Apolonia

  "Cheese is the food of the gods. Milk is high in calcium, and Butterfinger is in the Bible."

  "I'm certain it's not."

  "It is. You must have skipped over the book of Nestle."

  "Milk. I'll never understand it. Humans are the only mammals who drink the newborn nourishment of another mammal. Disgusting."

  "Oh, so you're suddenly better than us lowly humans, are you? Because you look like a cow right now."

  Cy stopped chewing the spinach leaves. "I didn't say that."

  "Egyptians are still human, last I checked."

  "You are correct. Rory...thank you for trusting me."

  I nodded, quietly opening the wrapping of my candy bar.

  Ten minutes later, I had finished my chocolate, Cy had finished his grass, and we continued to work on recording the stack of data Cy and Dr. Z had gathered. As Cy thumbed through the printouts and I typed, a nearly palpable sense of urgency took over the room. We were nearing the end of our research, and then Cy would take the rock and leave. I would never see him again.

  The only sounds were the melody of my uneven fingernails on the keyboard, the intermittent scribbling of Cy's pencil, and the shuffling of papers.

  After an hour of near silence, knowing these would be my last moments with Cy, the clicking under my fingers ceased. I took a deep breath. "I'm going to miss you."

  Cy kept his eyes sealed over the oculars of the microscope. "Me, too. It keeps me awake some nights...how much I'll think about you when I leave here."

  I turned to him, incredibly relieved at his answer. "I'm not asking you to stay. I'm asking you to come back."

  He looked to me. "I was going to, Rory, but now, I don't think I..." He stared into my eyes. "I don't think I should."

  I leaned in. "I thought you were going to miss me?"

  We were so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. His breath smelled sweet even though he'd eaten probably a quarter cup of vinegar that day. He looked down at my mouth, staring at it with such incredible conflict that it made me feel like we were doing something wrong.

  "That's exactly why I shouldn't come back."

  A SNAP SOUNDED, and we both looked down. Cy had been pressing his pencil onto the paper so hard that it broke in half.

  He stood up and took a few steps away. "I can handle the rest of this on my own. It's getting late."

  "Don't do that."

  We were strangers in the beginning. It had taken me weeks to get Cy to warm up to me. He was only the third person I'd trusted since that horrible night. I took another step toward him. I wondered how I would handle him being gone. When he was around, the urge to be next to him was overwhelming. If he didn't come back, I wasn't sure what that would mean, but it didn't feel right. And at the same time, being alone with Cy and feeling the way I did, knowing Benji was outside and waiting to take me to dinner, didn't feel right either.

  It was all so confusing, and no matter how much I tried to make sense of it in my head, the more confusing it became.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, as if he couldn't trust himself to leave his hands free. "I wish I could explain everything to you, Rory. You deserve to know the truth about the specimen, about me, about everything. But it's safer for you if I don't. I'm only trying to protect you."

  "How many times do I have to tell you? I don't need--"

  "Oh, I know. You're fully capable of handling things yourself. But not this time, Rory." He pulled his hands out of his pockets and gripped my arms firmly. "Not this time. And not Benji Reynolds. Stay away from him, Rory. He's not who you think he is." Desperation glossed over his eyes.

  "Then, who is he?"

  Cy looked away. "That is exactly what is so frustrating about this situation. I can't tell you without risking saying too much."

  "You're frustrated? You're leaving, and you want me to promise to stay away from my only friend."

  Cy shook his head. "I'm so sorry. It sounds terrible when you put it that way. I wish it wasn't that way, Rory. I genuinely wish I could change that for you."

  "You're not really leaving. Not for good, I mean."

  He nodded.

  "No." I shook my head and then laughed the horrid feeling in my gut away. "No. I don't believe you."

  "I'm sorry." His expression twisted in frustration. "That word seems insufficient for the way I feel right now."

  My eyebrows furrowed. Cy wasn't the first person I'd let myself care about since my parents and Sydney died, but he was the first who was going to leave me. I wasn't sure if I was angry or sad or afraid. "You...you can't just let someone care about you and then go away."

  "I tried not to."

  "So, you have feelings for me?"

  "Of course I do. I care about you very much. I always have."

  Cy stared at my lips and then let out a faltering breath. "This is wrong," he whispered. "I shouldn't feel this way."

  "Feel what way?" I whispered.

  Cy reached out to touch my face, and we watched each other for the longest time. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, and that was incredibly frustrating. His hands slid from my jaw to my shoulders and then down my arms, taking my hands into his.

  "I love her," he whispered.

  His words confused me, and then when my brain finally sorted them out, they didn't make sense. I hadn't seen him with anyone.

  "Who?"

  "My betrothed."

  "Your...betrothed. As in, your fiancee? You're engaged?"

  "It's similar, yes."

  "She's in Egypt?"

  "We're to be married when I return."

  I shook my head, and he squeezed my hands, concern in his eyes. "She's wonderful, Rory. You would love her as everyone else does. You remind me so much of her."

  I felt sick. "I remind you of her?" Was this why we were drawn to each other?

  After a brief look of confusion, Cy's eyes lit up with recognition. "In some ways, yes. In others, you're so different. You make me feel things that I've never...but none of that matters. I care for you very deeply as a friend, Rory. Sometimes, I feel that's incorrect, that I feel more than that, but that's wrong. I didn't know it was possible to care for someone like this who wasn't my betrothed. I love you, Rory, as a friend, very much. Too much." He reached for me, but I pulled away. "I want all good things for you. I want you to be happy. I want you to heal."

  Those words caught in my ears and made me pause. Enough already. If he was really leaving, it was time he told the truth. "You're talking about what happened to my parents, aren't you? How do you know so much about me?"

  Cy froze with the same caught look he had when I rounded the corner at the warehouse party and saw him threatening Kevin. "It wouldn't help any of us if I told you."

  My eyes narrowed, full of accusation. "Us? Did Dr. Z tell you?"

  "No."

  "How? How do you know these things about me?" I demanded. My voice echoed through the empty building.

  Cy reached out for me. "You were spending time with the specimen. I took it upon myself to learn everything about your background. It was important for me to know who you were. If you could be trusted."

  "Since when does someone get a background check to be around a rock? What are you not telling me, Cy? Because you know far more about me than you should. I've been patient, but if you're really going to leave here and never come back, you owe me the truth. What do you know about that night?"

  "I've told you more than I should. The things I haven't are the things I'm not allowed to share."

  "Who are you?"

  Cy puffed out a breath of frustration.

  "You're really not going to tell me, are you? After everything, you're just going to take off and leave me hanging."

  He didn't answer.

  "I know there is something more to you being here. I can feel it."

  He watched me, and although it was clearly difficult, he remained silent.

  I nodded. "Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials," I said, walkin
g to my desk. I picked my backpack off the floor.

  "Rory...you are the bravest being I know. I'm not sure I could have survived something like that, physically or mentally. I've seen a lot of things. War. Death. But to watch such brutality waged against your loved ones and to suffer in that way is--"

  "Stop talking."

  I walked around the desk, and for the second time that night, I pushed through the double doors. My entire body felt as if it were moving in slow motion as I shuffled down the dark tiled hallway of the basement to the stairs. A chime signaled the elevator's arrival, and its door opened. It was empty and well lit, welcoming me in, but I just stood there, staring at it.

  "You're brave, Rory. Just go in. No one is in there," I said aloud. But my body wouldn't move.

  The elevator rumbled and jerked as it climbed the shaft without me and then slowed to a halt at the top.

  I climbed the stairs two at a time and exited into the main lobby of the Fitz just as the elevator arrived, and then I turned right, making my way to the north entrance. It was a bit out of the way, but Cy would leave with the specimen tonight, and it would be prudent to leave inconspicuously.

  As I pressed the door open, I noticed that the familiar jingle of my keys clanging against each other was missing. I arched my neck, glancing back, and when I didn't immediately see them, I straightened my arms, letting my backpack fall from my shoulders. I flipped it around to check the zipper where they normally hung and then patted my jeans in a panic.

  "Shit!" I said, checking my front and back pockets one more time before ripping my bag open to search inside. What did I do with them?

  I yanked my bag from the floor and rushed to the stairs. The elevator dinged as I passed, but I ignored it. After a few seconds, the cables squealed, and the elevator lurched and rumbled as it climbed again. The moment I took the first step down, the few lights that illuminated the lobby went dark, and the elevator went silent, coming to a stop between floors. Something invisible, in my mind, had kept me out of elevators for over two years. If it weren't for my maddening aversion, I could have been stuck in there.

  I continued to descend the stairs in the dark, wondering if Cy had found a flashlight.

  "Damn," I whispered, checking my pocket. My cell phone had a flashlight built in. I clicked on the button, and it lit my way. Halfway down, I stopped. A faint sound echoed upstairs. My eyes closed, and I waited, searching the darkness with my ears. A door creaked open, and although it was barely audible, I was almost sure it was the side entrance door. Feet, many feet, shuffled quietly down the hall. I couldn't fathom who would be in the building this late at night but myself, Cyrus, and possibly Dr. Z, but something told me I didn't want to be caught by whoever it was.

  The group was almost at the stairs. Without my keys, I couldn't get into the lab, and there wasn't time to knock on the door and wait for Cy to let me in. I ran across the hall to the lab next to ours, knowing it would be unlocked.

  There was a large Plexiglas window separating the unlocked lab from Dr. Zorba's. Cy was standing at my desk, scrolling the mouse with one hand and making notes with the other. A few lights were on in the lab. He was using backup power.

  I tapped on the window, and Cyrus jumped. He offered a sheepish grin, obviously still embarrassed by our good-bye.

  I pointed to the door, trying to warn him of the possible company coming down the stairwell. His eyebrows pushed together, and then he cocked his head, listening. His eyes grew large, and then he waved his hands frantically, signaling for me to hide. I shook my head, suddenly nervous. He was serious.

  The heavy metal door of Dr. Z's lab blew open, and a dozen or more men dressed in black and armed with semiautomatic rifles flowed into the room. I slid to the floor and pressed my back against the wall. Alone, in the dark, I wasn't sure if I should stay hidden or make a scene. I could hear Cy demanding to know who they were and why they were in the lab. The men were yelling at him, too, insisting Cy step out from behind his desk with his hands in the air.

  My heart was ramming against my rib cage, pumping gallons of blood through my body with such force. My fingers, toes, and eyes were throbbing with every beat. My mind fought to stay in the present, but the yelling and the sound of panic in Cy's voice brought me back to the night when they'd murdered the people I loved most--including who I used to be.

  I thought about how much fear I had seen in their eyes, and I knew it mirrored my own. I hadn't been afraid like that since. Why would I? I couldn't be killed. I had died with my eyes on my mother until my lids became too heavy to hold open. The men who had been laughing while doodling on my skin with the tip of their knives had faded to the background while my warm blood had spread out on the carpet beneath me. It had pooled, blanketing me and soaking my hair. The warmth had made it easy to let go, so I did.

  After a time, I had awoken in a silent hotel room. No maniacal laughter, no sounds of sharp metal penetrating flesh, no crying or begging, no breathing--not even my own. When my eyes had opened, a curvy red pond lay between my mother and me. She hadn't fallen asleep as I did. She'd died as she lived--with her eyes wide open, watching over me.

  My breath had returned then. No one could explain it. Not even me. They'd said I must have passed out, that it was impossible that I had come back to life without medical intervention, and I'd just imagined floating over my own body, watching them carve me like a tree trunk. Even when they couldn't explain how I'd lived despite losing a lethal amount of blood or how I had made it across the hall to call for help, they'd still refused to admit that I died. But I was dead, and then I wasn't.

  I leaned up to see Cyrus take a step back as a dozen or more men approached him slowly, wearing helmets, dark goggles, and bulletproof jackets, carrying guns straight from a war movie.

  Cy struggled as they apprehended him, and then they took him away. One of the men stayed behind long enough to locate Dr. Zorba's rock, and then he absconded with that as well. I heard Cyrus yell out in protest for only a moment, and then the lab fell silent.

  A few moments later, the lights came back on. I stood up in the empty lab, in shock, afraid, but only for a moment. If someone had seen my family and me get taken away or heard our cries and helped, my parents might be alive today. Sydney might be experiencing KIT with me. She could have found a boyfriend, fallen in love, and gotten married. Because no one had helped us, the man she would have married would be kept waiting. The children she was supposed to have would never exist. An entire line of people was wiped out, descendants of one of the most amazing people I'd ever met.

  Then, I wondered if that was ever her purpose. Maybe she was put on this earth to teach me to be strong, to show compassion for those who were victims of the same heartless sons of bitches that killed her, and to compel her brother, Sam--who was active military and a cop--to teach me how to defend myself, things he wanted to teach her but never made the time.

  For years, I'd wondered, Why us? What about our happy, giggling family made those men choose us? What about us led to their plan to commit horrific violence that night? Another question I'd had for weeks came to mind. Why am I so drawn to Cy? I barely knew him. It had never made sense to me until that moment.

  Sitting there, on the floor and alone, I finally had my answers. The deaths of my parents and Sydney left me with the guilt and grief that would empower me to get off that floor. I was drawn to Cy because he would need a savior, and I was the perfect person to save Cyrus. I had nothing to be afraid of. Death couldn't touch me.

  Suddenly, my feet were climbing the stairs, dashing down the hallway to the side door. Two black vehicles were flying out of the parking lot, heading south.

  "Cy," I whispered.

  My eyes began to do something they hadn't done in years. They filled with salty tears and spilled over my cheeks. I wiped them away, refusing to get emotional. Whoever had taken Cy possessed power beyond my own or even Dr. Zorba's, and I had no idea how we could get Cy home, but I'd figure it out. I had to.

&nbsp
; After a few seconds of feeling paralyzed from shock, I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket and scrolled through my address book for the professor's number. Hesitation crept in before I dialed. Should I call him? Call the police? What could they do? Conspiracy theories and scenes from spy movies flipped like channels through my mind. Calling Dr. Z didn't feel right. What if whoever took Cy is listening in on the professor's calls? Would I just be setting my own trap? Calling the police didn't feel right. Cy's abductors weren't worried about local law enforcement.

  I shoved my phone into my back pocket and pushed open the door, looking for Benji's car. The orange Mustang wasn't anywhere to be seen. My entire body began to tremble as I tried to come up with rational reasons for his absence. I was late. Hopefully, he'd given up and gone home, but that didn't sound like Benji at all. Maybe they had taken him, too.

  Not again. I couldn't let someone take away the people I cared about again. I sprinted across campus, passing the dorms and blasting past five blocks of apartment buildings, until I reached the home of Dr. Z. I'd taken that route many times when I felt myself breaking down and the memories became too loud to block out. This time though, I was running toward the nightmare.

  I WATCHED THE HOUSE for several minutes before finally deciding that no one was going to jump out and grab me if I walked up onto the porch. Knocking on Dr. Z's large wooden door was painful with cold knuckles, but I tried four times. I was glad that I'd been going to The Gym with Benji, or I'd have really been hurting. Standing on the porch, shaking from the November night air, my heaving lungs were gasping for a sufficient breath. The cold burned my throat every time I sucked in, but all I could think about was Cy.

  After a few moments and no sound, I pounded on the door again. Thunder rolled in the distance, and the sky lit up, signaling an approaching storm. The wind picked up, and the branches scraped above me. The sun wouldn't breach the horizon for a few more hours, and I worried that Dr. Z was so fast asleep that he couldn't hear my knocking.

  I ran around the house, trying to decide which window might belong to his bedroom. All the windows were dark, lit only by the intermittent lightning flashes. "Dr. Z!" I hissed, peering into a window. I saw a bed, dresser...but it was too dark to tell if he was inside. I rapped on the window. "Dr. Z? It's Rory! Please get up!"