In The Afterlight
Page 50
I reached over and unlocked the door to his cell, propping it open with my foot. Clancy jerked back, startled, and that great white nothing that had masked everything working behind his eyes lifted, just enough for me to slide into the twisting hallways of his mind. The colors were suddenly vivid as jewels—pristine emerald lawns, a home perched next to a sapphire sea, a flowing amethyst evening gown, camera flashes like the sun striking the surface of a diamond, dissolving the world in flashes of pure light.
I worked faster than I ever thought I’d be able to, flipping through each memory as I stepped back and shut the door to his cell again, flipping the heavy lock. The win was short-lived. Clancy’s memories and thoughts had always passed through my mind like thunderclouds—expansive, brimming with darkness, and always on the edge of bursting. Now they were overly bright and crisp—still, too, like I was flipping through a stack of photographs, not trying to navigate the winding, endless paths that each memory sent me on. I felt myself coasting, carried along by a firm grip. Someone else was at the wheel.
The cell, detention hall—they were ripped back from the edge of my vision in one sharp tug. A layer of reality gone, just like that. And in its place was an old, familiar scene.
Clancy’s back was to me as I stepped toward him, letting the room solidify around us. Dark wood, everywhere. Shelves that blossomed with books and files. A TV appeared in the corner and burst to life with a flash of silent color. A desk appeared in front of where Clancy sat, his hands poised in the air until the laptop appeared beneath his moving fingers, papers growing up from the surface of his desk in neat white stacks.
He must have left the window open. The white curtain he used to separate his bed from the rest of the office fluttered at my back, and the memory was clear enough for the sound of the kids at the fire pit below to drift up to my ears. A soft breeze brought in the damp, earthy scent of the nearby trees.
I shuddered. We were at East River.
The memory was moving now, throwing me forward with a lurch, but it was only at half speed. I stepped up behind where Clancy was working, dividing his attention between his father’s face on the TV set and the laptop in front of him.
I sucked in a sharp breath, and even though the rational part of my mind knew that none of this was real—I wasn’t here, and Clancy wasn’t actually here—I still couldn’t bring myself to touch him, not even to lean over his shoulder.
How is he doing this? This wasn’t a memory—it was something else entirely. It was walking onto a stage after a play had already begun. I’d crossed whatever barrier had kept me an observer, not a participant.
He took a deep breath, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt with one hand, typing in a web address...a password...
The Clancy sitting in front of me sank down in his chair, tilting his head back so he was looking up, almost like he was looking right at me—
“Did you get that?” he asked.
I shot out of his mind, dropping the connection before he could—he could—I don’t know, seal me in? Was that even possible? Could he—
The lights crackled back to life in the hallway, burning my eyes with the sudden intensity. I knew my head was still tripping, still locked in that initial panic, because all I could smell was that pine—the distant campfire smoke.
He’d moved back to the bed, reclaiming his makeshift ball. And it was so strange—once the memory cleared and the ground felt solid under my feet again, I wasn’t scared or even pissed off that he’d managed to wrest control away from me in the end. I was...curious. I’d never experienced him walking me through a memory in that way—at East River, he’d shown me memories of himself that he’d stitched together, but this was so...different. I had no idea that was even a possibility for us. The throbbing ache behind my eyes had disappeared, and, for the first time, the dive into his head didn’t leave me exhausted or disoriented. I was still riding on that initial high of overcoming his barrier, just for a second.
“See you tomorrow, Ruby,” Clancy said, tossing the plastic wrapper back up into the air. And as I walked out, clearly dismissed from his presence, I had the strangest feeling of lightness spreading through my chest, sparking and trembling and glowing. I’d held back the monster for too long, apparently. It needed to be let out, to stretch its legs, to remember how good the control felt.
I remembered now how good being in control felt.
I think I might have even enjoyed it.
There was one laptop left in HQ, and despite the number of Greens salivating to get a turn on it, their unspoken code of honor seemed to dictate that the kid Cate entrusted it to got ownership of it. Or at least first dibs.
So, at any hour of the day, you could find Nico working at the desk in the center of the otherwise empty computer room. Sometimes there was a small cluster gathered around him, crowding in over his shoulders and pointing at the screen, typing something in for him if he so much as leaned back.
“Those kids make vultures look like fluffy yellow chicks,” Cole said as we stood outside, watching them through the long glass window. “If he were to fall over dead, would they just push the body out of the seat and use it as a footrest, do you think?”
I snorted. “They’re bored. If we don’t give them something to work on, they’re going to start taking the electronic locks off the door to try turning them into cell phones.”
“Yeah, well, Conner is the one that’s supposed to be wrangling them. You and I sure as hell don’t have the patience for...” A Green girl let out a squeal as Nico surrendered the laptop to her. “...this.”
I worked faster than I ever thought I’d be able to, flipping through each memory as I stepped back and shut the door to his cell again, flipping the heavy lock. The win was short-lived. Clancy’s memories and thoughts had always passed through my mind like thunderclouds—expansive, brimming with darkness, and always on the edge of bursting. Now they were overly bright and crisp—still, too, like I was flipping through a stack of photographs, not trying to navigate the winding, endless paths that each memory sent me on. I felt myself coasting, carried along by a firm grip. Someone else was at the wheel.
The cell, detention hall—they were ripped back from the edge of my vision in one sharp tug. A layer of reality gone, just like that. And in its place was an old, familiar scene.
Clancy’s back was to me as I stepped toward him, letting the room solidify around us. Dark wood, everywhere. Shelves that blossomed with books and files. A TV appeared in the corner and burst to life with a flash of silent color. A desk appeared in front of where Clancy sat, his hands poised in the air until the laptop appeared beneath his moving fingers, papers growing up from the surface of his desk in neat white stacks.
He must have left the window open. The white curtain he used to separate his bed from the rest of the office fluttered at my back, and the memory was clear enough for the sound of the kids at the fire pit below to drift up to my ears. A soft breeze brought in the damp, earthy scent of the nearby trees.
I shuddered. We were at East River.
The memory was moving now, throwing me forward with a lurch, but it was only at half speed. I stepped up behind where Clancy was working, dividing his attention between his father’s face on the TV set and the laptop in front of him.
I sucked in a sharp breath, and even though the rational part of my mind knew that none of this was real—I wasn’t here, and Clancy wasn’t actually here—I still couldn’t bring myself to touch him, not even to lean over his shoulder.
How is he doing this? This wasn’t a memory—it was something else entirely. It was walking onto a stage after a play had already begun. I’d crossed whatever barrier had kept me an observer, not a participant.
He took a deep breath, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt with one hand, typing in a web address...a password...
The Clancy sitting in front of me sank down in his chair, tilting his head back so he was looking up, almost like he was looking right at me—
“Did you get that?” he asked.
I shot out of his mind, dropping the connection before he could—he could—I don’t know, seal me in? Was that even possible? Could he—
The lights crackled back to life in the hallway, burning my eyes with the sudden intensity. I knew my head was still tripping, still locked in that initial panic, because all I could smell was that pine—the distant campfire smoke.
He’d moved back to the bed, reclaiming his makeshift ball. And it was so strange—once the memory cleared and the ground felt solid under my feet again, I wasn’t scared or even pissed off that he’d managed to wrest control away from me in the end. I was...curious. I’d never experienced him walking me through a memory in that way—at East River, he’d shown me memories of himself that he’d stitched together, but this was so...different. I had no idea that was even a possibility for us. The throbbing ache behind my eyes had disappeared, and, for the first time, the dive into his head didn’t leave me exhausted or disoriented. I was still riding on that initial high of overcoming his barrier, just for a second.
“See you tomorrow, Ruby,” Clancy said, tossing the plastic wrapper back up into the air. And as I walked out, clearly dismissed from his presence, I had the strangest feeling of lightness spreading through my chest, sparking and trembling and glowing. I’d held back the monster for too long, apparently. It needed to be let out, to stretch its legs, to remember how good the control felt.
I remembered now how good being in control felt.
I think I might have even enjoyed it.
There was one laptop left in HQ, and despite the number of Greens salivating to get a turn on it, their unspoken code of honor seemed to dictate that the kid Cate entrusted it to got ownership of it. Or at least first dibs.
So, at any hour of the day, you could find Nico working at the desk in the center of the otherwise empty computer room. Sometimes there was a small cluster gathered around him, crowding in over his shoulders and pointing at the screen, typing something in for him if he so much as leaned back.
“Those kids make vultures look like fluffy yellow chicks,” Cole said as we stood outside, watching them through the long glass window. “If he were to fall over dead, would they just push the body out of the seat and use it as a footrest, do you think?”
I snorted. “They’re bored. If we don’t give them something to work on, they’re going to start taking the electronic locks off the door to try turning them into cell phones.”
“Yeah, well, Conner is the one that’s supposed to be wrangling them. You and I sure as hell don’t have the patience for...” A Green girl let out a squeal as Nico surrendered the laptop to her. “...this.”
