More Than This (Page 57)

Seth can feel both of his hands held by Tomasz and Regine, can feel her warmth and roughness, can feel Tomasz’s worry even through the cloth, can even maybe feel their heartbeats, though for Tomasz that’s hardly possible –

But still, he’s feeling something real –

(Isn’t he?)

(He is.)

And he feels himself coming back –

Feels it all still spinning, churning, raging like a hurricane –

But the eye of the hurricane returns, too –

Small –

But still –

He looks up at the moon, at the prison behind them, at the silence down the hill – no Driver approaching out of the murk, no increasing sound of the engine, though his brain is still telling him they need to run, to get out of this place, but –

But Regine and Tomasz are here, too.

And he tells them.

Tells them what’s happened.

“I remember,” he says. “I think I remember everything.”

Part III

53

“Everything?” Tomasz asks. “What do you mean everything?”

“It’s all there, I think,” Seth says. “Everything that happened. Why we’re here. How we got here.” He frowns. “But it rushes away when I look at it too closely.” He reaches out a hand as if to grasp it. “It’s just . . .”

“We have to get home, Seth,” Regine says when he doesn’t continue. “You can tell us all about it when we’re safe.”

Tomasz turns balefully to the bike with the bent wheel. “This will not go.”

“Can you run?” Regine asks Seth.

“I think so,” he says.

“Then come on,” she says. She abandons her own bike and takes off down the brick pathway alongside the tracks. They follow her, Seth able to keep up better than he expects, Tomasz frequently looking back to make sure he’s still there.

“Just go,” Seth says. “You won’t lose me.”

“That is what you said before,” Tomasz says, “and you were saying an untruth.”

“I’m sorry about that. I really am.”

“Apologies later,” Regine says. Her breathing is very heavy. They catch up to her easily. “Goddamn cigarettes.”

“Also,” Tomasz says, “you are quite plump.”

Regine slaps him on the back of the head, but she picks up her pace a little. They reach the train station without seeing any sign of the Driver. They climb onto the platform and hurry out the exit, rushing down the steps between the blocks of flats. Instead of turning toward Seth’s, they head north, down house-filled streets. After a number of corners, Regine pulls them into a tree-filled front yard to rest and hide for a moment.

They listen, panting. The night is silent around them. No footsteps, not even the sound of the engine, which should have been audible even at this distance.

“Maybe we really did hurt it,” Regine says.

“But how did it rise at all?” Tomasz says. “I shot it. With a gun.”

“And nearly killed yourself in the process.”

“Not being the point right now, even though no one seems to be thanking me. I shot it from one meter. And still it stands?”

“I don’t know,” Regine frowns and looks at Seth. “You’re the one who said you remembered. Do you have an answer?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Everything’s crowded together. I can’t get it into any kind of order yet and it’s . . .”

He stops, because when he tries to think about it, it threatens to swamp him again. It seems to be everything he ever knew, but without any way to sort it. It’s like having a million instruments playing a million different songs in his head at one time, far too noisy to make sense of. He grips on to the one thing that feels absolutely sure.

“I need to find my brother. That’s what I need to do next.”

“He is here?” Tomasz says.

“I think so. I feel like I know he’s out there somewhere. Alone, not with everyone else. And if he wakes up and no one’s there . . .” His eyes fill with tears. The other two watch him, warily.

“I understand,” Regine says, “but it’ll have to wait until morning. That thing could be out there anywhere.”

Seth looks into the long, dark night. His head feels so heavy with thoughts and memories that it’s hard to even talk to Regine or Tomasz, hard to even feel present. The answers are all there, he’s sure of it, he just can’t make any sense of them yet –

“Seth?” Regine says.

“Yeah,” he says, almost automatically. “I can wait. I need to rest. I can barely stand –”

“That’s not what I meant.” She pulls down on the back collar of his shirt.

“You are blinking, Mr. Seth,” Tomasz says.

“I’m what?” Seth asks, putting his hand up to where they’re looking.

“Here,” Regine says, guiding him back to the front window of the house. It’s filthy, but even through the dust Seth can see it reflect the blinking blue light coming from under the skin of his neck.

“Blue,” he says. “Not green.”

“What about ‘blue not green’?” Regine asks. “Why is that important?”

“I don’t know.”

Regine sighs. “So when you said you remembered everything, what you actually meant is that you don’t remember anything useful.”

“I opened a coffin. There was a man inside, hooked up to tubes and bandages and everything. He had a green light, right at this same place.”

“When we found you,” Tomasz says, “the screen said NODE ACTUALIZING. Maybe blue means you are not fully actualized. Maybe that was why all of the screaming.”

“Yeah,” Regine says, “but what does actualized mean?” She glances at Seth. “Let me guess: you don’t remember that, either.”

“I told you –”

She holds up a hand to stop him, frowning again. “I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?”

“Not knowing stuff.”

“How is that different from before?”

She gives him a look. “We just found out there’s new stuff not to know.”

Seth sees Tomasz’s lips move as he tries to figure out that sentence.

“Let’s get back to our house,” Regine says. “I’ll feel safer inside.”

“It is a long walk,” Tomasz says, slightly mournfully.