Page 63 of Come Find Me
I place my hand on the screen between us, leaning closer. “Noneof this is supposed to be possible. That’s thepoint.”
“What’sthe point, Nolan? I think I’m missing it here.”
I say the thing that’s been itching at the back of my skull. This feeling that’s been with me since that first day, when my device started moving against my brother’s wall, driving me to the computer to see what it meant. “I think I was supposed to find you.”
She doesn’t answer for a moment, and I think she’s mulling it over. I think she believes it, too, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. “For what?” she finally asks.
I’m not sure. Not yet. But I think we’re close. “For you to come to my house. For you to see that picture.”
I can see her thinking it over. “I thought that at first. But I don’t know, Nolan. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“What have we got to lose, Kennedy?”
“You mean, other than Joe completely freaking out?”
“Right. Other than that.”
She thinks for a second. “Give me a few minutes. I need to leave a note this time.”
“Now I know why you wanted me to come,” I say. “How were you planning to find this place, without me and my phone?”
Nolan grins, gesturing to the glove compartment. “Look inside.”
I pull out a pile of maps, folded up and labeled in sections with a highlighter. “Oh my,” I say.
“Yep. Stopped in a gas station to fill up the tank, bought these inside.”
“Admit it, though. You’re glad I’m here.”
He turns his face from the road briefly, his eyes meeting mine. “I am, Kennedy.”
It’s a long drive, and the highway twists through the mountains in the dark. I keep worrying he’ll fall asleep, or I’ll fall asleep, but both of us are on edge, antsy in our seats. And I think I understand: instead of waiting for answers, we’re driving after them. It fills me with adrenaline. I almost don’t need the second coffee. Almost.
—
I turn off my phone when we arrive on the street of the Long residence, just after dawn. Joe will be waking up soon, and he’ll see the note I left—Be back by Sunday, promise—and he’ll immediately start calling my number. Whatever tentative trust he’s placed in me, I’m sure I’ve shattered it with this move. But I hope he’ll forgive me. That he’ll understand.
Nolan’s car idles at the curb. There are two cars in the driveway, beside a white picket fence. The porch light is stillon.
“It’s early in the day still. Maybe they’ll leave soon,” Nolan says.
“Let’s get some breakfast and come back,” I say.
“If by breakfast you mean more caffeine, then yes.” It’s then I notice the dark circles under Nolan’s eyes—mine must be the same. A string of sleepless nights, ending in this.
The residential area of town we’re in is just a scattering of streets in a grid. As we drive, the homes give way to brick buildings set farther back from the road. In the distance, a plume of smoke rises from the large chimney of a factory.
There are very few people, or stores, or restaurants. The sidewalks are half crumbled, the pavement buckling in sections. Beyond the residential area, this feels like a town of decaying buildings, with weeds pushing back through the concrete squares, like the earth is reclaiming it. There doesn’t seem to be much in the way of food, just large, nondescript buildings with empty parking lots. But eventually we find a fast-food place with a drive-through on a corner next to a gas station, surrounded by nothing but empty space.
There are three other people inside the restaurant, all spread out, sitting at the farthest corners. No one looks up as I pass with the tray of food to join Nolan at the booth. Out the window facing away from the road is a ballfield surrounded by a chain link fence. But even the dirt has become overgrown with grass, like no one’s used it in ages.
I’m suddenly queasy, unsure of what we’ll find—unsure of what exactly I’m hoping for.
“You’re quiet,” Nolan says.
I guess I’m worried that everything means nothing. That there is no reason for anything, other than chance encounters, and chaos. The universe, heading toward more disorder.
But I smile at him instead. “Thought you could use the break,” I say.
