Mind Gap Page 7

  Jake dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He called his home number. The phone rang instantly. It startled both Drew and his mother. They raced toward the counter, his mother taking the call.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “It’s me! It’s Jake! I’m here in the room right beside you!”

  “Jake? Jake, is that you?”

  For a second Jake actually thought she’d heard him. “Yeah, it’s me! It’s me, Mom!”

  “Jake? Jake, if it’s you, say something. Please!”

  Tears streamed down his mother’s cheeks, and it became clear that she couldn’t hear him.

  Drew grabbed the phone. “Jake, where are you? Come home! Please come home!”

  Jake slammed his phone down on the table. He collapsed into the chair he had hurled across the room a moment before and watched as his mother and brother heard the line go dead. They looked at each other, and though no words were spoken, Jake knew the message passing between them. Jake’s call had only made things worse. Tears filled with anger and frustration spilled down his cheeks. He swiped at them bitterly.

  Trapped in his non-existence, he was wasting time. There was nothing he could do here. He couldn’t help his brother like this. There was only one way out. Only one way to change things. Jake had to get back on that subway train.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Crouched in a corner of St. George Station with his back against the wall, Jake watched and waited. Time trickled like a leaky faucet. Every muscle, every nerve, was tight with anticipation. It took all his energy to remain still as trains arrived and departed.

  As a kid, Jake had always thought it would be really cool to be invisible — like a superhero, able to sneak around unnoticed and do whatever he pleased. But now here he was, observing people go about their business, not one of them with even an inkling that he existed, and it was the worst feeling in the world.

  What if the train never came back? What if he was stuck in this freaky limbo forever? He shook his head. No. The train was coming. Although he hadn’t the foggiest idea as to how or why, he was connected to it, and it was strangely comforting knowing that he’d be back on it soon.

  “Almost …”

  Someone had spoken! Jake glanced up out of reflex. He’d resigned himself to the fact that he was a ghost. It didn’t even occur to Jake that he could be seen by a living soul.

  “Salvation is at hand …”

  Jake’s gaze settled on the leathery face, the ragged clothing, and the matted hair of the figure looming over him. A surge of shock rippled through his body.

  “You can s-see me?” he stammered, scrambling to his feet.

  “Darkness surrounds us …” said the homeless man, his arms stretched wide. “Can you see it? Can you see through it?”

  A jumble of emotions squirmed inside Jake. Someone was talking to him. Someone could see him. Did that mean Jake was real? Or did it mean that the homeless guy was a ghost, too? Jake reached out and touched the man’s shoulders. His fingers slid over the greasy material.

  “What’s going on? What’s happening to me?”

  The man took a step back. He slipped out of Jake’s grasp like water through a sieve. He shook his head. “You can’t unspill milk.”

  “What does that mean?” Jake demanded. “Stop talking in riddles!”

  A train pulled into the station. The clock read 11:59.

  “Life is a riddle,” said the man. “You can spend your whole life trying to figure it out …”

  The chimes rang through the station, and the doors sealed shut. The platform was empty, and the train began to roll.

  “Don’t give me that crap!” cried Jake. “Tell me the truth. I need to know.”

  As the last car passed, Jake checked the clock. It was exactly noon. Ribbons of black smoke snaked out of the tunnel opening at the far end of the station. Jake’s eyes grew wide. For a second he thought there was a fire in the tunnel, but no one else on the platform reacted. The ground shuttered. It was coming.

  Jake turned back to face the homeless man. He was about to demand answers when he saw something in the man’s eyes that forced him to take a step back. “Who are you?”

  Smoke billowed from the opening, and a low rumble shook the ceiling and floor.

  “I … I don’t know,” said the homeless man. His clouded eyes searched the air for answers.

  Just then the maroon train exploded through the tunnel with a thunderous roar. It flew toward Jake like some prehistoric beast.

  “I … I’m not sure anymore,” mumbled the homeless man. The train screeched to a halt, and the doors flew open. “I’m lost. I’ve lost everything …”

  Including your mind, thought Jake. Still, he wanted to hear what the man had to say. But there was no time; he had to leave. He had to save Drew. Jake stepped inside the subway car.

  “I’ve fallen from grace,” said the man. “I’m falling …”

  The doors closed in front of Jake. He watched as the strange man scratched his head and gazed at the empty platform. Then the train plunged into darkness and the vision was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “What took you so long?”

  The dim lights flickered. Music played. The same creepy characters stood around the subway car talking and laughing. It was a party that went on forever.

  Jake sucked in a lungful of stale air. He stared long and hard at Short-Shorts, certain the guy had less hair. It was as though someone had ripped out clumps of it, exposing patches of scalp. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and his skin seemed different, too — all blotchy and full of lesions. The sweatbands he wore around his wrists had deep brownish-red stains.

  “What kind of weird place is this? Why am I here?”

  “Relax. It’s like I told you,” said Short-Shorts. “You’re one of the lucky ones.” He grinned, revealing yellow rotting teeth.

  Jake took a step toward him. “I’m stuck in this nightmare with you freaks and you call me lucky?” His voice echoed through the subway car.

  Everyone stopped talking and turned to face Jake — everyone except the girl rocking back and forth, hugging her little baby blanket, and the lone, dark figure sitting at the back of the train.

  Jake stared at them. Like Short-Shorts, they all appeared different, as though they had some type of flesh-eating disease. Jake backed up slowly until he was against the doors. “Just tell me how to get back to reality. I need to get back. Not for me — for my brother.”

  Short-Shorts glanced around at the other passengers. A silent message passed between them. Then he looked Jake straight in the eye. “I dunno … life’s a series of choices. You’ve already made some pretty bad ones …”

  Jake’s mind skipped like a stone across a muddy pond. His English teacher, Mr. Dean, had talked about choices. His mother had talked about choices. And now Short-Shorts …

  “What have my choices got to do with all this?” Jake asked Short-Shorts.

  “They’ve got everything to do with everything. Make your choice. Live with the consequences.”

  “Whatever,” said Jake, shaking his head.

  So he liked to gamble. So he had a loser friend, Cole. And he was mixed up with Damon, Vlad, and the 5 Kings. But this guy was talking to him as if he’d robbed a bank — or worse.

  “Just tell me what I need to do to get off this ride for good. Back to my life. My real life — not some bizarre alternate universe. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. I swear.”

  Short-Shorts shook his head. “It’s not that easy.” He leaned in and whispered in Jake’s ear, “You’ve got another stop.”

  The guy’s breath was hot and rancid. Bile rose in Jake’s throat. He pressed his back against the doors, but they gave way and he was falling backward.

 
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Jake stood on the platform in St. George Station once again, only this time he held no illusions — he wasn’t home. A strange calmness settled over him as he watched the train disappear into the tunnel. It would be back.

  He glanced at the flat screen and nodded — exactly twelve. But was it noon on Saturday, or midnight on Friday, or another twelve o’clock altogether? Somehow Jake had lost all sense of time. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion — they’d all evaporated. He felt nothing but a dull, aching emptiness swelling inside him.

  Jake rubbed his eyes and ran both hands through his hair. He had to stay calm.

  The opposite side of the tracks was packed with people, including young children, which told Jake it was most likely noon. Only a few stragglers meandered about on his side; obviously a train had recently come and gone.

  Jake’s eyes darted from one advertisement to another. He didn’t recognize a single image. Scaffolding was set up at the far end of the platform, and a few workers were chiselling off the old tiles. Everything had changed once again.

  He found himself wishing the homeless man would appear, but the guy was nowhere to be found. As Jake stood there contemplating his surroundings, a shiver crawled up his spine. What new reality had he stepped into?

  On his way to the escalator, Jake passed the workers. “You, uh, got the time?” He swallowed. His voice sounded strange. Hollow.

  “Check the screen,” one man grunted. He didn’t even turn to look at Jake; he just kept on hammering away at the stubborn old tiles.

  At least I’m not a ghost, thought Jake. It was a minor relief.

  As he rode the escalator downward, he checked his pockets. Everything was there: his wallet, cellphone, iPod, and keys. He should be calling home, but there was no point. He wouldn’t get very good reception in the tunnels. He had to get to Drew as quickly as he could. He could still hear his brother’s conversation with Cole echoing in his mind.

  The memory spurred Jake into motion. He sprinted through the station toward the east–west line where a subway had just arrived. Jumping on before the doors closed, he rode all the way to Victoria Park Station before realizing he hadn’t taken a transfer slip.

  Jake groped around in his pocket and located his stray change. If he was lucky, it would be enough to pay his fare. Then he felt something else hidden deep in his pocket. Gingerly, he withdrew the mass. The transfer that should have been brand-new looked ancient. Jake sighed. He had given up trying to make sense of the absurd. All logic and reason had gone packing long ago. Pressing everything else from his mind, he zeroed in on one thought — Drew.

  Jumping off the train, Jake took the escalator up into the busy station. The walls were now clad in stainless steel from floor to ceiling. The ticket booth was made of seamless glass. There were no transfer machines in sight, and the old turnstiles were replaced with archways that looked more like metal detectors.

  For a second Jake wondered where he was, but engraved into the metal walls in bold block letters were the words: VICTORIA PARK.

  Jake gave his head a shake. Drew. His brother was all that mattered.

  He raced through the metal archways toward the buses. The terminal had been renovated, as well, but Jake barely took any notice. He took the stairs two at a time and hopped onto the waiting bus.

  The bus driver glanced up from the e-book he was reading. He frowned and motioned his chin to a flat panel where the fare box should have been. It had an outline of a hand.

  Jake stared at the shape, then realized it was a scanner. Hesitating for a moment, he placed his hand on it. A buzzer sounded, and the driver looked up again, this time decidedly annoyed. Jake put his hand on the scanner again, but the buzzer went off a second time.

  “Where’d you get on?” demanded the bus driver.

  “St. George,” Jake said, though he wasn’t sure anymore. It was all a blur. A never-ending journey aboard the public transit system.

  “St. George?” the man grumbled. “Didn’t you scan your palm when you paid your fare?”

  “Um, yeah, sure,” Jake lied.

  The driver put his e-book aside and fixed Jake with a suspicious stare. “You sure about that? Or maybe you snuck on between the crowds?”

  Jake opened his mouth to lie again, but the driver cut him off. He pointed to a poster hanging above the driver’s seat — NO PALM. NO PASSSAGE. “Afraid you gotta pay another ten-fifty, son,” he said.

  Ten-fifty? This guy was out of his mind. You would need a mortgage to pay that fare. Jake didn’t even have a third of that. How was he going to get home? It would take him forever to walk. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his change, including the wrinkled old transfer slip.

  The bus driver’s eyes widened. “Where’d you dig that up?” he asked. “Haven’t seen one of those in years.”

  Years? thought Jake, handing the driver the fragile slip of paper.

  A smile slid over the man’s lips. “I used to collect these back when I was a kid.” The driver glanced over his shoulder, checking to see if anyone was watching. “Go ahead.” He handed back the paper and jerked his chin toward the back of the bus. “Make sure you scan your palm next time.”

  Confused but grateful, Jake accepted the free ride and moved to the rear of the bus. He sat down just as the vehicle lurched forward, rolling out of the dark tunnel and into the bright light of day.

  Drew. He’d call his brother now. Jake leaned back into the cool leather seat and pulled out his phone. The date glared at him from the tiny screen — the day and month, but not the year. He was about to call Drew when he paused. Jake had to know for sure. He opened the calendar. The phone quivered in his hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Jake stood outside his apartment building examining the cracked, graffitied walls. Cool air swirled round him in a tornado of litter and leaves. Were they still living there? Was he still living there?

  He had interfered with the past with disastrous results. Now here he stood, ten years into his future, wondering if he should risk meddling with it, too. Was it even possible to meddle with something that technically hadn’t happened yet?

  Jake took a deep breath. Whatever danger Drew had been in with Cole, it was long gone — over a whole decade ago. Wasn’t it?

  This is no accident, Jake’s gut told him. That train brought me here for a reason.

  He swallowed what saliva he could muster and reached into his pocket for his keys. As he was about to enter through the main doors, a woman approached and tapped a card to a scanner where the keyhole should have been. Jake knew this technology. He’d seen it before — though he never imagined it would find its way to his low-rent building. Jake moved quickly, ducking inside right behind her.

  The old foyer looked pretty much the same — only ten years more rundown than the last time he’d seen it. He approached the elevators and hit the button. When the doors slid open, Jake did a double take. The interior of the elevator had been completely redone. He sighed. At least they fixed one thing in this rat hole.

  Jake let the woman get on first. She was dressed in familiar jeans and a huge T-shirt, but nothing registered until she turned and looked right at Jake. It was his mother!

  Startled by her appearance, he put a hand out to steady himself. Her hair was almost completely grey. It hung limp along her sallow cheeks. Her eyes were glazed, and a vacant smile caressed her lips.

  “Mom?” whispered Jake.

  Her expression remained blank. She stared past him as if he blended into the floral wallpaper. Jake’s pulse quickened. Was he a ghost again?

  “It’s me, Mom,” he said softly, moving closer to her. His lip began to tremble and his voice cracked. “It’s Jake.”

  “Jake, fake, lake, cake … how many words rhyme with Jake?” She giggled like a second-grade girl and woun
d a strand of hair around her index finger.

  It frightened Jake. He frowned, struggling to understand. This was his mother. She was here and she was real. But it wasn’t her. She wasn’t complete. There was something missing.

  “Mom, look at me — I’m Jake. I’m your son!”

  “Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy …” she sang. “I’m walkin’ on sunshine …”

  “Stop it!” he cried. “Stop it!” He grabbed her arm. Her smile evaporated and her glossy eyes widened. “It’s me,” he said, tightening his grip. “Your son.”

  “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine …” Her voice was high-pitched and trembling as she struggled to break free from his grasp.

  “Come on,” he cried frantically, tears filling his eyes. “You know me!”

  She stopped struggling as if seeing him for the first time. In a fleeting moment of lucidity she reached out her finger and caught a tear before it spilled down his cheek. “Jake?” she whispered, her voice like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

  Then, as quickly as it came, the clarity departed and the vacant expression returned to her eyes. She slipped gently from his grasp. “You should wear boots today. The weather man says it might snow.”

  Jake swiped at his face. He swallowed the salty phlegm that had gathered at the back of his throat. What was wrong with her?

  The doors to the elevator opened. She turned and exited, humming to herself. Jake followed.

  “Where’s Drew?” he whispered.

  She stopped short. Her spine straightened. She turned to face Jake, her brow furled as though she were calculating a difficult math problem. “Do I know Drew? Maybe I do …” She exploded in giggles at her inadvertent rhyme.

  Jake shut his eyes. He wanted to scream … to hit something. He needed answers, and clearly his poor mother had none to give. Jake watched her open the apartment door, humming again mindlessly.