Shudder Page 5

  He took a deep breath. “Okay, okay, you’re right.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

  Well. That was a change. We used to be able to fight about that for hours. I tried a smile. “It’s okay.”

  “So, for the record, you don’t want Jude?”

  “No,” I said. “And never ask me that again.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “Okay.” He held out his arms to me.

  I went to him and clutched him tightly.

  He whispered apologies to the top of my head.

  “I love you,” I mumbled into his chest.

  He pulled back. “I love you.” He brushed hair out of my face. “But if it was never that, then why don’t you want Jude dead? He deserves it, doesn’t he?”

  “If anyone deserves death, it’s us, right?” I said. “But I wouldn’t kill us. And maybe Jude needs another chance.”

  “Maybe.” He released me and turned to look at the shower. “Can you give me that screw? I need to put the door back on.”

  I hesitated. “You promise you’re not going to—”

  “I promise.” He held out his hand, and I placed the screw in his palm. “But I’m not talking to Jude either. I don’t know what to do about whatever I’m feeling, but I’m sure that talking to him isn’t the right thing to do.”

  I sighed.

  “Grace says he keeps to himself anyway,” said Jason. “I won’t even have to see him.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I awoke the next morning to the sound of the bell. Breakfast, I supposed. Jason and I had wrangled another cot from one of the other rooms on his wing. Using several mattresses, and pushing the two bed frames together, we’d managed to make a somewhat comfortable double bed.

  Jason was sitting straight up. He was breathing hard. “Fuck that,” he muttered.

  He always woke up freaked out anyway, but being startled awake triggered years and years of fight or flight training. I felt bad for him. I rubbed his shoulder.

  “You could go back to sleep,” I said.

  “No, I couldn’t,” he said.

  We went to the main room. Grace and Emma were there, but Boone wasn’t. Grace explained that he liked to sleep until late afternoon. She saved his meals for him.

  Breakfast was pancakes and fresh fruit. We ate silently.

  After breakfast, Jason and I took a shower in his room. We had talked a little last night about the possibility that whoever was watching us might not like the fact that we were shacking up together in one room. (Of course, we were simply sleeping in the same bed. I could not get in the mood with cameras everywhere.) But thus far, there hadn’t been any retaliation. Maybe they didn’t care.

  With the water cascading over us, creating a loud roar, and the shower door fogged up from the water, we were able to talk in whispers without the cameras picking up our words or images.

  Since we hadn’t yet found the way our captors entered and exited the place, Jason said that was the first thing to tackle. They must have come in yesterday when they fixed the cameras that Jason had destroyed.

  We decided to split up and search every inch of the place.

  And that was how we spent the day. I started with Grace’s wing. Jason started with the one I’d woken up in. I felt along every wall, looking for seams or telltale signs of a hidden room or set of stairs. I knocked against the grayness, listening to see if any place sounded hollow, if there was empty space that we couldn’t account for.

  We didn’t find anything. We stopped for lunch when the bell rang. Grace and Emma asked us what we were doing, but we refused to answer, for fear that whoever was watching might gas us all again or something. However, it was probably obvious what we were doing. And the fact that nothing was happening seemed to only prove that they thought what we were doing was hopeless. They were confident we wouldn’t figure out what was going on. After lunch, we got back to work.

  Boone woke up at one point, while I was in the middle of searching his wing, to jeer at me for wasting my time. I ignored him.

  After Jason searched the library and gym, there were only two wings left—Emma’s and Jude’s. We didn’t have to talk to decide the division of labor on that. Jason took Emma’s, and I let myself into Jude’s.

  I searched the rooms closest to the door first. I didn’t find anything unusual.

  I kept moving down the hall, wondering each time I opened the door if I’d come upon Jude’s room. But each was empty.

  As I was coming out of a room towards the end of the hall, I saw him standing outside of the last room. He was watching me.

  I wasn’t sure what to do, so I sort of half-waved.

  “I thought I heard someone out here,” he said. “What are you doing?”

  I shrugged. “Exploring.”

  He raised his eyebrows disbelievingly.

  I shot a meaningful glance in the direction of the cameras.

  He snorted. “Oh, sure, you’re exploring.”

  “Can I look at your room?” I asked.

  “Knock yourself out.”

  I entered the room, and he followed me. It looked the same as all of the other rooms, although I noticed that Jude had a big stack of books next to his bed. Most looked dog-eared. He’d probably read them over and over again if he’d been here for ten years. I felt sorry for him, locked up for all this time. I chewed on my lip. “We thought you were dead. If we’d known that you needed help—”

  “Spare me,” he said. “I know how you guys feel about me.”

  Right. After all, it wasn’t like I hadn’t threatened him with a loaded gun the last time I’d seen him. I went to his wall and began my search.

  “I’m surprised they brought you guys here,” said Jude. “I thought they wanted Jason to rule the world.”

  I stopped to look at him. “Who?”

  “The Sons,” he said. “That’s who’s got us locked up. I tried to tell people before, but I just sounded like another conspiracy nut, saying it was a big secret society that controlled the world.”

  “The Sons are gone,” I said. “I killed them all myself. Ten years ago.”

  “Apparently, you didn’t,” he said. “Because they’ve got us locked up here.”

  “Why do you think it’s the Sons?”

  “Because that’s who shot me,” he said.

  “They thought you were dead,” I told him. “Whoever grabbed you, it wasn’t the Sons.” I turned back to his wall. “As for ruling the world... we kind of tried that. It didn’t end up working out very well.”

  “So, you don’t think it’s the Sons?”

  “I’m telling you, they’re all dead.”

  He was quiet for a while. “I guess a lot of stuff has happened in ten years.”

  I sighed. “You have no idea.”

  “You know what I can’t believe? I can’t believe you’re still with my psycho big brother. He’s like Hannibal Lector or something, Zaza.”

  I kept feeling along the wall. “We tried breaking up too. That didn’t work out very well either.”

  “You broke up?”

  “I nearly killed him.” I looked at Jude. “He’s not a psycho, okay? No more than any of us are. Besides, he and I seem to find ourselves constantly stuck in situations where it’s kind of advantageous to have a psycho on your side.”

  He gave the cameras an appraising look. “Yeah. I guess that’s true. If anyone could figure out a way to bust out of this place, it’s you guys.” He grinned at the cameras. “You made a big mistake bringing him here.” He turned back to me. “Convince him to take me with you, okay? I promise not to make trouble.”

  I looked at the cameras. Why was he forcing me to talk about this? “You trying to get us all gassed or something?”

  “They don’t gas you if you’re just talking,” he said. “Only if you’re doing stuff.” He crossed to the other side of the room and sat down on his cot. “Hey, Zaza, I know I shouldn’t ask. I know that none of us have a good history. But you have to understand that my mother
was completely insane.”

  “I do understand that,” I said. “Trust me, I know what that woman was capable of.”

  “She raised me. I was never away from her until I was in Bradenton with you. And I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I did.”

  “You were avenging your mother,” I said. “I understand.”

  “That’s the thing. I really hated her guts. I’m glad she’s dead.”

  I swallowed. “She was your mother.”

  “She used me.”

  My parents had used me too, but I wasn’t happy that they’d died. Still, I understood the confusion that Jude felt. When the people you trusted the most turned out to be untrustworthy, it basically shattered your entire sense of self.

  “I’m sorry I shot him,” said Jude. “I’m glad he survived. I swear I don’t mean him any more harm. Do you think you can make him believe that?”

  I took a deep breath. “I really don’t know, Jude.”

  He laughed bitterly. “Do you even believe it?”

  “I do,” I said. “I haven’t forgotten that we were friends once. Best friends. But Jason has never trusted you, even when he didn’t know you were his brother. And I don’t know if he ever will. And frankly... we used to argue about you a lot, and when I try to go to bat for you, it only brings up bad memories.”

  “Argue about me? Why?”

  “He was jealous of you,” I said. “I thought you knew.”

  “He thought I was gay,” said Jude.

  “No, I thought you were gay. Jason never did,” I said. “I don’t think I can help you. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Jude was grinning. “Jealous of me? Really?” He sounded pleased to know that.

  Great. What had I done? I was pretty sure I had made things worse.

  “Why would he have ever been jealous of me?” Jude got up off the cot and sauntered over to me, a sly grin on his face.

  I backed away from him, but the wall was at my back, and I only ended up trapped. “I have no idea. I told him it was crazy.”

  Jude leaned one hand up against the wall next to me and leaned down so that his face was close to mine. “You did kiss me that one time.”

  I shoved him. “That was to get your gun.”

  Jude stumbled backwards.

  “Fuck you,” I said. “I have never, ever, not in a thousand years felt a single romantic feeling for you, and I wish both you and your stupid brother would get that through your very, very thick skulls.”

  Jude recovered, regaining his footing. “Okay. I get the message.” He ran a hand through his hair, and he looked so much like Jason, it was eerie.

  “Good,” I said. I walked to the other side of the room and began checking the other wall. The people manning the cameras were probably popping popcorn. We were like a freaking soap opera down here.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jude.

  “Just forget about it,” I muttered. This room was the same as all the other rooms. I needed to get out of here. I headed for the door to the hall.

  “Wait,” said Jude.

  I sighed, but turned to face him. “What?”

  He was rummaging through his stack of books. He pulled out several of them and came over to me. “It can get boring in here. You should take these. While away the hours. Consider it a show of friendship.”

  “I don’t need books,” I said. I needed to get out of here.

  “Please,” he said. “I really want to be friends again. And I think you’ll find these interesting.” He pushed them into my hands.

  Screw it. Fine. I’d take the books.

  I got out of Jude’s room as quickly as I could. I should have checked the end of his wing, felt along the blank dead end. But it looked the same as all the other ones I’d checked today, and I couldn’t handle being that close to Jude anymore. So I gave it a cursory look and then hurried up the wing. I stashed Jude’s books in my room. This was a nightmare. All of this.

  * * *

  Jason and I took another shower after dinner and whispered to each other that we hadn’t found anything. It didn’t make any sense. There had to be some way they got in. But we couldn’t find it. We threw out ideas, each more ridiculous than the last, until the water turned cold, and we had to get out.

  I wouldn’t have put it past whoever was up there to have turned the water cold on purpose.

  Days passed. Jason and I were out of ideas. We agreed to take some time to think, and wait for inspiration to strike. But I wasn’t getting anything. I forced myself to believe that I only had to wait for a plan to come to me. One of us would get an idea. We’d get out of here. If I ever felt tendrils of doubt about that, I pushed them away, because I couldn’t afford to think them. If I even entertained the idea of defeat, I knew I’d begin to lose hope. We needed hope. We didn’t have much else.

  But there was only so much that I could think. I went over every possible idea I could think of to escape, and none of them seemed at all workable.

  Jude was right. It did get boring in here.

  Finally, I turned to the books he’d given me. They were nondescript hardbacks, and I expected to find an old Dean Koontz when I opened to the title page, or maybe even Danielle Steele. The kind of thing you find at rummage sales set out on tables for a quarter a pop. But I was surprised when I opened the book to find that it was about Greek mythology. There were hasty scribbles on the title page.

  I squinted to see what they said. “Ambrosia equals blood?” I managed to make out. There were several numbers underneath it. Page numbers, I realized.

  Curious, I flipped in the book to the first page number written down. There was a passage underlined in the same type of ink as the note on the front. I began to read.

  “With Adrastus, Tydeus then went against Thebes, where he was wounded by Melanippus, who, however, was slain by him. When Tydeus lay on the ground wounded, Athena appeared to him with ambrosia, which was to make him immortal. This, however, was prevented by a stratagem of Amphiaraus, who hated Tydeus, for he cut off the head of Melanippus and brought it to Tydeus, who cut it in two and ate the brain, or devoured some of the flesh. Athena seeing this, shuddered, and did not give Tydeus the ambrosia which she had brought. Tydeus then died, and was buried by Maeon.”

  Who were these people? I tried to read back further to figure out what was going on but was only assailed by even more strange names. I reread the passage again. Both times the word “ambrosia” was mentioned, it had been underlined twice. So the goddess Athena had been going to give some guy something that would make him immortal, but hadn’t? Okay. So, what was the big deal there?

  I flipped back to the front page, and went to the second page number written down. There was another underlined passage.

  “Then Hercules went upon Mount Oeta, having built a high pyre and mounted it. He commanded his servants to set it afire, but all refused except Philoctetes, who resigned himself to the task and was given Hercules' bow and arrows as a reward. The pyre was still burning when a thunderclap was heard, and the hero, freed of his mortal self, was taken up into the sky. He became reconciled with Hera when reaching Olympus. He was given ambrosia to drink by Athena, and this conferred godhood and immortality upon him. A ceremony was enacted portraying his birth, and he married Hebe, the personification of youth.”

  Again, the word ambrosia was underlined twice.

  So, there was some magical drink in mythology that made people immortal. What about it? Had Jude underlined these passages? Was he trying to tell me something, or was it just a coincidence?

  I looked back at the title page. “Ambrosia equals blood?” I read aloud. Did it mean something?

  The dinner bell cut into my thoughts. Time for supper. I put the book aside and went to the main room. I was just in time to hear Grace’s voice filtering up from Boone’s wing. “If you want, I’ll just bring you your tray. I know you like to eat in your room.”

  “Don’t bug me, Grace,” said Boone’s surly voice. “I don’t need your help, ok
ay? I wish you’d leave me the hell alone.”

  The two emerged into the main room.

  “I was only trying to be nice,” said Grace.

  “Yeah, and I told you, it’s not necessary,” said Boone. “Get lost. You’re always hovering around me, and it’s annoying.”

  Grace glared at him. “Dick head.” She spun on one heel and marched into her own wing, slamming the door after herself.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Would it kill you to be nice to her?”

  “Mind your own business,” Boone said. He crossed to the food door, opened it, and took out a tray.

  “She’s got a crush on you,” I said. “She’s just a kid.”

  “Exactly,” said Boone. “She’s a kid. I don’t need to encourage her.” Carrying his tray, he went back to his wing.

  I went after him. “I’m not saying to encourage her. I’m only saying you don’t have to be an ass.”

  “Trust me,” he threw over his shoulder, “if she thinks I hate her, it’s the best thing for everybody. You’ll find out what I’m talking about. It’s gotta be soon. Maybe even today.” He peered down at his tray with an expression of disgust.

  “What the heck are you talking about?” I asked.

  He looked at me. “Of course, I guess you and Jason are a couple. That should make things very convenient for the both of you.”

  “What?” I said.

  He ducked into his room and slammed the door.

  Grace didn’t come back out. Jason, Emma, and I ate together, but we didn’t talk much. Jude came out at one point to get food, but he didn’t speak to us, and we didn’t speak to him.

  I took Grace’s tray down her wing. I knocked on her door. “Grace?”

  “Go away!” she said.

  “I brought your food,” I said.

  “Leave it outside the door. I don’t feel like eating.”

  I set it down. I hesitated. “You know, Grace, not all boys are like Boone. There are nice boys out there.”

  She yanked the door open. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m not ‘out there.’ I’m in here. And I’m probably never going to get out.”