Resilient (32 page)

“It’s four in the morning, Livia,” Daniel complains. “He’s not gonna be here.”

“Are you Livia Berwick?” A male voice calls from behind. I whirl around and a tall, bulky African American man emerges from the shadows. I step closer to Daniel.

“I’m friends with your uncle,” the man assures. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Well, we’re ready when you are.”

As we take off, I try to get comfortable in this tiny airplane—it only has four seats—and Dan is sitting next to the pilot, watching every move he makes. I wonder if he can actually learn how to fly by just watching this guy.

Soon, I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. I think Daniel is mistaken in his theory about how long one of us can stay awake. I haven’t eaten for over twenty-four hours, but I don’t feel hungry, just tired, and I let my eyes slip shut.

When I wake up again, the sky is still dark—more of a muddy blue than the pitch black I woke up in earlier. “We’re almost there,” Daniel says, looking out the window. I wonder if he got any sleep.

“Here is a map for you.” The pilot hands me a folded piece of paper. “You’ll need it to find the cabin. I hope you know how to read coordinates.”

I open the paper and I see latitude and longitude markings leading to the cabin. “Piece of cake,” I say with confidence and glance at the back of the pilot’s head. “So, how do you know my uncle?”

“We worked together a long time ago,” is all he says and I don’t ask for details. He isn’t in the mood for small talk. He‘s helping us because he feels obligated to.

After we land, we say thanks, and the man who’s name I never got leaves as if he is in a hurry to be somewhere. I know he’s just trying to put some distance between us as fast as he can. “We make him uncomfortable,” I tell Dan, who snatches the map out of my hand and studies it.

“That’s great. Let’s move!” Dan says in a horribly perky voice and starts to walk. I follow him, taking the map back and putting in my pocket. It’s not like we need to look at it again. Once we get there, I’ll burn it.

I look at my watch and it’s noon, but it looks more like six in the evening. I suppose we won’t see much of sunlight here. I was expecting something different, maybe more trees, but where we stand right now looks more like a high desert. It’s windy and the ground is covered in snow. “I suppose we should be wearing more clothes,” I say, taking in what Dan and I are wearing. We both have jeans and thin hoodies on. As we walk out of the airfield, I see that the very few people out are dressed in heavy winter clothes. 

“It’s twenty-one degrees right now,” Dan says, looking at his own watch.

“Good thing we don’t get cold, then, but we shouldn’t be attracting attention.”

“From what I see, we’re the only white people here. That alone is attracting attention.”

He’s right; the town is mostly Inuit. We keep on walking until we’ve passed through the tiny town of Noatak, and head south until we reach the outskirts. Now I see some scattered trees covered in snow, and even some remaining green. This is beginning of autumn, but it doesn’t look like the season lasts long. 

We follow the river that runs out of town until we reach the entrance of Noatak National Preserve. From this point, we need to go thirty miles west, then twelve miles south, and then five miles east.

“Let’s do this!” Daniel claps his hands together a little too enthusiastically for my taste. Nothing about this is remotely exciting; nothing about this deserves a single smile. I’ve been dragging myself along and taking deep breathes so I can keep up the façade, but I feel like falling apart.

“Wait up!” I call out as he starts marching alongside the river. “Do you have a compass? How are we supposed to know where we are?”

“Use your instincts. Haven’t you noticed how sharp they are?”

“Not really,” I say, irritated by his grin.

I follow behind him, trying to keep some distance between us. His eagerness is putting me more and more on edge. I may be close to accomplishing our goal, but it’s all at the cost of leaving Adam behind. I wish time could turn back; I wish I had stayed and fought for him.

As I think of Adam, the pain in my chest bursts and I feel the urge to run. I let my feet hit the ground faster and I pass Dan, leaving him behind as I pick up my pace. But I feel him at my heels, running with me. I let my instincts guide me, and when I reach our first point, I automatically turn south, and then east, as if my brain has a built-in GPS. We reach our location in less than forty minutes. 

A small cabin comes into view, and I stop short. Snow covers its roof and frozen water wraps around the chain gutters. “Key?” Dan asks, walking up to the door. I cut in front of him. I retrieve the key from my pocket, unlocking the door, and slowly pushing it open with my fingertips. I see a red couch, a small fireplace, and bookshelves taking every inch of wall space. I rub my hand on the wall next to the front door, searching for the light switch. 

“No electricity!” Dan announces, making his way into the house.

This place is too small for any type of privacy, at least where emotional privacy is concerned. I’ll always be feeling Dan’s emotions, unless I make him sleep outside. At the moment, that doesn’t sound too bad.

“You take the bedroom, I’ll take the couch,” Dan says as he investigates the place.

I sigh. “I’m glad you’re reasonable.” I head into the room and shut the door behind me. In a matter of seconds I lose strength in my legs, throw myself onto the bed, hide under the blanket and shut my eyes. I want to cry, but tears won’t come. I want to scream, but my lungs are out of air, and as the fear and regret burn every little thing inside of me, I let myself go and my mind goes blank.

“
Believe you can and you're halfway there.
” — Theodore Roosevelt

“Hey, Livia! Wake up!” 

I faintly hear someone calling my name and I feel my cheeks getting hot with their slaps. They get harder, painful.

“Will you quit it?” I croak as I realize what Daniel is doing.

“Sorry, but you wouldn’t respond any other way.”

“Well, maybe because you knocked me unconscious.” I touch my head as I feel something warm dripping down my face—blood.

“You’re healed, and if you were a little faster, that wouldn’t happen,” Daniel says, dropping me back down on the ground. I didn’t even realize he was holding me up.

“Maybe this is the fastest I’m going to be.” 

He shakes his head. He doesn’t approve of my lack of confidence.

It’s been eighteen days since we started training, one hundred and eighty hours of combined training time, ten hours a day. “I’m done for the day,” I groan. “You’ve knocked me unconscious twice. You must be satisfied.” 

“I’ll be satisfied when I can no longer knock you out.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Want to race back home?” he challenges me with a daring look on his face. That’s the only thing I can beat him on. I run faster, and he likes to use that as a self-esteem booster so I won’t totally give up on myself, but not even the possibility of beating him can curb the nausea in my gut.

“I just want to be alone out here for a while. You know, listening to the birds, wind, whatever else is out here.”

Dan stares at me with pity for a moment as the frustration grows inside of him. But he doesn’t say anything; he turns around and walks towards the cabin. 

He knows why I want to stay out here. He knows I hope to hear the inhaling and exhaling of a human’s breath, the strong pounding of a heartbeat, and the footsteps approaching. But for the past twenty-three days, I haven’t heard anyone other than Dan. So I close my eyes and I see his face: Adam’s face. I smell his scent, and I feel his touch. Then I hear his screams, I feel his pain. He can no longer touch me, and I can no longer feel him.

Since we arrived in Noatak, Dan keeps on saying he doesn’t want to stay longer than necessary; he doesn’t think it’s safe since Adam knew where we were headed, and the agency could get that out of him. However, if Adam managed to escape, this is the place he would come; he would come here for me. But five hundred and fifty-two hours, eighteen minutes, and twenty-four seconds later, he has not. 

Still, I can’t give up. I’ll never give up.

I slowly walk back to the house, feeling the powdery snow beneath my feet. During the day, the sky is in a constant solar twilight, where the sun is visible but sits six degrees below the horizon. The landscape is always stuck in a permanent dusky gloom. I walk up the steps to the front door, glance back once, as I have been doing for the past twenty-three days, and I see nothing.

As I walk in, my eyes adjust to the dimmed glow of the candlelight. I see Dan sitting on the couch, reading a book and sipping on a bowl of canned soup. 

“Mushroom again?”

“Chicken noodle!” He smiles, bringing the bowl up to his lips.

I pass the tiny living room, walk into the bedroom, shut the door behind me, and lie on the bed. I hear him shout, “Good luck,” after me—meaning, to sleep without nightmares. I pull the covers over my head and I do what I’ve been doing every day since we got here, five hundred and fifty-three hours, thirteen minutes, and six seconds ago. I cry and I cry until my eyes close and everything goes dark.

*                            *                              *

When I see light again, I am sitting on a hard cement floor. I’m handcuffed to a hook and locked inside a glass cell. Outside, standing by my door, Adam is watching me. If he is here, then I know I’m safe. But when I look in his eyes, all I see is darkness. He stares and I stare back in confusion. 

No one else is here. The light is dimmed and I can’t see past Adam.

“She’s awake,” he says.

I look at my hands and I see dried blood all over my wrists, but there’s no wound. 

“Bring her in for another session. This time, make her talk.” It’s a female voice I don’t recognize. 

“She’s had enough for today. Maybe she doesn’t have the answers you’re looking for,” Adam says and a girl steps into view. I see long, dark hair, and when she turns to look at me, I gasp. The girl who attacked us in the motel is standing next to Adam, her face inches away from his.

“Adam, if you can’t do this yourself, I’ll get someone else on the case.”

“I can do it.”

“Then make sure she talks. Use your charm. She still loves you.” She leaves without glancing my way, as if I were nothing. He stares after her, and when he turns to look at me I see a hint of sadness in his eyes, but he is fast to recover. 

Adam opens the door and walks close to me. He holds my wrists and unlocks my handcuffs from the hook. He pulls me to a standing position and turns me around in front of him, giving me a push forward. I look back at him but he pushes me out the door. “Walk!” he says, and I do as I’m told. 

We walk into a dark hallway. The walls are made of concrete and the floors are white titles. There are closed doors every couple of feet and each of the doors has a tiny glass window in it. 

We turn into a room and there’s only a chair and a shower stall in it. Adam takes my cuffs off. “Strip down.”

“What?”

“Take—your—clothes—off,” he says, pausing at every single word. I stare at him and he stares back, eyes cold. I’m looking at him, but I’m not seeing Adam.

“I’m not going to take my clothes off in front of you.”

“There’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“What? I’ve never—” I stop. I try to recall my past, but I can’t seem to pull it into focus; it’s like it can’t quite hold its shape. “I can’t remember.” He grins.

“No, you cannot.”

“But I can remember you,” I say, and his grin disappears.

“It would be better for you if you didn’t.”

“I don’t understand. Where are we? Why are you treating me this way?” Adam walks closer to me but stops a couple feet away. I step in his direction, closing the distance that separates us. I watch as he swallows hard. I reach for his face and he closes his eyes. “You are not allowed to touch me,” he says, and I recoil.

“Adam, talk to me, please. You’re scaring me.”

I hear footsteps approaching the room and Adam steps away from me. “Go now. You don’t belong here. Wake up—go now, and don’t come back. You have to stop looking for me.”

“But—”

“Now!” he shouts. His voice echoes in my head and my eyes snap open. 

*                            *                              *

I sit up on my bed gasping for breath. 

“Another nightmare?” Daniel is leaning on the doorframe staring at me. “This totals ten in the last twenty-four days.”

I don’t call them nightmares. If Adam is in it, I call it a dream. It doesn’t matter how bad it hurts or how scary it gets—if I see Adam, then it’s a dream.

“Why do they feel so real?” I run my fingers over my wrists, but there’s nothing on them. 

“I don’t know, Livia. There’s so much you don’t know about your abilities, and as long as you stay stuck in reverse, you’ll never figure things out.”

“I’m doing my best!” I retort.

“The hell you are! You sleep fourteen hours a day, you barely even eat, and when we train your mind is someplace else.” Dan walks closer to my bed, trying to control his frustration. “I let you stay buried under that blanket because I know you need time to recover. But this depression is messing you up, and we don’t have time to waste.” 

I pull the blanket over me, staring at him so he will leave. But he just stays there with his arms crossed over his chest and his frustration turns into anger. “I understand why you’re giving up on yourself. You’re just a spoiled girl who isn’t used to fighting for what she wants. Everything has always been given to you.” He turns sharply and walks toward the door. 

“I couldn’t care less about what you think of me!” I say. He stops and faces me. “You should have just left me there. I’m only dragging you down and you’re wasting your time.” 

“I still believe in you, Livia, but if you don’t believe in yourself, there’s little I can do.”

“You can leave me to my depression, as you call it. I’ll manage.” I tilt my head up, looking right into his eyes so he knows I mean it. The truth is, if Daniel leaves, I won’t survive another week. I’ll just fade into the darkness of my dreams, until I don’t see light again.