ridden a three-story water slide. He flung himself into the dark tube and plunged into the unknown where turns tossed him left and right and the water surged over his head. His stomach twisted with fear and excitement until he was shot out the bottom of the ride.
He remembered that. The whole thing.
The memory seeped into his mind from somewhere in the dark.
Danny was on another sort of ride that caused his stomach – if he still had a stomach – to buck and he was thrown through a series of twisting turns. But this ride swirled up and down and side to side, and it kept going and going. Until, finally, he fell through the bottom into a soft pit that was still black. Still nowhere.
There was a sense of floating. It was amniotic, thick and fluid. He tried to shout but had no lips, no throat. He was just somewhere, and that somewhere was better than his flesh.
He was seven years old. He slept in tee-pees and ran through icy streams and shot arrows and threw knives. He didn’t change his underwear once. It was the best week of his life.
That was summer camp. He remembered! The memory was whole again. It was him.
A small man with a badge on his belt put his hand on Danny’s shoulder and walked him up wide concrete steps that led to big wooden doors.
He had done something seriously wrong. He and some friends got caught writing computer code and hacking into websites. They did it as a goof, didn’t think they’d get caught. And if they did, they were only seven or eight years old at the time. What were they going to do, put them in prison? They were kids. But the men and women waiting for Danny inside the wooden doors wore FBI t-shirts.
The needle was bringing back his memories. He felt more like himself.
There were sounds. It was distant, as if coming through a long pipe stuffed with towels. At first, it didn’t sound like much, but then it took form. It sounded more like… laughter. The kind that comes from a playground.
He tried to swim towards it, but he was just floating, just listening. But it got louder. Words were popping up, now and then. They seemed to be running past him.
“Danny Boy!” It was right in front of him, just on the other side of the darkness. On the other side… of… his eyelids?
“I knew it,” the voice said. “He ain’t worth crap and in the middle of the field. Someone get him out of the way!”
There were footsteps. More voices. Some very far away, others going past him. Someone was nearby, out of breath from running.
“This is Danny Boy.”
Zin! He’s right there, just out of reach.
“That’s him?” There was a girl with him. A girl. Colors swirled in the dark when Danny had the thought. “I thought you said he was some big deal,” she said. “He’s barely old enough to be here.”
“Yeah, well you never saw him in the game room. The kid’s some kind of prodigy with the computer sticks in his hands. I mean, there are kids on the island that have been here longer than me that aren’t half as good as Danny Boy.”
“Video games?” She sighed. “Seriously, who cares, Zin?”
“You want to help me move him, Sandy?”
The darkness shifted. Danny had a sense of the ground below him, the open sky above. Zin hooked his arms under Danny’s armpits and Sandy took his feet. He felt the jostling of their footsteps. The breeze whistled past him and the grass was soft on his cheek when they put him down.
“Zin!” Sid called. “Don’t get lost, I want you at the sundial when it hits noon, you got it?”
“Aye—aye, Capitan!”
“You’re not really going to play that game again, are you?” the girl said.
“Naaaaaw.”
“Seriously, Zin. We don’t know how many rounds we have together and you’re going to waste time gaming?”
And they went back and forth. Danny imagined the wry smile on Zin’s face, what he usually looked like when he lied right in your face but still made you laugh. The image looked so clear and vivid, like he was looking right at
He remembered that. The whole thing.
The memory seeped into his mind from somewhere in the dark.
Danny was on another sort of ride that caused his stomach – if he still had a stomach – to buck and he was thrown through a series of twisting turns. But this ride swirled up and down and side to side, and it kept going and going. Until, finally, he fell through the bottom into a soft pit that was still black. Still nowhere.
There was a sense of floating. It was amniotic, thick and fluid. He tried to shout but had no lips, no throat. He was just somewhere, and that somewhere was better than his flesh.
He was seven years old. He slept in tee-pees and ran through icy streams and shot arrows and threw knives. He didn’t change his underwear once. It was the best week of his life.
That was summer camp. He remembered! The memory was whole again. It was him.
A small man with a badge on his belt put his hand on Danny’s shoulder and walked him up wide concrete steps that led to big wooden doors.
He had done something seriously wrong. He and some friends got caught writing computer code and hacking into websites. They did it as a goof, didn’t think they’d get caught. And if they did, they were only seven or eight years old at the time. What were they going to do, put them in prison? They were kids. But the men and women waiting for Danny inside the wooden doors wore FBI t-shirts.
The needle was bringing back his memories. He felt more like himself.
There were sounds. It was distant, as if coming through a long pipe stuffed with towels. At first, it didn’t sound like much, but then it took form. It sounded more like… laughter. The kind that comes from a playground.
He tried to swim towards it, but he was just floating, just listening. But it got louder. Words were popping up, now and then. They seemed to be running past him.
“Danny Boy!” It was right in front of him, just on the other side of the darkness. On the other side… of… his eyelids?
“I knew it,” the voice said. “He ain’t worth crap and in the middle of the field. Someone get him out of the way!”
There were footsteps. More voices. Some very far away, others going past him. Someone was nearby, out of breath from running.
“This is Danny Boy.”
Zin! He’s right there, just out of reach.
“That’s him?” There was a girl with him. A girl. Colors swirled in the dark when Danny had the thought. “I thought you said he was some big deal,” she said. “He’s barely old enough to be here.”
“Yeah, well you never saw him in the game room. The kid’s some kind of prodigy with the computer sticks in his hands. I mean, there are kids on the island that have been here longer than me that aren’t half as good as Danny Boy.”
“Video games?” She sighed. “Seriously, who cares, Zin?”
“You want to help me move him, Sandy?”
The darkness shifted. Danny had a sense of the ground below him, the open sky above. Zin hooked his arms under Danny’s armpits and Sandy took his feet. He felt the jostling of their footsteps. The breeze whistled past him and the grass was soft on his cheek when they put him down.
“Zin!” Sid called. “Don’t get lost, I want you at the sundial when it hits noon, you got it?”
“Aye—aye, Capitan!”
“You’re not really going to play that game again, are you?” the girl said.
“Naaaaaw.”
“Seriously, Zin. We don’t know how many rounds we have together and you’re going to waste time gaming?”
And they went back and forth. Danny imagined the wry smile on Zin’s face, what he usually looked like when he lied right in your face but still made you laugh. The image looked so clear and vivid, like he was looking right at
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