Plague

a split second on the day that Mary poofed, the barrier had been clear. They had seen the world outside: the observation platform, the TV satellite truck, the construction underway on fast food places and cheap hotels.
    It had seemed very, very real.
    But had it been? Astrid said no: just another illusion. But Astrid was not exactly addicted to the truth.
    Sam swayed at the edge of the cliff. He ached for Astrid, the booze had not dulled that. He ached for the sound of her voice, the warmth of her breath on his neck, her lips. She was all that had kept him from going crazy. But now she was the source of the crazy because his body was demanding what she wouldn’t give. Now being with her was just pain and hollowness and need.
    The barrier was there, just a few feet away. Impenetrable. Opaque. Painful to touch. The faintly shimmering gray dome that enclosed twenty miles of Southern California coastline in a giant terrarium. Or zoo. Or universe.
    Or prison.
    Sam tried to focus on it, but his eyes weren’t working very well.
    With the exaggerated care of a drunk he set his bottle down.
    He straightened up. He looked at the palms of his hands. Then he stretched out his arms, palms facing the barrier.
    “I really hate you,” he said to the barrier.
    Twin beams of searing green light shot from his palms. A torrent of focused light.
    “Aaaaahhhh!” Sam shouted as he aimed and fired.
    He shouted a loud curse. And again, as he fired again and still fired.
    The light hit the barrier and did nothing. Nothing burned. Nothing smoked or charred.
    “Burn!” Sam howled. “Burn!”
    He played the beams upward, tracing the curve of the barrier. He raged and howled and blazed.
    To no effect.
    Sam sat down suddenly. The bright fire went out. He fumbled clumsily for the bottle.
    “I have it,” a voice said.
    Sam twisted sideways, looking for the source. He couldn’t find her. It was a her, he was pretty sure of that, a female voice.
    She stepped around to where he could see her. Taylor.
    Taylor was a pretty Asian girl who had never made a secret of her attraction to Sam. She was also a freak, a three bar with the power of teleportation. She could instantly go any place she’d ever seen or been before. She called it “bouncing.”
    She wore a T-shirt and shorts. Sneakers. Unlaced, no socks. No one dressed well, not anymore. People wore whatever was halfway clean.
    And no one traveled unarmed. Taylor had a large knife in a nice leather sheath.
    She was not beautiful like Astrid. But not cold and remote and looking at him with defensive, accusing eyes, either. Looking at Taylor did not fill his brain to overflowing with memories of love and rage.
    She was not the girl who had been the center of his life for all these months. Not the girl who had left him frustrated, humiliated, feeling like a fool. Feeling more alone than ever.
    “Hey, Taylor. Bouncy bouncy Taylor. T’sup?”
    “I saw the light,” Taylor said.
    “Yeah. I am all about light,” Sam slurred.
    She held out the bottle tentatively, not sure what she should do with it.
    “Nah.” He waved it off. “I think I’ve had quite enough. Don’t you?” He spoke with extreme care, trying not to slur. Failing.
    “Come sit with me, Taylor, Taylor, bouncy Taylor.”
    She hesitated.
    “Come on. I won’t bite. Good to talk with someone . . . normal.”
    Taylor rewarded him with a brief smile. “I don’t know how normal I am.”
    “More normal than some. I was just checking on Brittney,” Sam said. “You have a monster inside of you, Taylor? Do you have to be locked in a basement because inside you is some psycho with a whip arm? No? See? You are so normal, Taylor.”
    He glared at the barrier, the untouched, unfazed barrier. “Do you ever beg to be burned into ashes so you can be free to go to Jesus, Taylor? Nah. See, that’s what Brittney does. No, you’re pretty normal, bouncy Taylor.”
    Taylor sat beside him. Not too close. Friend close, conversation close.
    Sam said nothing. Two different urges were battling in his head.
    His body was saying go for it. And his mind. . . well, it was confused and not exactly in control.
    He reached over and took Taylor’s hand. She did not pull her hand away.
    He moved his hand up her arm. She stiffened a little and glanced around, making sure they weren’t seen. Or, maybe, hoping they were.
    His hand reached her neck. He leaned toward her and pulled her to him.
    He kissed her.
    She kissed him back.
    He kissed her harder.