Part 3 (1/2)

the walls between us.

The word seared me, like a brand upon my soul. I scuttled backward, s.h.i.+elding myself from the coming attack. I let out a gush of air when I saw that Trevor wasn't headed toward me, but to the Swing. c.r.a.p. The truth was that I didn't want him to Delve, either. I was afraid of seeing inside the mind of someone so completely hostile.

I fiddled with my ponytail as Trevor tinkered with the Swing. Talk about someone who had to have things a certain way. Ironically, I found myself feeling impatient. It was time to suck it up and let this Delve happen. Maybe it would be better to let someone else be in the hot seat.

I headed to my chair with Oliver right behind me. To be honest, Trevor wasn't the only one making me jumpy. It just wasn't natural to be so calm about having your life mowed down. No one was that perfect, were they?

”Umm, which spot is your s.p.a.ce?” I asked, taking a step back from Oliver.

He grinned. ”Right here, next to yours.” He pointed to a gigantic tree. Well, what would have been a gigantic tree if you could see all of it. The top half of the tree emerged straight from the floor as if the rest of it continued downward into the room below. A multicolored hammock was suspended from a st.u.r.dy branch, on which sat a tree house that any kid would die for. Or any guy who was a kid at heart. As someone who'd always longed for a leafy hideaway but also got squeamish about heights if they weren't safely enclosed, I could appreciate the advantages of such a layout. Oliver bounded up the ladder into his branches, then turned and held out a hand for me. I was tempted but shook my head. For some reason I couldn't follow him while feeling Trevor bore holes into my back. I kept my back to Trevor, deliberately postponing my need to turn around and face him.

My creative s.p.a.ce was nestled in the shade of Oliver's tree. Behind me was a gla.s.s wall, overlooking the far end of the lake. Across from me the First and Second Timer senior citizens were arranged around a bingo table. Just down from them were three middle-aged businessmen in suits. They held disposable coffee cups in their hands, paced the floor, and gesticulated wildly while they talked. I figured the odds were pretty good that at least one of them would be coming back as a Third Timer. A few women were comfortably ensconced in a variety of chairs and love seats, nestled up against a stone fireplace. They seemed relaxed, as only First and Second Timers can.

Stepping into my s.p.a.ce, I flopped down on my plush purple armchair with matching ottoman. It wasn't the fluffy couch that Julia and I had always shared, but I was flying alone now. Might as well get used to it.

Unable to avoid it anymore, I glanced up to meet Trevor's gaze. There was clearly a challenge there. I gulped, still marked and tender from his earlier attack. I could sense Oliver above me, moving around like he might come back down from his tree, but then Mel hooted and jumped up, no longer rooting through the epic pile of stuff on her desk. ”I found it!” She waved her notebook over her head, looking like the winner in capture the flag.

I scrutinized Mel's organizationally challenged creative s.p.a.ce. Her area reminded me of an eagle's nest, an aerie. It was bigger every time I visited the Obmil. Two eagles begin by building a nest that meets their basic needs. Every year they add onto their place of residence, and the pile of sticks and fluff that they started with becomes a home of epic proportions.

It was rumored that Mel had originally started with one extremely heavy oak desk. She'd added on quite a bit since. Eagles have been known to work on a nest for their lifespan of thirty years, with some nests reaching up to two or three tons. I wondered how long Mel had been building her nest here at the Obmil.

”Trevor, you ready to go?” Mel interrupted my runaway thoughts about her domain. Trevor hopped back up, giving the Swing a kick with his boot before sitting back down and slipping on his headset. The Swing reminded me of a suspended recliner. It sort of resembled a float you might see in a swimming pool. When you climb aboard, it works like a giant air hockey game. You never really touched the recliner, because a powerful layer of air suspends you above it. If that wasn't enough to place you in a state of hypnotic relaxation, the swing also gently rocks back and forth. If I weren't so afraid of what would happen in the chair, I'd be dying to lie down and relax.

All of the other twenty plus people in the room already had on their headsets, which look like the offspring of earm.u.f.fs and a sleep mask. No one needs them to observe the Delved memories of another soul, but they block out distractions, making the process quicker and easier for everyone. I pulled mine on, eager to block out the sight of Trevor's dark scowl.

”Trevor?” Mel repeated.

He grunted some kind of affirmation of readiness. Despite the tensions of the day, I could feel myself begin to relax as we slipped quietly into his past.

a a a The summer rain was warm, but it fell with an unrelenting intensity. As Trevor drew closer to the memory, I could see waves of people standing under a flock of black umbrellas. It reminded me of an endless sea of raven wings.

Everyone was staring at something, and as Trevor drew closer to his memory, I realized it was a coffin, encrusted with flowers. Next to the coffin was a crumpled-up figure, kneeling in the mud, bareheaded and out of the reach of the umbrellas' protection.

At that moment, the perspective changed. All I could see was the mud and the rain pelting the petals of the flowers. I was seeing through Trevor's eyes. He was the figure on the ground.

I sucked in my breath. In my past visits to the Obmil, I'd always felt like a pure observer when watching someone else Delve. Julia and I often joked about ”going to the movies.” This was a different experience. I wasn't privy to Trevor's thoughts or feelings, but I couldn't escape the weight of the water pounding on my head, the chill that seemed to penetrate deep into my heart. I felt closer to this memory than I should feel in someone else's Delve. If this is what it felt like, simply touching the surface of Trevor's intense emotions, I was grateful that I didn't have to handle it from his perspective.

Trevor's gaze s.h.i.+fted to his hands and I could see his fingers clutching a clump of gra.s.s whose roots were torn from the mud. His fist was crus.h.i.+ng the fragile shoots so tightly that his knuckles were white. Under his breath I could hear him chanting, ”Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.”

Trevor lifted his eyes away from the muddy streams traveling between his fingers and settled on a heart made of white roses. A deep blue ribbon lay draped across the heart and it was scripted with the word BROTHER. I tried frantically to look around, searching for more information. It was hopeless. I could see only what Trevor chose to focus on. He stared endlessly at that one word, and then as if he had mustered up the courage, he focused on a bigger heart of roses. It read OUR BELOVED SON, OLIVER.

8.

silhouettes.

I felt hollow, like a gourd. As I trembled, the dried-up, shriveled seeds of who I thought I was danced around in all my empty s.p.a.ces.

Trevor shot up out of the swing, ripping off his headset, flying through the air. I wanted to cringe as he came at me like a bird of prey, talons ready to rip me to shreds, but that was a luxury my guilt didn't allow. I stood there needing his absolution but ready to accept punishment. It was only fair.

Right before he would have found his mark, a Plexiglas wall sprung up between us. I flinched as he slammed into it and flew backward onto his back on the floor. As he shook off the disorientation of the impact, all I could picture were the black avian silhouettes that are used to keep birds from hitting windows and gla.s.s part.i.tions. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in my throat as I pictured black shadows of Trevor placed on the gla.s.s. Would Trevor silhouettes have obnoxious sayings across the fronts of their T-s.h.i.+rts?

”Son of aa”” Trevor thundered. He didn't finish his sentence. Instead his leg shot out and his boot made contact with the Plexiglas. A web of cracks radiated from the point of impact.

Mel was now by his side, trying to help him up off the floor. He pushed her away.

”Relax. Calm down. I'm sorry, Trevor. I didn't mean for you to hit that hard. It was all I could come up with before you did something you'd regret.” I couldn't tell if Mel was trying to hug or restrain him.

”Regret?” Trevor shoved against Mel with his shoulder. ”I regret you saving Elliot. Now we know for sure where your loyalty lies,” he said with a sneer. ”It isn't like I could kill her anyway. I can't do to her what she did to my little brother.” He spit out the words as if he had battery acid on his tongue.

”You may not believe this, Trevor, but I did what I did for Elliot and you. I care about you, too. I've been around here long enough to know that things are never as simple as they first appear.”

”You think what she did was simple?” His voice was layered in icy darkness.

”No, Trevor. You'd be surprised how utterly complex I know things to be.” She gave a tired little sigh and brushed a tangle of hair off her face.

”This is the first big memory you've acquired by Delving; it won't be your last. Remember, this is about you, not Elliot.” She reached for him, but he shrugged her off. ”We've now established that you, Elliot, and Oliver are linked. While I respect your initial emotions, I'm hoping you can see that this is an opportunity to heal and growa”together.”

”Little brother . . .” The remembrance was barely audible. Trevor whipped his head around, searching frantically, and then locked on to Oliver. Moving away from me, he reached his hand out. ”Ollie?” The uncertainty in his face was in stark contrast to his previous waves of hostility, but it was oddly as intense.

Mel eliminated the Plexiglas wall protecting me, but I stayed where I was, fascinated by the electric sparks of emotion that seemed to bounce back and forth between the two brothers. Suddenly, without warning, Oliver strode past Trevor and firmly planted himself shoulder to shoulder with me. My ears heard Trevor's guttural moan, but the rawness of it registered deeper, causing me to take a step backward. Swamped by a red-hot tide of guilt, I pulled Oliver toward me, burying my face against his shoulder.

I whispered into his s.h.i.+rt, ”Oliver? He's your brother.” I had to see his face. ”You're here because of me. Trevor didn't do anything.”

This time there was no Yoda wisdom. He bit his lip, confusion darting across his face before it returned to its usual level of boisterous confidence. ”Everybody does something, Elliot. I'm here because I made you a promise.”

”You made me a promise? What does that mean?” I wanted to sneak a peek at Trevor, to see his reaction, but I was afraid. It felt twisted to still have Oliver's attention and loyalty.

Oliver shrugged. ”I'm not a Third Timer like you and Trevor. I'm a Pa.s.senger. The only thing I remember is that I came here to help you, Elliot. I don't remember anything about him.” He nodded in Trevor's direction. ”From the vibes he's been giving off, I really can't imagine how we ended up being brothers.”

I'd heard talk about Pa.s.sengers. The phenomenon is rumored to happen at the Basin, the Grand Central Station of the afterlife, where souls travel between one life and the next. When a soul decides to become a Pa.s.senger, he makes the choice to journey with another soul, a Tandem, into a third life, to be a catalyst for their growth. The idea is to have an impact on that persona”to make the Tandem look at things differently. The Pa.s.senger tries to help the Tandem avoid returning to the Obmil as a Third Timer. It's very altruistic. By being present in someone else's life, the Pa.s.senger is pa.s.sing up an opportunity to work toward a new growth plan of their own. I'd never actually run into a Pa.s.senger or a Tandem on my visits at the Obmil. Obviously, they weren't very common. I groaned. Knowing that I'd failed at my third life even with special a.s.sistance only made me feel like a bigger loser.

”You're my Pa.s.senger? Are you sure?” I asked.

”I'm sure. I came here to help you becausea”wella”I love you.”

Oliver's words were a vacuum, sucking all the noise out of the room. My skin began to p.r.i.c.kle. I could feel everyone focused on me.

”How do you know that you don't have your own growth plan to figure out?” Mel asked.

Everyone else in the room leaned forward in unison. It surprised me that Mel seemed to have never met a Pa.s.senger either. She'd worked here a long time, but was clearly seeking information.

Oliver gave me one of his enchanting little smiles. ”I know becausea”I just feel it.” He crossed his arms, satisfied as a cat with a feather sticking out of its mouth.

”So we're supposed to bow to your expertise based on what? Warm and fuzzy feelings?” Trevor grunted for a finis.h.i.+ng touch.

Oliver took a step in his direction. ”Oh, and I suppose immature, violent tantrums are the true pathway to enlightenment.” He let his gaze drift to where the Plexiglas had been.