The Shimmers in the Night by Lydia Millet Page B

shook his head, glancing grimly at Mrs. O.
    â€œWe’re going to have to take him with us,” said Mrs. O, more to him than to Cara.
    Although her hands were moving over Jax, they weren’t, Cara noticed, quite touching him. Jax wasn’t saying anything; she couldn’t imagine him speaking, the way he was now. He just stared at them emptily.
    â€œWhat do you mean, take him?” asked Cara.
    â€œWhen we go,” said Mrs. O.
    â€œWe’re going to have to go,” agreed Mr. T. “The wards are still up now, but they’re breaking down fairly quickly. I can feel it happening. We can rebuild them, but not fast enough.”
    â€œBut—go where?”
    â€œWe’re leaving—though not through the front door,” said Mrs. O. Her hands fluttered, seeming to draw Jax’s face forward, and then fell. “We have to abandon this place for a while.”
    â€œYou have to leave, too. But you won’t be coming with us,” added Mr. T. “We need you to do something else. Something crucial.”
    â€œBut I can’t leave with Jax…like that!” said Cara. She felt on the brink of tears.
    â€œYou need to do this for him—do this so we can help him,” he went on. “He’s who they’re here for. They were led to him.”
    â€œYou mean by—by me ?”
    â€œNot your fault, Cara. Not at all,” said Mrs. O quickly. “Anyone who loved him would have done the same. But he needs to be moved. Your mother’s out there as their hostage, and she has something he needs if he’s going to recover.”
    â€œWe’ll need something from her to bring him back,” added Mr. T. “We have to stay out of sight and take care of him, so you’re going to have to go get her. Either her or what we need from her. Whichever’s possible.”
    â€œAnd what do you need from her?”
    â€œA memory.”
    â€œA memory? But how can I—”
    â€œThe memory of his birth,” said Mr. T.
    â€œJax is adopted,” said Cara.
    â€œYes, of course,” said Mrs. O. “The memory of when she first saw him. Her earliest memory of him. She’ll know, when you tell her what’s happened. If you can find her, she should know how to help.”
    â€œBut how am I supposed to do that? I haven’t seen her for two months!”
    â€œYou have to use your own old way,” said Mrs. O. “Work on your vision. It’s your talent, Cara. You need to call it up.”
    â€œI don’t know how!”
    â€œWe’d guide you, but there’s no time. There’s a book in the library here that should help,” said Mr. T. “Look for the title…let’s see, how did it go…yes: Learning to See. If I recall. It has an inscription on it, “Videre licet.” That’s on the cover, too, I think. Videre licet. Be listed in the card catalog.”
    As he said all this they were guiding Jax to his feet, standing him up between them. His arms hung limply; he gazed ahead, zombie-like.
    â€œWe have to take him now,” said Mrs. O. “Can you feel it, Cara?”
    The air in the room had gotten warmer. Cara touched her upper lip and felt a bead of perspiration.
    She followed the two teachers out the door, walking behind them as they hustled Jax along the hall and rounded a corner.
    â€œYou’ll need the code for the elevator,” said Mr. T, and stopped walking to turn to her. “It’s easy. Key in your own eight-digit birthdate, month first. You’re in the system already. When you have what you need, come find us again.”
    â€œJax is depending on you,” said Mrs. O. “You can do this. But be careful. And be quick. You’re safe here until the wards fail. But you don’t want to be here when that happens.”
    â€œJax? Hey. Jax?” asked Cara, leaning in to him.
    She couldn’t let go of the conviction that he was in there