Mind Gap Page 6

  What is it with everybody? he thought, shaking his head. He shrugged. Ah, well, he’d have to tell Mr. Borrelli about the elevator another time.

  As Jake made his way to the coffee shop, he passed house after house all decked out with ghosts and scarecrows and pumpkins for Halloween. Drew would be going trick-or-treating soon. His brother was really excited. He was dressing up as the Grim Reaper, wearing their mother’s old black hooded poncho and carrying a scythe he’d made out of a broomstick and cardboard wrapped in aluminum foil. Jake had given him the idea. Drew did whatever Jake told him to do. He’d given Jake all his money without question when Jake had asked. His mother was right. Drew looked up to him. Jake suddenly felt pretty bad about taking advantage of his little brother. He sucked in a lungful of crisp autumn air and picked up his pace. Vlad would probably toss Cole and him a few bucks after they made the delivery — that way Jake could give Drew back all the money he’d taken from him and maybe even some interest.

  When Jake arrived at the coffee shop, he stood outside, peering through the grimy window. He could see the woman behind the counter. She was filling sugar containers. He’d never paid her much attention in the past, but now he found his eyes drawn to her. Although she looked a lot older, she was definitely the same woman he’d encountered in his dream — the one who had given him the phone book, the one who had called the police. Jake put his hand on the door, then hesitated. For a second he wondered whether she’d recognize him and call the police again. That’s dumb, he told himself. It was all a dream. It never happened. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  Cole sat at their usual table, scarfing down a chocolate doughnut and fiddling with his phone. He was always playing games, so intense, as if he were five years old. He’d be all happy when he won and all sulky when he messed up. He got really mad if anyone interrupted him and made him blow his game.

  Jake sat in front of Cole, who ignored him and kept on playing.

  “Booyah!” said Cole, clicking like crazy.

  Obviously, he was doing well. Jake frowned. This game might go on forever.

  “S’up, man?” Jake said, deciding he’d take his chances, but Cole was too focused to respond. Jake rolled his eyes. “Relax. It’s just a game. The way you act, you’d think it was rocket science.”

  “Let’s go … bring it on, baby … bring it on …”

  “Cole. Dude. I thought you wanted to see me?”

  Cole clicked away, oblivious to the world around him. Jake sighed and waited, once again wondering whether his mother had Cole pegged for the selfish person he was.

  Suddenly, Cole slammed his phone on the table so hard that Jake was sure the thing would smash into a million pieces.

  “You’re an idiot, you know that?” said Jake.

  Cole glanced up. Looked directly at Jake. He didn’t say a word — as if he were peering through him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jake waved a hand in front of Cole’s face. The guy didn’t flinch. Instead, Cole looked away. He glanced at the door, as though he was expecting someone to walk in any second.

  “Cole, quit messin’ with me. Say something.”

  No response.

  Something wasn’t right. Jake’s heart shifted into overdrive. He could feel it revving in his chest.

  Cole picked up his phone and checked the time. He gazed at the door again.

  “Cole!” Jake shouted. “What’s your problem? Talk to me, man!”

  Cole’s thumbs danced across the keys on his phone. Was he going to play another game?

  “What are you doing?” demanded Jake, his pitch rising as panic grabbed his throat and squeezed.

  In that same second Jake’s phone buzzed. He froze, his eyes widening like canyons. With trembling hands he pulled the cell out of his pocket and peered at the screen. Jake’s knees buckled. The coffee shop began to spin. Cole had sent him a text.

  What’s taking you?

  Jake gulped down the bitterness that rose into his throat. He found his voice but managed only a thin whisper. “If this is your idea of a joke, it’s not funny.”

  Cole placed his phone on the table. He glanced at the door once more, then leaned back in his chair and yawned.

  The world around Jake cracked and crumbled. Either Cole was messing with his mind or …

  No! Jake squeezed the thought into an iron box in his mind and bolted it shut, but it forced its way back out. His mother wasn’t talking to him. The guys in the elevator didn’t see him. Mr. Borrelli nearly ran him over.

  Standing up, Jake took a step backward. No, he told himself. He refused to let his mind go there. Instead, Jake moved toward Cole and grabbed the guy’s shoulder. He could feel it — the bone, the flesh, the muscle. Cole was real. But Cole didn’t move. He didn’t seem to feel Jake’s hand. He didn’t seem to see Jake. How was that possible?

  Jake tried to shove Cole, but he couldn’t budge him. He threw his whole weight forward, both hands pushing as hard as he could against Cole’s back, but Cole was a cast-iron statue.

  Cole reached forward and picked up his doughnut. Jake tried to stop him. He tried to yank his arm down, but it was impossible. It was as if they were both made of totally different substances, completely different matter. Or maybe different states of matter, as if Cole were solid and Jake were gas. Or maybe they existed in entirely separate dimensions. Alternate realities.

  Losing it, Jake balled his fist and punched Cole’s shoulder as hard as he could. A searing pain raced through his knuckles, as if he’d just struck a tank. Cole went on eating, though, oblivious to Jake’s attempts to reach him.

  Jake screamed at the top of his lungs, “What’s happening to me?” He spun around and around, but no one in the coffee shop took any notice of him. Not Cole. Not the lady behind the counter. None of the other customers. Jake gripped his head with both hands, pressing hard against his skull, squeezing his eyes shut.

  Not again …

  Then he heard Short-Shorts’ words drifting toward him from some distant past: You can get off, Jake … but you can’t leave. And suddenly Jake was plummeting backward down a deep, dark shaft, falling … falling …

  “This isn’t happening!” he cried.

  He grabbed hold of the nearest table, opened his eyes, and steadied himself. If he wasn’t really here, then where was he? Jake didn’t even know what the word real meant anymore. Maybe he was real, and Cole and everyone else in the coffee shop were visions or ghosts. Maybe Short-Shorts had drugged him, or hypnotized him … or …

  He had to figure this out. Then an idea struck him like a fist.

  Jake raced toward the counter and leaped over it. He searched underneath until he found the phone book. It was older, practically falling apart, but Jake recognized the scribbled numbers, the doodle of the two hearts — it was the same book. He flipped frantically through the pages. Ma, Mabley, MacArthur, Mackinnon …

  The next page had been torn out.

  Jake shut his eyes. Questions crashed like waves on the shore of his consciousness. Had it really happened? Had he visited the past? Had he dragged his father into his own nightmare? Was that where he had disappeared to all those years ago? Where was his father now? And what did the word now mean, anyway?

  Opening his eyes, Jake looked up. An eerie calm settled over him. He stared blankly ahead until his eyes focused on his reflection in the glass door. He wasn’t wearing his Kobe jersey. He was back in his black hoodie — the same black hoodie he’d worn the previous night.

  The party wasn’t over.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jake left the coffee shop in a zombie-like trance. He practically walked right into Damon. Jake sidestepped him, barely registering his presence. He kept on moving straight ahead until he reached the curb. The cool fall breeze numbed his face, lifting the fine hairs
on the back of his neck as he watched the cars race by.

  If he was a ghost, could a car hit him? Kill him? In the messed-up state of mind he was in he almost walked out into traffic just to see what would

  happen. He put one foot forward and stopped.

  Jake rubbed his knuckles against his thigh. They still stung from punching Cole. Whether he was real or not the pain sure was. Jake could definitely feel things and couldn’t pass through walls or doors. He had even needed a key to get into his apartment. Jake had to get control of himself. Taking a long breath, he drew in his foot.

  There was only one thing he was certain about: if there was a way out of this nightmare, he’d find it at St. George Station. He had to get back there. He had to get back on that train.

  Jake’s phone vibrated. He’d forgotten that somehow the piece of technology was his only link to the real world. It vibrated a second time, and Jake checked it. Cole had sent him a text.

  Don’t bother coming. I’m outta here.

  Jake turned to face the shop and waited. He expected to see his buddy come strolling out of the door. He didn’t. Several minutes passed and still no Cole. What was going on? Then it occurred to Jake that Damon was inside the coffee shop, as well. Peering through the window, he saw Cole and Damon sitting together, coffees in hand, no indication of either being even remotely ready to leave. Why would Cole tell him not to bother coming? Why would he say he was leaving when he wasn’t?

  Opening the door, he slipped inside. As he approached their table, he watched Cole slide a huge wad of bills over to Damon, who took the cash and stuffed it into his pocket.

  Jake lowered himself gently into an empty seat next to them. Where would Cole get that much money? And why was he giving it to Damon? Jake began wondering what else Cole was mixed up in.

  “I’m telling you, he’ll show,” Cole said. He started chewing his lip.

  Damon scowled. “Make sure. He’s been on the fence long enough. Time to give him a shove.” His mouth curled into a thin grin, but his eyes were unsmiling. “And you know what could happen to you if he doesn’t show.”

  Jake tried to keep up with the conversation, but it was as if they were tap dancing and he was a few beats behind.

  “When you go in, make sure he’s holding the bag,” said Damon. “That way, if anyone has to go down, it won’t be you. Get it?”

  “Sure,” said Cole. He shifted his eyes to the door as though he was worried Jake might turn up, after all. “No worries. He’ll do what I tell him.”

  Who was Cole talking about? Could Cole possibly mean Jake? One thing was certain — they were discussing the delivery. Like the pieces of some intricate puzzle, things were starting to fall into place, and Jake didn’t like the picture that was forming.

  “He’s got a little brother, right?” said Damon, his grey eyes cold and lifeless.

  Jake sprang to his feet. “Leave Drew outta this!” He was about to take a shot at Damon, tell him Vlad could take his delivery and go to hell, but then he remembered he was only half there.

  “Drew?” asked Cole. “What’s his kid brother got to do with anything?”

  “Insurance,” said Damon. He grinned, and his resemblance to Vlad was more pronounced. “If MacRae doesn’t show, use his brother. Either way, you stay clean. You can get to him, can’t you?”

  Anger ripped through Jake’s body. He snatched Damon’s cup and whipped it across the room. Coffee splashed all over the floor. Jake blinked, and the mess was gone. The coffee cup was back on the table in front of Damon, as if he hadn’t laid a hand on it.

  “I … I dunno.” Cole’s voice cracked. Damon narrowed his eyes, and Cole added quickly, “I guess so. Leave it with me.”

  Powerlessness fuelled Jake’s rage. He paced the floor like a tiger in a cage. He heard everything, was watching it all go down, and yet he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

  Jake froze. Where had he heard that before? His mind raced. Hadn’t his mother said almost the exact same thing to Jake just last night?

  “Send me a text tomorrow if Jake shows up or if you’ve got the kid,” said Damon. “I’ll take it from there.” He stood up, took a last gulp of coffee, scrunched the paper cup, and tossed it onto the table. Then he patted Cole on the shoulder and swaggered toward the door.

  Cole sat quietly like an obedient dog that had been told to stay. Jake stared at him, venom seeping from every pore in his body. Four years of friendship and Jake didn’t have a clue who Cole really was — or what he was capable of. How could Jake have been so blind? Cole was setting him up to take the fall, just so he could stay clean. Just so the 5 Kings would think he was a hotshot. Jake’s mother had been right all along. Why hadn’t he listened to her? The worst kind of enemy was the one disguised as a friend.

  Picking up his phone, Cole punched out Jake’s home number. Drew would be coming home any second now.

  Jake was frantic. He tried to rip the cell out of Cole’s hand, but he couldn’t budge it. He punched Cole again — this time harder. Jake’s knuckles were on fire, but Cole just sat there calmly, listening to the phone ring.

  I’ve gotta find a way to break through, Jake told himself. I’ve gotta contact Drew before Cole gets to him … but how?

  He could text him — that would work. Only Drew didn’t have a phone. He could call him on the landline, but just like Cole, Drew wouldn’t be able to hear his voice. Jake was out of his mind. He had to do something — anything. He had to stop Cole.

  “Hello?”

  Jake recognized his brother’s voice.

  Cole stood up, his voice smooth as silk. “What up, Drewster?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jake sprinted all the way back to his apartment. He punched the elevator button three or four times, but it was taking too long, so he took the stairs. He raced up flight after flight until he burst through the metal door and into the hallway.

  Fumbling for his keys, Jake managed to unlock the door. He threw it open and charged inside. Voices were coming from the kitchen. He bolted toward them. Drew and his mom were sitting at the table. Drew was still wearing his karate gi — he was already a black belt.

  Jake steadied himself against the wall, downing huge gulps of air. How would he get a message to Drew? What could he do?

  “I don’t get it,” said Drew. “Where would he go? And why wouldn’t he say anything?”

  Jake’s mother closed her eyes. Her whole body seemed to droop, beginning with her chin and rippling down her body. She lifted her head, opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  “Call him!” Drew said. “Call his cell!” He stood up. “I’m gonna call!”

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. “It’s no use. I’ve tried calling. All morning. He’s not answering.”

  Jake checked his phone. The missed calls!

  “Can’t you do anything?” Drew pleaded. “Can’t you call the police?”

  Jake’s mother slowly shook her head, her voice apologetic. “Already tried that. They have an Amber Alert out. About as much as they’ll do.”

  “Why? Why aren’t they out looking for him?”

  Frustration rose in her voice. “Jake’s taken off before, that’s why. They don’t take you seriously when you’ve called before insisting your kid has been kidnapped and then he strolls in the next morning, half-drunk from his wild night of partying. The police just think he’s a dumb teenager. A writeoff. They’re not looking for him. They’ve got better things to do.”

  The words were like a bucket of ice water thrown in his face. A dumb teenager? A writeoff? Jake shook his head. Okay, so he wasn’t exactly a model kid. He’d made some bad decisions, but nothing major. And now, if he couldn’t find a way out of this nightmare, that was all they’d think of him — a dumb runaway. Some legacy.

  Drew’s lip
began to tremble. He was fighting back tears. Jake hated himself. He shouldn’t be putting his brother through this.

  Jake’s mom got up and hugged Drew. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “He’ll be back. He will.”

  Jake wanted to hug her — to hug both of them. He took a step toward them.

  “I just talked to Cole,” Drew said, sniffling.

  Jake’s spine straightened.

  “He asked if I knew where Jake was. He said Jake was supposed to meet him and didn’t show.”

  “What else did he say?” asked Jake, but Drew didn’t hear. Jake paced the floor. He had to know what Cole was planning if he was going to find a way to protect his brother.

  Jake’s mother got up. She went to the counter to get a tissue. “I spoke to Cole earlier. He’s got no idea where Jake is.”

  “Cole said,” Drew muttered, “if I just … he wants me to …” His voice trailed off.

  What? What did he say? What does he want you to do? Jake moved toward his brother. He put his hands on Drew’s shoulders. Drew sat perfectly still. He didn’t feel a thing.

  “What’s that?” said his mother, approaching with a wad of tissues.

  Drew took them mechanically. He swiped them across his nose and placed them on the table. “Um … nothing,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

  Tell her, Drew! Tell her what Cole wants you to do! Jake’s stomach churned. How could he break through? How could he make Drew understand that something bad was going down and that he needed to stay away from Cole?

  Jake picked up a chair and hurled it across the kitchen. It smashed against the wall. Then, like that, it was right back beside Jake. He tried to grab Drew and shake him. He pushed and pulled and heaved, but he couldn’t move him. Not one inch. He grabbed a pen from the counter and gouged his name in huge block letters into the kitchen wall, but as soon as he finished, the wall was clean again.