Deep Blue Secret Read online

  I felt it again, the unexplainable connection between us. Time slowed. I inched towards him, wishing for his lips on mine. His hand lifted gently to my waist, sending a thrill through me in every direction. Never before had I felt the desire to kiss someone so fervently, the divine first kiss I’d always dreamed of.

  There was no trace of resistance left on his face. He leaned towards me and my heart raced. Our faces grew slowly together as I looked from his dazzling eyes to his inviting lips.

  Two bright headlights glared around the corner at the top of the hill, cutting through the darkening sky. I flinched and his gaze broke from mine.

  “That's the shuttle,” he said, his tone almost relieved. His hands fell to his sides.

  I leapt on my toes to reach his smooth face, pressing my lips to his cheek. He gave me half a smile and took a step back.

  “Take care, okay?” His voice was apologetic and genuine with concern as he hurried towards the path.

  “Wait, you're not coming?” I blurted with desperation. He was leaving now and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

  “I'm going to walk. Don't miss the shuttle,” he ordered over his shoulder.

  I watched his silhouette disappear in the shadows and regret washed over me. I had no way to find him again. No phone number, no address, not even his name.

  The shuttle pulled beside me and the door opened. I hesitated glancing from the bus to the path. I could run after him. But I had the feeling he didn't want to be found.

  I conceded to his instructions and boarded the small bus that would transport me to the parking lot across the highway, knowing I didn't have any other options.

  I hugged my rescuer's sweatshirt around me, smelling his scent. He was almost more mysterious now than when he was just a glimpse of a face playing hide-and-seek. How was I supposed to concentrate on anything else now?

  It was dark when I stepped off the shuttle, and pointless to search the quiet parking lot for him while I made my way to the car. But I scanned the lot anyway. Even though deep down I knew he wouldn't be there, I still felt disappointed at his absence.

  I didn't bother to play music driving home. All I wanted to do was relive those few moments I had with him in my mind.

  When I got to my house the night felt never-ending. I tried to be normal, but I just…wasn't. I physically went through the motions of dinner and homework, but my mind wasn't there. I played the encounter at the beach in my head again and again. I tried to focus on the words in my textbook, but all I saw was him; his eyes, his smile, his comforting voice.

  At least there was no sign of the sadness I felt earlier. Today’s crazy spell was definitely the worst one so far, but ever since the mysterious boy pulled me from the ocean, he was all I could think about.

  I was thrilled to be free of the gloomy chains that had imprisoned me, but I still didn’t feel quite like myself. My mind was far away in the clouds.

  I lay on my bed daydreaming and listening to music. For the first time in my life, I drowned myself in sappy love songs. It was exhilarating and painful at the same time. My mind wandered to his tussled hair and the gentle curve of his lips, remembering the moment they almost touched mine.

  Desperate and frustrated, I slammed my hands into the blankets. Would I ever see him again? Was there any chance he was thinking about me too?

  I sat on the bed and examined his sweatshirt. It was the only sure evidence he was real, not some hallucination conjured by a near death experience.

  The black fabric was faded and soft beneath my fingers. Small red stitching marked the holes where the tie was supposed to thread, but the strings were missing. There was a blue, oval-shaped logo in the top corner, a drawing of Huntington pier surrounded by the surf and blue sky.

  I flipped the sweater over and smoothed it on the bed. As if spending time with the sweater brought me somehow closer to its owner. The same logo was printed larger on the back, with brown letters around the edges that read, Huntington Beach on the top and Surf City USA along the bottom.

  I pictured him wearing it, I pictured him smiling in it, I pictured him cradling his arms around me and hugging me in it.

  I hugged the sweatshirt to my chest with a sigh and heard a quiet thump on the bed. A tiny silver flask, maybe an inch or two long, rolled against my leg. It must have fallen from the pocket of his sweater.

  I examined it carefully in my hand. It was cylinder-shaped with a rounded bottom. The metal surface was covered with a pattern of ornate, silver vines; and it had an old feel to it, like it was antique.

  I had to see if there was anything inside. The lid flipped open when I tugged on it gently.

  Suddenly I felt wary and glanced around the room, worried someone was watching, but of course I was alone. I continued my study. There was a strange spout at the top, but it was too small to see inside.

  The only natural thing to do was to see if anything would pour out. I held the tiny flask upside down over my palm and a single drop of liquid dripped from the opening. My eyes widened as I tried to remember to breath. At least I thought it was liquid, but the iridescent substance didn’t feel wet in my hand.

  I ran a finger through the silvery spot on my palm and it vanished into my skin.

  Then it occurred to me. What if this wasn’t something I should let touch me? What if it was poison or something? I stared unmoving at my hand waiting for something to happen. There was just the tiniest tingling sensation and then it was gone.

  I didn’t feel poisoned. In fact I felt super good, like I had a sudden surge of energy. What was the boy doing with this crazy stuff in his pocket anyway?

  I pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt up my arms and covered my head with the hood, bundling myself completely and rolling on my pillow. It made me feel more secure somehow. I didn't take it off the rest of the night, like a child with her blanket.

  I continued to lie on my bed and play with the cuff of his sleeve. Some of the seams looked frayed, like it had been worn quite a bit. Maybe it was his favorite. I wished he would come looking for me to retrieve it.

  The mystery was killing me. I had no control; no way to find him or figure out who he was. I should have tried to follow him, to get even the tiniest clue how to find him. It was going to drive me insane.

  This couldn’t be the end. I would find him again. I had to.

  5. VOSS REMEMBERS THE PAST

  Voss gutted and skinned the rabbit, then cooked it with a homemade spit over the fire. It was the same fire that burned since he’d been left to deteriorate. There was almost no rain in Cayno. The only source of fresh water lay deep in the ground. It was amazing the amount of life still managing to survive, trees, animals, and insects. Of course, none of them were plump with health. Everything here struggled to stay alive.

  Every single inmate that found himself here withered to nothing aside from Voss. He trained from an early age, his intelligence unmatched. His station gave him assets others only dreamed about and he never hesitated to use them to his advantage.

  He rubbed his fingers across his chest before taking a mouthful of meat, remembering the precious object, his prime source of survival. He thought it might have been luck that he came upon it, perhaps even fate. Ultimately he credited his own superior skills and aptitude that won him the prize that would now be the key to his freedom.

  It was a stone of great value, of power, and there was only a handful in existence. It kept him sane while others languished in deprivation. No one sent to Cayno was meant to survive. It was a death sentence to a slow and torturous demise.

  He was the only one clever enough to hide the stone where no one would think to search—implanted in his heart.

  No suspicion rose when they’d done their final search, stripping him of all his possessions. Those clueless fools. The stone was almost impossible to detect, even with exceptional technology, because its primary structure was identical to water.

  Voss chewed at his rabbit impatiently. There was nothing left to prepa
re. He already had his arsenal of homemade weapons, his endless spools of rope, his body in top physical condition, his mind focused and ready.

  The endless waiting punished him. Left only with his animosity to fester and eat away at his sanity. How much longer would he be forced to endure before his plans would be reality?

  He allowed his mind to wander as he so often did. The only mental relief he could find was to push out the harsh reality with pleasant memories; memories of a time far in his past…

  ***

  Voss lounged on his side, stroking the delicate skin down her arm. The morning light danced across her auburn hair in swirls above her head as it flowed across the seams of her pillow.

  She rolled towards him with a sleepy smile. “We should buy this place.”

  “Oh really…” he said, enslaved by her charm. He rolled his body to hover over hers in playful domination. “Two weeks of freedom wasn’t long enough for you?”

  “I don’t want to go back,” she pouted. “Even the missions are becoming dull.”

  “And lying around a beach house all day is full of excitement?” he teased.

  Syreen frowned. Her legs locked around his knee, skillfully flipping his back to the mattress. Her arms flew to his shoulders pinning him to the bed. “Please? It’s not like we don’t have the money,” she said. “It could be our little secret.”

  She placed seductive kisses down his cheek and neck.

  “We wouldn’t have to tell anyone we bought it…” she said, lashes fluttering.

  “Not even your mother?”

  She grinned. “Especially not my mother.”

  He would do anything for her. “You convinced me,” he said. “It’ll be our little secret.”

  Her face lit up as she clapped her hands near her chin. He could have easily removed her physical hold on him, but it was more fun to watch her reaction. He lived to put a smile on her face.

  She jumped off the bed and held out her hand. “Come on,” she said. “It’s a beautiful day. We don’t want to miss it.”

  He followed after her through the French doors across the room. They opened to a balcony extended out over the edge of the cliffs. Her silken nightgown swayed in the ocean breeze as he watched her admire the view.

  “Syreen…” he called softly. She turned to him, her eyes like luminous violets. “I love you.”

  She smiled brightly, pretending to be surprised. “You love me? I must be a lucky girl.” It was their little game, no one else’s.

  “Oh you definitely are.” He pulled her in close, her giggles hushed by his lips.

  ***

  Voss’s mind jerked back to the present. The figure of his lost love slipped away and faded from his fingers.

  There was a whisper of rustling leaves and he clutched at his knife. A wild gleam hit his eyes and he jumped to his feet in less than a second. His trap sprung upwards in the tree, a man ensnared and dangling from one foot. It was a new prisoner.

  Voss sprung to the edge and released an arrow. It pierced the first guard’s chest without a blink. With ropes slung over his shoulder, Voss hurled himself off the top of the arch. He crashed onto his target knocking the second guard to the ground. His knife slit the man’s throat, stunning him with pain.

  Voss moved swiftly, entangling the guard with his ropes. The other guard pulled the arrow from his flesh and charged towards him. Voss’s knife hurdled through the air, stabbing the guard through the neck. Adrenalin rushed through his veins. He bound the second guard’s hands and legs behind his back.

  He stood breathless and covered in blood. This was it; this was his time. A sinister laugh bellowed deep from his gut. It was almost too easy. He ignored the cries from the prisoner dangling above him in the tree and grabbed one of the guards by the collar.

  He dragged the floundering man across the dirt, coming within inches of the Threshold entrance under the archway of boulders. He skimmed his free hand over the surface of the wall which shimmered like flowing water before him. His fingers easily penetrated the once solid exterior.

  He sneered and stopped for only seconds to revel in his triumph.

  “Just try to stop me now,” he said, plunging both their bodies through the Threshold wall without looking back.

  6. THE INTERCOM

  I couldn’t just lie on my bed all night and daydream about the mysterious green-eyed boy. I would drive myself to insanity. I sat up trying to figure out what I could possibly do. Then I noticed my diary sitting on the white dresser outside my closet door. Writing down my thoughts was always a good way to clear my mind.

  If I got everything out on paper, maybe I could free myself from at least some of the wondering.

  After I found a pen, I propped myself up on my bed and brought my knees to my chest, using them as a table to rest the diary while I wrote. I didn’t keep a typical diary. I wrote letters instead. It started when I was a little girl, when my mom used to tell me a bedtime story about how she met my dad. It was my favorite story. She would tuck me snugly in my blankets and sit beside me on the bed.

  “Once upon a time,” she would say with animation:

  …there was a young nurse named Leena. She loved her happy life and her job helping people get better when they were sick. She never thought she could be any happier, until, one day there appeared a handsome and mysterious man. He was visiting a very sick patient in the hospital.

  The young nurse went to the patient’s room to bring him some medicine. There she saw the mysterious man sitting at the side of the patient’s bed, a few small tears in his blue eyes. The tears made his eyes glisten in the light.

  She asked if she could help him in some way, but he told her the patient would get better, he was just sad to see him suffer from his illness. The nurse felt sad for the patient too and gave the handsome man a hug. They both liked the hug so much that they fell in love and never wanted to be apart. They spent every minute they could together.

  But one day, the mysterious man disappeared. She never heard from him again. The only thing he left her was a note saying how much he loved her and a beautiful flower unlike any flower she’d ever seen. It was so special that it mysteriously bloomed for weeks and weeks before it finally withered and dried.

  The poor nurse was very sad and lonely after the handsome man went away, but without knowing it, he gave her another gift besides the special flower. He gave her a gorgeous baby girl, named Sadie. The moment the young nurse looked into the precious face of her little girl, she knew she would never be sad again…the end.

  I asked my mom to tell me that story almost every night. When I was six or seven years old, I began to wonder more seriously about the mysterious man and pieced together that he was my father. I remembered sitting down with a crayon and paper and writing him the first letter, just like my mom had me write to Santa for Christmas. I never mailed them, but ever since that night, I'd written countless letters to my absent father in place of traditional diary entries.

  The pages felt soft and worn as I thumbed through some of the earlier letters. I wrote a couple of the oldest ones on separate pieces of paper before I received the diary. It was probably around first grade when I was given the actual book, but I couldn’t remember for sure. The loose letters were folded in the pocket inside the front cover.

  I slid one from the sleeve and smoothed it open with my hand. Large letters scribbled in blue crayon covered the page. It was decorated with a simple drawing of the sun in the corner and pink flowers around the edges.

  I started to read:

  Dear Dad,

  Mom told me the storee abowt how you met. I realy like it a lot. Why wood you want to leeve the nurs (mom)? I wish I new where you are. I got to bee a strawberi in the skool play. I think I did good. I wish you cood come.

  Love, Sadie

  I chuckled at my spelling skills as memories of childhood flooded my thoughts. I continued to reminisce, reading through a few more of the elementary letters, then returned them gently to the pocket in t
he front of the book. I skimmed forward through the pages and stopped on an excerpt that looked like it was from middle school, my handwriting still larger and more rounded than it was now.

  I read the page written entirely in purple ink:

  Dear Dad,

  I hope it’s not weird that I write you letters when I have no idea who you are. I just think about you sometimes and wish I knew you better.

  Anyway, remember that boy Austin that I told you about, that talked to me in my Algebra class the other day? Well, Heather talked to his friend, Brad, and he said Austin wants to invite me to his boy-girl party next weekend. I wonder if Mom would say yes if I asked her if I could go. I bet she’ll say yes, she pretty much always lets me do stuff like that.

  If you were here for real, what would you say? Heather’s dad isn’t very strict, but some of our other friend’s dads won’t let them go to parties if there’s going to be boys there. Maybe they’re afraid they’re going to kiss them or something. Austin is kind of cute, but I don’t know if I want to kiss him. I hope they don’t play spin the bottle. Why would you want to kiss someone without even getting to pick who it is?

  Did you kiss Mom a lot when you guys were in love? You probably did, since she got pregnant. Mom had a talk with me the other day about how girls get pregnant, even though I pretty much already knew about it from talking to my friends and watching movies.

  Would you have stayed with Mom if you knew about me? Mom says you probably had a good reason why you had to leave because you were a good person and would always do the right thing. She doesn’t tell me a lot about you though, that’s why I still have so many questions I wish I could ask.