“Do not speak to me of cruelty or slavery!” the sea woman boomed. Her eyes flashed fury and she uncoiled her tail.
“I will speak of it.” Yukiko stood and put her ears back. “You aid the slavers.”
“Go now!” shouted the sea woman, and Yukiko was slammed by a wall of water so cold and hard that she didn’t even have time to gasp for air. She was tumbled by the water until she couldn’t tell up from down, and she thrashed against it, struggling to find the surface.
Then there was sand, scraping the length of her body, and the water pulled back. She was on shore, cold, wet, and no closer to finding her spirit ball. She pushed herself up and looked out over the water. The sea woman’s head poked up from near the rock. Yukiko stood and glared. She would not be caught whimpering on the ground.
The sea woman watched her for another moment and then dipped below the water. Yukiko understood that she had wanted to make sure that she had been safe on shore. She had wanted Yukiko to know that she was not a killer.
Chapter 28
Astrid cradled Runt against her chest. The little cat was lethargic and had refused to eat since that afternoon, and even then, he had only taken a tiny bit of milk. His breathing was slow. Too slow. She had wiped at his bottom again and again with the warm, wet cloth, but to no avail. He refused the bottle, even when Astrid manually gently pried his mouth open and pushed in the nipple. He needed his mother, and she had failed in finding her. If he suffered, it was her fault.
“We need to take him to the vet,” she told Elliot. He sat across from her at the trailer table, reading.
“It’s almost midnight. Nothing will be open until morning.”
“Isn’t there an emergency vet somewhere?”
“There’s one on Sepulveda, but the buses won’t be running until morning.”
“Do you know anyone with a car?”
“Not one we could borrow.” He took a look at Runt. “He looks bad.”
“I know. I’ll walk.” Astrid put the bottle into the kitten box, set Runt down between Frieda and Diego and put on her coat.
“It’s the middle of the night. It’s not safe,” said Elliot.
“He’s really sick. I don’t think he can wait.” She’d walk all night if she had to.
Elliot brightened. “Wait, we can call a cab.”
She hadn’t thought of taking a cab. She had never even ridden in one and didn’t know how much they cost. Elliot flipped open the old laptop he used to sell his little metal sculptures, called the cab company and they waited. Astrid picked up Runt again and stroked him. Every time she got him to open his eyes, he immediately went back to sleep. His little limbs were limp.
“Please be okay,” she whispered.
“He doesn’t look so good,” said Elliot.
“I know that! You think I can’t see that?” She glared at him. She caught the hurt in his expression a moment before he concealed it.
Fifteen minutes later, Elliot called the cab company again, and they insisted that a driver was on his way.
Astrid grabbed the phone. “Hurry, please. It’s an emergency.”
Elliot hung up his mobile phone and reached to turn off his laptop. Then Astrid saw him glance at the spot just behind her and jump back. He grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him. She turned to see and just behind her, touching the floor, hung a disk of what looked like bright white fog. The disk parted in the middle, like a misty doughnut, and the center moved, like water disturbed, or a rippling mirror. The area in the center was reflective, showing bits of the trailer and the two of them.
Then, Runt lifted his head and looked at the thing. It was a Door. Runt leaped out of her hands. The instant his paws hit the carpet, she saw him twice. Once, there was a little white body with its eyes closed and its tiny torso without breath in her hands. And the second time there was a kitten on the floor, healthy and alive.
The Runt on the floor looked up at her, and then said, “Dime?” His voice was high and clear, like a note on a flute. His expression was intelligent, as if he fully expected her to answer. She had seen the same look with his mother.
“What?” she said.
“Go?” he said, his word elongated and lifting at the end.
“Go where?” But she already knew what he meant. This Door was different. It was not like the Door in the mirror house, full of terrors and monsters. This Door was peaceful, or at least neutral. The fog around the mirror-like center was holding steady. It was just the right size for a cat to pass through. The mirrored surface was still in motion, showing a flash of her blue jeans, then the red of Elliot’s shirt.
Runt looked up at her and then butted his head against her leg, but she did not feel it. The action was so much like his mother’s that it hurt to watch it. Astrid dropped to her knees and reached out a hand. The kitten lifted his head under her palm, but when she tried to touch him, her hand passed through him. Of course. The little body in her other hand was solid and real. The little spirit on the ground was not.
Elliot crouched down beside her. “He needs to go through,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“I had a dream about this. It’s important that he goes through.”
Astrid looked from Elliot to the Door to Runt. She knew he was right. The little spirit had to leave.
“You should go.” She pointed. “Go on.”
Runt turned to regard the Door, but did not budge.
“Your mother is there,” she said.
Runt considered, and then moved toward the Door and stopped just short of it. He turned back for a second, and Astrid waited for him to say something. But just as quickly, he turned and leapt through. The fog pulled inward until the mirror-like center was gone, and then the fog dissipated into the air of the trailer.
Astrid felt dizzy, and put her free hand against the cabinet to steady herself. She no longer saw two of Runt, but the world seemed less steady, less real. It wasn’t in her mind, it was a physical sensation.
“Do you want to … you know, put him down?” Elliot asked.
She was still clutching Runt’s body.
“We need to bury him properly,” she said.
“We can do it in the morning.”
Elliot took a dish towel and laid it out on the table and she set the little cat in the center. He folded in the sides and made a tidy little bundle.
“I promised her,” Astrid said through tears. “I promised I’d take care of her babies.”
Elliot set a glass of tap water in front of her and she drank. It made her feel better, more a part of the real world. Diego and Frieda mewed in their box, and she picked them up and petted them. They were both strong and healthy. She fed them and they sucked greedily at the bottle.
“I’m scared, Elliot.”
“I know.”
“I’m not sure if I’m dangerous.”
He picked up Diego, who was crawling toward the edge of the table. The kitten gave a hearty squeak.
“I think you are,” he said.
It startled her, but he didn’t look angry or upset, just matter-of-fact.
“What do you think is happening?” she said.
“I don’t know, but I think you’re some kind of doorway. A doorway to other places, like death.”
Chapter 29
Elliot woke the next morning to a headache and a feeling of nausea and unease. Well, he was hosting talking ghost kittens and a girl who could inadvertently open Doors to hell and/or the afterlife. And he was hallucinating while on dates and his dream déjà vu was now strong enough for him to believe that it might actually be real.
Actually, a run-of-the-mill headache might be a welcome change of pace. There was a small bottle of Tylenol in the bathroom, where Astrid was now showering. He tossed back his covers and paused. The
blanket had always been a dark red, and now it was solid navy blue. Oh no. Yukiko had insinuated that he had been poisoned at the Falafel Hut, but he had not eaten there or anywhere else since their ill-fated date. He always packed his lunch and prepared everything himself. It kept him from any potential, if unlikely, danger. Also, it was cheaper.
He dressed, heated two cups of water in the microwave and got out a jar of instant coffee. When he set the cups on the table, he saw that Astrid had tossed his red blanket onto the seat. So there it was. But he didn’t remember ever having a navy blue blanket at all. And last night, the blanket had definitely been red, or he would have noticed.
He got down a box of cereal, but there wasn’t any milk. There was a mini mart on the corner where he could get some. He shouted through the bathroom door to tell Astrid where he was going, grabbed his keys and wallet and headed out. The sunlight hurt his head and he rubbed at his eyes. He stood still for a moment, breathing in the cool air, trying to calm his stomach. Even if he got milk, he probably couldn’t keep down any food.
He hadn’t gone two blocks before he saw the changes. One of the stores that used to sell tee shirts, sunglasses and souvenir key chains was gone, and in its place was a realtor’s office. An ice cream shop now had yellow upholstered chairs instead of pink. The three-tiered fountain that stood in the center of a sitting area used to be smooth and white with pale blue tiles lining the interior. Now, the tiles were in a pattern of yellow, white and cobalt blue and the fountain itself was orange terra cotta.
Falafel Hut was now called Falafel Shack and the mural on the wall inside now pictured Athena with an owl on her shoulder and the dancing nymphs now all had dark curly hair.
The people walking down the sidewalks were the same. Mick sat on a bus stop bench, and he waved hello as Elliot passed. Perhaps Mick’s clothing had changed, like Yukiko’s dress. But he wouldn’t notice if it had. The mini mart was unchanged, except he thought that it had more California lottery posters in the window. He couldn’t be sure.
He grabbed milk and a package of powdered doughnuts. His head hurt so much that he felt dizzy, and he needed painkiller. Now. He grabbed a bottle of Tylenol, set everything on the counter and opened his wallet. His driver’s license was visible through a little plastic window, and he froze. The picture was different. He pulled out the license for a better look. In the picture, he had long hair that fell in blonde waves down to his shoulders. He looked like a girl. Or someone in an 80’s glam band. It was horrific.
He touched his hair. Short as ever. Sure, sometimes it got scruffy and longish if he didn’t cut it, but he had never in his life let it get that long. Then he noticed the birthday on the license. His birthday was January tenth, but this said it was the eleventh.
“You going to pay for that?” asked the man at the counter.
Elliot paid and took off for home, opening the Tylenol as he walked and dry swallowing three tablets. Mick was still at the bus stop.
“Hey, Mick, can I talk to you? I think something’s wrong.” If anyone would understand seeing things, it would be Mick.
“Sure, Elliot. What is it?”
They were a few yards from the fountain.
“Was that fountain always like that?” Elliot asked.
“You mean was it always right there?”
“I mean the color. Was it ever blue and white?”
Mick shielded his eyes with his hand and gave the fountain a good look. When he turned back to Elliot, his gaze was as clear and sane as Elliot had ever seen it.
“You remember it differently than it is now?” said Mick. “Does that mean you can remember forwards and backwards? Like the White Queen?”
“No—I mean, I’m not sure.”
If he could dream the future and have little snippets of déjà vu ahead of things actually happening, then wasn’t that exactly what Mick meant? Remembering forward?
“I just know that the fountain is different,” Elliot said.
“Nope. It’s always been just like that. That orangey color with the colored tiles. But I remember other things being different. Stuff moving. Things like that.”
“When you started seeing changes like that, when did it start? What was it like?”
Mick rubbed his chin and Elliot noticed again that Mick looked like he had shaved recently.
“Well, it was little things at first. Like you seeing the fountain. It would come and go when I was a teenager. Then, when I was in Vietnam, I’d see things that the other men said weren’t there. I had to go to the medics and they were talking about sending me home. And one day there was this shimmering spot, right up close to me. And, well, the change thing happens all the time now.”
The bus approached and Mick picked up his old rucksack.
“But who knows?” said Mick. “Maybe you slipped a groove. Happens to the best of us. You should talk to Imelda at the shelter. She’s really nice; she might be able to help you.”
Mick climbed onto the bus and it pulled away with a roar and a puff of smelly black exhaust. Well, when the crazy people thought you were crazy, you knew you were in trouble.
By the time he got back to the trailer, he felt like he was going to vomit. Astrid had left a note saying she was going to get a few things from her house while her mother was at work. Well, so much for buying milk for breakfast. She had asked him in the note to keep an eye on the cats. Fine. He could do that much.
Runt’s little body was still wrapped in the kitchen towel on the counter. They needed to bury the little guy, but he wasn’t sure where. Stray dogs would dig him up if they buried him on the beach. Maybe they could go to a park and hope the cops didn’t bother them. Or they could bury him at sea, off the end of the pier. Whatever Astrid wanted to do, it needed to be soon or the body would start to smell. He took the tiny bundle and put it in the freezer. Wasn’t that what they did with human bodies at the morgue? So it wasn’t really disrespectful.
He pulled the curtains closed in the tiny sleeping area at the back of the trailer and lay down. He wasn’t due at work until that afternoon, and he needed a nap. The light and sound were so painful now, and the Tylenol wasn’t helping. He dozed, passing in and out of sleep, until he heard words. They were part of a half-dream, the sort he had when he was just falling asleep.
“You gave this time and date,” a voice said.
Chapter 30
Astrid went through her room, stuffing clothing into an old duffle bag and a reusable grocery tote she found in the kitchen. An old stuffed dog, her favorite pajamas, two pairs of shoes, they all went into the duffle bag. So did pants, shirts and her work uniforms. She paused at her bookcase where the newer fairy tale book sat beside its older twin. She pulled down both and put them into the grocery tote. She wrapped Elliot’s wire rabbit and put it in also.
Then she went through her desk, taking all of her new colored pencils and markers, her sketch pads and charcoals. A few minutes later, both the duffle bag and the grocery tote were full, and she turned, looking over the room in which she had spent so many years.
She wondered if she’d be able to come back. Maybe her mother would want to speak with her again before she left for New York. Her mother had not called her mobile phone, but it had only been a day. Astrid was still angry enough to avoid her mother, but enough time had passed that she felt a little sad about it. Elliot had told her the name of that feeling was Stockholm Syndrome.
She looked back through the closet and pulled out her new jacket from her aunt. She wouldn’t need it now, but New York was cold, and she wouldn’t have much money with which to buy a new one.
On her nightstand sat her alarm clock, and right beside it was her metal bell in the shape of an owl. She picked it up. It was heavy and had a faint metallic scent, even a foot away from her face. This was the bell that Cinderella had let fall into her kitten’s box. Looking back, she g
ot the feeling that Cinderella had put it close to the kittens on purpose.
Astrid had owned the bell her entire life and it had always been on her nightstand. She had no idea where it had come from. For the first time, she thought of it like a talisman. Its small face was stern-looking, perhaps a bit fierce. It reminded her of Cinderella in that way.
Her bags were full to bursting, so she shoved it into her purse. She pulled open her nightstand, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Along with various odds and ends was her old pink clamshell mirror. She stuck it into her purse. She might be poor and technically homeless, but she could still make sure she looked halfway decent.
She stood in the doorway. The room didn’t look too much different, especially with the closet and drawers closed. Would her mother notice right away that she had taken her things? Had her mother come in here after she had gone, wishing she had her little girl back? Or was she still sulking in her madness, deluded into thinking that her daughter was a prostitute or a drug addict or whatever strange things her mind had concocted?
She had a strange impulse, reached into the bag and pulled out the first colored pencil her fingers touched. It was Sulphur Spring, a bright acid green. Well, at least that was somewhat appropriate. She crawled back under her desk until she could reach the base of the wall, back in the corner. She wrote, “Astrid’s Room Forever.”
It was silly and juvenile, but the moment she had finished, she felt better. She pulled her house key from her key ring and slapped it on the kitchen table. She would not leave a note.
When she was sure she had everything, she locked the front door from the inside and pulled the door closed.
Chapter 31
Yukiko caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the mirror house panels. It was humiliating. She wore the same khaki pants, polo shirt and ugly blue visor as the rest of the miserable park employees. She couldn’t wear her plush fox tail, so she kept to the shade where she wouldn’t cast a shadow.
The Time Corps Chronicles (Complete Series) Page 74