The Lifeline Signal Page 12

  “Nice.” Indra nodded, and now he was looking less ashamed, less shut-down, more open. “I wouldn’t mind one of those.”

  “Make friends with someone who can basically make magic clothes and robots.” Annie half-smiled.

  “So you didn’t make that?”

  “Pff, I don’t have superpowers.”

  “Or eyebrows.” He paused in the middle of smiling, then hurried to correct. “Not that that’s a bad thing. On you it works.”

  “Thanks.” She said it as seriously as ever, sincere where someone else might have joked. “I get scared, stressed, whatever. Start pulling out my hair. Head hair, eyebrows, whatever. Shaved the sides of my head so you couldn’t tell, then just shaved my eyebrows clean off, no more mess. Done.” She sniffed, finger going to the long, loose coil of hair hanging down past her jaw. “Except this piece. I fiddle with this, it calms me down.”

  “You’ve really thought all this out,” he said, taking in her appearance with a new appreciation. “I thought you were just making like, a punk-rock fashion statement or something, but it’s all designed to help you deal, isn’t it?”

  “Pretty much. Forget superpowers, you try growing up autistic, or with wobbly joints, or anything else—in Parole of all places. And that’s just my stuff, lots of people have it way worse. So we learn how to survive hardcore.”

  “All alone?” Indra’s eyes slid away. He seemed to drop back into himself, lost in some distant memory he’d rather not revisit, but did nonetheless.

  “No.” She said it so definitively it brought his focus right back. “We stick together. Parole freaks… and the rest of us who are just supposed to curl up and die. Anyone ‘normal’ or ‘important,’ like the mayor, or doctors, anyone with useful skills or whatever—or just a lot of money, power, whatever—they didn’t get trapped in there with us. They got set free first thing.”

  “Basically, people the world likes.”

  She nodded. “We’re on our own. We’re not supposed to exist. So we take care of each other. Protect each other. Remind each other we do exist.” She said all of this completely matter-of-factly. “The world is a nightmare. If I wanna survive, gotta get creative.”

  “So what about the armor?” He was smiling now, actually seeming excited. “That’s gotta be something. Besides just armor, I mean.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause they’re braces.” She wrapped her knuckles on one of the metallic plates covering her shoulder. They were molded into shapes like large scales, somehow between modern and medieval. “They keep my crappy joints from dislocating out of nowhere. Shoulders and knees especially. They pop out if the wind blows on ‘em wrong. Which sucks because—”

  “Because you need to run to feel normal,” Shiloh said automatically. Xie’d been quiet most of this exchange, lying on xir back and looking up at the stars, glasses off and hair wrapped in a soft scarf. Again, xie had the odd-but-not-unpleasant feeling that xie knew everything Annie was going to say before she said it. It was more like being reminded than hearing anything for the first time. Or remembering a dream.

  Annie slowly looked down into xir face, making and holding steady eye contact. It was odd to think this was one of the first times she’d seen Shiloh’s eyes. Awake, anyway. “Yeah.”

  “Whenever you’d talk in my dreams, I’d hear running. Does being out of Parole help?”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “It’s nice not having walls around. I can move. I can breathe.”

  “I know the feeling.” Xie smiled.

  “You’ve felt trapped?”

  “Kind of.” Shiloh searched for the words. “Not behind an actual barrier. Or in a city on fire. But like…I know what you mean, when you say you have things that make you feel normal, or let you breathe.”

  “What things?”

  “The shades, for one.” Shiloh picked them up from where they rested near xir head and put them back on. Even at night, xie felt better wearing them. “Not just because light literally hurts. It’s sort of like something you said about your helmet—it doesn’t matter if people stare, because you don’t have to look at them. Wearing these makes me feel safer, a little removed. Free, I guess?”

  She didn’t speak, but she nodded. All her words seemed used up.

  “Sort of like when you called me ‘xie,’” Shiloh said, looking over at Indra with a smile and a realization that made xir heart beat a little faster. “Sometimes it’s words that help the most. You have to go with whatever gives you that feeling.”

  “I still wish you hadn’t seen what happened back there,” he said quietly, but didn’t sound as flattened as he had a few minutes ago. “But thanks. I’m dealing with everything the best I can. Don’t know how good that is, but…”

  “But you keep going.” Annie sounded sure. She usually did. “It gets easier or it doesn’t. If it doesn’t, we’ll handle it when it comes.”

  “Thanks,” Indra almost laughed. “You know, that really doesn’t sound like something that should help. It gets better or it doesn’t? But it did help, thanks.”

  “Probably because I’m not bullshitting you about it.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably it. Or just you guys listening at all. Thanks.”

  They fell asleep under the stars.

  * ☆ *

  “This isn’t the tree,” Shiloh murmured, head swimming in a warm, dizzy way xie would never quite get used to but recognized immediately. “Definitely a dream, though.”

  “I know,” Indra answered. “Is it yours?”

  “No, I’ve never been here before.” Shiloh turned around slowly, trying to get xir bearings. “But I think I’ve heard about it. Annie?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded slowly, looking at the room around them like it was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. “We’re home.”

  The club was small and windowless but comforting without feeling claustrophobic. The curtain at the back of the stage was thick burgundy velvet and the lights were low, atmosphere intimate. Dark shapes shifted as people moved around, indistinct shadows against the colorful lights. But there was no crowd chatter, no music, no ambient noise, or any sound at all. It was like they’d entered their own soundproof room where they could watch the world going by.

  Even silent, the stage was lit up. A gorgeous woman with a curling cloud of gravity-defying violet hair stood in the spotlight. The sequins on her shimmering magenta dress cast thousands of tiny points of light on the walls and ceiling and the intense joy on her face lit up the room almost as brightly. But just like everybody else here, when her lips moved, no sound came out.

  Two girls danced in one corner of the stage. The one in the floating chair was short and curvy with bubblegum-pink, fluffy hair, a smile on her round, pretty face. The other was tall and thin, more like a black silhouette than anything. As her long limbs moved through the air, something trailed behind them and Shiloh instantly thought of ghosts—but instead of thick smoke, the trails she left were glowing, bright green binary code. Ones and zeroes floated in the air as the two girls spun together. When the tall girl turned, the three dreamers saw that she wore a harlequin-like mask, and her eyes seemed made of stars. They twinkled as the two continued their surreal, but happy, dance.

  “It’s the Emerald Bar,” Annie whispered, sounding reverent as if they’d stepped into a sacred space. “I never thought I’d see it again. Or them.”

  “I know Evelyn,” Shiloh said, following her gaze to the the singer in the spotlight and the slow-dancing girls. “But who are—”

  “Evelyn! Kari!” Annie was already running flat-out toward the stage, pushing past the shadowy shapes of other people. The crowd didn't seem to have faces but all that seemed to matter were the three she knew. She reached the stage and stopped just short of climbing up onto it, looking up at the still-silent figures. None of them reacted to her shout or presence; the show went on uninterrupted. “Hey! Can you hear me?” She paused for breath and slowly the excitement faded from her face. “They can’t hear me.”

&nbs
p; “Maybe it’s because we can’t hear them?” Shiloh suggested, taking a closer look at the nearest shadowy audience member. Again, xie thought of ghosts, but these forms were even less substantial. No music, no chatter, no laughter. The silence was almost peaceful but the oblivious performers and ghostly audience made it far too eerie to be relaxing. “I’m not sure how real all this is. Maybe it really is just a dream.”

  “No,” Annie insisted, sounding breathless from desperation. “No, this is real, I know it. We’re here and they’re here, they just can’t see or hear us. I don’t know why, but—this is the Emerald Bar, I can feel it!”

  “It’s not very emerald in here.” Indra seemed a lot more laid-back, or maybe resigned, as he looked around at the primarily burgundy and deep purple decor. “You’d really think there’d be more green.”

  “There’s some,” Shiloh said, nodding at the audience, front row, center. Someone was there xie hadn’t noticed before, almost as if he’d appeared from nowhere. He must have, since nobody could have possibly missed his entrance.

  The small, wiry man’s skin was covered in what looked like scales and it was definitely green. His large, pointed ears stuck slightly out from his head and his eyes were yellow-gold with a vertical black pupil in the center. Like a cat’s eyes, or maybe snake’s, since the rest of him looked undeniably reptilian. His appearance was almost frightening. But instead of looking menacing or predatory, the lizard-like man seemed more sad and tired than anything; he was curled up in his seat, chin resting on his sharp-looking knees and arms wrapped tight around himself. He held very still, wistful snake-eyes fixed on Evelyn as she silently sang in the bright pool of light.

  “Regan!” Annie cried, shoving shadow-figures aside as she made her way toward him, every bit as urgently as her rush to the stage.

  “Annie?” He looked up immediately at the sound of her voice, startlingly quickly. Shiloh hadn’t quite expected him to hear, or move, much less that fast. He uncurled and stood up, but much more slowly, hesitantly, as if unsure his senses were telling the truth.

  The second she reached him, she jumped into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and its frilled flap of loose-hanging skin. He wasn’t a tall man or very strong-looking, but when he hugged her back, he picked her right up off the ground. Now he smiled. They both did and laughed, or maybe cried as he gave her a little spin and she pressed her face against his shoulder and frill. When he set her down and she picked up her head, she left his scales wet with tears. The ones on his face were damp as well.

  “You can hear me!” They said it together, then laughed, drying their faces. In what seemed like an automatic reflex, the man gently wiped away one of Annie’s tears she’d missed the first time.

  “Yes, I can hear you!” The man Annie had called Regan was looking at her like he hadn’t seen her in months, or longer. “And see you! I can’t believe it, I thought I’d n—Annie, I’m just so glad you’re here.”

  “Where have you been?” she asked eagerly, still hanging onto his hands as if afraid he might disappear if she let go. “Everybody’s been looking for you, they’re so worried—so am I! I mean, I was! But…” She paused then, glancing around and seeming to realize where she was. “Wait. This is a dream.”

  “That’s right,” he said, smile fading as if he’d forgotten too and didn’t like remembering. He coughed a little, then cleared his throat. His voice was a little raspy, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time. “It’s still good to see you.”

  “You too. Where have you been?” Annie asked again, letting go of his hands and taking a small step back to take a better look, starting from the tips of the crest running down the center of his head and back of his neck. “We didn’t know what happened, we thought—well, first we thought you were dead,” she said, looking upset at the very thought. “Or that he—that Sharpe had you again.”

  “No,” Regan said quickly and visible relief washed over her face. “Nothing like that. He’s never getting near me ever again.”

  “Okay. Good.” Annie still looked troubled and kept looking at him hard, like she was trying to memorize every scale on his face. “That scared the hell out of us.”

  “I know. I’m sorry for scaring you. I wanted to tell you everything, but...” He paused, seeming to struggle to find the right words, or maybe try to figure out exactly how much to reveal. “I thought some things were better off forgotten.”

  “It’s not your fault, he’s the one who kidnapped you for two days—then you disappeared again!” She didn’t seem upset at him, but his eyes still dropped to the floor. “I mean, we found out you were alive eventually, but you were already gone, you escaped in the collapse—that’s what Jay said anyway. What happened? Why didn’t you come back? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, I’m with friends,” he said, then frowned a little, tongue flicking in what might be annoyance. “Hans shows up sometimes too.”

  “Who?” Annie blinked, looking confused.

  “Never mind,” he said. His eyes flicked over to Shiloh and Indra as they came over to join him and Annie, then widened, as if he were noticing them for the first time. Annie turned around and gave a slightly embarrassed laugh; maybe she’d forgotten they were there too.

  “Uh, yeah,” she said in a more composed voice than her excited squeal from a few seconds ago. “Guys, this is Regan. He’s… family.”

  “Hi, Regan. I’m Shiloh,” xie said with a little wave. It might have startled Regan, because he gave a little jump as soon as he saw Shiloh, eyes widening. It almost seemed like he recognized xir, but Shiloh was sure xie’d never seen him before. Regan would be pretty hard to forget

  “Jay’s Shiloh’s uncle,” Annie said before anyone could speak. “If Shiloh looks familiar, that’s why.”

  “You know him?” Shiloh asked when Regan’s eyes widened; he looked as surprised as Shiloh felt. But then, maybe xie shouldn’t be. Jay lived in Parole and people like Regan—and Shiloh, though xie was usually less obvious—were supposed to be normal there.

  “Yeah,” Regan said with another little cough and throat-clear. “I—I’ve known him for a long time. He’s one of—he’s a good guy.”

  It didn’t seem like Regan was going to say much else, so Shiloh shot Indra a glance, waiting to hear how he introduced himself.

  “Indra,” he said after just a split-second’s hesitation and Shiloh made a mental note. He’d been serious about dropping ‘Chance,’ evidently, even to strangers. He gave Regan an odd look then, prompting Shiloh to turn around and look. “Everything okay?”

  Regan was staring at them as if he’d seen a ghost and not the kind that lived in Tartarus. His round eyes flicked from Indra to Shiloh and back again, vertical pupils shrinking until they were nothing but thin black slits. For a second it seemed like his eyes were going in different directions, one on each. But no matter who he looked at, his expression of total shock remained. Finally, he shook his head as if to clear it. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just haven’t seen, uh. Much of anyone lately.”

  “We’ve never seen anyone else in one of our dreams either,” Indra said, taking in Regan’s dully shining scales and brightly gleaming eyes, his delicate-looking frill and slightly clawed hands. “Especially someone… Annie knows,” he finished, shutting his mouth and briefly sucking in his lips. Shiloh was sure that wasn’t what he’d been about to say and from the way Indra was looking at him, xie had a pretty good idea of what he actually meant.

  “Our dreams…?” Regan didn’t seem to notice Indra’s last minute switch, looking curiously from Annie to Shiloh, to Indra and back again.

  “Oh.” Annie’s eyes widened, as if she’d never realized it wasn’t common knowledge. “I forgot, I never got the chance to tell you before—uh, we’re all kind of… we’ve been calling it brain-linked,” she said, looking back at her friends as if for confirmation.

  “It’s not like, actual telepathy or anything,” Indra said with a shrug and a bright, disarming smile, like he was trying
to downplay any strangeness. “I don’t think. We just show up in each others’ dreams!”

  “Usually we meet up in a tree,” Shiloh explained, a lot more calmly. Xie did understand Indra’s point, however—one of them, anyway. It was impossible to explain in a way that didn’t sound ridiculous. “We’ve never been here before.”

  “It’s Gabriel, isn’t it?” Regan asked, unexpectedly casually. It seemed like he already knew the answer. “He brought me here for the first time too.”

  “How do you know about him?” Annie stared, as if that were the most surprising thing about this dream so far. “I definitely never told you about him. I was going to, but…”

  “But I was gone,” Regan said simply, without excuse. “And it’s a long story. The short version is, he’s been hanging out with me while I take care of some things. He said he was going to find some friends of his, and I guess that’s you.”

  “Yeah, us and Gabriel go way back—and I guess you do too!” Indra gave a nervous laugh, and only then did Annie look over as if to ask what the hell was wrong with him. But the second she saw his face, she shut her mouth and turned back to Regan with a slight shake of her head.

  “So if he’s in your head too,” Shiloh said. “Did he ever show you anything like a giant tree?”

  “No,” Regan said, looking out at the Emerald Bar and its shadowy patrons. “When we talk in dreams, we’re usually here. Or in the library, back in Parole. I hope that means they’re both still standing.”

  “When you talk in dreams,” Shiloh repeated thoughtfully. “Does that mean you see him when you’re not dreaming?”