“Oh no,” the gardener says. “No, no, no. You see, you were a special case. The waves in your brain were always a little… different. They brought it out in Sean. In Nathan. When you synced up. But see how they are now?”
He does. On the panel, there’s barely a ripple.
“He won’t wake up,” the gardener says. “Ever.”
Greg tries to look away.
He can’t.
He’s thinking of that day at the park. Lying on their backs and watching the clouds. Hands joined. The smile Sean gave him.
No, he thinks. Gave Mike.
Mike, who no longer exists. A dream, just like the doctor had said.
That Sean is not this Nathan.
This Nathan is frozen, skinny to the point of being gaunt. His skin is pale, tinged with the barest hints of blue. There are tattoos up and down his arms, skulls and flames and birds. He wonders if they hide the track marks, scars from repeated injections. He thinks they might.
He looks like a mummy, preserved for all time.
They all do.
“This isn’t an island,” Greg whispers. “It’s a tomb.”
“No,” the gardener says. “It’s not. It’s neither. It’s a vegetable garden. It’s my vegetable garden.” He laughs nervously.
Greg reaches up and touches the cold glass separating him from Sean. He thinks about how bright his eyes were. About his just-for-Mike (Greg) smile. It wasn’t a bad life. From what he can see, from what he can remember, it was actually pretty wonderful.
Maybe—
No.
He can’t.
He can’t.
Right?
XXIII
MIKE’S GONE. Greg’s sure of it.
He doesn’t even feel him buried underneath all that… everything.
But his memories are still there. These shadows that stretch over everything.
He remembers his life. Before. And he’s starting to remember more and more about how Jenny came for him with bright eyes and a knife. All the things that followed. Being questioned. Being arrested. Being tried. Being found guilty. Going to jail. Getting the shit kicked out of him.
Part of him wants to see that video, see the video that Jenny made, where she pretended to be scared, where she said she’d always feared Greg. It doesn’t take much to put the pieces together. She made that with the intention of killing him and then using it as self-defense. Saying he’d come after her. He was angry. Everyone knew he had a temper. But no one could know just how far it went.
He doesn’t ask to watch it. He doubts they could get a copy even if he wanted it.
Is he angry about it?
Oh, sure.
He’s fucking furious.