Out of Nowhere Page 7

  Aidan nearly choked. That was the voice of one of his torturers. This version of Jennifer Heath didn’t seem to recognize him, though. She thought he was one of the other Caleb’s “hookups,” which raised some questions about other Caleb’s typical behavior.

  Caleb broke the kiss and stared over Aidan’s shoulder, twisting his kiss-bitten lips into a smirk. “You worried about the rules, Doctor?”

  Aidan was half-sitting on top of him and still found the change in Caleb startling. The shift in his posture had been too subtle—or Aidan had been too distracted to notice while it was happening—but this new pose radiated lazy arrogance. Caleb didn’t sit like that, legs spread and back slouched, his chin tipped up in defiance. He didn’t sound like that, either, although Aidan was hard-pressed to identify what, exactly, was different about Caleb’s voice. It was a hundred tiny changes all at once, where no individual difference was obvious, but the whole was more than the sum of its parts. Despite having been to all of Caleb’s high school and college plays like a dutiful friend, Aidan had never seen this kind of performance.

  Too late, it occurred to Aidan that the kiss, no matter how good, had been theater. He should have known from the beginning, of course. Caleb wouldn’t have suddenly shucked off a lifetime of heterosexuality like that. It had been a distraction, a plausible reason for the two of them to be alone together in the room. Aidan had been too caught up in the moment to suss that out, but it soured him on the whole experience. He’d been a prop.

  A glance down at Caleb’s lap showed that maybe it wasn’t all faked. Or maybe the bulge in his jeans was just a bodily reaction that couldn’t be controlled or relied upon in any meaningful way. This wasn’t the right time to think about these things, not when Heath was behind him.

  They had to jump or talk their way out, and Caleb had been in bad shape when they’d walked in.

  Heath’s first scolding for Caleb had been exasperated and almost affectionate, but she didn’t like being challenged. “I should have you written up, Feldman. You weren’t given that ability so you could parade your random assortment of sex partners through my workspace.”

  “And you weren’t given experimental subjects so you could fuck them, but that hasn’t stopped you.”

  Caleb lifted an eyebrow and kept staring. It was a bold move. They couldn’t be sure Heath’s double had behaved in the same way, or that this facility was anything like the one they knew.

  Judging from Caleb’s smile, Heath must have reacted in the way he wanted.

  With the hand that wasn’t still possessively clutching Aidan’s hip, Caleb gestured for her to turn and walk away. “You have your secrets, and I have mine. Let’s keep it that way.” Then he waved a tiny, cheerful goodbye and wiggled his fingers to shoo her out of the room.

  Heath made an affronted sound. “You’re an asshole, Feldman.”

  Caleb made another shooing gesture, his smirk unmoved, and then Aidan heard footsteps and the door closing. It had worked. Holy shit.

  Caleb stood up, forcing Aidan to step back, and just like that they were no longer touching. Caleb was himself again, wrecked with exhaustion and uncertainty, smiling apologetically. “Sorry about all that. I had to think fast.”

  Aidan marveled at him. “Who are you?”

  Caleb grimaced, even though Aidan had meant that as praise. He’d never seen someone transform like that. And after all these years, it amazed him that there was anything left about Caleb that he didn’t know. Today was full of surprises.

  “I don’t recall anything half that convincing when you were on stage,” Aidan continued, trying to make up for whatever he’d said wrong. A second later, when Caleb’s mouth twisted further, he realized that this was also an insulting thing to say.

  Caleb took a breath and squared his shoulders and said lightly, “Maybe I needed to find the right role.”

  “Yeah, but how did you know what to do? Didn’t seem like you spent a lot of time with your double.” Aidan knew the other Caleb was a flirt. But Caleb's only interaction with him had been getting knocked unconscious—or so he claimed.

  “A lucky guess,” Caleb said. “These people, our doubles... I thought maybe we might have more in common than just our looks.”

  Aidan studied Caleb, wondering if one of the things he had in common with his double was an attraction to men. But he didn’t ask, and now that Caleb wasn’t acting, Aidan could see the fatigue in his movements. He was standing, but he looked ready to sit back down. Shit. Aidan had more important things to worry about than whether Caleb would ever kiss him again.

  Aidan said, “How are you?”

  “I’m okay,” Caleb said. “Still want to go to Des Moines?”

  “Yeah.” Aidan stepped forward, ready for the jump, and Caleb jerked back.

  He flushed scarlet. “God,” he swore. “I didn't mean to—I’m not—ugh.”

  Maybe that kiss hadn't been so meaningless after all. But Aidan couldn't think about that. It had to be meaningless. His own wants didn't matter. He had goals to achieve, and Caleb biting his lip like that—self-conscious, apologetic, charming—was an obstacle to every last one of them.

  For the first time in a long time, thinking of his purpose didn't help. Caleb looking so rattled and unsure was a rare pleasure, and the fact that kissing Aidan had flustered him made it all the more delicious. Aidan couldn't resist bringing it up.

  “Feel funny about touching me after that... performance?” he teased.

  Caleb rubbed a hand over his face. “God, I don't know. I'm sorry. I've been freaking out about some things and that just... made it worse.”

  Teasing Caleb wasn’t any fun if he was going to react with genuine uncertainty.

  “I don’t mean to be weird about touching you,” Caleb said. “I’m sorry. Let's forget about this, okay?”

  Rationally, Aidan knew he should agree. He could list all the reasons. If the technology existed to pluck that kiss out of his memory, it would be perfectly logical to have it excised. But he didn’t want to.

  Which made it awkward that Caleb, apparently, did want to forget.

  Caleb stepped forward and extended his arms, allowing Aidan to move closer. It was a stiff embrace. Aidan shouldn’t have enjoyed it. And yet his stupid, treacherous body perked up at Caleb’s touch. He was always so warm and solid. Aidan didn’t want to admit how much surreptitious enjoyment he’d gotten from holding onto Caleb in the Nowhere over the course of his life. Now that they’d kissed, it was harder to pretend that this was all business.

  It would be over in a second. Caleb tightened his grip and Aidan took a breath in preparation for the jump.

  Nothing happened.

  Caleb blinked in surprise. His face was pale and drawn from the exertion of the previous jumps, but he’d acted like he could make one more, and Aidan hadn’t wanted to contradict him on that. Jumping was as mental as it was physical. Most of the time, if you believed you could do it, you could.

  Caleb shifted, steadied himself, and tried again to no avail.

  “You can do this,” Aidan said, low and serious into Caleb’s ear. He had to stretch upward a little to get there, which brought them closer together, which he was not thinking about. “Whatever you’re freaking out about, put it aside. All that matters right now is getting into the Nowhere. It’ll feel good, I promise. It’s peaceful there. Dark and quiet. There’s nothing. Your problems will all seem small and far away.”

  “Ha,” Caleb said.

  “You can do this,” Aidan insisted again. “And trust me about the Nowhere. It’s great for running away from everything. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” Caleb said. “But this isn’t the kind of thing you can run from, and I don’t think my problem is a lack of wanting to get there.”

  “That’s the only problem there is,” Aidan said. “You have to want it more than you want anything else. You have to focus. You’re tired, I know, but you can use that. Think about how relieved you’ll
feel when we get the fuck out of here.”

  Aidan dropped until his heels were on the floor and offered Caleb a tilted smile.

  Caleb tried to return it, then closed his eyes.

  Aidan pressed a palm flat over Caleb’s heart, which was beating faster than standing in this empty room warranted. “It’s easy,” he murmured. “It’s just your body doing something your body already knows how to do, like breathing. You know how to do this. Stop thinking about it. Let it happen.”

  And then they were gone.

  7

  A Joke or an Experiment

  The ripe scent of flowers, underlaid with cut grass and muddy puddles, struck Caleb as they exited the Nowhere. The air was humid and thick with birdsong. A park.

  He dropped to the ground, not caring how wet it was, and then snapped his head back up. He was so relieved not to have killed both of them that he hadn’t checked where they’d landed. “Is this Des Moines?”

  With some reluctance, Aidan turned his attention away from Caleb and toward the tablet he’d stolen from Caleb’s double. The dappled sunlight of the park painted vivid reddish purple shadows on his bare forearms as he tapped at the screen. With his black hair and pale skin stark against the rich autumn color, Aidan might have been cut out of some other image and collaged against the background. Staring up at him made the whole thing even more dreamlike.

  It had been a long time since either of them had been outside.

  Caleb was glad to be spared the sight of himself. His brain felt like sludge. He could lie down on the squishy, lumpy ground and fall asleep right now, and it probably showed.

  Aidan was nodding at the screen. “We’re not far. Nice work.”

  “I was supposed to land us at his door.”

  “Close enough. Let’s find you something to eat before you pass out.”

  Aidan didn’t ask him what he wanted, which was just as well because Caleb wouldn’t have known what to say. Caleb grasped Aidan’s extended hand and stood up. His vision only blacked out for a second, and he stayed upright. Not bad. His jeans were muddy, but that was his own damn fault.

  The walk dragged on for ages, at least in his mind. Concrete sidewalks, manicured lawns, brick buildings, blue skies, and finally a dim, wood-paneled basement. They could be in the real Des Moines, for all he knew. The plastic-covered menu in his hands was printed in English and the prices of the diner fare were listed in dollars.

  A server with her hair coming loose from a plastic clip and a black apron around her waist approached their booth. Caleb ordered a burger and fries, too tired to examine the menu beyond that. It was only after the server left that Caleb realized she’d said good morning. They’d changed time zones; the sun had been such a shock that he hadn’t thought about whether it was morning or evening. This place must have just opened for the day, since none of the other tables were occupied.

  She probably thought he had a hangover. Close enough to the truth.

  While the server was gone, Aidan discreetly shuffled through the cash he’d stolen, linen paper tinged with familiar green. Caleb hoped it was the right currency for wherever they were.

  “We’re good for it,” Aidan said, shoving the cash out of sight.

  “You’re sure? There’s a chance this is the wrong Des Moines.”

  “I’m sure,” Aidan said, tilting his head at something behind Caleb.

  The server came back to pour coffee for both of them. Aidan must have ordered it. Caleb was only absorbing fifty percent of what was happening around him. The coffee was bitter but welcome. When the server left, Caleb twisted in his seat, the cracked vinyl scratching against his jeans.

  A collection of framed photos and posters covered the wood paneling, some catching the glare from the bar’s haphazardly hung red and yellow lights. Aidan was studying the largest, most central poster, one of a young woman smiling and standing behind a podium with a microphone. She was wearing a short-sleeved blue dress, a garment intended for an upscale office rather than a gala. Her black hair was pinned back neatly. The photo was bordered in white and had the air of a historic image, something that might once have accompanied a news article. The caption read Li Xiuying arrives in New York, Tuesday, July 26, 2039 at 17:35:04.

  Caleb needed more coffee, because that didn’t make any sense. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

  Aidan’s eyes lit up and he shook his head.

  Oh. It was a historic image. Just not their history.

  The revelation didn’t have the same punch as seeing his own face. The strangeness crept up on him. It was one thing to live and work in a clandestine facility in space, and then to encounter a funhouse mirror version of that place. Facility 17 was supposed to be weird. But that park, those streets, this shabby little diner—all of it belonged to another reality.

  Caleb took another gulp of coffee. It didn’t help.

  “I know, right?” Aidan said.

  “I thought I needed to lie down before,” Caleb said.

  “I can’t tell if I wish it were weirder and more obvious, or if that’s the wrong thing to wish for,” Aidan mused. He trained his gaze on the poster again. “More importantly, can you think of a lot of historical events that get dated down to the second?”

  “No. There’s no reason to record that,” Caleb said, and then it dawned on him, “unless she came from somewhere far away only a few seconds before that.”

  “Yeah. And the caption says arrives, like that’s noteworthy in and of itself. She has to be a runner. I can’t think of a lot of establishments in our world that would put up celebratory posters of runners.”

  “If you can’t think of them, they don’t exist.”

  “Yeah,” Aidan said. “In our reality, Quint was desperate to develop a suppressant that could disable runners. In this reality, they figured out how to give the ability to people who weren’t born with it.”

  “Different priorities,” Caleb said. “Though Quint would probably love to do that, too.”

  “He wants it for himself,” Aidan said. “Not for anyone else. Not unless he could control it and profit from it.”

  “He’d find a way.”

  “He won’t,” Aidan said.

  Their food arrived, briefly interrupting their conversation while Caleb demolished his whole burger without really tasting it. He was still hungry when he finished. When he looked up, Aidan was sipping coffee and staring at—no, not the poster. Aidan smiled ruefully at Caleb and pushed his plate across the table. The burger was untouched. He hadn’t even eaten a fry.

  This reality was backwards and upside-down in more than one way. Usually it was Caleb sitting in silence, waiting for Aidan to finish the frozen burrito or whatever he’d pulled out of Caleb’s freezer in the middle of the night. Caleb kept his freezer stocked. He kept clean sheets and extra pillows on hand, too. Ice packs, bandages, pain pills. Aidan showed up erratically, and more often than not, he showed up in need.

  In his more resentful moments, woken up in the middle of the night by the ding of his microwave, Caleb had grumbled to himself that Aidan would never return the favor. Aidan didn’t have a place of his own, and even if he did, Caleb couldn’t teleport into it at odd hours. The give-and-take of their relationship would always be Caleb giving and Aidan taking.

  But this marked the third time Aidan had given him food without being asked. Caleb thought of Aidan offering him a hand up in the park, and of the hours of patience he’d demonstrated while teaching Caleb to get in and out of the Nowhere on command. He was a good teacher.

  A good kisser, too.

  Fuck. A good friend, that was what Caleb should be thinking. That kiss hadn’t been real for either of them, no matter how clearly he could remember the warmth of Aidan’s mouth.

  The food, though, that was real. It was as solid a proof of friendship as anyone could ask for, and Caleb hadn’t had to ask for it at all. This friendship they’d had their whole lives was precious, and not worth risking for the sake of one kiss.

 
“Thanks,” Caleb said, picking up Aidan’s burger and trying hard not to want anything else.

  Oz Lewis lived in a long, low, uninspiring strip of an apartment building surrounded by an ocean of parking lot. The four-lane road outside was dotted with similar buildings, one of which was a motel. Caleb fell asleep on the bus ride there and Aidan had to shake him awake when they arrived.

  “Wait, this is where he lives?” Caleb asked as they descended to the buckled sidewalk, stepping between puddles. The motel’s molded plastic sign had almost no color left in its painted lettering. “Or are we stopping here? Because normally I’d object, but I considered taking a nap on the ground earlier, so if it’s reasonably clean, then it’s fine.”

  “Unless you have the energy to jump us into a five-star hotel, this is what our cash gets us,” Aidan said. “But coincidentally, yeah, Oz lives a few buildings down from this one.”

  Caleb cast a glance around, taking in the dented cars in the parking lot and the cinderblock apartment complexes across the road.

  “It’s not what I expected either,” Aidan said as they walked to the reception desk. “But the tablet said Quint Services doesn’t exist here, so he’s not rich. That’s good for us. It means he’ll be more interested in our offer. But that can wait—you should rest.”

  Caleb needed to be able to jump them away from Oz just in case he turned out to be hostile. Aidan didn’t mention that. It wasn’t a restful thought.

  “It’s not check-in yet,” said the woman at the desk without looking at them. Her voice creaked like she hadn’t spoken in a while. A tablet on her desk was playing media of some kind. They must have interrupted her.

  “Is there anything available right now?” Aidan asked.

  She did glance up then, and she studied the two of them for a moment. Caleb’s attention—what was left of it—was on the peeling grey-and-green wallpaper and he didn’t notice. He slouched, his hands in his pockets. To Aidan, he looked pale and tired, but to a stranger, he must look disheveled and distracted, maybe high.