“I suppose the easiest answer would be to say that this place is my life’s work, the culmination of years’ worth of research and study. More than anything, however, this is a building full of people, some of whom I would very much like to introduce you to today, if you’d care to join me?”
He lifted an arm, gesturing toward the long, gray hallway beyond where they stood.
She wanted to ask so much. Why now, after all these years? What had kept him away, why hadn’t she ever heard anything about him?
She also wanted to ask about her mother. It had been dangling around the back recesses of her mind since that day at the park, though she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself—didn’t want to admit that she had been drawn here, to this building in part by the base desire to hear Richard talk about her mom. This man had known her mother—and no one knew Everly’s mother. But how do you ask someone you barely know what might be the most important questions of your life?
Before she was given the chance to formulate the right words, Richard cleared his throat. “Come,” he said to Everly, already walking away. “I have someone I want you to meet.” He gestured again to one of the gray doors down the hall—not the first door, but the second in a long string of tightly shut doors—and Everly, deciding questions could come later, followed as he walked over, and then paused, in front of the indicated door.
“A woman lives here—a woman who has gone through a great deal in her life. Her name is Lois,” he said without conviction, “and she has been in this building for a long time, nearly as long as I have. Be careful with her. Her mind is fragile these days.”
Not knowing what to say, Everly simply nodded, wondering why Richard wanted her to meet this woman, whoever she was.
Richard pushed open the gray door and stepped inside. Following him, Everly found herself in a very small, sparsely furnished gray apartment.
The space seemed to consist of three rooms: a cramped bedroom that Everly could see behind a partially opened door to her right; a meager kitchenette in the corner with only a microwave, a stove with two burners, and a mini fridge balanced precariously on the countertop; and a sparse living room that consisted of nothing but four blank walls surrounding a single gray couch, on which sat a very old woman.
Everly supposed this was Lois. She looked to be about her grandfather’s age, but her eyes read as being far more ancient. When she saw Everly and Richard enter the room, Lois struggled a bit to sit up straighter. She was outfitted in scrubs that were nearly identical to those worn by Jamie and Richard, except that hers were a very bland shade of gray.
Her hair was completely white, and her eyes were a cataract-coated blue that momentarily caught Everly off guard as they looked at her. Pierced her. A shiver shot unbidden through Everly, and she swallowed thickly before following Richard over to the woman’s side.
“Good morning, Lois,” Richard said, his voice bright and cheery. “How are you doing today?”
Lois didn’t seem to hear him. Her focus was still caught on Everly, eerie in her unwavering intensity. Richard gestured for Everly to move closer, offering an encouraging smile.
“Lois, I want you to meet my granddaughter. This is Everly.”
Everly offered the woman a weak smile, lifting a single hand in greeting. “Hi,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”
The woman started blinking rapidly, and her breathing became ragged. “You,” she said in a thin, shaky voice. “You . . . you’re . . .” She trailed off, blinking faster still. Blink blink blink. “What did you say your name was again?”
Everly gulped, rubbing her hands over the gooseflesh that had risen on her arms. “I’m Everly,” she said softly. “Everly Tertium. I’m Richard’s granddaughter.” She gestured to Richard, hoping that might help.
The woman’s gaze cleared ever so slightly, and then her eyes widened, her face bleached suddenly of all color.
“You,” she said uneasily. “You’re—you’re not supposed to be here.” She met Everly’s eyes, her expression pained. “It’s not your time.”
“I—” Everly took a step back, suddenly afraid of the elderly woman in front of her, unsure what was happening or why she felt so wrong.
Richard hurried forward and sat down on the gray couch beside Lois, gently touching her shoulder. “Lois,” he said calmly. “Lois, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
Lois was still shaking, but she turned to look at Richard, leaning her slight frame into his and sobbing uncontrollably.
“Richard, oh Richard,” she gasped between sobs. “I thought, I thought . . .”
“I know, Lois. It’s going to be okay. I promise.” Richard turned his head up suddenly. “Everly, go look in the cabinet over the sink in the kitchen. You should find a small bottle of pills. Bring it here, please, as well as a glass of water. Quickly,” he said as she hesitated, and Everly rushed over to the cabinet he had indicated, hastily finding the pills and bringing them back. Richard took the bottle and shook out a pill, offering it up to Lois, who obediently swallowed the medicine. She immediately began to settle down, not crying anymore but still leaning into Richard’s shoulder. As she tilted her head down, eyes closed, Everly thought she glimpsed a thin, silvery line running up the back of Lois’s neck, disappearing into her sparse, white hair, but before Everly could look too closely, Lois shifted, sinking deeper into Richard’s side as she fell asleep.
Easing Lois onto the opposite cushion, Richard extricated himself from her grip and edged off the couch. He stood up and walked slowly over to Everly. Then, he signaled for them to leave the apartment and went back out into the gray hallway. After closing Lois’s door, Richard turned around to face Everly, wearing a weary smile. He leaned against the wall next to the door, looking older than he probably was for the first time since Everly had met him. She waited for him to speak, to explain what had just happened. He looked up at her with tired eyes but managed a smile.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That—Lois is a woman who is very easily distressed, and who has lived through her fair share of difficulties. I didn’t expect the intensity of her reaction, and I am sorry if she scared you.”
“She didn’t scare me,” Everly said, thinking back on what had happened. “More unsettled, I guess. What made her so upset? Did I do something wrong?”
“Wrong?” Richard shook his head. “No, not wrong. None of that was your fault, not at all. But I needed you to meet her, and her you, before I could begin to explain . . . anything else.” He sighed deeply, looking down. Despite his apparent exhaustion, however, Everly sensed an undercurrent of energy in his posture that she was struggling to reconcile with their interaction with Lois moments before.
“Okay,” Everly said slowly. “So, explain. Why did you bring me here? What is this place?”
Richard met her eyes, and there it was again: that strange energy pulsing through him. “I need you to know that Lois is a very dear friend of mine. I’ve known her since the beginning of all of this. But she is only a fraction, the smallest piece of anything here. And she was only the beginning.”
“What do you mean?” Everly pressed. “The beginning of what?”
“Everly,” Richard said, “the people here are special. My work here is special. It’s all connected, and I promise that someday this will all make sense. What you need to know right now is that you are an important part of this.”
“Me?” Everly asked, dumbfounded and barely able to follow Richard’s frenzied whispers. “What do I have to do with anything?”
“Everything,” Richard said, then shook his head. “I promise you, this will all make sense eventually. For right now, what I need you to understand is that Lois is only one of many people who are kept here in this building.”
The word he used—kept—snagged in Everly’s mind. Like they were possessions or pets owned by someone. She stared at Richard, trying desperately to understand.
“Why are they here?”
“They’re here to change the world.”
But Everly didn’t hear her grandfather’s response. Her mind had fallen backward again—or forward, so hard to tell. Standing in front of Richard—of a man who looked an awful lot like Richard, only with brown hair instead of gray, only with no wrinkles or age spots, only with brighter eyes. Standing in that building. Or a building an awful lot like that building—only with no people in gray apartments and no woman sitting frozen behind a front desk and no scientists with wide smiles and fancy gadgets.
Everly blinked and she fell further, further, further.
Blink blink blink blink blink.
