from their ceramic mugs. Only moans of desire were allowed. They turned their pent up energy into whimpers and sighs, as they expressed full thoughts without words .
.
. thoughts that words could never express.

Instead of any of this, Lyntic had mentioned the flowers. Of all the memories, she chose the flowers. He would have chosen the same .
.
. two flowers plucked from the ground, a stone
’
s throw from the flowing stream.

Stewart
’
s only response was to nod. An attempt at words might bring tears.

Lyntic closed her eyes and shifted gears. It was proving to be harder than she expected. Finally the words came.

“
My brother doesn
’
t trust you, but I told him you
’
d want to do what
’
s right.
”