Endless

  “You killed her, Pete!” Tristan blurted, gripping the steel poles. “You killed Nadia! Do you even realize what that means? Do you know what’s going to happen to you when we finally decide to usher you? Have you thought about what it’s going to be like in Oblivion?”

  “Tristan,” Bea said softly.

  The four-foot space between the outer bars of the two cells and the exterior wall of the room was now crowded with Lifers. Bea and I were closer to Tristan than anyone, having arrived first, but we were giving him a wide berth. His muscles were so taut, his teeth so tightly clenched, that I was almost afraid to touch him. He looked like a feral animal. Pete, ever so slowly, started to rock forward and back, forward and back. His forehead dipped toward his knees.

  “Your only hope is to help us, Pete,” Tristan continued, leaning into the bars. “That’s your only hope. Because I swear to god if you don’t open your mouth and start talking right now, I’ll rip you out of that cell myself and send you over the bridge directly to Oblivion. I’ll do it happily.”

  Pete let out a strangled sob. I didn’t know what I had planned to say to Pete to persuade him to help us, but it wasn’t this. I swallowed my fears and put my hand on Tristan’s shoulder. He flinched, but then relaxed when he saw that it was me.

  “Tristan, please. Listen to yourself,” I whispered. He didn’t move. I squatted next to him, moving my hand gently down his back. The curve of his spine, the lines of the muscles in his shoulders were visible through his shirt. “This isn’t you.”

  His eyes darted to mine. For a second I thought he was going to contradict me, but instead, he sighed. Slowly, he stood up, tugging my hand to bring me with him.

  Just then, Liam slid sideways into the room. His eyes met mine as he slunk along the back wall, trying to disappear behind the crowd of Lifers in front of him. But he wasn’t fast enough to hide the fact that he was out of breath, that his white tank top was stained with sweat around the collar.

  “Liam.” The word was out of my mouth before I had even formed a fully coherent thought. He stopped, his red baseball cap bowed between Fisher’s shoulder and Kevin’s, but he said nothing.

  He’d been on the beach until a few minutes before the fog rolled in, and then he’d taken off with Kevin. Kevin, who was the only one of our friends not present.

  “Where were you?” I asked. “Where’s Kevin?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I lost him in the fog.”

  Pete stopped rocking at the sound of his voice. I looked back and forth between the two of them, my skin tingling with sudden suspicion. Something was going on between them. I remembered something, but whatever it was hovered on the edge of being known.

  “Where did you go when you left the beach?” I asked.

  Liam laughed, a sharp, bleating sound. “We went to the Thirsty Swan to look for chips and salsa, which we found, but when we came back out, I lost him in the fog. Is there a problem?”

  Dorn’s eyes slid back and forth from me to Liam. He sucked his teeth and narrowed his eyes.

  “Then where’s Kevin now?” I asked, my knees quaking. “Why isn’t he here?”

  “I don’t know.” Liam snorted. “Jeez, Rory. What’s with the third degree?”

  The whole time he was talking he was moving toward the door. People parted to let him through, clearly not grasping what I thought was obvious. Liam was scared. I could see it in his eyes. He was trying to act casually indignant, but he was vibrating with fear. Dorn, finally, stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his escape.

  “Rory, what are you getting at?” Tristan asked. “What did he do?”

  “There’s something weird going on with him and Pete,” I said, and then it hit me. I looked over my shoulder at Joaquin. “Yesterday, when Liam and I came here, he freaked when we thought Pete was about to wake up. And the other day, at the bridge, Pete turned around and left as soon as he saw Liam. They’re hiding something.”

  “It’s a little thin, Rory,” Bea said.

  “But he did jump at the chance to leave the beach when Kevin asked, and where the hell is Kevin now?” Joaquin put in.

  Tristan’s face turned hard. “Where’s Kevin, Liam?”

  “I told you, I don’t know! Why don’t you call him and find out?” he said, gesturing at Tristan’s radio.

  “I think I will.” Joaquin lifted the walkie-talkie to his lips and pressed it to speak. “Kevin? You there, buddy? Over.”

  He released the button. Nothing but a low, distant hum of static. Everyone eyed Liam, who was rapidly turning white.

  “Anyone seen Kevin? Over,” Joaquin asked.

  Silence.

  “Dorn,” Tristan said. “Lock him up.”

  Liam made a move like he was going to bolt, but there was no getting around Dorn, whose massive hands came down on his shoulders and dragged him backward.

  “No. You can’t do this!” Liam shouted. “I have rights.” He looked around desperately. “Don’t I? Don’t I have rights?”

  With one swift motion, Fisher had the door of the second cell open. He held it while Dorn tossed Liam inside and then closed it with a clang. Liam practically threw himself at the bars. Bea glanced around at the crowd. Everyone was looking disturbed or unsure or murderous or a combination of the three.

  “Maybe I should clear the room?” she suggested.

  “Good idea,” Tristan said.

  Bea managed to gather everyone back through the door and into the hallway, herding them up like cattle. When the door closed behind her, only Tristan, Dorn, Krista, Joaquin, and I were left. Liam’s pleas fell silent. He sat down on the cot. The bed squeaked beneath his weight, and he leaned his head against the bars, scowling across the way at Pete.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” he said.

  Pete was as still as stone.

  “Just tell us where you went after you left the Thirsty Swan,” I said, lifting my shoulders. “How hard is that?”

  “I went to find Lalani,” he snapped, his eyes flashing. “Satisfied now? Can I go?”

  “How?” Joaquin asked.

  “How?” Liam repeated.

  “Yes, how?” Krista asked, tucking her hair behind her ears. “No one can see half a foot through the fog. How were you going to find her?”

  “Carefully?” Liam shot back in an uncharacteristically sarcastic tone.

  “Did you find her?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he snapped. “And you were wrong, by the way. She does remember her brother, and she’s wondering where the hell he is.”

  Tristan and I locked eyes. So the Tses weren’t just a blip.

  Liam shot me a disgusted look and turned away. “I’m not saying anything more to you.”

  “Liam—” I started.

  “No!” he snapped, shoving himself to his feet. “I trusted you. You made me trust you! And you lied to me! And now you throw me in here? Who the hell do you think you are?”

  His hand shot through the bars and I jumped back. Joaquin grabbed his wrist and twisted until Liam’s knees hit the floor, his face contorted in pain. I pressed myself back against the wall, gasping for air as Joaquin leaned in toward the top of Liam’s bowed head.

  “You even try to touch her again and you’ll be sorry.”

  Krista and I looked at each other, stunned.

  “Dude,” Tristan said. “Release.”

  Joaquin gritted his teeth but let go of Liam’s arm. As he stood up, Liam drew his hand into his chest and held it there, curling in on himself like a startled snail pulling back into its shell.

  “Maybe…maybe we should go get some air,” Tristan suggested, looking around at the rest of us. “Go outside and talk this through?”

  “Strategize,” Dorn said, his eyes like slits. “I like it.”

  “We can’t just leave the two of them in here togethe
r,” Joaquin pointed out.

  “I’ll stay,” Krista offered, holding her chin up bravely. Even pale and sweaty, she still managed to look like a supermodel.

  Dorn clapped her on the side of her arm, and she staggered sideways into the bars of Pete’s cell. “If you need us, you’ve got your walkie.”

  Krista nodded, tugging it out of her dress pocket and cocking it at him like a gun. “I got it.”

  As I followed the guys out of the room, I looked back over my shoulder at Liam one last time as he gripped the bars and glared at Pete, the fury plain on his face.

  Outside the wind was whipping furiously. A pair of women walking out of the beauty-supply store screamed as a scrap of wood shingle came flying at them. They clung to each other and ducked, just narrowly avoiding some serious head injuries as the scrap slammed into the front window. A few visitors sat inside the picture window at the general store, staring out at the horizon, the pads of one man’s fingers pressed into white dots against the glass. When I turned to look, I saw slate-gray storm clouds gathering over the bay.

  We hadn’t gotten one full day of sun. Not even a day.

  “This is not good,” Tristan said, pausing next to the swan fountain at the center of the park. Even its shallow water was rippling in the wind. Bea, Fisher, Lauren, and a crowd of other Lifers huddled under the awning of the bike shop, watching us, waiting for direction. “It’s starting to feel like the Jessica time around here.”

  “Dude, please. This is nothing like that,” Joaquin shot back.

  “Are you kidding me?” Tristan demanded, his long blond bangs blown back from his face. “You just nearly broke some kid’s arm when we have zero proof that he did anything wrong.”

  “Oh, so you would have rather let him get his hands on Rory?” Joaquin replied.

  “Well, if you want me to kick the ass of every guy who puts his hands on Rory…” Tristan said, getting right up in Joaquin’s face.

  “Step back, Tristan,” Joaquin said, pushing Tristan backward.

  “No. I don’t think I will.” Tristan shoved Joaquin with both hands.

  “You guys. Don’t!”

  But it was too late. Joaquin pulled back and threw a punch at Tristan’s face. I screamed as it landed with a crack across Tristan’s jaw, sending him reeling sideways into Dorn’s chest. Dorn caught him, and I expected him to hold Tristan back or get between the two of them, or at least hold Tristan back, but he merely turned Tristan around and gave him a little push, sending him back for more.

  “Dorn!” I shouted.

  He gave a little shrug as Tristan threw himself at Joaquin’s midsection. Joaquin was flipped off his feet and hit the walkway on his back. For a second he lay still, his eyes wide open, gasping for air. Tristan had knocked the wind right out of him.

  “Tristan! Stop!” I shouted as Tristan straddled Joaquin and cocked his right fist. He froze, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him away from Joaquin. “Get off him! He can’t breathe!”

  The wind flung my hair across my eyes and into my mouth as I dragged Tristan away. Dorn knelt down and helped Joaquin sit up, and he finally sputtered and coughed, dragging in a long, ragged breath with his hand to his chest. The clouds had moved in fast, blocking out the sun and casting everything in their dull gray shadow. A circle of crows cawed merrily overhead as if beckoning the storm our way.

  Joaquin took a few deep breaths, looking up at me as he struggled to get control. He grasped Dorn’s arm and staggered to his feet. “I’m going to see if I can track down Kevin,” he said, then turned to Dorn. “You, don’t let the new kid out of his cell.”

  Dorn nodded curtly. “Got it.”

  “Why don’t you guys go get some rest?” Joaquin added, looking at Tristan and me. “We can meet at the mayor’s in the morning and discuss our options.”

  “Options?” Tristan said, his chest still heaving.

  Joaquin laughed, shaking his head. “You know what I’m talking about, Tristan. You saw the way Pete was acting in there. He’s not gonna say anything, and this place is going to hell in a handbasket. We have to discuss our options.”

  Tristan’s jaw set, his eyes grim. “We can’t—”

  “Dude, the guy hit you over the head with a baseball bat. He almost killed you. He did kill Nadia and possibly Cori, too. He betrayed us. Everything you believe in. And the only way to fix it is to get him to talk.” Joaquin paused. He took a step toward Tristan, whose hands automatically coiled into fists. Joaquin held up his palms.

  “Just think about it,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking. Take the night to think about it.” Then he looked up at the blackening sky. “If we even have that long.”

  He turned around and stormed off toward the others on the far sidewalk to give out orders. Tristan took a few cleansing breaths, then glanced at Dorn.

  “If he finds Kevin, let me know,” he said.

  “Will do,” Dorn replied. “But I’m sure he’ll contact you on the walkie.”

  Tristan looked off after Joaquin. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.”

  He took one step in the direction of his house, but I stopped him, clasping his wrist with both hands. He looked down at my fingers, then ever so slowly, trailed his gaze along my arm, up to my shoulders, and finally met my eyes.

  “You’re not going home,” I said, tense with the fear of rejection, no matter how determined my words were.

  “No?” he asked. “Where am I going?”

  I released his wrist and trailed one hand down to entwine my fingers with his. “You’re coming with me.”

  By the time we got back to my house, the wind was so intense we had to cling to each other as we turned down Magnolia and staggered toward the gate. Dead leaves and flower petals scraped our faces, and a scrap of paper slapped against my leg, wrapping itself around my calf and staying there as I reached for the latch. The second I released it, the gate flew open, slamming back into the fence and cracking off its hinges. Tristan grabbed for it, but there was nothing he could do. It tumbled end-over-end down the street and crashed into the side of a neighboring house.

  “Let’s get inside,” he said.

  I nodded, and together we hunched forward, sprinting up the front walk. My hands shook as I unlocked the door, and Tristan clung to it so it wouldn’t meet the same fate as the gate. He pulled it closed behind us and turned the lock. Inside, I flicked on the first three lights I came to. Tristan followed and we met in the center of the living room, facing each other over the two-foot breadth of the wooden coffee table.

  I felt queasy and nervous. An hour ago, Tristan had caught me kissing another guy—his best friend. And now here we were, alone. No matter what I said, it would never be enough. But I had to try.

  “Tristan,” I began. “About Joaquin.”

  He closed his eyes, as if the very sound of the name caused him pain, and held up one hand. “Don’t.”

  “No, I want to explain,” I insisted.

  A gust of wind hit the house so hard it moaned, then let out a series of loud snaps and crackles as ancient beams and floorboards resettled. I took a step around the side of the table and felt buoyed when Tristan didn’t move.

  “I’m not going to stand here and say I don’t care about him, because I do.” I swallowed hard, gripping my fingers in front of me. “I wouldn’t have made it through the last week without him.”

  Tristan stared at me, his face a complete blank.

  “But the second I saw you again, the second I touched you, I knew…it’s you. It’s always been you. With Joaquin, it—”

  “Stop,” Tristan said.

  I froze in my tracks. I’d been inching toward him the whole time I was talking, and now I hovered just inches away, so close I could see the glint of the blond stubble beneath his jaw. My gaze flicked to his hands.

  Reach for me, I willed him. Pleas
e. Just—

  “So you don’t want him. You don’t want to be with him?”

  “No,” I said, closing the distance between us. “I want you.”

  His jaw worked and his fingers clenched. I could see, could feel how hard it was for him to hold back. “Are you sure? You’d better be sure about this, Rory, because we’re going to be here forever, the three of us. If you change your mind…it would torture you—torture all of us—forever.”

  I gazed into his blue eyes, my heart thrumming inside my chest. Slowly, carefully, gently, I reached out to touch my fingertips to his chest. “I want this. I want you. Forever.”

  Tristan let out a shaky, relieved sigh. He ran both his hands over my head and down the long, tangled braid of my hair. “I am in love with you, Rory Miller,” he said, using my real name, which sent a thrill right through me. “All I want is to be with you.”

  I smiled and realized that I was crying. “All I want is to be with you,” I replied.

  “Just try to get rid of me,” Tristan said with a grin.

  Then he leaned down to touch his lips to mine, and I felt the urgency of his kiss run through me, filling every inch of me, warming my body from head to toe with an insistent, throbbing heat. I pressed up against him, pouring every ounce of the fear and frustration, of the misunderstanding and longing I’d felt over the past two weeks into my kiss. I had missed him so much. I had wanted to believe in him so much. And now he was here and he was true and he was mine.

  For that one infinitesimal second I didn’t care about Pete or Liam or the universe or the Shadowlands or anything other than this. Then our walkie-talkies suddenly let out a freakish peal, and Krista’s panicked voice filled our little cocoon.

  “Mayday! Mayday! Emergency! Or whatever! Over!”

  We both whirled around as erratic pounding sounded on the front door. Tristan darted for it. I fumbled for my radio, which was clipped to the side of my waistband, and pressed down on the red button.

  “What is it, Krista? Over.”

  “It’s the visitors! Over!”