Imaginer

43 - Where They are "Not Normal"

43

         That night, however, they came for us.

         I’d settled down in my sleeping bag, Sam on my left, and a man in his late fifties with a straggly beard on my other side. The place smelled putrid, but it was warm, and my stomach was stuffed with sausages, soup, and a bit of hot cocoa.

         The grumbling and clinking of plates had long since died down, and we’d just passed our fifth minute of silence when the door to the shelter crashed open.

         Some people remained lying down, but Sam and I both jumped and sat up straight. We shouldn’t have.

         The magnolia-yellow lights flickered on and a man’s hoarse voice shouted, “Him, that’s the kid!”

         No.

         Sam immediately turned to me, expression contorted and furious. His mouth opened to form a swear word, but I shook my head vigorously.

         “Sam, I didn’t, I swear to you I didn’t, I didn’t.” I looked helplessly at the businessman Sam had stolen from. Halfway between my amazement that he followed us so diligently, and my horror that Sam would be taken away, all I could think of was this is not happening, this is not happening.

         “Sam, I—”

         “Okay.” He focused on me with a hard look in his eyes. “I believe you.” He tugged me closer and whispered in my ear, his tongue tripping from the urgency of his words. “Go to Point Downscrest, I don’t remember the city name, but it’s right on the coast. The Bolt Hole is as far into the forest as you can go. Point Downscrest, remember that, but the Others who know where it is call it Point Sunburst. You’ll understand when you see it.”

         The man stormed into the shelter as men and women all around us stirred and sat up, most telling the man to bugger off and get out.

         “You,” he said, a manic gleam in his eyes. In his fury, he didn’t recognize me; he only had eyes for Sam. “Give me my wallet back.”

         “Jass, Jasslyn, listen to me,” he hissed in my ear, knowing my attention was veering scarily off course. “When you get close enough to the entrance, there’ll be Livings and Swindlers on guard, maybe a Soothling. Tell them my name, and if that doesn’t work, tell them my brother’s name, but you have to remember—ah!”

         He was yanked away from me by the man, and thrown on his back.

         Sam scrambled to sit up, and turned to face the man. So emotionless I would’ve thought he was an Imaginer, he reached into his pants pocket and tossed the wallet to the man.

         I noticed two men tagging along after a policeman as he entered the shelter. They were dressed normally, looked ordinary…except for the strange tilt to their heads and their wide, bug-like eyes.

         Guiders.

         Sam didn’t see them. If he had, he wouldn’t have done it.

         He kicked his blankets off, right into the man’s face. The policeman hollered, I screamed, and he was off, running as fast as he could through the room and into the kitchen where, just hours before, volunteers had been busy cooking up meals. He shimmered out of view. The Guiders stilled, seized up like they’d just been electrocuted.

         Then they smiled, wide, unearthly smiles…directed at me. They dipped their heads at me and I looked back in horror.

         I didn’t do this, I didn’t bring you here, I didn’t do this.

         They took a step in unison, and zipped into the kitchen, moving in a blur so fast I thought my eyes had failed me.

         There’s a chance he’ll escape. There’s a chance he’ll make it.

         The businessman continued to yell and darted into the kitchen, the policeman charging in right after, mouth pressed against the microphone clipped onto his lapel. But all of that had become background music to me.

         I looked around at the indifferent people, some going back to sleep, some grumbling about the disturbance. My hands shook terribly as I stared at the spot where Sam had been lying peacefully barely minutes earlier. I stared at his blankets, borrowed from the shelter, lying in a heap a couple feet away. I stared at his shoes, worn and scuffed.

         Biting back a sob because crying was the last thing I wanted to do at the moment, I crawled forward and closed my hand around a corner of his blanket. Slowly, I drew back onto my heels, tugging the blanket closer. I lay back down, cringing from the pulse pounding in my ears.

         I turned and stared at the pillow to my left. A man had reached towards it, but I snatched it back before he could get his hands on it.

         “I’m sorry, this is my friend’s,” I said in a whisper.

         “Don’t look like he’s comin’ back,” the man protested.

         I shook my head, eyes wide and unblinking. If I so much as batted an eye, I wouldn’t be able to stop the tears from streaming down my face. I settled for shaking my head. I shook until the hair at the back of my head was a mess. I shook until the man turned away, grumbling. I shook until the lights went off again, and kept shaking in the dark, my hands clenching the blanket to my body, eyes fixed on Sam’s pillow.

         Was it my fault?

         I knew it wasn’t. I hadn’t led the police here and I certainly hadn’t led the Guiders—or had I?

         My breath shook as I exhaled. All that waiting they did when Jacoby and I first met Beatrice. They did nothing but stand there and wait. Were they waiting for me? For me to betray someone?

         I don’t know that for sure, I tried to assure myself.

         I sucked my lips into my mouth and held my breath. Any minute now, my heart would accelerate, my chest would heave up and down, and I wouldn’t be able to stop the hysterical sobs from waking up the entire room.

         It’s my fault. But I didn’t mean to lead them here.

         The first wave of tears overtook me, and I bunched up my sweater sleeve, stuffing it into my mouth.

         I tried to assure myself that I hadn’t done anything. I hadn’t led anyone here; I didn’t want any of this.

         But Sam hadn’t wanted any of this, either. Half of him had wanted to stay home. My heart was pounding for him, and I couldn’t sleep for fear of nightmares plaguing my mind. I pictured him knocked unconscious, strapped to a hospital table, surgeons bent over him, scalpels at the ready.

         Let me just tell you that we, are not normal.

         I’d never felt more alone in my life. I smacked myself in the forehead as hard as I could the moment I thought it. The sharp bite of pain stifled the urge to break down, but more importantly, it was a physical reminder that Sam was off trying to escape Guiders, while I was here, nestled in blankets and, for the moment, still safe. The Guiders had even thanked me, like I’d shown them the way.

         Not normal…And some people out in the world don’t like “not normal”.

         I took shaky breaths, but I couldn’t truly breath, like my lungs had collapsed and refused to work.

         Downscrest. Sunburst. Edge of the coast.

(**A/N: And that takes us to the end of Chapter Twelve. Wanted to get this up 'cause it's the weeeekend. And it's short. Thank you guys so much for all the love!

QotC: Thoughts in general? Did I get anyone with this chapter? Initial reaction after reading the first line?)