The Calling

TWENTY-SIX

“MOM ISN’T HERE,” COREY said. “Neither is Travis. So much for my grand resurrection.” He slumped onto the sofa. “We’ll have to wait for them. Which is a little anticlimactic.”

We decided to clean up and eat. Start looking and feeling human again.

“There’s not much in the way of food,” Sam said. She’d come out of the kitchen with a Coke and a spoon heaped with peanut butter.

“What?” Corey said. “Mom knows better than to let our cupboards get empty or I’ll dig up her stash of fancy chocolate bars.”

“The fridge is practically bare,” Sam said. “Grocery shopping is apparently the last thing on your mom’s mind.

I’m sure there’s more in the cupboards. I just stopped at the peanut butter.”

We went into the kitchen. Corey headed straight to a cupboard and pulled out cereal and cookies.

“Pop’s in the fridge,” Sam said.

Daniel got that. As he stood there, door open, he glanced at me. I was looking past him at a loaf of bread, uncovered and rock hard, on the counter. Beside it was a pitcher. The smell of sour milk hit me as I moved closer.

Corey’s mom wasn’t here. She hadn’t been here since the fire.

Daniel shook his head at me. Don’t say anything yet.

I accepted a Coke from him and cookies from Corey. Then I took a bowl of cereal out to Kenjii. Not ideal, but no worse than the granola bars I’d been feeding her.

As we headed back into the living room, I noticed the phone on the counter.

Daniel followed my gaze and laughed. “Um, yeah. We’re holed up, waiting to notify someone that we’re back … and there’s a phone. We’ve been in the woods way too long.”

He picked it up. Sam leaped forward and grabbed it from him.

“It could be bugged,” she mouthed.

Corey opened his mouth to argue, but she motioned for him to wait until she hung up. As she lowered the phone, she stopped. She looked at it. Lifted it to her ear. Frowned.

“It’s dead,” she said.

Corey took the phone from her. He jabbed a few buttons. Then he strode into the study and picked up another phone.

“Dead?” I said.

He nodded.

“Must be from the fire,” Sam said. “I’m surprised they even have electricity.”

Corey said nothing. He was staring at the empty desk. All the wires for a laptop dangled over the edge. He turned and tapped an empty shelf behind him.

“My laptop should be here.” He gestured at the empty desk. “It was when I left.” He turned to Daniel. “Okay, obviously between the fire and the crash, Mom hasn’t come home. But she didn’t take my laptop. She told me to pack it. I didn’t.”

“Why?” Sam said.

“Because my homework’s on it,” he said, in a tone that implied this was a stupid question. “Laptop perishes in the fire? I get a free pass on every assignment.”

“Which I’m sure she knew you’d try, so she took it. I’m supposed to be the paranoid one, guys, and I—”

Corey was already gone, heading for the stairs again. He took them two at a time. Then he pitched forward, hands clutching his head as he let out something between a moan and a strangled cry.

Daniel raced upstairs to help him to his feet … and Corey promptly puked on him.

“You were done with that shirt, right?” Corey mumbled as we half carried him into his room. He started to say something else, and heaved again, this time twisting enough to vomit on the floor instead.

Sidestepping the puddle, we got Corey onto his bed. He went into fetal position, hands over his head, moaning.

“Where are your pills?” Daniel said.

“Bathroom.”

“We’ll find them,” I said, and started to go.

Corey grabbed my sleeve. “Stay.”

“Good idea,” Sam said. “My bedside manner sucks. I’ll help Daniel.”

They left. I knelt beside Corey’s bed, holding his hands as he groaned and writhed, his face shiny with sweat.

“Bad?” I whispered.

“Oh yeah.” He opened one eye. “Don’t tell Daniel. You know how he gets. But they’re a lot worse.” He licked his lips and looked over my shoulder, making sure Daniel wasn’t there. “It’s like a flash of light splitting my skull. Then more flashes. This time—”

His face screwed up in pain and he curled up, panting. “Seeing stuff. Crazy stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Can’t tell. Just—” Another jolt of pain. “Stuff. Images. Don’t make sense.”

He took a few deep breaths, then let go of my hand and pushed up on his elbows. Another look toward the door.

“He can’t hear you. What do you see?”

“You know how when you dream, stuff from your day comes back, only it’s all mixed up? That’s what it’s like. I see things and sometimes I recognize them, but they’re…” He searched for the words. “In the wrong place. Out of context. That’s it. Out of context.”

“Like what?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Nothing imp—”

“Like what, Corey?”

“Rafe.” He said the name quickly, as if getting it out before he could decide not to. “I saw Rafe and I saw you. Only it’s … not any place I’ve seen you two together.”

“Someplace you don’t recognize.”

“No, it’s your place.” He waved at the window. “You, me, Rafe, Daniel, and your dog out behind your house. It’s like seeing a memory that never happened. Which is why I think it’s my brain spitting out garbage. But if I tell Daniel…”

“He’ll worry it’s a neurological problem.”

“Neuro…? Right. Brain. You could just say brain, you know.”

“Neurological covers more than just the brain. It—”

He held up his hand. “If there’s one bonus to this disaster, it’s not having to go to school for a while. Don’t spoil that for me. Please.”

I smiled. He opened his mouth, then winced again. When he opened his eyes, he looked over my shoulder and let out a sigh of relief.

“Finally. Drugs.” He put out his hand. “Give ’em.”

“They aren’t there,” Daniel said. “We searched the medicine cabinet, the drawers, everywhere. There’s … a lot of stuff missing. I think your mom is planning to be gone a while.”

“Probably didn’t want to leave pills lying around,” Sam said. “No need to give anyone a reason to break in.”

“Let’s hope they didn’t take the alcohol, too,” I said as I stood.

Corey shook his head. “I think I’m okay—” Another wave of agony doubled him over, retching.

“I’ll grab a beer from—” Daniel began.

“No, I’m okay. Really. Just get dressed before you scare the girls.” He waved at Daniel, bare-chested after taking off his soiled shirt. “Help yourself to my closet.”

“You wear a medium. I don’t.”

“That’s just because I like my shirts fitting better.”

“Tighter,” I said.

“And, again, I don’t,” Daniel said. “I’ll wash this one.”

Corey made a face at him and waved him off. Once Daniel was gone, he collapsed, panting, as if he’d been holding back.

“If a drink will fix this—” I began.

“No.”

“You’re refusing a drink?” Sam said. “From what I hear, that’s a first.”

He flipped her off. Not good-humoredly either. She grumbled and hobbled from the room.

“There are more pills downstairs,” Corey said. “I … have a stash.”

When I lifted my brows, he said, “Yeah, the headaches have been getting worse for a while. I didn’t want my mom to know. That’s how I found out booze helps. Only I’d rather not, so I’ve been hiding pills, saying they’re gone so I can get more.”

“That was—”

“Dumb, I know. I should have told someone, which is why I’m telling you now.”

“If they aren’t there, can I grab you a beer?”

“I…” He glanced at the door, again looking for Daniel. “Last resort, okay? Yeah, I know, I drink at parties. But that’s different. Drinking to feel better is…” He looked up at me. “We’ve both seen what that does with Daniel’s dad. Maybe it’s a different kind of ‘drinking to feel better,’ but I don’t want to go there unless I have to.”

“Okay, let me look for the pills.”

I found the medication. When I came back upstairs Daniel was waiting. I motioned that I’d give the pills and water to Corey and come back. When I returned, he waved me into Corey’s mom’s bedroom.

“We need to talk about Corey,” I said as I walked in and closed the door. “I’m really worried about these headaches.”

“I know. So am I. But there’s something I need to tell you first. I was looking in here in case she had backup pills. The drawers are empty. Same as the closet. Same as the bathroom. They didn’t just leave for a few days—”

“Hey!” Corey yelled.

We hurried in to find him standing at his dresser. “Where’s my stuff?”

“Your clothes?” I said.

“No, they’re here. I was trying to find a clean shirt for Daniel and noticed my stuff is gone.” He waved at the empty dresser top. “Trophies. Photos. My St. Christopher’s medal.”

“Mementos,” I murmured.

Corey was right—all his mementos were gone. So his mom must have decided she couldn’t stay in Salmon Creek. When Serena died, her parents had left town—too many memories. A check of Travis’s room confirmed it. They’d taken their clothes, everything of value, and everything easily transported, leaving behind perishables and furniture.

“What about my clothes?” Corey said.

“Those are hand-me-downs Travis wouldn’t want, all things considered,” I said. “Your mom just took things that were important to you. Things to remember you by.”

“But it’s only been three days,” Corey said. “Mom isn’t like that. Hell, she spent four months talking about buying a new sofa and another two shopping for it before deciding to stick with the one we had.”

“Okay,” I said. “Well, maybe…” I paused, hoping someone else would fill in the blank, but they just looked at me, expectant. “We should look outside. Hayley’s place is right across the road and Brendan’s house is around the corner. I think we can trust Hayley’s parents and Dr. Hajek.”

Brendan’s mother was the local veterinarian, who’d helped me with countless injured animals. I trusted her.

But who didn’t I trust?

Earlier, I’d been prepared to trust no one. But now that I was back in Salmon Creek, that changed. I thought of all the people I’d grown up with—the kids, their parents, the teachers and doctors and shopkeepers. My gut trusted them all, which was crazy, because they all drew a paycheck from the St. Clouds. Even my parents.

Not everyone could be innocent. Most probably weren’t.

So who could we trust?

I stood there, frozen in doubt as Corey and Daniel watched me.

“M-maybe not Dr. Hajek,” I stammered. “I mean, I know her but… Maybe just the Morrises. Or…”

“We don’t know who we can trust,” Corey said. “I think my mom’s innocent. You’re sure your parents are. Maybe we’re both right. Maybe we’re both wrong. But I do know if my mom was involved, she didn’t do it to make money or get a nice house or anything like that. You said Rafe’s mom joined the experiment because she thought she was doing something good for her kids. Fixing something. Giving them better lives. I’m going to bet that’s what they all thought. Whatever they did, they’re still on our side. These people chasing us? They’re not. Bottom line.”

I hugged him.

“See?” he said to Daniel over my shoulder. “I told you chicks love it when you get mushy.”

I socked him in the arm. “Okay. We venture out, then. Head over to the Morrises’ and hope someone’s there.”