Flicker (25 page)

I trace my thumb along the path of the
tear.

He looks back at me. "What do I need to
do?"

"Drive me to the Strand."

"The Strand?"

A laugh escapes before I can catch it. "You
know that stretch of road not far from here where the trees stand
taller and straighter than anywhere else for miles?"

He cocks his head.

"Okay, maybe I'm the only one who notices
things like that." I try again. "The place where I dumped my books
on the floor and freaked out."

He nods. "What's so special about that
place?"

"Because the trees are so tall and grow
right alongside the road, I can flicker pretty much any time of
day. The other day I was trying not to flicker. Sticking my head
under the dashboard was the only way to get away from the
light."

A smile tugs at his lips. "I thought you'd
lost your shit."

"It was the first thing I thought of."

"But this time you want to flicker."

"More than anything."

We stare at each other a heartbeat longer,
then he starts the car. "Let's go."

"There's just one problem."

"What's that?"

I point at the sky and the maddening absence
of sunlight.

He follows my gaze. "You can't flicker in
the rain?"

The lump in my throat returns. This isn't
going to work. "No."

He leans forward and peers at the sky as if
the determination in his gaze can make the clouds disappear. "Is
the Strand the only place you can do it?"

I shake my head.

"What if we drive away from the storm? It
can't go forever, right?"

Relief floods through me. I was so focused
on how this would help Cameron that it didn't occur to me that he
might help me. I pull out my phone and in seconds the satellite
image of the storm appears.

He points at the display. "It looks like
it's clearing up to the west. Let's drive until the rain stops." He
looks up from the phone, his face inches from mine. "Will that
work?"

I press my forehead to his. "It has to."

Five minutes later, he glances at me as we
drive past the Strand.

I shake my head.

"It was worth a shot." We continue west,
eyes glued to the horizon.

I can’t stop checking my watch.

Cam notices after the fifth time. "What does
the time have to do with it?"

"I go back roughly eighteen hours, but it's
never exact. I took that picture around one o'clock and it's…" I
check my watch again, "… six thirty now. If I don't flicker soon,
she'll already be gone."

The car lurches forward and I grip the
seat.

Cameron stares straight ahead. The trees
whip by. And like a miracle, a streak of sunlight bursts through
the clouds.

I grab Cameron's hand and squeeze.

The trees grow denser and my heart lifts.
This might work.

"Does it matter how fast I go?"

"No, but the longer we're in the flickering
light, the better."

Sunlight pulses across the dashboard.

Light. Dark. Light. Dark.

My eyes stutter and my heart jumps around in
my chest, but this time I don't I blink it away. My fingers start
to tingle, then my toes. "It's working."

He looks at me, eyes wide.

"You won't be able to see anything. I don't
even think you'll realize I'm gone. But it's happening." I sink
into the seat, then I'm skyrocketed up and—

Chapter 36

I'm sitting on the blanket in the park.

Dad's next to me and we're surrounded by the
remains of our lunch.

"I'm gonna wander around and take some
pictures on the other side of the park." I leave him sitting there
and head towards the edge of the woods. It's impossible to tell how
much time I have, or if I'm too late. All I can do is try to find
the girl.

Red sweater, red
sweater.
I scan the children on the playground but no
red stands out. The toys are still in the sandbox, and the boy in
the orange sweatshirt is on the swings like he's supposed to be.
There's one less stroller near the benches, but I don't know if
that's good or bad.
Please please please
let me not be late.

I round the playground
and—
There!
—a flash of red
catches my eye. Near a clump of trees, on the opposite end of the
park from where I'd been sitting with Dad. I let out a breath I
didn't realize I'd been holding. The little girl is running circles
around her mother, who's sitting on the blanket and holding out a
snack of some sort. No one's taken her; she's safe.

I need to keep it that way.

I double back, but instead of returning to
my blanket, I head for the tree line. I check my distance from Dad
and the playground. This is the spot in the picture. The small
break in the trees is a couple feet away, and the soccer ball is at
my feet. How long did it sit here? With a park full of kids, I
can't imagine a soccer ball would be forgotten very long. I turn
away from the trees to face the crowd and a man is standing
directly in front of me.

“
Hi Biz.”

I take a step back and gasp. “Mr. Turner,
you scared me.”

He nods at my camera slung over my shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re using this time to your advantage.”

I appreciate him not reprimanding me for
being suspended. Any other teacher and I wouldn’t care, but
Turner’s opinion is important to me. But something feels off. “What
are you doing here?”

“
I was intrigued by your comment in
class yesterday. About the light and shadows at the park.” As if on
cue, the branches overhead shift in a slight breeze and a flash of
sunlight streaks across his face. He smiles and a chill runs down
my back as a realization strikes me: he’s wearing a blue
windbreaker and tan pants.

I take a small step back. “Why aren’t you at
school?” It can’t be him. It has to be a coincidence.

He ignores my question. "You've always been
my favorite student."

My breath catches. His words—the same as at
the football game—no longer sound like a compliment.

“
You know, my daughter Jessica was
only a couple years younger than you when she disappeared, but she
didn’t behave like you do. The cops say she ran off but...” he
shakes his head and takes a step closer.

I look over his shoulder. No one's paying
attention to us. I have a clear line of sight to the main part of
the park, and I spot the little girl sitting next to her mom. She's
still safe. If I can talk to Turner long enough maybe they'll leave
and this will actually work.

My focus returns to Turner. My
teacher
. He's moved closer, only
arm-distance away. My gaze flits to Dad, still sitting on the
blanket. "My dad’s probably wondering where I am. Still grounded,
you know." I lift my shoulders and force what I hope sounds like a
casual laugh.

"He can’t hear you from here."

Alarm bells clang in my head. My pulse
skyrockets. I step to the side, trying to put some distance between
us, but he moves with me.

"I wish you hadn’t paid so much attention to
those girls."

"What?"

My camera slides off my shoulder and I lurch
to the side, but his strong hand clamps onto my wrist.

"Don’t fight it, Biz. It’s easier if you
don’t fight."

A sickly sweet odor wafts over me. I jerk my
arm as hard as I can, but his hand is like a vice. I open my mouth
to scream but a damp cloth covers my face before I can make a
sound. My grip loosens on my camera as I slip to the ground and
into darkness.

*****

I'm moving. I'm barely conscious and lying
on my side on something cold and hard. It feels like there's sand
inside my head.

Music plays not far from me. I open my eyes
and a fresh ripple of fear grips my stomach. I can't see
anything.

Well that's not true. Faint light trickles
past the edges of whatever's tied around my head. I reach to pull
it off but my hands don't budge. I wiggle my fingers. My arms are
tied behind my back.

My chest tightens.

Stop. Take a deep
breath.
I can't panic now. I roll onto my stomach and
moan.

"Are you awake?"

Turner. He took me. He kidnapped me. My
chest convulses. Why didn't I tell Dad what was going on? I'm such
an idiot. It never occurred to me that the man from the picture
might change his actions—I thought I'd have to stop him from taking
the girl. My being there must have kept her away, so when he got
here—

The vehicle stops suddenly and I'm
thrown across the metal floor. More light sneaks beneath the
blindfold and I can see the ridged surface of
the-
is this a van?
How did he
get me here without anyone seeing? I try to remember the place we
were standing. Maybe that gap in the trees led to a
path.

"We're almost there."

Almost where?
I have to do something.

I roll over and the light changes. It's not
as strong.

I roll back. Definitely brighter facing this
way. There must be a window just above me.

The fear ebbs ever so slightly, pushed away
by a determination so strong it nearly lifts me off the floor. If I
can get this stupid thing off my head, maybe there's enough
light…

I press the side of my head against the
floor, feeling for a groove. The cold metal bites into my cheek. I
drag my face against the edge but it doesn't catch the blindfold.
The metal is too smooth.

I roll until I bump into something harder,
sharper. I shove my face against it and gasp as it slices into my
flesh. Heat washes down my face but I don't pull away. Whatever cut
me is caught on the blindfold. I slowly pull down, slipping the
cloth off my eyes and onto my forehead.

I flop back over, toward the light.

"Hey! What are you doing back there?"

I open my eyes. The light blinds me, seeming
even brighter after not being able to see. The flicker isn't
strong, but it has to be enough. I stare at the light, welcoming
the fangs that leap from the sun, through my corneas, and into my
skull. My vision blurs when my fingers start to tingle, a mixture
of tears and blood coloring everything a light pink.

The van slows but I've already started. My
toes tingle and I hold my breath, waiting for the heaviness to
weigh me down.

A hand grabs me. "How'd you get that off
your face? You shouldn't be awake yet!"

I close my eyes. I'm turned away from him
but I don't know if he can see my face and maybe he'll think I'm
unconscious again.

The van comes to a stop.

The tingling fades.

Rough hands turn me onto my back, shake me.
My mind refuses to connect this monster with the man I trust.

I go limp.

"Are you awake?" He shakes me again.

His breath overwhelms me, a disgusting
mixture of whiskey and onions that tickles my nose.
Is this what the other girls faced?
I fight the urge to sneeze, hoping he doesn't notice I'm
holding my breath.

He lets go of my shoulders and I'm slowly
letting out my breath when he slaps my face. It takes every ounce
of strength not to react. Needles stab my cheekbone where I cut
myself. A warmth slides over my chin and drips onto my
shoulder.

But I still don't move.

Moments later we start moving again. Despite
everything that's happening, a small glimmer of hope lights inside
my chest. He didn't put the blindfold back on.

I don't dare open my eyes until the light
flickers through my eyelids. The tingling starts quickly, sweeping
from my fingers to my toes. If I could hold my eyes open with my
fingers, I would, but instead I fight my instincts and stare at the
window until the crushing weight slams me into the floor.

Just a couple seconds longer.

Finally, finally, the heaviness lifts and
I'm rising up, up, up and—

I'm in the jungle gym, pressed against
Cameron, his tongue sliding against mine.

I pull back quickly.

He traces his hand along my cheek, then
jerks back. "What the hell? Why are you bleeding?"

"Um… I think I hit my head on the side of
the… the thing…" There's nothing sharp up here. It's a kids' jungle
gym.

He pulls me into a sitting position and
cradles my face in his hands. There's a streak of blood on his
nose. "It's bleeding pretty bad. I should take you home."

"Yeah. That's probably a good idea." I've
flickered into a lot of weird situations, but this is the first
time I've gone from being tied up in the back of a kidnapper's van
to kissing my boyfriend. And the first time I've brought an injury
with me. The tears start before I can stop them.

Cameron presses his sleeve to the cut. "Hey,
what's wrong? There's something more than just this."

Turner’s betrayal nearly crushes me. How do
I being to explain? "I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed with
everything. You, being suspended…"

He kisses my forehead and pulls me close. "I
can take you home if that's what you want."

I nod into his chest, grateful for this
brief moment of calm. Because as soon as I get home all hell's
going to break loose.

Chapter 37

I get home earlier than I did last time, so
Mom and Dad are just sitting down to dinner and aren't pissed off
at me for being late. I'm so freaked out by everything that's
happened in the past couple hours that I forget what I look
like.

Mom leaps from the table. "Oh my God! Biz,
what happened?"

I touch the gash. It's stopped bleeding but
dried blood crusts the side of my face. "I hit it on…" I trail off,
hoping she won't notice.