Tunnel Vision (29 page)

“Time for a new ride, as you say. This one will not last much longer.” He waves a hand at the air. “Satellites.”

I nod, immensely glad he has this part under control. “Don’t forget the guns.”

“Right! The guns!” He takes them out of the glove box and hands one to me. Liesel’s. I make sure it’s safe and tuck it in my pocket.

Dedushka examines the green glass bottle with curiosity. “And what is this?”

I put out a hand for it. “Something I hope I’ll never need again.” I don’t look at the seat next to me. Hallucination Myka’s been sitting there, bouncing and chattering, since I dropped Eric off. “But just in case.”

We get out, leaving Hallucination Myka behind. I follow him as he strolls around the nearest aisles of the parking lot, looking for something.

“Here!” He takes a thin metal bar from his bag and jimmies the lock of a battered mint-green Ford F-150. Then he hops up, tugs out some wires, and starts it. The whole thing takes twenty seconds.

I stare at him like he’s sprouted wings.

He shrugs at me. “What? It is useful. I will teach you. Now, get in. We will go to my safe house, and then we will talk.” He beams again. “I am so glad to see you safe, Yakob.”

“You too, Dedushka. Thanks. For—”

He shakes his head. “Not now. Get in.”

I get in the truck. It’s a bumpy ride, but it’ll do. It’ll get us farther away from them.

33

“Feeling Good” by Nina Simone

We change vehicles four times on the way to Lac Bromont. I worry about the border, but Dedushka steals a motorcycle and takes us on a track through the forest he says only the locals know about. He says Jeeps can make it through here too. Though the last Jeep is back in New York, probably crawling with agents.

I hope Eric’s all right. I can’t check, even if I dared tunnel again. I lost the cloth in the first car. And I don’t dare tunnel to Liesel, not yet.

We arrive at Dedushka’s cabin at about nine that night. He unlocks the door, and I start to follow him in. But something stops me cold in the doorway.

It’s a perfectly normal, rustic cabin. Square, with a wood cot on one side and a sleeping bag rolled up on the floor at the foot of it, a woodstove, a small kitchen table and chairs. Two windows. A few things scattered around, mostly fishing tackle.

But it’s inside, enclosed in walls, and even that reminds me too much of the room. I can’t breathe. “I can’t. I … can’t. Can I stay … outside?”

His eyes are full of sympathy. “Stay wherever you most like, Yakob. You sleep in the boat, if you like. But the porch will likely be better.”

I let out a slow breath. I don’t have to go in. I don’t have to be closed up again.

I back up onto the porch, sit on the steps. It’s just getting dark, the whole sky, the lake before me, washed with orange. The night breeze is cool on my face. It smells of pine, mud, fish.

I should’ve run in the first place. I should’ve come here before, when I had the chance, the first time.

I hear Dedushka come out on the porch behind me, the hiss of a match, and the sharp, rich smell of pipe smoke.

“What’s the date?” I ask.

He puffs for a while, then sits next to me. “June ninth.”

“Four months,” I say. Then, violently: “I’m never going underground again.”

“No.” He takes the pipe out of his mouth, holds it loose in his hand. “Nor me. I have kept that promise to myself, for forty years.”

I look at him sideways. The beard, the gray hair, the sagging skin. But underneath, the resemblance is obvious. Lukin men look alike. Live alike.

“You were underground, Dedushka?”

He nods slow, grudging. “I will tell you that story, someday soon. Enough for you to know that it is not far off from yours, except in Russia. Also I never had the”—again his hand flutters—“level of talent you have.”

I shrug. It’s a talent I want no part of. Not anymore.

No more tunneling, no more headaches. No more hallucinations. At least, I hope they’ll go away eventually—but I won’t cause any more. I won’t be able to help people. But I’ll stay sane. I’ll stay out of rubber walls. Any walls, maybe.

He puffs for a while. I hug my knees and watch the sky darken, the stars come out. I don’t want to sleep, to lose a moment of this. I want to stay outside and watch the sky forever.

“Two things,” he says. “First, most important: I have something for you.”

He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulls out a folded blue piece of paper, and hands it to me.

I open it. In neat, twelve-year-old writing are the words
I love you, Jake
. Underneath, it says
We’ve missed you
.

I look at Dedushka. I almost can’t say it. “Myka.”

He tilts his head and smiles. “Your sister, she knows everything. She called me a month ago, to tell me she does not think you are dead. That it is fishy. She does not believe me when I say she must let you go.” He shrugs. “So I tell her the truth. Then I tell her when you come to me.” His eyes shine. “It was her plan, to use me as bait. If she does not hear from us by tomorrow night, she will go to the press, tell your story and mine. It was backup.”

I feel a rush of giddiness, like being drunk. She didn’t give up on me. She didn’t believe I was gone, even when he told her to.

“And Mom?”

“Does not know. But I think she should, yes? It will be a risk. But I think we have all underestimated her.”

“But they could be seen as threats to the government, or hostages.” I clutch the note. “How can they be safe?”

He puffs, considering, the cloud of smoke a mushroom in the air. “They’ll be watched, but no action has been taken, not yet. Your sister—and I—believe if we leave them be long enough, after this contact, they will be all right. I track them, like I did you. And in time, we will find a way.”

After this contact
. I look at the paper in my hand. She sent it as an object. I can go, right now. I can see her.

But I’m not supposed to tunnel anymore.

It’s getting full dark, and the lake is turning mysterious, unknown. The insects are out, flitting around us.

“Go,” Dedushka says.

I close my eyes, and go.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table, at home, doing a jigsaw puzzle with Mom. I’m startled at first to see her hair cut short, to her chin. It makes her look different, older. Then I’m in her mind, easy. Like nothing ever happened.

She stops, breathes fast. She knows I’m there.

Myk. I’m out. I’m okay.

I feel her concern, a rush of stored-up worry. Even accusation. I said I was okay before, right before I went away. Before I left her behind.

I promise, I’m fine. I’m with Dedushka. Everything will be all right now.

She starts to cry, tears hot on her cheeks. Across the table Mom exclaims, worried.

Tell her everything, Myk. Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I love her.

I have to go. I don’t trust tunneling anymore.

Love you.

I pull away. My cheeks are wet too, and Dedushka’s. We’re quiet for a long time.

“There is a second thing,” Dedushka says, when the night is full dark. His voice is so gentle I’m afraid. I grip the step, wait.

“Yakob—it is time you know. Your father is alive.”

Everything stops. It’s like being under the hood again: no sound, no sight, nothing but roaring blackness.

I blink. “What do you mean?”

“The death, it was faked. Like yours. Ivan is … it is difficult. It was for your safety, all of you. But he knew he was leaving. He told me so I could take care of things. Watch.”

I’m back on that mountaintop in Colorado, holding my mother and sister at a grave marker, while the wind howls. I hate Dad terribly, for a second.

Only a second. I’ve done the same thing.

“Where is he?” I whisper.

“I do not know. With another organization. He said the CIA, the air force, did not even know of it. I tracked him to a base in Texas. But then he disappeared.” He shakes his head sadly. “They have hidden him so well, or he has hidden himself—I do not think there is a way to find him.”

I think instantly of the watch. The damned watch. If I’d known, I could’ve tunneled to him anytime I wanted. Anytime in the past two years, the past four months of hell. But I don’t have it anymore.

“Do you have anything of his?” I ask urgently. “Anything personal?”

He frowns. “Not here. It is in my house in Standish, all the boxes are there.” He chews on his pipe, thinks. “Or in your house in Herndon.”

I set a hand on his arm. It’s warm, alive. Like the tingle in my own blood, the excitement rising. The challenge.

“Dedushka,” I say. “If we can get something of his, anything—I can find him. I can find him that second. And the two of us, we can get him. So none of us have to be underground.”

Lukins stick together like glue.

And I guess I’m not done tunneling yet.

34

“Safe House” by Mintzkov

I run, dodging between the trees, the soft ground giving under my feet. There aren’t dogs behind me, but I imagine dogs snarling and straining at leashes, sniffing me out. It helps me stay focused on running as fast as I can.

It’s training. After four months of sitting on my butt in one room, I was massively out of shape. I’ve been running every day, as long as I can manage, to get some of that strength back. I want to be ready in every way I can when I get back out there.

Get an object. Find Dad. Rescue him.

Sounds simple enough when I say it to myself.

I come to a clearing by the lake, no trees, and sprint across the grass hard, pushing myself, my legs and arms pumping. It feels good, strong. Like I’m part of a rhythm, have a purpose.

It’s been three weeks since I escaped, since I came here with Dedushka. I still don’t sleep inside the cabin. It gives me the shakes to
be
inside for long. And I know very well how hard Liesel and her people are searching for me. Especially since they figured out how I controlled Eric, how far I can really go. I honestly don’t think she—or Eric—will ever stop searching.

I still feel awful about Eric. I’ve seen him, in tunnels to Liesel. He’s wobbly, recovering from being shot. More, he’s
pissed
. At me. They have him on official leave, investigating his actions. Concerned that he’s still “compromised.” But he’s working with her anyway.

I don’t even think he wants me underground anymore. I think if it were up to him, he’d shoot me dead on sight.

None of that stops me from making plans to go back out there, despite Dedushka’s objections. He wants to keep me here, safe, forever. But now that I know Dad’s alive, I can’t just sit here and leave him alone. Not if he’s locked up like I was.

“Whatchya running from?” Myka asks.

I slow, but don’t stop, or look around me. I know it’s just a hallucination of my sister trotting beside me somewhere. She comes often, more than anybody else. I dive into trees again, under cover. Keep going, find the rhythm. One two one two.

“They’re gonna catch you,” she says.

I stop, lean over to get my breath back. Myka stands there in front of me, only a foot away, arms crossed. Her hair long and braided, like it always was. A frown tugging at her mouth. Even Hallucination Myka is hard to ignore.

“They’re not going to catch me,” I pant. “We’re safe here.”

“I don’t think so…” she says, sing-song. “I think they’re gonna
find
you…”

I shake my head and run past her. She falls into a trot behind me. I keep going on my loop through the forest.

Not as relaxed as I was, though. There’s no reason to listen to her. She’s just a product of my mind. But somehow it echoes. I suddenly imagine coming back to find Dedushka on his knees, Liesel holding a gun to his head. I run faster. Almost there. Through the last trees, and …

Dedushka sits on the porch, an unlit pipe clenched in his teeth, reading one of his Russian novels. His beard ruffles in the breeze off the lake.

I breathe. He’s okay. But I still can’t shake off the worry, not until I check. I go straight for my bag and pull out Liesel’s gun.

I sit on the porch and cradle the cold, heavy gun in my hands, distaste shivering through me.

I wasn’t going to tunnel anymore. But it’s smart to tunnel to her at least once a day, at different times. Just to make sure our safe house is still safe. I don’t like touching the gun, knowing its power. I hate tunneling to Liesel. But I suck it up, close my eyes.

It’s way faster than it used to be, easier. All that damn practice. I say it aloud.

Location: Virginia. Arlington. 3701 North Fairfax Drive, sixth floor, room 622. DARPA headquarters. The office is plain, big, room for two desks spilling over with folders, maps. A woman, midthirties, blond hair pulled back. She wears a black suit, a badge. She leans over a map spread out on a large, cluttered table, tracing a circle with her finger. Here. He’s got to be in here, somewhere.

I focus on the map, try to see the detail. It’s not as big a circle as I’d like it to be. Upstate New York, Vermont, Canada. Including Quebec, where we’re sitting.

“Excellent,” Eric says, behind her. She turns as he hangs up the phone. He smiles at her, brittle. His eyes are cold. “I think we can narrow that circle a little more.”

“Excellent indeed.” She turns back to the map, smooths it with her hand. “Not long now, Jacob. Not long at all.”

I open my eyes.

Dedushka closes the book, sets it in his lap. Looks at me, silent.

“It’s time,” I say, my voice rising. “They’re going to find us if we stay here. It’s time to go.”

I feel the weirdest mix of relief and absolute horror.

I flash back to Liesel’s cell. I can still taste the stale air, the darkness of artificial light. Sitting there with my hands cuffed behind my back, powerless. Nothing but a tool. That’s where they want me again, for the rest of my life.

I won’t go back there. But I don’t have to stay stuck here anymore, either. It’s time to get Dad, so we can all three be together. I want to go
now
.