Decoy and Retrofit: Chapter 4

It was nighttime, but it was strange. Noel stood on the asphalt, looking out over the city. He could see the Okanogan foothills in the distance, black against the night sky. The streetlights were on, moths fluttering under their plastic bulbs.

And across the road from where he stood was a completely intact Orchard Park Shopping Center, Kelowna’s main mall.

Noel stared out at the bright streetlights, hung in a surreal moment, when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned around.

“So,” said Apollo. “You’re back to fucking my brother.”

This a memory. That was Noel’s first thought as a fist connected with his face, as the back of his skull hit concrete, as his gaze was flung back to the dark sky. This was a memory, so he could take a moment. He could listen to the sound of his soft breathing in his throat, the noise of traffic as it rolled by, the tinny music of a car radio playing on its speakers. He could breathe in the air, wet from the rain, hot on the pavement under his bruised elbows. He could stare up at the night sky, the stars nearly invisible in the yellow glow of the neon sign shining in his peripherals.

Ah yes, Denny’s.

“Get up.”

Noel wasn’t in the mood to get up. He had just gotten here, and he wanted to bask in the nostalgia of the memory. But then he felt his shirt collar tighten as he was pulled from the ground, and the stars fell away.

It was all familiar. Apollo fisting his collar, his fist poised at Noel’s eyebrow, face screwed up in the fury of betrayal. It was all familiar, except one thing: Apollo was different. In this memory, Apollo’s hair had been shaggy, his skin smooth. But now, Apollo’s hair was buzzed short, a surgical scar cutting across his skull. Noel stared at it, focusing on this detail that was out of place on the timeline of Apollo.

And then he lifted his own hand, and whorled alien skin glowed blue back at him.

This wasn’t a memory. This was the Outlie. This was happening now.

Noel jolted back, his feet finding purchase somewhere on the pavement, and smacked away Apollo’s fist as he backed some distance between them. His boots, his jacket, his glowing arm. Apollo, visually frozen at seventeen, was bearing down on him, standing in the parking lot of a restaurant that no longer existed.

He hadn’t ever seen the Outlie do this before.

“Wait, Apollo,” Noel choked out. “I can explain.”

Apollo wasn’t taking it. “Remember what I said the last time you did this?” he snarled, closing the distance between them in long strides. “The last time you fucking took advantage of my brother’s hero complex to string him along like a toy?”

Noel remembered pretty clearly. It was a lot like this moment, but it was missing the details of Apollo’s shaggy hair and Noel’s 100% human appendages.

Apollo had threatened to kill him.

Noel pressed his Tourist hand against his face, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand. “It’s not like that, Apollo,” Noel grunted.

“Oh, what’s it like, then? Are you going to tell me you love him?” Apollo bit out, love rolling off his tongue like it tasted sour. “Stop pretending you actually care about him. You just started fucking around with him because I said no.”

The foggy memory was suddenly, startlingly clear, a corner of Noel’s recollection that had always been rosy and blurry was re-angled, fluorescent and bright and vivid as day. Now he remembered that old bitterness that had lay forgotten and diluted in his hazy memories. Apollo had always come first, after all, for both Griffin and himself.

Noel felt suddenly nauseous.

“I want to protect him–” Noel said loudly, trying to drown out Apollo’s words in his head, before his collar was wrenched up again in Apollo’s bloody fists. Apollo’s eyebrows twisted, pinched together in mixed fury and pain.

“Fuck you, you want to protect him,” Apollo growled, yanking Noel close enough that Noel imagined, for a second, that he could feel the heat of his breath. “Fuck you, you were the most toxic person in his life, and now that you’ve got surgically implanted empathy you just want to ignore the fact that you fucked him up and didn’t give a shit? Like you’re pretending that your ‘relationship’ isn’t just a bunch of wounds that you want to reopen?”

“I don’t know!” Noel snapped, thinking of the way that Griffin pressed his hand against the back of his head, the way that his eyes seemed to light up when Noel raised his voice. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with him, but it might have to do with the fact that he’s been making money in a mercenary gang for years! Shooting dudes in the head might have a bit more impact than a bad relationship when he was fourteen.”

Apollo stepped back, whistling loudly. “Ooh, deflecting the blame there?” he asked, his voice poison. “Nice one, Noel. Is that what you learned in foster care?”

Apollo was angry, Noel knew, but that still hit somewhere sore and old that he hadn’t expected. A barb that had always been off-limits, but now that they were both worn down to the quick, nothing was really off-limits anymore.

Noel raised his fist, pulsing black and blue, and imagined it. Striking Apollo in the face, like he had once, five years ago. Apollo falling to the pavement, his face stinging with the same pain that cut through Noel like a bolt.

It had felt good back then, even just for a second. It would feel justified. Apollo, who had always had everything he wanted. Apollo, whom Noel had always wanted to be, had always wanted to have, feeling a hint of the pain shredding Noel inside.

But the Apollo standing in front of him was seventeen. He was wearing the same old band shirts, had the same young face. Then there was the scar, the buzzed hair that never grew back in.

Noel was twenty-two. Noel had gotten the chance to grow up, but Apollo hadn’t.

Now, he felt all the pain rolling off Apollo in waves. The loneliness of being a soul trapped in a world of millions of minds, except the one that he wanted to see the most. The film reels of a childhood spent knitted at the hip to a brother who walked in his footsteps, a brother who followed him into Noel’s headlights. Apollo was snagged in this moment in time, suspended and faded in this dimension while his brother grew up and changed in another.

Noel felt his fist relax, his shoulders sag. He looked into Apollo’s darting eyes, wanting to apologize, to say something that he felt from the bottom of his stomach, when he noticed that Apollo was frozen in place. His eyes, dark and tired and full of that teenage pain, had suddenly focused on something behind Noel.

Noel turned, looking across the dark parking lot to see Susan Wells sitting neatly on the hood of a car.

She was inspecting her nails, tucking her leg under one knee as if she had happened upon this scene by accident. She wore a blouse and jeans and heels with straps that buckled behind her ankles, her blond-white hair gently curled and pinned away from her face.

He didn’t know how long she had been there, but he did know that it wasn’t an accident. Noel had asked for her help a week earlier. A week earlier, when his memories were bright and hazy and full of missing details. Memories that had been whitewashed into a faded mess of camping trips and band practice and delusions of a healthy, mutually beneficial relationships he had once had with the brothers of the Wells family.

And now that her face was fading into sight, Noel had the sinking sensation that he didn’t remember the real Susan Wells, either.

She glanced up. “Boys,” she said calmly, “you’re not fighting again, are you?”

Noel swallowed.

She clucked her tongue in that way that Noel remembered, like the smell of pasta sauce and the TV advertisements. “I thought we were past that with you two.”

Behind him, Noel could almost feel Apollo stiffen, straighten his shoulders, catch his breath. “Mom,” he said hoarsely. “What do you want?”

Susan ignored her son. “That’s why I brought you two here to begin with!” she said, gesturing grandly at the dimly lit parking lot around her. “There’s nothing more peaceful than being in the Outlie. There’s no place easier to understand each other. You can truly get each other here, we have no use for–”

She waved her hand at them. Noel glanced down at his shirt, stained with blood dripping from his chin.

“All of this.”

She jumped off the car roof, landing neatly on her heels, and strutted across the parking lot toward them. With every step she took, it was like space warped under her footsteps. The parking lot cement slid under every press of her shoes as the fragile memory world that Noel and Apollo had created for themselves crumbled under her heels.

Susan had always been stronger in the Outlie than they ever had.

“Anyway,” she said, “I’m here to talk.”

“I can see,” said Apollo stiffly.

Susan ignored her son. “I’m here to talk about Griffin–and about you, Noel.”

Noel stared at her. Now that she was standing in front of him, Noel could see that he had grown. He was taller than her, even with her heels carrying her up to his line of sight.

“Can you wait until we’re done?” snapped Apollo. “I’m trying to settle something.”

Susan sniffed. “Your little disagreement can wait a second, okay sweetie?”

“Disagreement? Oh, fuck off, Mom–”

And then her eyes were narrowing, and Noel felt the air crackle around them as the scene fell away, the Denny’s parking lot splintering under the pure power of her mind.

The white fog of the Outlie was creeping in.

“You do know that I’ve spent the last three hours in council after Noel bonded with that abandoned scout dog, right?” she said. Her smile fell so that the angles of her cheekbones and the slight creases in her skin collapsed into cold edges.

Noel felt his stomach roll as Susan turned to her son, at last looking at him properly.

“Really, Apollo,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned that your brother murdered one of our own in cold blood?”

Apollo’s face, still twisted in fury and indignation, flinched.

Apollo knew. He knew that Griffin had killed a Tourist. He had probably felt it as soon as Noel had entered the Outlie, the dog’s memories carried with him. It came with everything else-all the events that Noel had gone through recently, all the fresh memories following him like a train.

Apollo’s eyes, dark and sharp, snapped closed. “What are they going to do to him?” he asked quietly.

Noel felt his fear. Tourists didn’t have a concept of prison like humans did.

“That’s up for debate,” said Susan. “But I doubt they’re going to arrest him on the spot,” she added cheerfully. “I’ll come down to meet you guys first, and then we’ll decide what’s going to happen to him.”

Noel felt his world spinning. Griff. “Susan–” he choked out, but she cut him off again.

“And while we’re at it, you do know your brain is disintegrating, right, Noel?”

What?

“What, is this news to you?” Susan asked, smiling. “Here’s a quick question: what do you see around you?”

She gestured to the mist that was curling around them, seeping through the shattered memory of the parking lot. The white fog that was the Outlie, the mess of memories and shapes and forms that wheedled their way into Noel’s mind and faded his own thoughts.

“Fog,” said Noel.

Apollo’s eyebrows twitched. Susan let out a snort.

“Pff, fog,” she said. “Great. That’s that, then.”

“What’s what?” Noel asked, but this close in the Outlie, he could feel her own mind.

The Outlie, to her, was crystal clear. Blue and transparent, the forms of others as clear as if they were at the bottom of a glacial lake. There was no fog, no loss of autonomy. No missing, manipulated memories.

That was what he was supposed to be seeing.

Noel, reeling with this mysterious piece of the puzzle, suddenly felt dizzy.

“No wonder, you’re broken,” Susan said, somewhere far-off in Noel’s whirling mind. “Whoever heard of a retrofit calling the helpline to reach the Outlie? Crazy. If you can’t contact someone with intent in the Outlie, that’s a sign of synapse disintegration.”

Apollo had been frozen as his mother rattled off Noel’s diagnosis, but now he took a sharp intake of breath.

“Anyway,” sighed Susan, “you’ll need surgery, Noel.”

“What–”

“You know why. Surgery. Maybe a new body. Maybe no body.” She gestured at Apollo. “Something like him, huh? Dead body, living brain?”

“Mom–” Apollo choked out, but Susan cut him off with a wave.

“When are you going to arrive?” Noel asked slowly, careful to reign in every feeling of horror and panic, trying to drown his instinct to run. She would hear it. She would hear it if he started screaming in his head.

“I dunno, a day?” Susan replied, checking her designer watch like she needed the time. “Be sure to touch back with the Outlie tonight, then we’ll know where you are. We won’t be able to find you otherwise.”

“Oh,” said Noel.

Susan glanced back up, and flashed Noel a smile. It was her smile, sweet and maternal and every bit Susan Wells. It was celery and kale snacks and fishing their bikes out of lakes and Band-Aids on their knees.

She was really, after all these years, the only person who had ever smiled at Noel like that.

“Contact us in the Outlie when you get to Nelson,” said Susan. “Then we’ll find Griff, and you.”

***

When Noel finally came back to earth, the rumble of the engine carried him through to consciousness. He faded in a bit at a time, the white edges flushing into color, the smell of gasoline and wet dog in his nose.

Griffin was driving. He was hunched over, clutching the wheel with bright white knuckles, leaning forward to look up through the windshield at the sky. Noel followed his gaze; it was blue and clear, dusted with clouds.

“Out of Penticton, huh?” Noel said quietly, his voice scratching against his throat. “How long was I out for?”

Griffin glanced down at him. He wore his stress like his brother, all pent up in his eyebrows, creasing his forehead. His dark circles stood out more, too, half-moons of blue under narrow, darting eyes.

“Two hours,” Griffin grunted.

“Oh.”

The scenery was getting greener now, with mountains rising in the distance. Nelson was close, or closer than it had been. A bastion of civilization. A place where they could drop the truck with a local government that had enough integrity to be trusted with it.

At least, that was what he had told Griffin they were doing. Noel had wanted the Tourist dropship to meet them there, with Susan and her crew, to take the weapons away.

But now, Noel didn’t know what he wanted.

Tiny was drowsing on top of him. Noel shifted up in the seat, pushing a slobbery jaw aside with his alien hand. Unlike his human hand, he didn’t feel any texture against it; it slid smoothly along Tiny’s back. It rumbled sleepily.

“Thanks for driving,” said Noel.

“I’ve gotten used to your narcolepsy by now,” Griffin muttered, downshifting as they rounded a corner. “Do you normally pass out after you get blown, or am I just that good?”

Noel was still feeling Apollo’s fist on his face, but he had to let out a smile. “I don’t make a habit out of it.”

Griffin let out a disdainful snort, and looked up through the windshield at the sky. Keeping an eye out.

The memory of the spaceship, visible through gas station store windows from Tiny’s perspective, rocketed through Noel’s mind.

“They’re looking for us,” said Tiny.

“I know.”

“So, what’s our plan again?” asked Griffin suddenly. “Once we get to Nelson, I mean?”

Noel didn’t know what the plan was.

This wasn’t a drop-off mission, that wasn’t its purpose anymore. This was a set-up. Griffin had killed a Tourist for money, and now the Tourists knew. They were coming for him. Susan was coming for him. They were going to Nelson: the end of their road and the end of the line. And Noel was delivering him into their hands.

Noel closed his eyes.

“Pawn it off on city council,” Noel said. “And then we get out of there.”

Griffin grunted. “Just like good Samaritans, huh?”

Noel shrugged. “We don’t really have a choice.”

It sounded like an admission to himself. He didn’t have a choice, not with the Tourists coming. Not with Susan backing Noel into a corner with a diagnosis and a conviction.

Noel didn’t know what he could do about it. He was faced with too many immovable forces, closing in on them the closer they got to the mountains.

Whatever he was going to do, he knew that he was running out of time to do it.

To be continued in Chapter 5.