The road he was on might go in two directions, but it was a road all the same, and if he stayed in the middle of it without choosing which way to go, he’d likely get run over by someone or something else that had already decided on its destination.
He already knew which way he was going to go, though. That’s why he hesitated. He pushed off from the side of the building, opened the door, and entered.
Rebecca was there, sitting at one of the desks. His James Patterson book was in her hands. She was looking through it.
“Made up your mind yet?” she said, not looking up.
He walked over and grabbed his coffee, which was now quite cold. He took a few sips of it and placed it back on the desk.
“Almost,” he said. He brought up a chair and sat down across from her. She raised an eyebrow and set down his book.
“I need to know more,” he said.
“It’ll be easier the less you know,” Becca said.
“I know,” Walter said.
“No,” Rebecca said. “It’ll be easier to hate me, the less you know.”
“I don’t know very much at the moment,” Walter said.
“You know what my brother told you?” Rebecca said.
“Does he have good reason to lie?” Walter said.
“Do I?” Rebecca said.
“Well, why don’t you tell me your side?” Walter said. “I’ve heard from your brother. Now you. What happened that led you and all of the people outside of this current moment?”
“A lot of things,” Rebecca said.
“Then stick to the basics,” Walter said. “Your friends out there seem reasonable enough. But I want to hear your side.”
“Why?” Rebecca said.
“Because,” Walter said. “I’ve gotten myself tangled in all of this, and the only way out is through.”
“You don’t care about any of us,” Rebecca said.
“Do you need me to care?” Walter said. “Or do you need me to help? Either or requires you to tell me how we got to this point, how, when on a normal day I would have gone through checking the rest stops and not been involved in whatever the hell this thing is. Throw me a bone here, or whatever you kids use for terminology these days, and tell me why your brother wants to kill you.”
“For my NaU—”
“Good, start with that. Why do they think killing you will save them?”
For a moment, Rebecca didn’t speak, and Walter was afraid that he had been too obtuse and aggressive with her. She was after all a victim in all of this, just as he was. But then she cleared her throat.
“It all started the night I killed Matt’s father.”
Chapter Eleven
Voice Interview of Mr. and Mrs. Blassey
Nigel: Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.
Mr. Blassey: And don’t waste our time Nigel. Why the hell did you even want to meet in the first place?
Nigel: Well, sir, I just wanted to talk to you about the recent odd behaviors that have been affecting our children. My son has been acting differently, and I’m sure Jolie has been acting oddly as well.
Mrs. Blassey: No more than usual, and what our daughter does or doesn’t do is none of your business.
Nigel: Forgive me. I’m trying to figure out what’s best for our children.
Mr. Blassey: I won’t have my daughter being used as a pawn in one of your fights with Robbie. Sure, Jolie has been acting differently, but it shouldn’t matter to you or anyone. She’s a senior in high school. She’s already signed on to play for Albany this upcoming season, and almost a full ride. She and your son are going there, and frankly, I think that’s a wonderful thing.
Nigel: I know that, but would it not be better for Matt to stay behind. Why does your daughter need to drag my disabled son around like a pet?
Mr. Blassey: What our daughter does is none of your concern. She likes the boy, and frankly, so do we. We’re not going to do anything that hurts him.
Nigel: Well, I suppose she never told you about the NaU?
Mr. Blassey: The what?
Mrs. Blassey: Is that a tape recorder?
The audio becomes mixed and mumbled.
****
Becca sat by the edge of the clearing, watching her brother fly.
“It’s not really flying,” her father had told them before they set out. “It’s more like levitating, if not anything else.”
Well, whatever it was, Matt was doing it and having a heck of a time at it.
His smile went from ear to ear as he floated around the clearing in the woods. Jolie was laughing and standing next to his wheelchair, whose use had all but vanished over these last couple of weeks.
Matt zipped from one tree to the other, through the sky, and then back down. He had the grace of a ballerina or other trained dancer.
“Your brother’s going to hurt himself.”
Her mother raised a thermos to her mouth.
Of all of the changes that had affected their entire group, everyone who had the NaU placed within them, Carol McCarthy, was the most drastic. She still had no hair or eyebrows, but she wore a wig that looked close to how she had been before cancer had caused the chemo to take it.
“He can’t hurt himself,” Becca said. “None of us can.”
In the clearing, Jolie rose up to the sky to fly around with her boyfriend. Green sparks of energy whirled around her as she did so. The two of them embraced in the meadow above them, seeming almost to dance it the limitless and resistance-less air. They looked free.
“I wish I had gotten the one to allow me to fly,” her mother said. “Of all of them, that seems like the most fun.”
Of all the people in that house that night when the NaU was released, somehow, Becca had been spared from the nanites. It didn’t make much sense, since if the distance was a factor, Kent had been upstairs when it happened, and now he had powers. Her father couldn’t make two cents of it.
Maybe it was for the best. Sure, she wasn’t
