Ignite Me

Kenji and I are meeting him again in just a moment.

We’re slipping through the door in the gun wall, and I’m finally able to see firsthand how Warner sneaked them inside. We’re crossing through a shooting range.

There are gun stations and little cubicles with targets set hundreds of feet away, and right now, the entire place is deserted. This must be another one of Warner’s practice rooms.

There’s a door at the end of the walkway, and Kenji pushes it open. He doesn’t need to touch me at all anymore in order to keep me invisible, and it’s so much more convenient this way. We can move freely as long as I’m within fifty feet of him, which gives us the flexibility we need to be able to work outside today.

We’re now on the other side of the door.

Standing in an enormous storage facility.

The space is at least five hundred feet across, and maybe twice as high. I’ve never seen more boxes in my entire life. I have no idea what they contain, and no time to wonder.

Kenji is pulling me through the maze.

We sidestep boxes of all different sizes, careful not to trip over electrical cords and the machinery used to move the heavier items. There are rows and rows and more rows divided into even more rows that house everything in very organized sections. I notice there are labels on every shelf and in all the aisles, but I can’t get close enough to read them.

When we finally make it to the end of the storage room, there are two huge, fifty-foot doors that lead to the exit. This is clearly a loading zone for trucks and tanks. Kenji grabs my arm and keeps me close as we pass several guards stationed by the exit. We dart through the trucks parked all around the loading zone, until we finally get to the meeting point where we’re supposed to find Warner.

I wish Kenji could’ve been around to make me invisible when I first tried to get on and off base. It would’ve been so nice to just walk out like a human being, instead of being carted through the halls, jolting and teetering and clinging to the legs of a wheeling tray table.

Warner is leaning against a tank.

Both doors are open, and he’s looking around like he might be overseeing the work being done with the loading units. He nods to several soldiers as they pass.

We clamber into the passenger side unnoticed.

And just as I’m about to whisper a notification to Warner, he walks around to the passenger side, says, “Watch your legs, love,” and shuts the door.

And then he climbs into the other side. Starts driving.

We’re still invisible.

“How did you know we were in here?” Kenji asks immediately. “Can you, like, see invisible people, too?”

“No,” Warner says to him, eyes focused in front of him. “I can feel your presence. Hers, most of all.”

“Really?” Kenji says. “That’s some weird shit. What do I feel like? Peanut butter?”

Warner is unamused.

Kenji clears his throat. “J, I think you should switch spots with me.”

“Why?”

“I think your boyfriend is touching my leg.”

“You flatter yourself,” Warner says.

“Switch spots with me, J. He’s making me feel all goosebumpy and shit, like maybe he’s about to knife me.”

“Fine.” I sigh. I try clambering over him, but it’s difficult, considering I can see neither my own body nor his.

“Ow—dammit—you almost kicked me in the face—”

“Sorry!” I say, trying to scramble over his knees.

“Just move,” he says. “God, how much do you weigh—”

He shifts, all at once, slipping out from under me, and gives me a small shove to move me over.

I fall face-first into Warner’s lap.

I hear Warner’s brief, sharp intake of breath, and I scramble upright, blushing so hard, and I’m suddenly so relieved no one can see me right now.

I want to punch Kenji in the nose.

No one talks much after that.

As we get closer to unregulated territory, the scenery starts to change. The simple, signless, semipaved roads give way to the streets of our old world. The houses are painted in shades that promised to be colorful once upon a time, and the roads are lined with sidewalks that might’ve carried children safely home from school. The houses are all falling apart now.

Everything is broken, dilapidated. The windows boarded up. The lawns overgrown and iced over. The winter bite looks fresh in the air, and it casts a gloom over the scene in a way that says this all might be different in another season. Who knows.

Warner stops the tank.

He climbs out and walks over to our door, just in case anyone is still out here, and makes it seem as though he’s opening it for a specific reason. To check the interior. To examine a problem.

It doesn’t matter.

Kenji jumps out first, and Warner seems to be able to tell that he’s gone.

I reach for Warner’s hand, because I know he can’t see me. His fingers immediately tighten around mine. His eyes are focused on the floor.

“It’s going to be okay,” I tell him. “Okay?”

“Yes,” he says. “I’m sure you’re right.”

I hesitate. “Will you be back soon?”

“Yes,” he whispers. “I’ll return for you in exactly two hours. Will that be sufficient time?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll meet you back here, then. In this exact location.”

“Okay.”

He says nothing for a second. Then, “Okay.”

I squeeze his hand.

He smiles at the ground.

I stand up and he shifts to the side, allowing me room to get by. I touch him as I move past, just briefly. Just as a reminder. That I’m here for him.

He flinches, startled, and steps back.

And then he climbs into the tank, and leaves.

FORTY-EIGHT

Warner is late.

Kenji and I had a semisuccessful session, one that consisted mainly of us arguing over where we were standing and what we were looking at. We’re going to have to come up with much better signals next time, because trying to coordinate a training session between two invisible people is a lot more difficult than it sounds. Which is saying a lot.

So now we’re tired and slightly disappointed, having accomplished little in the way of progress, and we’re standing in exactly the same place Warner dropped us off.

And Warner is late.

This is unusual for many reasons. The first of which is that Warner is never late. Not for anything. And the second is that if he were going to be late, it definitely wouldn’t be for something like this. This situation is far too dangerous to be casual about. He wouldn’t have taken it lightly. I know he wouldn’t have.