White Space полностью

“I BELIEVE YOU,” Rima said. She studied Lizzie’s crazy quilt, with its intricate stitchery, oddly shaped blocks of fabric, colorful glass beads, and dangling pendants. Her fingers skimmed a large orange tabby cat embroidered onto a trapezoid of green felt. “I don’t understand it all, but I believe you.” She paused, then added, “I think.”

“Well, I don’t.” Bode was leaning against the mantelpiece of a hearth in which orange-yellow flames crackled and danced. They were gathered in a front family room that Bode didn’t recall seeing in the house, and that Emma was pretty sure hadn’t been here at all, and certainly not this way—strewn with comfortable furniture, a fire already lit—until she and the others trooped down from Lizzie’s room.

“This, I believe in,” Bode said, rattling open a box of matches. Selecting one, he struck it. “Something I can touch and feel,” he said, as the flame gobbled up the match nearly to his fingertips. Wincing, he flipped what was left into the fireplace. “See, that hurt. That was real. So I’m real. I’ll believe in time travel before I believe this other extra-universe crap.”

“Multiverse.” From her perch on an ottoman near Lizzie, who was hunkered on the floor, Emma said, “So, forgetting what just happened to you guys, the reason you’re in Wisconsin instead of Wyoming—”

“You just said you don’t know where we are. Why can’t we be in Wyoming?”

“Whatever. How about the fact that you started the day in 1967 but ended it almost fifty years later? And this is because …?” When Bode didn’t reply, Emma said, “Feel free to jump in anytime.”

“Well, first off, I’m not saying I have all the answers. Second, I could say the same right back to you guys. Like, maybe you’re back in sixty-seven with me, see? It’s all in how you look at it.” Scowling, Bode scraped another match to life. “Real is real. This guy, Tony? Rima and Casey said he got chewed up and then blown to pieces. I saw Chad die. We all nearly got killed.”

“I didn’t say we weren’t real. I said that we—that is, the energy that’s us, our … essence? Our souls? Whatever you want to call it, I think the core of who we are and how we think of ourselves, might be in a different timeline or alternative universe, or even outside of regular time the way we know it.”

“See?” Bode waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all voodoo. You’re just guessing, and I don’t even understand what you just said. Our essence? Outside of time? And what timeline? What other universe? I’m here, it’s now, I’m real.”

“He’s got a point.” Casey lay on a sofa as Eric knelt alongside, gently finger-walking the patchwork of ugly bruises on his brother’s chest. “How does some weird theory explain … Ow.” Casey fired a glare at Eric. “That hurt.”

“Sorry, Case.” Eric made a face. “I think maybe two, three breaks? Or only cracks … I learned battlefield stuff, the basics, but I’m no medic.”

“It jab when you breathe?” When Casey nodded, Bode said, “Yeah, they’re probably broke. Not a whole bunch you can do, and they’ll heal up on their own okay. If they got tape in this place, I can show you how to splint them, maybe make you a little more comfortable. Duct tape’d be good.” Bode’s eyes drifted over to Lizzie. “I don’t suppose you’re smart enough to whip up a little first aid kit?”

“Don’t be such an asshole,” Emma said.

“I don’t know if there’s a kit, or … duck tape, whatever that is.” Lizzie’s arms tightened around her knees. “I’ve never needed any band-aids or iodine or stuff. Maybe there’s something in one of the bathrooms, or kitchen.”

“I’ll be okay.” Grimacing, Casey slid his arms into a faded denim shirt Eric had unearthed from an upstairs bedroom. “But I’m with Bode,” he said, gingerly touching a large purple splotch of bruise splashed over his jaw. He hadn’t said how that had happened, but the way he and Rima had glanced at one another when Eric asked made Emma wonder. “My bruises feel pretty real,” Casey said as he flexed the swollen, split knuckles of his right hand.

“And see, that’s just wrong.” Bode struck another match. “The kid’s all beat up. Pain and getting hurt and dying kind of go against this whole we’re outta some book shit.”