Lust (7 page)

Gaia.

Oh, man. Someone get me some insulin.

It was difficult for Gaia to reconcile this kind man with her image of the serial killer formerly known as Loki.

Reminiscence

GAIA TURNED AROUND IN HER AIRPLANE
seat and peered over the top at Jake. He had pushed his seat all the way back and was snoring with his mouth open. She sat back down and turned to Oliver.

“If sleeping were an Olympic sport, I think he'd be heading for the gold right about now,” she said.

“It's very impressive. I wish I could sleep like that. Years of being an agent really trained it out of me,” Oliver told her. “That coma was the first uninterrupted sleep I've had since I was in my twenties.”

“So it was good for something.”

“It was good for a lot of things.” Oliver gave her a look. “It brought me back to you.”

“I like how they show the movies on the backs of the seats now,” Gaia said. She wasn't ignoring Oliver's overture purposely. She just didn't know how to respond to people when they said sweet things to her.

“Yes, but with all that new technology, they couldn't come up with better entertainment?”

Gaia laughed. “You didn't like the feature presentation?”

Oliver shook his head. “Those kids might be easy on the eyes, but they both looked embarrassed in that last scene. Like they didn't want to be there any more than I wanted to be watching them.”

“The romantic comedy,” Gaia said. “Boy meets girl,
boy loses girl, girl comes to her senses . . . boy and girl get paycheck.”

They both laughed. It wasn't that funny, but the flight was long, and they still felt a little uneasy with each other.

“We need to come up with our cover story,” Oliver said.

Gaia was relieved to have something businesslike to talk about. “Yeah, I guess we can't announce to customs that we're there to rescue my secret agent father from kidnappers.”

“Especially since we don't know how deep this goes. Anyone we meet could be in on this. We don't know who has him, exactly, and the government of Siberia could be involved.”

Gaia hadn't thought of that. “Do they know we're coming?”

“I don't think so, but we have to be prepared for anything. When we go through customs, we should say we're all one family. The passports have the same last name, so we should be all right.”

“Sounds like a great plan. I'll try to be very sisterly toward Jake.”

“It shouldn't be hard. You two seem like good friends.”

“I guess we are. And it shouldn't be too difficult for you to play my dad. You're his twin—it's not exactly a stretch.”

Oliver became quiet. His face blurred into an expression Gaia couldn't quite read. “What's wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Something. What is it?”

“It's just—” Oliver shook his head. “When you said that, I had such a clear memory of you as a baby. At about four months old. You know, that's when babies start having real personalities.”

“I wouldn't know.” Gaia grimaced. “Babies.”

“Oh, but you were a wonderful baby,” Oliver told her. “You always had this wise expression. This wide-open smile. You woke up with that smile, like you were excited to see what the world had in store for you. My adoration for you was only obscured by my envy for my brother.”

This reminiscence made Gaia's skin crawl. By the time Gaia was born, Oliver had been forbidden from visiting her parents' home. The only way he'd have had any idea what she was like as a baby would be if he had seen her behind her parents' back. This minor detail had obviously slipped Oliver's mind just then. But it reminded Gaia that the man she was dealing with was both twisted and tragic.

“That was my biggest mistake,” Oliver continued. “Instead of tormenting myself with envy, I should have made my own life. Though I wouldn't have been able to have a child. And even if I could have . . .” He shot an embarrassed smile at Gaia. “Well, I just don't see how
she could have been more wonderful than you.”

It was difficult for Gaia to reconcile this kind man with her image of the serial killer formerly known as Loki. On the other hand, he clearly loved with the same frightening intensity that he'd hated with. And the last thing Gaia needed right now was more intensity.

“Oliver, come on. Don't you think we should catch up on our sleep?” Gaia asked gently, hoping that her suggestion wouldn't be taken as an insult. The irony of the scenario could have blown her mind if Gaia had let it. Here she was, protecting the feelings of the very man who'd taken her mother's life in cold blood. But now wasn't exactly the time to contemplate life's little curiosities.

The plane hummed though a bank of clouds, and Gaia put her headphones on and closed her eyes. She looked over at Jake, who was passed out and drooling. At the moment she could think of nothing more appealing than joining him. Something told her there wouldn't be a lot of time for sleep once they got there.

A Record

THE RUSSIAN AIRPORT WAS AS
different from JFK as an airport could be. About the only thing they had in common were the
airplanes. The New York airport had a mall's worth of food shops and magazine stands. This place was clean, but it was distinctly more low-rent than the gleaming American version. It was clear to Gaia that she was not in Kansas anymore.

They hadn't checked any luggage, so she, Oliver, and Jake hitched their carry-ons onto their shoulders and began strolling toward the exit.

“Tsst, tsst.
You vont cab, nice lady?” A slimy-looking guy approached them, wearing a shoopy-sounding vinyl tracksuit and sporting a moustache that would have made a porn star proud.

“No, thanks.” Gaia shook her head, and Oliver and Jake moved in more closely to her. She looked around for security guards, but there didn't seem to be any. As they stepped out through the sliding glass doors, Gaia got the very distinct feeling that something wasn't right.

“You vont cab, yes?” The guy sidled up to them again, and this time he had a friend. A beefy friend.

“No,” Oliver said firmly. Jake looked at him, waiting for a sign that they should fight. But Gaia knew the sign wouldn't come. Not now. They were trying to avoid detection. And getting in a fracas—that would be a dead giveaway. Three tourists with fighting skills like theirs? Not likely.

“This way,” Oliver said, and led them back toward the airport door. Their way was blocked by two more locals. They eyeballed Oliver, Jake, and Gaia as though
they were adding up how much everything they were carrying would net them in resale.

“Dangerous to leave airport without a cab,” the first guy said. “Not safe. I know these men; I can help you get away from them.”

“Yes, all right,” Oliver said. “Let's get into the cab. Can you put this in the trunk?” He acted as if he were handing the guy his tote bag, then swung it into his face and turned to run.

“Come on!” he shouted, but Gaia and Jake were already heading along the sidewalk to the well-populated area on the other side of the airport.

Gaia heard their shouts as her feet thudded along the pavement. She'd been here five minutes and was already in trouble. This had to be a record.

“Who are those guys?” she shouted to Oliver.

“Nobody,” he shouted back, as they rounded a corner and saw a clot of black cars and security guards. Lord only knew what godforsaken corner of the airport they'd wandered into. Bad rescue party. Bad!

Oliver slowed them down and looked behind him. Their four local assailants were standing in a forlorn-looking huddle; the big beefy guy lit a cigarette in defeat. Then they turned and headed back to the side exit of the airport.

“Those are some brazen muggers,” Jake said. “Are you sure they're not after us specifically?”

Oliver shook his head. “There's no way. Men like
that seem to pop up wherever there are tourists, over here. They're leftovers from the old Soviet Union.”

“It's good we didn't fight them, then,” Gaia said. “Too bad, though. It would have been easy.”

Oliver patted her on the shoulder. “That's my girl,” he said, shaking his head.

Oliver got in the front seat of the cab and murmured to the driver in expert-sounding Russian. Despite the seriousness of their mission, Gaia felt something . . . nice. Comfortable. She knew she was on her way to her dad, and she was making the trip with people who seemed to know her. To understand her. Well enough to tease her, in fact. In spite of her annoyance, she looked out the window and smiled.

“Cheerleading team,” she muttered out loud. “You guys can go to hell.”

I
know I'm on a serious mission. I know that at any moment we could be attacked and I could be in the fight of my life. Worse, I know that this journey to find my father could end in horrible disappointment.

So why do I feel so . . . almost normal?

Maybe it's the anticipation, the closeness of the possibility that I'm going to see my dad. Or maybe . . . just maybe . . . being with Oliver and Jake actually feels comfortable to me. Maybe I'm actually learning to trust people.

Two of them, anyway.

It's the strangest thing. Oliver I have no reason to trust, except that he's spent the past few days trying desperately to prove himself to me. I mean, every once in a while I get a bit of a freaky feeling from him, but let's face it: Evil or kind, he's kind of a freak. And Jake I've only known for a few weeks. Yet
every time I need to rely on either of them, they seem to come through for me. Maybe that's par for the course on planet Earth. But on planet Gaia, it's unheard of. In fact, it's downright against the laws of nature.

I actually have to will myself to pull back, feel less, trust less, be more suspicious. That's never happened before. It's like my polar ice caps are melting. Global warming, you might say.

So the question remains: Is this a new springtime for me? Or is it an ecological disaster of world-ending proportions? I won't know till this is over.

I wish I could just relax and enjoy it in the meantime.

But if that were possible, it wouldn't be planet Gaia.

Soul-Vomit

GAIA, JAKE, AND OLIVER SETTLED
into their four-seat compartment on the train. The station itself was gorgeous—pink marble, arched ceilings, and amazing Russian architecture. Gaia had to admit it: The place was almost as grand as Grand Central. But the trains themselves—at least the one that was destined to travel southeast, to Siberia—were decidedly less grand. On this one, she, Oliver, and Jake had passed down a narrow corridor, squeezed between aged wooden walls, and now found themselves sitting on red vinyl seats with their knees touching. A Formica table folded out from the wall, and a well-used pack of cards sat in a magazine holder, along with a copy of
Mademoiselle
from 1998.

“This is cozy,” Gaia said.

“It smells like old socks,” Jake pointed out.

“I think that's actually the food.”

“If you think this is rough, you'd have made horrible agents,” Oliver told them. “I've had to eat creatures you'd both call an exterminator to get rid of.”

“Nice,” Gaia said.

“What's the grossest thing you ever ate?”

Oliver thought for a moment. “Termites. I really didn't like the termites. I tried to swallow them whole and they moved around in my throat. But
crunching them was worse. It was a lose-lose situation.”

“Termites.” Gaia shrugged. “I'd rather eat something small than have to bite into a big water bug.”

“I ate those in the Philippines. They're not so bad if you batter-fry them.”

“Mmm, this conversation is making me hungry,” Oliver said. “Let me see if there's a cafeteria car on this train. If I can't find anything, we'll have to dip into our rations, but I'd rather save those for an emergency.”

“Don't go too far,” Gaia said. “I wouldn't even know how to start looking for you.” The face she turned up to him was struggling to remain impassive, but both Jake and Oliver could see she wasn't sure of herself, not at all. Fearlessness was one thing—motionlessness was another. Maybe it was the huge scope of this mission, or maybe it was the stress of finally getting near her father—she was showing signs of wear and tear. It made them both feel very, very protective.

“Don't worry,” Oliver promised. “I won't even touch the food if it looks dangerous.”

Gaia pulled her feet up under her in her seat and turned back to Jake. “So I think we have some time to kill,” she said.

“About twelve hours or so.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I'd say we could play poker, but this deck only has fifty cards.”

“Well, that's an interesting metaphor,” Gaia muttered, taking the deck and shuffling through it to count the cards herself. “Sometimes I don't think anybody's playing with a full deck.”

“Funny,” Jake said.

“Then why aren't you laughing?”

“Because it's not, really.”

He went silent and sat back, looking out the window. Gaia appreciated that: the quiet, without the awkward silence. The chugging of the train along the tracks, in a mesmerizing rhythm, was the only conversation. Gaia counted the cards again, and again. Then she started sorting them into suits, in order. Then a distant memory made a ghost of a smile flit across her face.

“What?” Jake asked.

“Oh, I don't know.”

“Come on. I'm bored.”

Gaia rolled her eyes. “When I was a kid, I had a deck of cards that was, like, ancient. And a couple were missing. But I wanted to learn to play cards, so . . . someone made the extra ones out of those index cards. You know, the ones people use to take notes on?”