Traveling at ferocious speeds made it impossible for Ari to get any sleep. Just when he drifted away, the train slowed as it wound through sharp turns before jolting faster again. Erratic movements caused its rusty metal to screech so loudly that it pierced his ears. The air grew so frigid that any corner of his blanket exposing the slightest bit of him forced him to shiver wildly. The wind was so grizzly at times that it almost tore his blanket away when he did manage to fall asleep.
Each time he emerged from under the covers, he was in a different landscape. Snow-capped mountains transformed into lush forests of a wild frontier stretching miles beyond sight. Pastel-colored canyons of an endless desert became rolling hills of emerald that gently rose at his flanks. At one point, everything vanished when the train was engulfed by a tunnel so long that he wondered if he would ever return to the surface. He cupped both hands over his ears in the wake of the deafening echoes of its passageway, losing his breath before catching it repeatedly. In its darkness, he grew terrified for his life, screaming clamorously even though no one could hear him until suddenly, blinding daylight rescued him.
When his eyes adapted to the sun's might, he removed the protection of his hands to discover plains of amber, where small towns lurked beside vineyards, lakes, and groves. By then, it was so hot that Ari threw his blanket into a gust of wind that snatched it away from sight.
The dry heat proved formidable. He ripped off his jacket only to become chilled by a shrill vortex of wind coming at him head-on. He wrapped himself into his coat again, but the sun's radiance penetrated through to his skin. When another tunnel swallowed him up, his breathing became so shallow that he was gasping for air. Ari closed his eyes and crouched into trembling legs, disoriented from the endless questions that spiraled in his head.
No more of his mother's steady guidance through another day, mending excruciating migraines or the woes of school. No more of his father's witty quips to pull him through each moment of uncertainty. When he realized he might not see Zoie again, he felt hope drain from his body. He didn't understand why this was happening, least of all to him. Hundreds of miles from home, he was alone, traveling into the unknown as he fled from an enemy he was warned about, but never met. When the darkness suddenly lifted again, he opened his eyes, stunned by what he saw.
Life everywhere. Glazed buildings scorched his eyes from the powerful sunlight that beamed through their reflection. Thousands of vehicles covered every inch of many roadways like an army of ants marching in opposing formations. Highways jumped to either side of him, and colossal bridges bowed to a majestic skyline that glimmered in the hazy distance. An enormous sign hung above an artery of freeways, greeting drivers as they crossed a state line.
Welcome to California.
The train crawled through the city, slowing as it curved through a vast suburban expanse. Its twisting steeped as it rushed into an industrial wasteland of factories and warehouses. When its pace slowed to a near halt, Ari quickly disembarked, afraid of being detected by one of the laborers of the freight depot it passed.
With his backpack firmly in place, he trekked for miles, passing through boisterous slums where he appeared most desperately out of place. Unceasing streams of pedestrians strutted past him, carrying out their resplendent lives in technicolored clothing, oblivious of his concealed struggle. Cars of a bustling morning commute rushed by, their muted rumble a stark contrast to the thunderous roar of the vehicles in Colorado. Some of them hummed along so quietly that he found himself dodging cars as he crossed extra-wide West Coast Boulevards.
It seemed like even the outskirts of the massive city were alive and teeming, Yet no matter where he was, Ari was somehow invisible. It was the first time he'd ever stepped outside the small town he called home. He was without money, food, and water, and the sun had been pummeling down on him for so long that dust was clinging to the sweat that covered his body. He was so parched that he felt another headache coming on, requiring him to take frequent breaks to make it as far as a mile. Still, he pressed on, slogging his way from the lowlands of a boundless valley to bronze hills that overlooked a smoggy distance.
By the time Ari found the building matching the address on the note in his hand, his legs begged for rest. When he discovered a callbox beside the front doors, he browsed through a list of unfamiliar names, searching for the one he was instructed to find. After informing the resident at #317 of his arrival, he waited for a response that didn't come. Instead, the entrance unlocked itself, and after wavering a moment, he warily crept inside, lurking through an empty hallway to find a way upstairs.
He found an elevator that delivered him to the third floor, and when he saw the door he was looking for, he noticed it was already split open. Just as he was about to knock, it swung away, and an aged woman with leathery dark skin and wandering charcoal hair stood in the doorway.
"You're Ari, I take it?" said the peculiar woman, eyeing him up and down with delicate caution as she slid a pair of glasses to the edge of her nose.
"I'm Jean. Come inside, you poor thing."
When he entered her apartment, he was surrounded by antiques and trinkets from a different era. Being in her home felt like stepping back in time. Old, discolored photographs hung from walls whose paint looked like it had been chipping away for some time. Used, outdated plates and cutlery were scattered around her home, and vintage clothing covered gritty furniture beside an ancient-looking computer confined to a desk in the corner.
Jean guided Ari to a battered, lumpy couch, sitting him in front of a worn-down coffee table in the center of the room. At her insistence, he kicked off his shoes on the floor beside him, and when he reclined further into the sofa, it sunk lower, draining what little energy he had left as she spied on him through the corner of her glasses from a distance.
"That train ride must have been so awful. I can't even stomach commercial trains anymore. They always find a way to pack as many people into those tiny things as they can," said Jean, rambling away as she scoured through cupboards in a kitchen that looked like it had seen better days.
It was clear she didn't know he'd just hitched an unsanctioned ride on a freight train. But it was even more apparent that she spoke with Dr. Simmons following his departure, although how much she knew about the events that brought him to her remained deeply shadowed. He detailed the room as if the setting held clues to the knowledge she undoubtedly possessed. As he looked around, he wondered why, of all people, Jean was the person he was sent to find.
"You must be starving!"
"I'm okay," said Ari, accepting the idea of food as a dissatisfactory compliment to a thirst that had him too feeble to think coherently.
Suddenly, the capricious sounds coming from the kitchen stopped unexpectedly, and when Jean emerged from the room, she did so with a brimming glass of water in her hand. She sat it down in front of him, and after smiling at her generosity, Ari waited for her to leave his presence before he emptied the glass in one effortless motion. He was unaware of the dismayed look on her face, a symptom of someone who didn't like what she heard.
"Honey, if you're going to be in my house, you'll eat and eat well," said Jean with an oversized grin as she peeked at him down her nose.
"I'm going to make us grilled cheese sandwiches."
After a grueling trip that brought him so far from home, she surveyed the boy and his needs in a motherly fashion. Filling in Ari's vacant words, Jean gave life to gossip about every neighbor on her floor as she dug through a sink full of used coffee mugs and cookware crusted over by dry remnants of old food. But Ari could barely hear her. The sound of ceramic and metal clattering against each other echoed in the kitchen as she worked with minimal labor to clear a space, arranging lunch for just the two of them.
"So I told her, if she insists on having so many questionable guests step into this building, perhaps she should re-evaluate the company she keeps."
While she prepared a meal, she stole frequent glimpses of Ari as he innocently sat in the living room, taking in the view of her home. He couldn't keep up with her drifting through every subject he wasn't the least bit privy to, yet he fervently nodded up and down each time their eyes met. The instant her spontaneous cooking afforded an idle moment, she returned to Ari, and only then could he see what kind of a woman she truly was. The person beneath thick layers of formally buttoned wool and sophisticated elegance.
Jean Wilkins was a refined, no-nonsense black woman with narrow eyes that hid behind enormous glasses and humble gestures. When she looked at him, it was as if she could see right through him. Every detail of Ari was on full display in front of her sharp, knowing eyes, which no living soul could hide from. Her kindness formed soft creases around the edges of her lips next to wrinkles that outlined her subtle expressions. The ways she moved through her home were deliberate and exacting, a methodical creature of routine and comfort thrown about by anything that rearranged her organized disarray.
It grew apparent why he sought refuge in her care, but it didn't explain her connection to Dr. Simmons. As she droned on about every subject void of pertinence as to why, Ari avidly waited for a more touching subject to arise, anything that would explain why he was there. Just when he thought her words would wander into grave importance, she shifted the topic again to avoid what was indeed on her mind. Meanwhile, every one of his questions hung in the air, wilting in thoughts saturated by curiosity.
"Helping my patients is what gave me purpose. It's what kept me going."
She spoke about her younger years as a nurse like they were recent, recalling vivid details about each moment of her past, however obscure. She outlined the events that led her from Colorado to California, and the moment she described her work at the same medical institution where Ari had visited since the accident, he perked up, his eyes round with intrigue.
Finally, she was speaking with relevance. Maybe what she had to say would supply him with adequate insight following the most significant turn in his life. Perhaps she would explain what had happened miles away from where they were and, most importantly, why he was on the run.
"That's how you know Dr. Simmons?" Asked Ari, sliding down to the edge of his seat, unable to withdraw any more of his daunting questions.
"Oh yes. He and I know each other quite well, in fact. We've worked together for years," she explained, tidying her way from the living room back into the kitchen.
"I was one of the best nurses east of the Rockies. That's why they hired me. Of course, they pay lavishly for the kind of work they do. That's why I stayed there for as long as I did, so far away from my family."
She articulated her role at the institute and every facet of her time there. A modest woman, she spoke about her professional relationships with heart, as if they were the focus of her work. As if the lives of her patients mattered more than what she did.
"Top of the line in medical technology," declared Jean, cradling a sizzling pan of buttery bread and cheese in an area pluming with heavy smoke.
"There's no place like Nuvo in the entire world. The things that they can do are truly miraculous. They're good people with enough money to boot."
"Then why are they after me?" asked Ari.
Suddenly, her home stiffened with silence. His question surprised Jean so much that she nearly dropped the plates she pulled from the cupboard. She promptly stopped what she was doing, stepping into the living room at a snail's pace with a worried look splashed across her face. She inched slowly toward Ari, drawing in a burdened breath of air, peering around the room to ensure no one could hear their conversation, even whispering as if anyone could.
"After the car crash, your parents signed off on an experimental operation. What they didn't know is that your doctors never expected you to survive the procedure," said Jean, seating herself onto an extra wide chair across the way from Ari amid the enticing scent of food.
"They expected me to die?"
"They didn't expect you to live. There's a difference."
Ari was astounded. With all the lingering questions raging in his mind, here was a woman who not only knew of the institution that spared him from death, but she knew about his life, too. Before her, no one would offer an answer to the begging questions left unanswered for too long. Suddenly, he was in the company of someone who knew far more than he would've ever imagined, appearing to know more about him than himself.
"If they didn't expect the operation to work, why did they do it?"
"It's complicated, Ari. You were in a coma, and they didn't have a better option. I was there when it happened, you know. No procedure had ever been done like it before. It was the first of its kind."
"But why are they after me?"
Suddenly, her realigned composure broke apart again. Jean flew through the room, hushing Ari with an avalanche of unease. She rushed to one of the windows to gaze gloomily at the world outside. From window to window, she whipped open the curtains, detailing the ground below, and it was only then he questioned her sanity. Or maybe, perhaps most precariously, what she knew justified an appropriate cause for concern. Whatever it was brightened Ari's superstitions too, although he was far from the only place where anyone knew him.
"I don't know, to study you perhaps. Who knows? The only thing that matters is that you don't speak a word of this to anyone. Do you understand?"
"But why?" whimpered Ari, bending his legs underneath himself as he shuffled around on the tiny corner of the furniture he occupied.
Jean paused, searching for the right words. She was undoubtedly appraising the level of understanding that a 12-year-old could hold on his own as she rested against the window sill with self-restraint bearing down on her shoulders. When the right words struck her mind, she rose to her feet, descending from the powerfully lit opening of the walls. Stepping carefully closer to where he was, she looked at Ari differently than before. Uniquely different from the way anyone had ever looked at him.
"Because the world isn't ready for someone like you. Everyone's belief system is too fragile to accept what they don't understand. Most people live in fear, afraid of anything that might invalidate what they believe."
She separated from the foreboding ambiance that enveloped them both and became spellbound with intrigue, gazing into the air as she evaluated the universe and everything it held. It was a moment when Ari could finally see it – The graceful woman of grounded insight becoming a keeper of objective knowledge. A scientist at heart, surveying something profound he couldn't fully comprehend without help.
"Your very existence would cause people to re-evaluate what they think they know. Within you is the difference between right and wrong. The definition of what a soul is. Even the answer to what it means to be human."
Standing before him, she gently positioned a flattened hand underneath his chin, raising him to look wondrously into his kind, inquisitive soul. In her eyes, it wasn't just the secrets she kept that electrified him. She knew something pivotal about Ari, and although he didn't know what it was, he could feel it. Her hardening expression was more than a result of the mysterious significance surrounding him.
It said that he was someone important.
"Within you is something that could change the world, Ari."
"What do you mean within me? I don't understand."
"And it's better that you don't honey. Those people are dangerous. The less you know, the better off you'll be."
Speculating what she meant by danger, he then realized he hadn't actually witnessed anything remotely dangerous. Whether the doctor's grim warnings or her concealed knowledge, he couldn't find a way to link two matching sets of messages with tangible evidence that supported a rational conclusion.
He thought back to his final moment at Nuvo, questioning if anyone was really ever after him. What if what was happening was nothing more than a misunderstanding? It would explain far more than the ideas he imparted his memories with. After all, Ari wasn't someone important. He was just a normal boy entangled in dark events far from ordinary, yet the most prominent question remained.
"Why are they after me?" Ari asked again with stronger conviction.
This time, he could see the answer dangling in her eyes. Her mouth moved to form a response, hesitation trembling along the lines of her face. He knew she was about to say something new, undoubtedly what he desired to know all along. Then suddenly, a dexterous knock on the door interrupted them, causing Jean to lurch into the air in surprise.
She dragged a pair of loose slippers across the floor, slow and vigilant, as she made her way to the front door. She lowered her head to peek through a hole, allowing her to see through to the hallway outside her apartment. As Jean leaned in closer, she was startled by what she discovered on the other side of the door—several armed men huddled closely together. She was sure she hadn't seen them before but knew who they were and why they were at her home.
They were from the institution.
They were there for Ari.