Shine (18 page)

In my dream, I walked through the woods alone, and though
it was dark, I didn’t stumble. In fact, I could barely feel the ground beneath my feet.

Just ahead over a slight rise, a brilliant white light coaxed me forward, flashing like the strobe lights at a concert. I clapped my hands in a quickening rhythm, as if to call out the band for one more encore.

I crested the hill and stopped short. This light heralded no music or any other kind of fun. And rather than one light, it was hundreds, arcing back and forth to create a wall.

The DMP’s invisible electric fence. A small animal was caught in it, triggering the continuous zaps. I picked up a crooked branch and hurried forward. Maybe I could safely pull it away from the fence and end its flailing struggle.

But as I reached the fence, I realized that the foot-long creature was on the other side, facing me. I couldn’t touch it without hurting or maybe even killing myself.

The electric flashes blinded me. I could barely see the little paws clinging to the fence’s invisible wires. Was it a squirrel? A rabbit? Its form was so familiar… .

The light flashed above its face, and I screamed.

It wasn’t an animal. It was Zachary. Tiny, terrified, helpless. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his mouth opened in silent agony.

Knees shaking, I took a step back. But then my hands reached out, as if of their own accord. I lunged through the fence to save him.

The world turned white.

A knocking sound jarred me out of sleep. “Zach?” I half sat up, reaching for the sliver of light at my door.

“It’s me,” Gina said. “There’s news.”

Darkness lay outside the window. Middle-of-the-night news was always bad.

Zachary was dead.

“Immigration called. The DMP is releasing Zachary. He’s going home.”

I sank back onto my pillow, still seeing his twisted body on the flashing fence. Maybe
this
was the dream.

“It’s five thirty a.m. now.” Gina stepped closer. “They said you can see him briefly before you go to school.” She paused. “Aura, did you hear me?”

I ran my hand over my blanket. It was frayed in all the right places. The Band-Aid from a day-old paper cut snagged a stray thread. “This is real.”

“Of course, hon.” She switched on my nightstand lamp and sat on the bed. “He’s free.”

I blinked at her in the sudden light. The tension in her smile made my chest tighten, like I was trying to breathe sand instead of air.

Zachary was leaving Area 3A, but I feared he would carry a part of it with him, tucked deep inside his soul. That he would never truly be “free.”

My palms were pumping cold sweat as I waited with Gina and Cheryl for Zachary to be released. We sat on a row of blue vinyl chairs, their seat edges contoured to keep people from lying down to nap. Though it was the same building where we’d met Ian and Fiona,
this room held no ferns, no soft-rock radio, no cute-dog calendars.

This room felt like a prison.

Behind us sat pairs of cubicles separated by a floor-to-ceiling glass partition. The cubicles each had a beige phone, one on either side of the glass. A smaller room, as bare as this one, lay on the other side of the divider.

I smoothed my hair, which I hadn’t had time to wash or barely even comb before we’d left. But my ragged appearance on the first day of school was the least of my worries.

If Zachary looked damaged, could I be brave and strong for him, or would pity fill my eyes and hurt his fierce pride? And what would I say to him? “How’s your summer been?” “Read any good books lately?”

As if hearing my thoughts, Gina put her hand on my jittery knee. “Don’t worry, hon. You’ll know what to say.”

I could hear every sound in the echoing hallway outside, each squeak of shoes on polished linoleum. I checked the clock for the fourth time in the last minute. “It’s almost seven. Maybe they took him already.”

“They would’ve called to tell me,” Cheryl said, shifting her weight on the chair. “Remember, you can’t hug or kiss him.”

“But we can hold hands, right?”

“Briefly. Then you can sit here and talk, but no touching.”

I seethed, remembering a reality show about a prison, where the visitors had similar restrictions. Zachary wasn’t a murderer or bank robber. He was a pawn. We both were.

But not for long.

A group of footsteps slowed, approaching our room. I leaped to my feet as the door opened.

Zachary entered, a large agent at each elbow. His hair had grown shaggier, almost to his shoulders, and his green eyes were bloodshot, with the wariness of a wild animal. My mind flashed back to the dream of the fence.

Maybe it was the hulking size of his guards, but he looked so, so thin.

Hands unbound, he reached for me. “Aura …”

On pure instinct, I launched myself at him.

A body met mine, too soon. Not Zachary’s.

“Let me go!” I struggled in the guard’s grip. I had to touch Zachary with more than hands, bury my face in his chest and feel his arms around me. I had to know he was real.

“Sorry, miss.” The guard held me firmly. “Full physical contact is against the rules.”

“But he didn’t do anything! I didn’t do anything! It’s not fair!”

“Aura!” Zachary’s ragged voice receded into the hallway. “Let me go! I just want to see her.”

Were they taking him away? Had I blown my only chance to talk to him?

I went limp. “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t touch him. Just please let me see Zachary.” I whispered through my tears. “Please.”

“At least let them speak through the glass,” Cheryl said.

The guard holding me turned to his partner. “Put him on the other side.” As soon as the door closed, he released me. I lunged to sit at the center cubicle.

The door in the other room opened. This time they let Zachary
go, and he walked slowly, glancing to each side, as if expecting to be tackled. Then he sat across from me and lifted his gaze to the window between us.

My eyes devoured the sight of him. Zachary was here in front of me, not in a dream or a memory.
Here.

He wore a loose shirt, so it was hard to tell exactly how much weight he’d lost. His dark brown hair was unkempt but clean and shiny. His face was so freshly shaven, the skin glowed pink, with tiny bumps and scrapes, the way my legs get when I shave them after several days of neglect.

They’d just now polished him up. Who knew what he’d looked like an hour ago?

I pressed my hand to the thick glass. Zachary spread his palm in the same place, his long fingers extending past mine. His cuff slipped back, revealing a wrist so thin, it made my heart crack in two.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

He tilted his head quizzically.

“Pick up the phone,” Gina said gently.

“Oh.” I lifted the beige receiver on my side, and Zachary did the same. “Are you okay?”

“I’m tired. Homesick. Otherwise, can’t complain.” He threw a fleeting look behind him.

I wondered what would happen if he did complain. “I missed you. I still miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He cleared his throat. “How was your summer?”

“Better than yours.”

“Likely.” His mouth opened and closed, as though he was trying
to remember how to form a full sentence. “What did you do?”

“I worked. I went to the mountains.”
I sold out my country to set you free, and I’m not sorry.

I squirmed in the hard plastic seat with the desire to tell him everything I’d learned about the DMP, SecuriLab, and the Shift itself. But nothing we said now was between us.

He leaned closer, a wave of hair brushing the glass. “I love you.”

I closed my eyes, bathing in his words and the intimate way he said them, as if we were alone. I pretended for one long moment that nothing stood between us but air.

Then I opened my eyes and said, “I love you, too.”

His face melted into a sad smile, then he let the receiver drop onto his shoulder and gazed at me. I did the same. No words could follow those we’d just uttered.

We sat, each pressing a hand to the glass, letting the world around us dissolve, for the rest of our five measly minutes. It reminded me of moments with Logan’s ghost, when we’d touch-but-not-touch for hours.

But in the depth of Zachary’s weary, determined eyes, I saw more than a desperate longing. I saw a future.

When the guards moved forward to lead him away, Zachary and I put the receivers back to our ears.

“I’ll see you,” he said, stating it like the promise it was.

“You better.” I hung up, then pressed my other palm to the glass. He mirrored my move.

The guard touched Zachary’s shoulder. Zachary’s eyes flashed cold. I yanked my hands back.

He started, then gave me a pleading look, fingers curled against the window.
I’m sorry,
he mouthed.

I shook my head and touched the glass again. “It’s okay.” Then I signaled him to call me, thumb to my ear and pinkie to my mouth.

He nodded, then said one word I could easily read on his lips.
Promise.

Y
ou completely failed to warn me about American girls.”

I smiled into my locker at the sound of Simon’s voice, then closed the door to find him leaning against the wall about ten feet away. The hallway was otherwise empty—I’d stayed late on the first day of school to meet with my guidance counselor about college financial aid applications.

“The accent?” I asked him.

“Astounding.” He shook his head as he shuffled closer. “How will I ever engage in a covert operation when half the student body is staring?”

“Do you think anyone suspects you’re not really one of us?”

“They’re more curious than suspicious. A few seemed surprised that England had black people.”

I laughed. “It makes you doubly intriguing. Remember, anyone under eighteen is jailbait.”

He mock shuddered. “Not tempted. High school girls don’t provide much intellectual stimulation.”

“Hey.”

“Present company excepted, of course.”

“Right.” I moved near him, double-checking that the hall was still empty. “Simon, was Zachary released because of the information I gave you?”

“It was a combination of factors.”

“And?”

“One of which was you.”

“Yes!” I gave a fist pump and a twirl of victory.

Simon frowned. “It’s not a game, Aura. Never forget that. There are no winners.” He walked away down the hall, books under his arm. “Only losers.”

My phone rang just after midnight. Wide awake, I lunged across my bed to grab the phone from where it was charging on my nightstand.

Gina shouted from her room, “Is it him?”

“UK area code!” I bounced on my knees.

“Answer it!”

I did, my hand shaking.

“It’s me,” Zachary said.

I dug my fingers into the sheets as Gina appeared at my door. “Are you there?” I asked him. “Are you safe?”

“I’m in London. My mum met me.” His voice was flat and dull. “We’re flying to Glasgow together.”

“That’s great. How are you?”

“Tired. They gave me something to help me sleep on the flight.”

“Did it work?”

“No. But I’m here. I’ll be walking on Scottish soil in two hours.” He gave a hollow chuckle. “Probably kissing it, too, when no one’s looking.”

I laughed with relief at the humor that had come back into his words, if not his voice. “I wish you were kissing me instead.” I winced at Gina’s “Awww” from the door. “Sorry, that’s cheesy. Except I really, really mean it.” I squeezed my bare toes. “Oh my God, it’s so good to talk to you. I missed you and wanted so bad to call you and just tell you about stupid stuff, but mostly I wanted to know you were okay.” I stopped babbling. “Zach?”

There was only silence.

“Zach, are you there? Did we get cut—”

“I’m here.” He spoke barely above a whisper. “You’ve no need to worry about me. I’m fine.”

He sounded the opposite of fine. “How is that possible?”

“It—it must be. It is. Possible.” His voice seemed to rattle, or maybe it was the connection. “Can we video-chat later?”

“Of course.” I clutched the phone, trying not to break it.

“I have to go. Mum is frowning.”

“Okay.” I started to add, “I love you,” but he quickly said, “Bye” and hung up.

I set my phone carefully on the nightstand, as if Zachary lay fragile inside it. “He’s in London.”

Gina let out a heavy breath and sank onto my bed. “Thank God he’s finally safe.”

Nowhere in the world seemed safe anymore. “And three thousand miles away.”

Then it all spilled forth—an entire summer of fear and grief and rage. My tears came so fast and so fat, I thought they’d bruise my eyes on their way out.