This Town Is a Nightmare Page 3

  “Yeah, what’s up with the air quotes?” Arthur said.

  The boy just glowered at them. Beacon could see they weren’t going to get anywhere with him.

  “Whatever,” Beacon said. “Just keep your dog away from us. Come on, guys.”

  Beacon turned around. Everleigh gave the dog one last scratch behind the ears before she followed her brother. Arthur jogged up on the other side as they trudged toward the junkyard exit.

  Everleigh looked over her shoulder, then dropped her voice to a whisper.

  “Hey, are you okay?” she asked Beacon.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Beacon said.

  “Did you get enough sleep last night?” Arthur asked.

  Beacon snorted. “Oh, I see what’s happening here. You think I’m going crazy.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Everleigh said.

  “But you were thinking it. I know what I saw, Everleigh. This is the same as that time I swore I saw Jane in the water back in Driftwood Harbor. No one believed me, but I was right then, too.”

  “Fine, okay,” Everleigh said. “I trust you.”

  Just then, Beacon saw white-blond curls through the wooden front gates of the junkyard. A sliver of ice went through him. He bolted for the gates, but when he got there, the girl was gone.

  “What happened?” Everleigh panted, catching up to him.

  “Did you see a Sov?” Arthur asked, his eyes darting around.

  Beacon swallowed hard. “No. I—I thought I saw someone I knew.”

  “What?” Everleigh said. “Who do you know who lives in New York?”

  “Someone from back home,” Beacon lied. “From Los Angeles. You wouldn’t know them. Come on, let’s go.”

  They began the walk home. Beacon craned his head back, looking for Jane one last time. Everleigh might have said she trusted him, but he was starting to wonder if he even trusted himself.

  * * *

  ...............................

  Beacon used to love rainy days. Rain was a rare occurrence in LA, so it was kind of like Christmas morning when it happened. He loved watching a movie or reading a book by the fireplace, comforted by the knowledge that tomorrow would be beautiful once again.

  Now, he would have killed for a nice sunny day. Not only had it been rainy more days than not the last few weeks, but this apartment was wet, cold, and downright miserable.

  Beacon shivered underneath his thin blanket. He caught a whiff of something foul and realized it was his own BO. They’d escaped Driftwood Harbor with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and since they didn’t have any money to buy more, they’d had to wear the same thing every day. Not only that, but they were forced to sleep fully clothed. Things were starting to get pretty funky around here.

  Next to him, Everleigh and Arthur woke up, groaning. Bullet-size raindrops struck the bedroom window like they were trying to wash the apartment away. Wind whistled through a crack in the window, drowning out the sound of water dripping from the ceiling into the old saucepan they’d placed in the middle of the bedroom carpet.

  Outside the room, Beacon heard the shower turn off. A minute later, his dad came in, pulling on a suit jacket over his wrinkled button-down shirt.

  “You’re going out?” Everleigh asked, sitting up. Her teeth chattered.

  “Yep! I have an interview today. Have you seen my briefcase?”

  “In the kitchen,” Arthur said. His fingers trembled where they clutched his blanket.

  “You have an interview?” Everleigh said. “That’s great!”

  “Won’t pay much. It’s an analyst position at a local community college, but it’s something to keep the roof over our heads. See you kids later! Stay safe.”

  “Good luck!” Arthur called.

  He was almost out the bedroom door when Everleigh said, “Wait!”

  She scooped up something from the floor and ran over. She held out his tie. Her dad felt along his chest absently, then chuckled. “Oh, whoops! Thank you, Leigh.”

  Then he was gone.

  The apartment door slammed a moment later. Beacon frowned at the spot where his dad had been standing. His dad never went anywhere without his tie. And he never called Everleigh “Leigh.” That was strictly Jasper’s nickname for her.

  Beacon jumped up, the blanket pooling around his feet.

  “Where are you going?” Arthur asked.

  Beacon grabbed his sweater and shoes and ran for the door. “I forgot I have to do something. Be back soon.”

  He ran down the stairs two at a time and skidded out of the apartment building. He shielded his eyes and squinted through the onslaught of rain. Was he too late? Had his dad taken a cab?

  Then he saw the swing of a briefcase two streetlights down. His dad was crossing the street. Beacon ran. He weaved dangerously in and out of traffic, half blinded by the glare of headlights and rain. His clothes were completely soaked through, and he was sure that once the adrenaline wore off he would be the coldest he’d ever been in his life. But right now, energy pumped through his veins. He distantly knew that he was acting strange, that he’d have a lot of explaining to do when he got back to the apartment. But none of that mattered right now. He just had to see where his dad was going.

  Ever since the homeless boy had made that comment about his “dad,” he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was off. It made him think about other strange things his dad had said and done in the last three weeks. Take schoolwork, for example. Sure, they were on the run and traditional school was out of the question. But it was unusual that his dad hadn’t forced them to do schoolwork at the apartment. He hadn’t asked them to do any chores, or do anything, really. He’d pretty much left them to their own devices.

  Then there were the PB&Js. Beacon had walked into the kitchen one night as his dad was preparing their dinner and had seen him spreading one slice of bread with jam and the other with peanut butter. Then he’d mashed the two slices together. Beacon had only ever seen his dad put the jam directly on top of the peanut butter. When Beacon asked him why he’d decided to do them that way, his dad had seemed confused for half a second before he’d made a joke about livening things up a bit, since things were so boring lately.

  He’d flashed his CIA badge to get Beacon’s board back, slept through Beacon screaming in his sleep, let them roam an unfamiliar city alone.

  There had been countless other things, too, too insignificant to mention. But added up, those small things mattered.

  He had to see where his dad was going.

  Beacon elbowed his way through the crowd. His dad turned around suddenly, and Beacon dove behind a car parked on the street. His breaths came hard and fast. Had his dad seen him? But when he peeked over the hood, his dad was on the move again.

  Beacon was more careful now, keeping close to the buildings, hiding behind lampposts and hot-dog carts and people when he could.

  Finally, his dad entered a building. Beacon jogged up to the steel structure and peered in through the rain-splattered glass.

  The place was full of construction workers in yellow vests and hard hats putting up framing, pouring concrete, carrying supplies. Why was his dad here? Was this the community college?

  Through the glass, he saw his dad walking with a tall, brawny redheaded man in a suit toward an elevator at the back of the room. Beacon couldn’t help thinking that they looked like they knew each other. His dad punched a button next to the elevator. The doors opened, and they stepped inside. When the doors closed behind them, Beacon entered the building. The buzz of drills and bang of hammers came into sharp relief.

  “Excuse me.” Beacon tapped one of the construction workers on the shoulder. He spun around and frowned.

  “Hey, kid, you can’t be in here. Skedaddle.”

  “Okay, sorry. Just one quick question,” Beacon said.
“Is this the community college?”

  “Pardon me?” The construction worker was looking at Beacon as if he had three heads.

  “Is this place going to end up being a community college?” Beacon clarified. “Once you’re done building it?”

  “None of your business, kid. Now scram.”

  “How about upstairs?” Beacon persisted. “Maybe there’s one upstairs? Or offices, even?”

  The construction worker shook his head. “Get out of here, before I call the cops.”

  Beacon briefly thought about charging across the room for the elevator, but he didn’t even know which floor his dad was on. Besides, he’d probably just end up getting tackled.

  He turned around and left. The rain fell so hard, it ricocheted off the cars and pavement. But Beacon didn’t feel it.

  He supposed it was possible the college was under construction, or that the interview was being held off campus. But he didn’t think that was the case. His dad was lying.

  There was something going on. He just had to figure out what.

  4

  “Wake up!” Beacon shook Everleigh’s arm. She groaned and pulled a pillow over her head. Beacon yanked it off. “Ev, wake up.”

  She bolted up suddenly. Hair that had escaped her ponytail stuck to the drool on her cheek. “What’s going on? Are the Sov here?”

  “Shhh! And no. Emergency YAT meeting.”

  “What? How come?” she asked.

  “I’ll explain everything in a minute. Just meet me in the kitchen.”

  Beacon woke up Arthur next, and in seconds, they were all seated around the folding kitchen table, the moonlight struggling in through the grime-coated windows.

  Beacon sat at the head of the table and steepled his fingers on the surface.

  “Thank you all for joining me,” he began.

  Everleigh snorted.

  “What?” Beacon said.

  “Nothing. Hey, can’t we turn on a light? This is weird sitting in the dark.”

  “No, it might wake up Dad.”

  “Shouldn’t he be here?” Arthur said. “I thought he’s part of YAT now?”

  “No. This meeting is about him,” Beacon said.

  That got everyone’s attention.

  On the wet walk back to the apartment that morning, Beacon had run through every possible explanation for his dad’s lie. But everything just wasn’t adding up, and the more he’d thought about it, the more sure he’d been that something was going on. He’d run the last few blocks home and burst into the apartment, shouting about an emergency YAT meeting. But his words had died on his lips. His dad had been standing at the door, shaking the rain off his wet jacket. Turned out he’d taken a cab home. Beacon had had to do a lot of backpedaling, involving a hasty excuse about a suspicious-looking pigeon, but even then he got the distinct impression that his dad was onto him. After that, he’d stuck to him like glue, and Beacon hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Everleigh and Arthur alone for the rest of the night.

  “Okay, so Dad’s been acting weird lately,” Beacon started. “I tried to look past it, because I can tell you guys think I’m going crazy, and honestly, I just didn’t want to believe there was anything wrong. I even tried to put it out of my head when that kid at the junkyard said he didn’t trust our ‘dad.’ Like, what kind of thing was that to say? Then yesterday Dad forgot his tie.”

  “He’s had a lot on his mind lately,” Everleigh said.

  “He’s never forgotten his tie before. And then he called you Leigh.”

  Everleigh shrugged. Even she couldn’t deny that was weird.

  “It just wasn’t adding up,” Beacon said. “So I followed him to his interview.”

  “I knew it!” Arthur said. “I knew you were lying about where you went when you ran out of here like that!”

  “Shhh!” Beacon hissed. “Just listen. He said he was going to an interview for a job at a community college, right? But he went to this weird building south of here that was still under construction. He was talking to some guy, and it didn’t look like the first time they’d met.”

  “What was the place?” Arthur asked.

  “I don’t know. All I know is that he lied about where he was going.”

  “Why would he do that?” Everleigh asked.

  “This is going to sound out there, but what if”—Beacon looked over his shoulder at the dark hallway that led to the bedroom, then dropped his voice even lower—“what if Dad is still brainwashed?”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Everleigh said, shaking her head. “Dad wouldn’t be on the run with us if he were brainwashed. He’d be hauling us back to Driftwood Harbor, not camping out in this apartment where dreams go to die.”

  “Unless this is what the Sov want,” Beacon said.

  Arthur sat up straighter. “Okay, I can kind of see what you’re saying. The Sov might want to get eyes on the rebel operation.”

  Beacon skipped over the part where Arthur acted like the four of them could in any way constitute a “rebel operation.” He was just happy Arthur was taking him seriously.

  “Exactly,” Beacon said. “Maybe they’re trying to figure out what we know. Maybe they’re trying to figure out why you’re immune to the antidote. Maybe they’re doing it for some other reason we can’t even guess at. All I know is that Dad is acting weird. Even the dog could sense it.”

  “What does any of this have to do with the dog?” Everleigh said.

  “You know how animals can supposedly sense the supernatural and stuff like that?” Beacon said. “I think that’s why it only goes berserk around Dad. It knows something’s off.”

  “You know what this means, right?” Arthur said.

  “We need to Jumpstart him,” Beacon said.

  Everleigh pressed her lips together. She didn’t like it, but she knew he was right. She stood up.

  “So let’s do this, I guess.”

  “Operation Silver Cougar is underway,” Arthur said.

  Beacon knew better than to ask Arthur what cougars had to do with anything, never mind silver ones. As president of YAT, he insisted on giving their operations cool code names, and it was easier to just go with it.

  Arthur retrieved the PJ from the living room, and the kids crept down the dark hall toward the bedroom. The apartment was so small that all four of them shared one room and rotated who got to use the bed. Tonight, the twins’ dad slept on the floor. He lay flat on his back with his hands clasped serenely over his midsection. No blankets, no pillows. But it didn’t seem to bother him. His chest rose and fell evenly under his pinstriped button-down shirt.

  Beacon swallowed, then nodded at Arthur. Arthur clutched the wand of the PJ like a baseball bat and stepped forward hesitantly. The floorboards creaked under the carpet, and he froze. They all watched the twins’ dad mutely, waiting for him to wake up and demand to know what they were doing. But he didn’t stir. Beacon gave Arthur a thumbs-up. Arthur swallowed nervously before he closed the remaining distance and knelt down next to the twins’ dad.

  Arthur brought the trembling PJ first to the twins’ dad’s head, then to his chest, before he finally decided on his belly. He hovered the wand over his abdomen for a moment. Then he took a deep breath, jammed the wand into his side, and pressed the button. Arthur’s body jolted as the shock traveled through the PJ.

  The twins’ dad’s eyes popped open at the same time as his arm struck out and grabbed the wand. He yanked it out of Arthur’s hand so harshly that Arthur stumbled back onto his butt. The twins’ dad sat up as fast as a windup toy. Arthur screamed and scrambled back.

  “What is that thing?” Everleigh said, eyes wide and horrified.

  That’s when Beacon saw it—it wasn’t their dad’s hand that had whipped out and grabbed the PJ from Arthur.

  It was a tentacle.

  The thick, slimy appenda
ge stuck out from a gap in his dad’s button-down shirt, the tip curling around the wand like a snake.

  Beacon’s brain stuttered as he took in the impossible sight.

  “We have to go, NOW!” Arthur cried from the door.

  The twins’ dad sighed dramatically, looking down at his extra appendage.

  “Well, this certainly is an unfortunate turn of events,” he said. All at once, the tentacle slurped back inside his shirt. He tossed the PJ into a corner of the room and then fastened the buttons that had popped open from the tentacle’s ejection. Then he calmly stood up and flattened the creases out of his slacks.

  “D-Dad?” Beacon said, backing up.

  “That’s not Dad, you idiot.” Everleigh snatched up her shoes and moved toward the door without taking her eyes off their dad. Or whoever it was.

  “COME ON!” Arthur cried, jerking on his shoes.

  “I had expected to hang out here a little longer,” their imposter dad said. “But it looks like we’ll be going back to Driftwood Harbor a bit earlier than planned.”

  His face twitched once before his skin went soft and wavy, like a distorted photograph. It all happened fast after that. Bones expanded, shifted, crunched into place. Muscles multiplied, ligaments stretched and reshaped. Skin darkened and smoothed, and hair sprouted across their dad’s bald spot. One minute, he was their dad, and the next, he had shape-shifted into Victor, the leader of the Sovereign alien race.

  Beacon had thought, worst-case scenario, that his dad had been brainwashed by the Sov. But it turned out his dad was a Sov.

  “Run!” Everleigh screamed.

  “That’s what I’ve been saying all along!” Arthur said.

  Beacon grabbed his sneakers and scrambled for the door. At the last minute, he saw the PJ in the corner. It would be a delay he might not be able to afford, but when might they get the chance to make another one? He darted left and scooped up the PJ.

  “Beacon, hurry!” Everleigh screamed from the doorway. There was a clatter behind him just as cold fingers wrapped around his elbow.

  “I’m running for my life here,” Arthur called from the hall. “You might want to try it sometime.”