Read Online The In-Betweener (Between Life and Death) (S) by Ann Christy - Free Book Online Page A

some things. You let me know when I’m right. Okay?”
    He bobs and says, “Ya.”
    For a second, just before his face moves back into that strange expression that flits between fear, hunger, anger, and combinations of those too complex to really understand, I think I see him smile. It’s weird and crooked, but I think that’s what it was and for some reason, it makes me feel good. Humans were simply meant to be smiled at, I think. Without the smiles of others, we lose our idea of what happiness looks like.
    “Apartment complex. Lots of buildings,” I offer. He stands still, or rather, as still as he can.
    “One building.”
    At that, he bobs his knees and says, “Ya!”
    That’s actually not good. That means it isn’t in some out-of-the-way place where there are few roads in or out. It might mean downtown.
    “Downtown,” I say, almost crossing my fingers in hope that he stands still. He does, but he’s twitchier, like that was too vague or not quite right, but close. There’s another possibility.
    “College area?”
    He bobs again and almost screeches, “Ya!”
    “Are there other people around there?”
    That question seems to bother him for some reason and he hangs his head, his fists working around the rails. But he doesn’t bounce.
    “No more people are there. Only people like you?” I ask. It’s unlikely he calls in-betweeners by the same name that I do. It wasn’t like I had anyone aside from my mother to share terminology with.
    He bobs at that one, but more slowly, his head still hanging.
    “And more like the ones at the gate?”
    His bobbing continues, but he looks up and I see no smiles now, only anger and sadness. Overwhelming sadness.
    That’s another thing about in-betweeners. I’ve not had the chance to see many expressions on their faces other than needy hunger or blind rage, but their expressions are somehow more raw, unfiltered by social contract or fear of embarrassment. This must have been what humans were like long before we developed civilization.
    Now, seeing all these emotions cross Sam’s face with such absolute purity makes me understand how it was that humans first came together. If this is how we were with each other, then hiding our feelings and intentions would have been impossible. Honesty would have been the default mode for human interactions.
    I’ve been alone too long and these mental tangents are not productive. My mind is turning a million miles a second, so fast it’s almost nauseating. Just thinking about any one of the several options I’m considering is enough to make me want to hurl. Put all of it together, with no long-considered plan and no one to watch my back except an in-betweener who is really my biggest threat, and it’s too much for my system.
    I’m a person of careful habits and that is why I’m still breathing and thinking instead of like Sam. I’m about to toss that entire box of habits aside with both hands.
    Before I can think too much more about it and regain my senses, I call out, “I can go tomorrow. I have to find a map, arrange transportation. I’m not just going to walk out there with you.”
    At the sound of my voice, I’m pretty sure he’s going to go all in-betweener on me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he jams his hands through the rails of the fence and puts his wrists together in the unmistakable sign for being handcuffed or tied. Then he presses his face to the bars, reminding me of a horror movie I once saw, and says, “Mehg sday.”
    I know what that means without asking. He knows he can’t be trusted not to wander. He wants me to tie him to the rails of the fence and make him stay. His face makes me want to cry.
     

Three Years Ago - Mix and Match
    My mother is worried. She won’t tell me that, but I know she is. The way she tugs at her lips with her teeth and looks at me with those greedy, never-leave-me eyes, tells me she’s girding herself for another frightening fight for my life.
    I’ve been getting headaches