Maze: The Waking of Grey Grimm Page 14

  “That is not what we’re doing, Mr. Hunter.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Teaching people to see.”

  “I have to report this, Dova. Your operation will be shut down, I promise you. You will be detained. An operation like this will get you... arrested. Prison, most likely.”

  Guilt twisted his stomach. He didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to report this. He knew why. She had cast a spell and he was lapping it up.

  “You’ve seen what we do, Mr. Hunter. You know our potential.” She dabbed his swollen lip. “And we know yours.”

  He stopped her from caressing his cheek. Her wrist was slender, the tendons rigid. He imagined the taste. He threw his weight forward. Blood surged in grainy waves, pixelating his vision. A black tunnel rounded the edges. He took a moment before standing, swaying in place.

  He made it to the glass wall with his hand out. They were two stories above the pool, the water clear blue. The top floor and balcony was above them. Weren’t there palm trees?

  He was certain he’d seen them. Palms didn’t grow this far north. But now there was only the pool and big pots spilling flowers. A sudden urge to vomit buckled his knees. He held himself up, his damp palms pressed flat.

  “What have you done to me?”

  “We have done nothing.” Dova put her hand on his waist. Her touch was delicate. Sensual. “You chose this.”

  Her fingers trailed up his back and slid over his shoulders. She wrapped her arms around his chest and stroked his chin. Her touch sent shivers through his neck, around his head. Her fingers traced the creases above his eyebrows and stopped on the tiny scar where a stent used to be.

  You chose this. Was she talking about Foreverland? Because he didn’t choose that.

  “We know who you are,” she said.

  “And who am I?”

  Her breath was in his ear. Her hand worked through his hair and found the secret on the back of his head. A queer sensation knifed through his brain. He jerked away and found himself leaning against the wall. Water spilled down his arm, dripping from his elbow.

  He worked his way to the door and turned the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. The hallway was empty. Dova remained across the room, his prints smudging the glass wall next to her. She did nothing to stop him. She didn’t have to.

  We both have secrets.

  They knew his addiction, the one he kept hidden from the world. But I didn’t choose this.

  Addiction was forced upon him, but it was his now. If the government knew, he would be ruined—an employee that compromised their entire purpose. He would be singled out as a mole, an informant. As part of the problem.

  I’m worse than that.

  But he only hurt himself. These people were doing something worse; they knew what they were doing and disguised it in some greater purpose. He just didn’t know what that greater purpose was.

  “Consider our proposal, Mr. Hunter.”

  “And what is that?”

  The itch flared in his head. He knew what they offered. Peace. If you join us, you’ll have peace.

  “Sunny Grimm,” he said. “Her son. Do you know where they are?”

  Her grin was pleasant. “You know where they are.”

  “I want to speak to Micah.”

  “When it’s time, he will find you.”

  He looked down the hall. He could ruin them. He wouldn’t even have to run; they would let him walk out and he would make a call and ruin their entire operation.

  Dova strode across the room. “Freedom, Mr. Hunter, cannot be forced upon you. All we can do is offer. You must see it. You must choose it.”

  “I didn’t choose this.” He clutched the hair at the back of his head, clenching his teeth. “I didn’t choose this.”

  His addiction, his compulsion lived inside him. It demanded of him. The old men did this to him. But I’m the one feeding it.

  She took his hand and walked him through the door. The hallways were empty, her footsteps sharp. A car was waiting outside, the back doors open. The grounds were empty. Where is everyone?

  She climbed inside and pressed against him. Hand on his thigh.

  “What if I tell my superiors?”

  “You are free to choose, Mr. Hunter.”

  Of course he was. They were prepared for this. He’d stepped into something much bigger than he imagined. Even now, he had no idea.

  The stars disappeared as they drove to the city. They stopped in front of his hotel, rain dancing on the hood. She opened the door, then walked him to his room and laid him on his bed.

  The brain itch had grown into the serpent inside his head. It was hungry. Dova slipped off his shoes. She removed his pants. His shirt. Her hands kneaded the knots from his shoulders. She climbed on top.

  Her flesh warm. Muscles taut.

  In the morning, she was gone. For the first time, the brain itch had disappeared without being fed. It just disappeared. He woke bright-eyed and clear-minded. A new man with a taste of peace. They had him.

  Whatever they wanted from him, he would give.

  18

  Grey

  Before the Punch

  COFFEE BEANED WAS A long café, separated into a front and back room by an open grill and bathrooms. Grey stood next to the men’s room and watched a group of girls around a laptop. He texted a message. One of the girls looked at her phone, then turned it over.

  That was Rach.

  Officially, they weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend anymore, not since the textathon letdown just before a warrior dwarf lost his head. But they’d been friends since the third grade. In fact, she was his best friend before her boobs came in. Then there was high school and the whole kissing thing and now she was dusting off his texts because once you traded in the friend card for a roll on the couch, you couldn’t go back.

  “Can I get a small coffee?” he ordered.

  “A petit?”

  “Just a small.”

  “You want a pour over?”

  “Yes.”

  He had no idea what a pour over was, but it cost three times more than a crime. He went back to the bathrooms, cup warming his hand. He took a sip, the first and last, and waited. Rach was still involved with the laptop. He thumbed his phone.

  I’m at Coffee Beaned. Watching you.

  He deleted the last part. A bit stalkerish. So was the first part but whatever. It didn’t matter. She didn’t even pick up the phone this time. He could stand there and wait and stare and let it get weirder.

  Or nut up.

  Petit pour over in hand, he started for the corner table. Anna elbowed Rach. Three of the girls averted their eyes as if a hunchback was about to ask them to the prom. Rach was the last to look up.

  “Can we talk?” he asked. “Just for a minute. Over there.”

  “Awkward,” one of them sang.

  Rach excused herself. The girls were muttering before Grey passed the bathrooms. He stopped at a stand-up bar along the wall, a dusty mirror revealing his moptop of curls and her short bob. His sheepishness. Her confusion.

  “What are you doing here?” she said.

  He kicked the floor. The coffee was scalding his hand. The lid had fallen off at some point during his escape.

  “You all right?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Yeah.”

  “Sorry about, you know, breaking up with a text. I didn’t think you’d care, to be honest.”

  “No, yeah. I get it.”

  “Oh, good. Glad it didn’t bother you. At all.”

  “Look, I’m a shitty boyfriend. It was a good call.”

  “You’re not... listen, we’re not good that way. We tried, it didn’t work, that’s that. Can we just go back to the way things were?”

  “How about tomorrow?”

  “Okay. That’s quick.”

  He put down the coffee. I hate this shit.

  He didn’t know if he meant the coffee or the coffee shop or the music or the fact that she was hanging out with fake-ass girl
s who were talking about him. She wasn’t that way. Even if she wanted to be, she wasn’t a cardboard cutout.

  “It’s about my dad,” he said.

  “What about him?”

  “He’s doing something and I just want to... listen, I’ll give you gas money.”

  “For what?” She shuffled back.

  “We won’t see him, I promise.”

  The promise was a stretch. He couldn’t guarantee his dad wasn’t going to be waiting wherever he wanted to go. The odds were long, so his promise was in his favor. It was far from a lock.

  “I need a lift.”

  “So you’re using me for my car?” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  Her blond hair shook off her neck, revealing the tattoo she got one day after school. He was with her, held her hand while she laughed and cried, said it hurt worse than having a baby, not like she’d know. It was a tattoo her parents still didn’t know about.

  “My dad is up to something.”

  “You just said we won’t see him.”

  “We won’t. I just want to follow up on what he’s doing.”

  She sighed. “Call yourself a car.”

  “It’s too far.” He shuffled with his head down. She’d know he was lying. She was the one that told him he shuffled when he lied.

  “I don’t want to be alone,” he said. “Not right now.”

  “Grey, listen—”

  “I’m not saying we get together, creep. I just... I need to follow up on something. It’d be cool if you were with me. That’s all.”

  “And you want to use my car.”

  “That too.”

  She looked at the corner table—the trio of teenage vampires watching them—and jutted out her jaw, tapping her teeth. She knew when he was lying, but she didn’t know he knew when she was about to give in and just needed a nudge.

  “You did break up with a text.” Grey shrugged. “Just saying.”

  RACH PICKED HIM UP at the curb. He jumped into the front seat.

  “Did it have to be so early?” she asked. No makeup and thick-rimmed glasses, she just woke up. He handed her a disposable cup. “What’s this?” she said.

  “Coffee.”

  She stared for a long moment, considering the motive. He was a shitty boyfriend, but not a bad friend.

  “What for?”

  “Just because.” He mounted his phone on the dash. The GPS started a route. “Okay.”

  “Want to tell me where we’re going?”

  “Not really.”

  “Just not with your dad, right?”

  “Promise.”

  She heard the sliver of doubt—he was 99.9% sure—but pulled away from the curb anyway, sipping the coffee. He’d even put creamer in it. That might have saved the morning.

  His dad had been her dentist when she was little. He’s a little weird, she would say. Leans on me funny.

  He never tried anything with her, didn’t grab her or invite her to do something. It was the way he hugged her too long when she came by the apartment before Grey’s parents divorced; it was how he kissed the top of her head and smelled her hair. It’s old man creepiness, that’s all, Grey thought. The kind that’s inappropriate but innocent.

  He did put her under anesthesia once. Her mom was in the waiting room when she had her wisdom teeth extracted. The door was open when Rach woke up. She talked her mom into changing dentists after that.

  He just creeps me out, was all she ever said.

  He wasn’t always that way. Grey still remembered the dad that came home with video games, the dad that pulled all-nighters to beat campaign mode and spent weekends in online tournaments. Sometimes they watched horror movies. Mom would go to her bedroom with popcorn and read a book while they fell asleep on the couch.

  He listened to hard rock. Threw New Year’s Eve parties. He was a cool dad. Until Grey was seven.

  The divorce changed him.

  Mom never said anything, but he was up to something. It wasn’t until Grey was older that he understood the looks he passed around the room. The new cologne, the cars he bought, and the closets of expensive clothing.

  The way he leaned into his clients when he drilled cavities.

  Mom wasn’t perfect. She didn’t drink, didn’t fight. Didn’t do much of anything. When she walked into a room, it dimmed just a little. Her smile looked more like a frown. She’d slip off to bed long before the party was over and no one would notice.

  But she didn’t deserve what he was doing.

  “Where the hell are we going?” she said. “It says another hour.”

  They reached the city limits, the freeway aiming for the green countryside. “Just follow.”

  “I’m not driving two hours for nothing.” She shouted, “I swear to God I’ll turn this car around.”

  She threw glances at him, each time driving onto the shoulder. Even with both hands on the wheel and eyes ahead, she was a horrible driver. Staring holes into the side of his head was going to launch them into a guardrail.

  He pulled out a white card.

  “WHAT’S THAT?” SHE ASKED.

  He folded the worn creases like shutters, the sides nearly meeting edge to edge. The thick lines on the back of the card lined up with the exposed exclamation mark.

  “IT’S AN INVITATION.”

  “For who?”

  “My dad. I think.”

  He explained the white cards on the refrigerator, his weekenders, the way he smelled when he got back, the way he looked. The strange emails, the respirator in the bathroom.

  “I turned on his phone one weekend.” He pointed at the GPS. “He went there.”

  “Where is that?”

  Grey shook his head. He wasn’t sure exactly. His dad’s phone had shut off. A search of the area led in several directions, but he had an idea.

  “If this is what you think it is”—she tapped the white card—“you don’t just walk up and ring the doorbell. You sure about this? Your dad just doesn’t—”

  “Seem like the type?”

  The same doubts nagged him. His dad didn’t know much about technology. Maybe he was bored and had indulged himself into complacency. The Maze was a challenge. And there was the money.

  And the missing college fund.

  “So where do you think we’re going?” Cars were passing them. “Exactly.”

  “To the lake.”

  “And then what?”

  She continued to stare. He wondered if she forgot she was driving. He pointed at the road. She looked over just as the tires kissed the shoulder.

  “If you get us killed...” She sped up. “I’m going to kill you.”

  GREY SCROLLED AROUND the map. He hoped there would be something obvious when they reached the point where his dad turned off his phone. Then he realized he had no reception. Not a single bar.

  They were in the country, but not a desert. The lake wasn’t far away. Somewhere, there was a house on the water. A big one. They were on the road that led to it, a two-lane highway in need of repair and not a side road in sight or a house in the trees. Pretty soon, the highway was curving inland.

  “Think that’s it?” Rach asked.

  “What?”

  “That little road.”

  He didn’t see it. Rach turned around in the middle of the highway. They hadn’t seen another car in twenty minutes. The little road turned out to be a couple of ruts buried in a forest. About fifty yards off the highway, a cast-iron gate was anchored to brick columns; a sign in neon orange warned they were trespassing.

  Rach turned the car off. They stared at the sign, the thick bars. There was no fence beyond the pillars, just a barrier to keep someone from driving up the road. But not from walking around it.

  “We’ll just walk a little ways, see what’s up there,” he said.

  “What if they got dogs?”

  “They don’t have dogs.”

  She was twisting the wheel. Unblinking, staring. Tears welling in dry eyes, not from fear or sadness, bu
t throat-gripping adrenaline. That was how she looked when they gamed all night. And what could be more serious than what was beyond that gate?

  “Goddamnit,” she whispered.

  That was why she drove him, why he wanted her to come along. All those Maze videos they’d watched growing up didn’t seem real. Deep down, they never believed people were going insane. The Maze was an urban legend. Not anymore. The gate wasn’t anything special, could’ve been some wealthy introvert staying off the grid. But his dad had come out here. Grey knew there would be something to see, something to climb or walk. And he needed Rach to come with him. That simple little gate cast aside all doubts. She felt it, too.

  The Maze is real.

  “What do we do when we get there?” she said.

  He shrugged. He hadn’t planned anything beyond looking at it because his hormone-fueled brain held a little secret fantasy that when he got there, he would ring the doorbell and they would answer. They’d be pissed at first, wonder how he found the place and then for some unknown reason invite him inside. That was when they’d see how passionate he was about gaming, how he studied awareness leaping, how he downloaded all of their torrents and even solved the mystery of his dad’s invitation.

  They’d know that he was worthy.

  A truck came up the road a little too fast, bright lights piercing the forest. It jerked to a stop just on the other side of the gate. He snapped out of the daydream just as Rach reached for her door.

  “Wait.” He put his hand on her arm.

  A man and a woman got out of the truck and waited for the gates to swing open. They were casually dressed—no bulges in a business suit or black stretchy pants. They approached cautiously and signaled for them to roll down their windows. The man came around Rach’s side.

  “This is private property.”

  “Sorry.” Grey leaned over. “We’re almost out of gas and our phones are dead. We were hoping someone could help.”

  The guy took out his phone. The woman was at the gate, holding up her phone. She was taking a picture of the car. Grey wanted to lift his arm to block the camera, but it was too late for that. The man stood back