Perfect Copy

by Judith Gaines

  “I hate not knowing what to do,” he said. “I can’t research this and come up with an answer.”

  “Kids can’t give answers, they just pose questions,” she replied. “Even normal kids.”

  “Trite advice, that’s what we need.”

  “Then ask Roman what’s going on.”

  Roman was flat on the floor beside the hall table, drawing a red square on the floor.

  “Roman—” she started, but Russ shushed her before she could finish.

  “Look.”

  Roman filled in his square with large waxy dots separated by lines marking off a grid. He whispered under his breath. Brina leaned, catching his rushed, one-sided conversation. “Go slower, slower. I hear you, stop it.”

  “Roman? Who are you talking to?”

  “Mathew, but he won’t listen to me. He’s always talking.”

  The hair stood up on her arms. “Roman, Mathew’s not here.”

  “I know,” he said.

  Russ whistled through his teeth. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

  “Russ. Look at this.”

  He leaned over her shoulder and looked from Roman’s drawing to a speck of white paper she was pointing to.

  “It looks like it’s sticking out from between the floorboards,” she said.

  “That means this must open somehow.” Russ scooted Roman out of the way and received a kick in the side for his efforts.

  “Roman, that’s not nice.” Brina pointed to the floor beside her. “Sit.”

  She leaned over the crayon markings, aware of Russ’s proximity. She thumbed the diamond-embedded wedding band on her left hand, and a surge of guilt kept her from getting any closer.

  Russ took a penknife from his key ring and popped open the blade. It slid between the stained wood planks, inching one up until it flipped open on a hidden hinge. Inside was a keypad, a perfect match to Roman’s rendering.

  “How did he know?” Brina looked at Roman, but his face had regained the vacant innocence that was so familiar.

  “He’s quiet and he makes a good spy. He probably saw Edward open it.”

  “I’m willing to believe that.”

  Roman tapped his crayons on the floor, making a matrix of dots on the polished surface. They crossed over to the fringe of the rug and blended into the knotted pattern repeating itself down the hall. He flopped over onto his belly as he worked his dots further and further out from where Brina had mandated he sit.

  “I think we’re in for a lot of firsts with him, starting now,” she said.

  “Is that a personal or scientific opinion?” Russ sat up, studying the buttons laid out on in front of him.

  “Both,” she said. “Now, all we need is the code.”

  Chapter 22

  Brina set the plate on the floor next to Russ. He’d spent the last hour punching in birthdates, file codes, and whatever else he could think of into the keypad. Not only had the door not revealed itself, but the keys were still dark.

  “It’s got to be something simple, something right in front of my face.” He looked at the plate and picked up the sandwich. “It’s good,” he said, with a full cheek of ham and cheese.

  “Maybe you can try asking Edward again?” she asked. "You’d think he’d have an interest in saving his own life."

  “I don’t think it’ll be much use, but I’ll try.”

  Roman pushed through the kitchen door with a cookie in each hand and a smear of chocolate on his chin. “Brina, these are my favorites.”

  Russ choked back a mouthful of bread and turkey. “He’s been saving up all his talking for this one great revelation.”

  “Cookies would be on my list,” she said.

  “Do you think he knows how to open the damn thing?”

  “I don’t know what buttons to push, but Mathew might know,” answered Roman.

  Russ sighed. “Mathew is not here.”

  Roman shrugged and continued munching his dessert.

  Brina tucked her hair behind her ears and peered down at the panel. “The buttons look like they should light up," she said.

  “I know.”

  “Well, maybe there’s another switch that powers it. You may have put the code in and it just didn’t work because there’s no juice flowing to the keypad.”

  “And where do you suppose that switch is located?”

  “Ask Edward?” She smiled.

  “Cute, but Edward doesn’t want us down there. And it’s looking like we’ll never get the chance.” Russ took another bite of his sandwich and followed it up with a potato chip. “I can check Mathew’s desk, and if I can’t find anything there, I’ll search Edward’s room.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Check the weather forecast and see if we have a chance of getting out of here. Together. Other than that, keep Edward comfortable.”

  “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

  “Not the kind that treats patients. He needs a specialist, and tests. There’s no telling how much damage his heart sustained. His color isn’t good.”

  Brina processed Edward’s role in the tangle. “Is he able to travel?”

  Russ shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  The floor was beginning to get hard under Brina’s backside. She shifted to the other cheek and leaned her back against the wall. This put her eye level with the hall table and doorknob. Beside the door, a double row of light switches pointed up and down. She hadn’t figured out what half of them controlled.

  “Russ.”

  “What?”

  “What about the light switches? Could one of those juice the controls?”

  He brushed potato chip salt from his fingers and crossed to the door. “This one goes to the outside floods, and I know this one is the porch light.” He flipped the next one, which turned on the hall light.

  “Leave that one on,” she said. “Try the next row.”

  The first switch appeared to do nothing. “Do you see any outside lights coming on?” Russ looked out the side windows while he flipped it up and down.

  “No, but leave it on. Try the next one.”

  The panel flickered, and then one by one, each button illuminated from a light source below. “Bingo.”

  “Bingo,” echoed Roman. He crawled over to the controls, dragging a handful of crayons with him. He began drawing on the floor again.

  “Should you be letting him do that?” asked Russ.

  “I don’t care about Mathew’s floor, and the last time he did it, we found this.”

  Roman gripped his crayon until his fingers were white and began making a series of short lines on the smooth-grained wood.

  “Okay, they look like lines,” observed Russ.

  “I didn’t say he would give us another clue, just that it worked before. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  “Let’s try some of the codes again.”

  Russ punched number after number with no luck. Nothing opened, buzzed or reacted to any of the sequences he could come up with. He cracked his knuckles and stretched. “Maybe it’s time to see what Edward has to offer.”

  “You’ll have better luck just pilfering the information while he’s asleep. You might want to check Mathew’s room, too. If you don’t have any luck, I’ll take a look. Sometimes fresh eyes help.” She smiled, hoping he didn’t suspect she was still holding out. Not that she still worried about his loyalties, but she didn’t know how to admit she’d stolen the appointment book.

  Chapter 23

  Once Russ had disappeared into Edward’s room, Brina tiptoed into her own and retrieved the book. When she returned, Roman was still drawing on the floor. She flipped back to the last entry. What was Roman’s birth date? She thought it was September 12, but that didn’t work. It would help if she knew how many digits the code needed. It could be a date, a serial number, or a file code, although all the ones they had tried didn’t work.

  She dropped the book on the floor next to Roman, where the cover landed lopsided, marching Mathew’s
initials into a sideways column. From the new angle, the scripted lettering looked like numbers. mnr.

  “MNR, Mathew Nathanial Roman. The M looks like a three, the N could be a two, and then what?” she mumbled. The R didn’t really look like anything; it could be a four, a nine, or a six, those being the only numbers with a loop to them.

  Roman handed her his red crayon and announced himself done.

  “Done with what?” His lines made up three rows on the floor, beginning with a row of three, then below it, two short lines followed by a very long row of short bars. She counted eighteen.

  “3-2-18,” she whispered the numbers to herself, not really believing it would fall into her lap so easily. She counted out the alphabet on her fingers and came up with 18 for R. “3-2-1-8; R is the eighteenth letter of the alphabet.”

  She reached into the hole in the floor and pressed each button, pausing slightly before entering the final digit. The antiquated sound of pulleys and wood scraping on wood vibrated from the wall behind her. Light reached in the opening, showing just the top two steps that descended into darkness.

  Roman scooted over and looked down. “I don’t like it in there.”

  Brina scooted over next to him. “I know.” She sat him on her lap and glanced at her watch. It was quarter of eight.

  “Why don’t we get you ready for bed?” She stood and carried him to the bottom of the main staircase. “Go on up and I’ll be there in a minute.” Halfway up the steps he turned and looked over her shoulder. His head shook a tiny “no.”

  She turned and looked, but the hall was empty. She felt a cold draft swirl around her legs. “Roman, go and tell Russ to come down here. I’ll be up soon to read with you.”

  He inhaled deeply and looked on the verge of rebelling over his bedtime.

  “Go,” she said gently.

  “Mathew doesn’t like you.”

  She shook her head wondering where that came from. “Mathew isn’t here, and that’s okay, anyway. I don’t mind if he doesn’t like me.”

  Roman ran down the steps and flung his arms around her waist. Brina knelt and planted a kiss on his rosebud lips. “I love you. Always remember that.”

  She turned him around and gave him a nudge up the stairs. “Don’t forget to send Russ down.” He obeyed, and soon the deserted hallway was filled only with the rustling of drapery caught in a draft.

  Her next dilemma was deciding whether to wait or venture into the lab alone. She ran a hand along the inside of the stairwell but didn’t find any light switches. She didn’t remember seeing any either. That left a flashlight as the next best option. She stepped away and felt a chill hop each vertebra.

  “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?” she hummed. “Or just dark, spooky labs at night.” She backed toward the kitchen, keeping an eye on the lab door. The familiar paneled kitchen doorway swung in behind her.

  There were two likely spots where she might find the flashlight. Then she remembered it was still upstairs at the bottom of the attic steps. She went into the pantry for a stress cookie. The shelves were lined with a supply of canned vegetables, dried pasta, and baking staples. She moved a box of pancake mix over, looking for her private stash. It was gone.

  “Oh, man,” she groaned.

  She moved the sugar canister over and looked behind it, then the cereal, then a multi-pack of raisins, and still nothing. “Damn, someone finished them off and didn’t even say anything.” Peeved, but not surprised, she imagined the sugar wafers clogging Edward’s arteries and saying “I told you so.” A second later, she sent Edward a silent apology, although it was only half felt. She straightened the shelves and started to move the cereal lower so Roman could reach it. The box was nearly empty, although it had been full that morning. She shook it again, not trusting her memory.

  She took an inventory of the few items she was certain should be in the pantry, and then did the same with the refrigerator. More food came up short, or missing altogether.

  “Not possible. I’m the only one who cooks.” Edward and Russ would stay in their lab and starve if she didn’t call them off the ledge every four hours. She gave it some thought, not liking the conclusions that sprang to the front of the line.

  Brina popped two aspirin and chased it with a glass of milk. She unlocked the back door and opened it a few inches. The alarm system chimed; she shut the door and it chimed again. No one could come through any of the doors or windows without them hearing, even if he or she had a key.

  Somehow, someone had done just that.

  Chapter 24

  Gradually, Edward became aware that he was no longer asleep. Someone had been in the room with him. Or had he dreamed it? He opened his eyes and squinted around the dim perimeter. Shadows filled in corners the bedside lamp couldn’t reach.

  He flexed his legs, grateful the movement didn’t hurt, and placed his hands on the bed to push himself up. His glasses were on the nightstand. He put those on and looked again, listening for sounds of anyone in the hallway or perhaps hiding in the room.

  There it was again. He wasn’t dreaming. Someone was in Mathew’s room. He was too tired to speculate who it may be. There were too few choices anyway, so it wouldn’t be any fun, and what could he do about it?

  As his head cleared, he remembered his plan. How would he get Russ to the garage? Russ would have to go there eventually if he wanted to leave, but Edward needed him to go sooner. No matter who finished off whom, he’d be in a better position to control the outcome of his own fate.

  He swung his legs off the bed, his foot hitting something warm and yielding. Roman. He sat there with Mathew’s eyes and a scowl.

  “Move,” Edward ordered.

  Roman kicked him. Edward kicked back.

  “You’re supposed to stay here,” said Roman, as he sat cross-legged on the floor, with his pajamas bunched around his knees.

  “Get out of my way. Who let you in here?” Edward stood, bypassing Roman. Roman responded like a typical child: he bit him.

  “Oww, get out of here!” Edward made to give him a harder kick, but Roman squirted out of the way and stood.

  He looked at Edward and smiled. “I’m supposed to give you water.” He poured from a pitcher on the nightstand and handed Edward a half-filled white mug.

  Edward took it, watching Roman suspiciously. He sniffed it and took a tiny sip. “You do have some uses,” he said. Edward took a longer swallow, finishing off the cup. As he looked down, he saw the white residue clinging to the bottom.

  “What?” he stammered, the drug slithering like a snake into his system.

  Roman watched as Edward sank to the floor. “Don’t worry. It’s not enough to kill you. Mathew promised it would help you be nicer.” Roman scratched his head and looked toward the window. He mouthed a few silent words.

  “What are you saying? Who are you talking to?” Edward looked at Roman, then the window, and then again at Roman, who was finishing his conversation.

  “Mathew says its bedtime.” Roman crossed the room and crawled into the armchair he had warmed earlier that evening. He stretched to flip the latch open, allowing the springs in the window casing to lurch upward two inches. Roman hopped down, dragging a blanket from the chair to Edward, where he squatted and pushed it to just inside his reach.

  Edward watched him leave the room and close the door soundly behind him. They were all mad, he thought, regretting not having terminated each test specimen before they could wiggle outside a womb. He hiccupped and felt the burn at the back of his throat. Bile came up next. Bitter, tooth-eating bile. He spit the last wave onto the floor and clutched the blanket. The room was getting colder. He looked up at the open window, aware that the second floor wasn’t wired into the security system.

  Next came the black pinpricks on his retinas that randomly filled into darkness. He had given Mathew the Tegretol himself, and now, thanks to his own weak heart, he was paying for his calculated generosity.

  Chapter 25

  Brina sat in the hallway w
ith a box of black raisins and sticky fingers. They weren’t the fix she needed, but it was better than eating sugar cubes. She looked at her watch. It had been nearly twenty minutes since she sent Roman upstairs to look for Russ. She sighed, crumpled the box, and headed up the stairs. Roman had better be in his jammies, and Russ had better be on his way down.

  She found Roman at the top of the stairs. His pajama bottoms were backward and his feet bare. “What are you doing?”

  He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Waiting.”

  “Well, you need to wait in your room. Come on.” She herded him in and left him with his books and NPR playing classics for kids.

  Next, she crossed the hall and knocked on Russ’s door. No answer. A door opened down the hall. Russ came out of Mathew’s room with a book in hand.

  “Find anything?”

  He shook his head no. “Just something to read later.” He held up a recent James Patterson novel.

  “Don’t tell me our situation isn’t thrilling enough for you?”

  “It’s just nice to escape when reality gets too bizarre.”

  “Well, hang on, because it gets better.” She filled him in on the list of missing food items.

  “I checked the doors, the alarm worked on all of them. I’m thinking Mathew is still around. Either that, or Edward or Roman is hoarding food somewhere.”

  Russ didn’t look convinced that missing food was something to be alarmed about. “Couldn’t we have just eaten it and lost track?”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Doubtful, but possible?” he asked.

  “My gut tells me something is wrong.”

  “When we get out of here, I’ll buy you cookies. Anyway, I think it’s likely that Edward ate them. You saw how he went through the doughnuts this morning. Speaking of which . . .”

  “We should look in on him,” she finished.

  Brina opened the door and had another flash of this afternoon. Edward was on the floor again, legs splayed, looking nearly dead. His chest moved slowly, his mouth emitting a wheeze.