Thin Air

“Yeah.” Cherise was flushed and breathless, but on her it looked good. Lewis wasn’t exactly immune to it, either, even if it wasn’t conscious attraction on his part; he was simply lagging back, paying more attention to her than mercilessly slave-driving us through the snow like a pack of sled dogs. “He was showing me how he did some stuff. Like creating firebreaks. It was cool.”

“Do you remember what happened then?”

She was silent for a few seconds, blue eyes far away, and then she nodded. “This woman came out of the trees. At least, I think it was a woman.” She frowned. “Why can’t I remember what she looked like?”

Lewis sent me a look that clearly said, Demon. I didn’t disagree. Once you’re already off the cliff, you might as well pretend you’re flying.

“What happened after that?” Lewis asked as we puffed our way down another treacherous hillside, feeling for good footholds beneath a cruelly smooth blanket of snow. I nearly slipped on a rock that turned under my foot, and grabbed wildly. Lewis caught my arm and steadied me.

Cherise took her time answering. “Um…I remember falling, and there was-I don’t know. Pain, maybe. I mostly remember passing out. And waking up out here, in the snow. Freezing.”

Eerily similar to my experience, in fact, except that she’d managed to hang on to her clothes. Lewis and I traded another long look.

“Could I have been-”

“No,” he said, definitely. “What happened to her was clear. What happened to you isn’t.”

He tested the featureless snow ahead of us with a long twisted branch, then nodded for us to come ahead. We trudged in silence for a while.

“I do remember something,” Cherise said suddenly. “I remember-hey, did you shoot me?” She frowned and unzipped her coat to peer at her sweater. “Oh, man. You really did. But I’m not-”

“We’ll talk later,” Lewis promised. “Save your strength. We’ve got a ways to go.”

No kidding. Hours of it, breathlessly scrambling over cold, slippery terrain. Not my best time ever. But I had to laugh when Cherise, clearly tiring, accepted Lewis’s help across a narrow frozen stream. His big hands spanned her waist and he lifted her easily over. “Oooooh, nice hands. You know, I could get to like you, mister.”

“Ditto.” Lewis grinned briefly, and then turned his attention back to the trail.

“Hey, Lewis?” Cherise’s cheer had faded almost instantly, and she grabbed his sleeve to drag him to a halt. “You haven’t said, about Kevin. Do you think…Did whatever happened to me happen to him, too? Was he out there looking for help?”

Lewis glanced over at me, then focused on the snow. “Not likely,” he said. “If what I think is true, Kevin would have lasted longer. Been of more use. For all I know, he could still be under her control.”

“Her, who?” We reached the bottom of the long icy hillside and started the tiring trek up the next one, hauling ourselves by grabbing icy branches when the going got too tough. “Come on, you guys are like superheroes or something! There’s got to be something we can do for him!”

Lewis looked at her for a second, and his eyes looked dark and cold. “If there was,” he said, “I’d be damn well doing it. But I can’t take chances. Not with the two of you.”

Cherise’s foothold broke loose, and she began to slide. I gripped a handy branch, reached down, and grabbed her by the coat sleeve, hauling her upright again. Lewis helped me get her to the top of the hill, where we paused for breath. The view might have been gorgeous, except for the low clouds obscuring the mountains and pressing down like dirty cotton on the treetops. Snow continued to fall in a steady, soft, relentless assault.

I wanted to ask how far we had left to go, but it wasn’t worth wasting my breath. I didn’t think it would help if I knew. My legs were burning, sore in the calf muscles, and I had scrapes and bruises and my headache hadn’t gone away. My acquired memory of Cherise’s experiences had settled into an uneasy, slippery state that felt like I could have imagined them or dreamed them. But at least I had a memory of me, of the television station, of Cherise, of Sarah, of…

Of the girl calling me Mom.

“Lewis,” I said. He hesitated in the act of stabbing the branch through the snow, then took two or three more steps. “I saw Imara. In Cherise’s memories.”

He didn’t answer. He took another step. I followed in his wake, puffing for breath. The air felt icy and wet around us, and sleet burned my face. The sky was an unbroken gray bowl, and it felt oppressive, as if it were slowly lowering down onto my head. Nature. Who needed it?

“You going to talk to me about her?” I demanded. It came out sharper than I intended.

“No,” he said. “It’s one complication you don’t need right now. One thing at a time, Jo. Let’s get ourselves safe before-”

“Before we talk about my dead kid?” I shot back. “Well, if you’re worried about me breaking down, don’t. I can’t even remember her. All I have is a name and a face.” That wasn’t true, but I didn’t want him to know how raw and bloody that simple vision had left me.

Cherise stopped in her tracks, puffing hard. “She’s dead?” she blurted, and made a gesture as if she were going to reach out toward me, but then thought better of it. “Oh, my God. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” I snapped. “I don’t know anything. That’s the problem.”

Lewis poked the stick into the snow with unnecessary violence.

“I want to know how she died,” I said.

“If wishes were horses, you’d be doing one fifty in a cherry red Mustang on the autobahn.” He sounded bleak and cool. “No.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Probably.” He gave me a smile that was equal parts apology and sadness. “But I’ve always been like that. You’ve just forgotten about-”

He stopped in his tracks, straightened, and held up a hand for silence. Cherise and I both froze, too. Wind swirled across the clearing, picking up snow crystals and peppering me in the face with them, but I didn’t move.

In the distance I heard a faint chopping sound. “What is that?” I whispered, and then I recognized it. That was the sound of a helicopter. “Trouble?”

“No,” Lewis said. “That’s what I was hoping for. We just arrived here a little early, that’s all.”

“Here?” Cherise turned a slow circle. “Where’s here, exactly?”

Lewis held up his GPS device, which had a blinking red light. “Rendezvous point. That’s our ride out of here.”

That suddenly. Wow. Except that even though that had to be good news-right?-Lewis didn’t look any less tense. He shrugged out of his backpack and unzipped pockets, moving quickly and competently.

“So what’s the problem?” I asked. “Because there’s a problem, right?” There was always a problem.

“I think we’re being followed,” he said. “Head for the tree line,” he said. “Both of you. Move it.” Cherise took off instantly, plunging through the snow as quickly as possible. When I didn’t immediately snap to obey, Lewis yelled it at me, full throat: “Move!” A drill sergeant couldn’t have put more menace into it. I galloped clumsily along, my feet sinking deep into the snow. I prayed I wouldn’t hit a sinkhole, because a broken leg right now would be inconvenient.

When I looked back, Lewis was standing in the middle of the clearing, looking up at the gray sky. His backpack was at his side, and in his hand was a black, angular shape-the gun he’d fired at Cherise.

He scanned the far side of the clearing, but it was obvious it was a useless effort; he might have sensed trouble coming, but he wasn’t sure which direction it was heading. He saw me hesitating, caught in the open, and motioned for me to keep running. Cherise had already made it to the trees; I saw a flash of pink as she found cover and stayed there.

And I would have followed her, really, but I caught sight of motion to Lewis’s left, out in the deep forest shadows, and I sensed a blurring, as if someone were trying to avoid notice.

“Lewis!” I yelled it, but the increasingly loud churning of the rotors drowned me out. “Lewis! Over there!” I waved my arms frantically, trying to catch his eye, and just as I did something hot ignited in the tree line where the blur had been, incandescent and round, and it shot straight toward me.