Ashley Bell (Ashley Bell #1)(103)

Pax nodded. “Sometimes it’s like she doesn’t know about herself what you just said.”

Braking to a stop at a red traffic light, Pogo spoke without glancing at Pax, though they were both wearing sunglasses and were therefore somewhat armored against the revelation of sentimentality. “I don’t know if I’ll ever love anybody as much as Beebs. She’s a sister to me, sister and brother and best friend, she’s the whole package. It means so much, man, I wouldn’t ever try for anything else, and spoil the way it is.”

“I know. You don’t have to say it. She feels the same.”

“Well, I just wanted it clear between us. Made me so damn happy when I first met you and you were what she said you were.”

“She deserves me, huh?”

“She deserves better, but you’re worth settling for.”

Pax laughed, and the traffic light changed, and he said, “You ever considered being a SEAL? I think maybe you’d make it.”

“I was born a seal, lowercase. Made for the ocean, but not the Navy. I’m not a dude with ambition.”

“I know,” Pax said. “Aspiration is your thing, not ambition. Skill rather than money. Honor rather than fame.”

“Bro, you have me confused with another Pogo.”

“Don’t think so. I know what’s under the hood. I have an ear for gear.”

They were silent for a block or so. Although the day was mild, the hard March sunlight laid a wintry glaze on window glass and white stucco walls, and even painted glistening icy-looking edges on the stiff green blades of the fan palms.

“You really think we can help her?” Pogo asked.

“I can’t stand to think anything else.”

“But brain cancer, a coma. Woof. A lot of bad news.”

“Cancer, yeah. But it’s not a coma. The brain waves prove that much. Not a coma.”

“Then what is it?”

Pax had been thinking about that since the third time Bibi’s voice had come to him. “We see her lying in the bed, and we think that’s her, that’s Bibi, but maybe it’s not. Not all of her, anyway.”

Pulling into the parking lot behind Bibi’s apartment complex, Pogo said, “Tell me you aren’t gassing off on some evil-twin trip.”

“When you’re asleep and dreaming, you’re in a sense dead to the real world, you’re living in the dream. Bibi’s not dreaming, but—”

“According to the brain waves, she’s dreaming.”

“The EEG also says she’s awake, which isn’t exactly the case, either. Anyway, she said she’s not dreaming.”

“Said? Said when?”

As Pogo slotted the Honda between younger vehicles of higher pedigrees, Pax sighed. “Okay. Here goes.” He recounted the three times that Bibi had spoken inside his head. “On one level, she’s aware of what’s going on in the hospital room…but right now it’s not where she’s living.”

“Yeah? So where is she living?”

“Damn if I know.”

“Living somewhere without her body.”

“I’m not saying it makes sense.”

“I thought that’s exactly what you were saying.”

“I’m saying, whether it makes sense or not, it’s what seems to be true. And she wants me—us—to find her.”

Pogo switched off the engine. Blond, tanned, eyes as dark and clear as sapphires, he looked in profile less like a standard-issue California surf rat than like a ship’s captain in the making. There was about him an aura of competence and responsibility that could be discerned also in the lines of his face, though a decade or two might pass before subtle evidence in the bone became obvious to everyone. Whatever he might make of himself, however, he would always be of the sea; just looking at him, you could almost hear waves breaking on the shore. After pondering, Pogo said, “I don’t know if I believe in telepathy.”

“Don’t know I do, either,” Pax admitted. “One thing I do know—wherever she is, even if it is a dream, what happens to her there affects her here. The bruises, the abrasions, the tattoo.”

“This is mondo weird.”

“I have a hunch, when we figure it out, it won’t be weird at all. When we’ve got all the pieces, it’ll make perfect sense.”

“Totally clever, how you got me to jump into this at the hospital, before you let me know what a kelphead mission it is.”

“You’d have jumped in with both feet anyway. What’s a kelphead?”

“A fool. Bad surfer. Hardly ever on his board, mostly wiped out with his head in the kelp. I was one before she taught me the right moves. ‘Find me,’ huh? How does that work?”

Removing his sunglasses, Pax said, “Seems logical to start here at the apartment.”

Pogo took off his shades. “What if we suck at this Sherlock stuff?”

“We won’t.”

As Pax opened his door, Pogo said, “What happens to her there affects her here?”

Pax turned his head and met Pogo’s eyes. He knew what question would come next, because anyone who truly loved her could not leave it unasked.

The kid said, “Then what if…what if she dies there?”