Page 57 of Fire
Tobias laughed, ducking his head with only a hint of a blush that Jake felt absurdly proud of. “I’m leaving now. Don’t drown in the mail before I get back.”
“Don’t you run off with the bagel ladies!” Jake called.
He could hear Tobias laughing all the way to the door.
God, it was good to make Tobias laugh, and good to be home.
Jake looked down at the box and gave its tape one last yank. The cardboard box split, and half a dozen VHS tapes fell out. Their new white labels looked very bright against the scuffed black tapes.
Jake picked up the top one, read the neatly printed script, and felt all air leave the room.
Special sessions (multiple)1999: 89UI6703, Director Jonah Dixon, Elmer “Crusher” Davidson, Victor Todd
The same hand had carefully writtenTobias in parentheses below the identification number.
Jake stared at the label for a long minute.This can’t be what I think it is.This can’t be... I don’t want to know.
But he had to. Hands shaking, he stood, walked to the TV, shoved the tape in the player, and sat back down on the couch.
* * *
Tobias forgot sometimes,when they were away from Boulder long enough, what it felt like to be somewhere familiar. He’d made the run for milk and veggies (and beer), chatting for a good twenty minutes with the cashier about their “work trip” and the kid’s latest classes at the University of Colorado–Boulder, before he finally got away, feeling lighter even while weighted down with the supplies.
He had just pushed open their apartment door when he heard a voice he had begun to believe he would never hear again.
“This is what I expect of you. Andthisis what happens when you fall short.” The sound of a blow, followed by muffled whimpering. “Do you understand now? Remove the gag so he can answer me, please.”
The grocery bag slipped from between his fingers to the ground, and Tobias threw himself through the condo doorway. He didn’t have his fucking gun on him, didn’t have more than a knife, didn’t believe those or any weapons would overpower the Director, but there wasn’t any fucking space in his head for fear or planning or even self-protection when all he could think wasJake Jake oh fuck no not Jake.
Jake jumped to his feet when Tobias came into the room, hand flying to the gun he usually wore in the small of his back, but he dropped it as soon as he saw Tobias. His eyes were red, his cheeks were wet, but he was alone in the room. Unharmed.
Tobias stopped, swayed. “Where is he?”
“Who?” Jake said.
“He ain’t moving,” Crusher said.
Tobias’s eyes snapped to the TV.
The screen showed an overhead shot of the room in which he had spent so many Wednesdays. The Director and Crusher were there, standing over the crumpled, emaciated form of a boy that Tobias distantly recognized as himself. Everything was distant now; the reality of their apartment receding, Jake standing with wide eyes, the key gripped in Tobias’s hand. The only thing sharp and hard in the entire room, except for the frantic beating of Tobias’s heart, was the Director looking down at that crumpled boy on the screen.
“He’s... not really here.” Something was wrong with Tobias’s breathing. He wasn’t sure he was taking in air anymore. “He’s not really here?”
“Toby. Toby! Shit.” Jake fumbled with the buttons of the remote before swearing and yanking the plug out of the wall. Then in two strides, he stood before Tobias.
It felt strange to be touched, to be pulled down onto the couch and have Jake push his head between his knees. Tobias went, because he couldn’t seem to control his breathing, or his standing, or anything else. Instead all he could do was breathe, badly, because every sharp, unsatisfying breath blew out again with the words “He’s not... he’s not... he’s not...” That was all Tobias had in his head, all he had to offer.
“Toby, you can see?—”
“No, I can’t see.” Tobias said. He covered his eyes. “His voice is in my head. And I can’t... you need to...”
“I’m fine, Tobias,” Jake said, even though that was clearly a lie by how his voice cracked. “Nothing happened to me. He’s... that fucker’s not here.”
Tobias shuddered with fear, hearing Jake talk about the Director like that, wondering if the man wouldknow, how he would take it out on them.
He tried to stop it, tried to control the rush of pure fear making him shake. He knew he wasn’t doing a good job at all. “Where... did that... come from?”
“I don’t know,” Jake said. His voice was shaking too. “I don’t... they came in the mail.”
