“There’s something I have to tell you.”
The look in her eyes nearly causes him to chicken out.
“What is it?” She swallows audibly.
Chris takes in a deep breath. And he tells her. About grisly murders on New Year’s Eve 1999. About his brother’s arrest. About Vince’s release for insufficient evidence. About his disappearance. About the adoption, his name change.
While Clare absorbs it all, he reaches for his phone and pulls up an app. It displays a map with small blue dots with dates next to them. When enlarged, the map reveals dots spanning from Ukraine to Paris to India.
“These are all the sightings of Vince over the years.”
Early on, Chris speculated that his brother had somehow managed to change his appearance. Cut the long hair, got plastic surgery, perhaps. Taken a job as a trucker or drug mule, something that kept him on the road abroad. Given Mr. Nirvana’s arrival in the U.S. today, Chris believes that his chance to find Vince has finally arrived, but he doesn’t tell Clare that.
Her first question surprises him. “You want to find him?”
“He’s my brother,” he says. “He couldn’t have done it. I was with him that night. And you don’t understand what he did for me. Who he is.”
“Then why did he run?”
Chris makes no reply. He knows she’ll find the answer; it’s only a quick Google search away: someone seen arguing with one of the victims outside the video store; his car in the lot after closing; the fingerprint; the knife in his locker at school. Vince disappearing the same day that the public defender somehow got him sprung.
Clare opens her mouth to speak but stops. She doesn’t ask the questions he’d always anticipated and had rehearsed answers for: Why didn’t you tell me? Chris Ford isn’t your real last name? Don’t you trust me? Did I ever really know you?
Instead, she releases a cynical laugh and says, more to herself than to Chris, “I thought you were going to say there’s another woman.”
“Would that have been worse?”
Clare’s answer is a gut punch, revealing that sweet, perfect Clare might not be so sweet and so perfect after all.
“I’m not sure.”
YOUTUBE EXCERPT
Mr. Nirvana, the Anonymous Travel Vlogger
（2M views）
“The Radioactive Wolf”
EXT. CHERNOBYL—WOODS
MR. NIRVANA’s hand points to a sign posted to a tree in a desolate woodland. The metal sign is faded, rusted, and written in Russian.
MR. NIRVANA （O.S.）
The sign says “Radioactive Danger, Entry Forbidden.” But when’s a sign ever stopped us, right?
The video cuts off, then turns back on. He’s in an abandoned house. The paint is peeling from the walls. Pictures still hang on them. A doll sits on the rotted timber floor.
MR. NIRVANA （O.S.）
It looks like they quickly packed up their belongings and never looked back. I hope there’s no dead bodies in here.
Nirvana hears a noise and freezes. He pulls a hunting knife from a sheath, walking slowly with it held in front of him, on-camera.
MR. NIRVANA （O.S.）
（WHISPERING）
The most dangerous places in the zone are the houses. Why? Because although the land is contaminated, berries and nuts and roots still grow, attracting animals. Bears and other creatures take shelter in the abandoned—Oh shit!
The camera jostles and the sound of the wind rasps the microphone as Nirvana runs. There’s growling, a vicious animal giving chase. The camera turns off briefly. When it comes back on, Nirvana is inside a small room. The camera focuses on the door. Something is scratching on the other side, nails digging into the wood.
MR. NIRVANA （O.S.）
You hear that? It’s a big, mangy, Chernobyl wolf, right outside. He didn’t much care for me intruding on his home. I do not want that radioactive fellow to have me for dinner, so it appears I’ll be here for a while until he gives up. If you don’t see me post again, you know what happened. Until then, campers, when you view this, I’ll be back home in America. If I survive.
FADE TO BLACK
CHAPTER 21
ELLA
Jesse doesn’t jump.
When Ella reaches her, she’s standing with her toes over the ledge, the freight train barreling by less than two feet away, the air roaring like a tornado. Jesse extends an arm to make sure Ella doesn’t get too close to the edge. And they both stand there, the train blurring past, the two of them lost in a world where nothing matters but being in the moment—a dreamlike quality born of noise, danger, and the allure of death.