Light Years by Emily Ziff Griffin

Author:Emily Ziff Griffin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

CHAPTER 10

I wake to my phone vibrating on the bedside table. It’s early, still dark. It takes me a second to recall where I am and why. I’ve got a new message from Nam. A rush of heat at the sight of his name.

Tell me, it says. Who am I? I don’t have an answer. I hear Phoebe’s words: “Don’t be so literal.” I move to the open window and breathe in the inky sky and sprawling green grass. I scan the edges of the yard. I catch a glimpse of G’s electric fence.

You’re me, I write.

Meaning? he replies.

First tell me something. Tell me about the video.

I made the video, he says.

Why? I ask.

To help.

Is it real?

Define real?

I smile. Good question. Why are you hiding who you are?

Your turn, he writes. Explain what you meant by “I am you.”

I look back at the fence. It’s like the gas mask—an instrument of safety that makes me feel less safe.

I meant that we seem to think alike. I like puzzles too. There’s a long pause. I wish Phoebe were here.

Yes, he writes.

I take one last shot. Why me?

Because I gather you are interested in the way reality is constructed.

Constructed?

Yes.

My fingers hover over my screen. The brightening sky seems to be blotting out whatever ability I have to be clever. A hiss seeps in through the window. I don’t know what else to say.

The chat dissolves. Fuck.

I sit in the stillness. I hone in on the birds outside until they drown out the imagined sound of failure. I Google Evans B. again. There’s that photo of her on the conference website. I stare at it for a long time.

I wake up to the sun pouring in. My phone is still in my hand and Phoebe is sitting on the opposite bed, fully dressed.

“We have to go to Columbus,” she announces.

“Okay,” I mumble, immediately distracted by a text from my mother begging me to call. Nothing more from Nam.

“I want to see the camp, see what’s really going on, get some images and video we can post.” She looks out at the lawn. “And I need to see my sister.” This is the last thing I want to do. I think back to the hospital in Brooklyn and the woman covered in blood, to Janine, to my dad. Yellow waves as my palms begin to sweat.

I sit up and plant my feet on the floor. “It’s controlled by the military. They’ll never let us in.”

“I’ll figure out a way.”

I want to argue with her, but the look in her eyes tells me I will lose.

I turn to my phone. I scroll back through Nam’s messages. Maybe in the daylight I’ll see something I didn’t in the dark.

“You get something from Nam?” Phoebe asks.

I look back at her. As I open my mouth to answer, a blue pulse and the feeling of an invisible rope around my neck. All that comes out is a cough.

“You all right?” she asks.

I swallow. “Yeah. Sorry. What did you say?”

“I was asking about Nam.

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