Dying Light

by Kory M. Shrum

  “Safe,” I repeat. “The cats think so anyway.”

  Nikki places a hand on my back. “She’s holding the door for you.”

  I glance over and see Gloria is in fact holding a door open for me.

  “Oh sorry.” I lift my bag up on my shoulder and shuffle across the dim lot, casting one last look at the sagging brick buildings before I dart inside with Nikki bringing up the rear.

  The hallway is long and the same squash yellow as Gloria’s kitchen back in Nashville. The wallpaper is some kind of fleur-de-lis design in repetitious patterns from top to bottom. Gloria hobbles up one floor, her cast scuffing the stained, industrial carpet on the stairs. She comes to a stop beside a door that was once white. Three brass numbers hang beneath a peep hole.

  222.

  The hallway smells like curry and someone is playing a TV way too loud. Upstairs, a baby is crying.

  The deadbolt is reluctant to give into Gloria’s key turning, so Gloria bumps her hip against the door. The bolt clanks open.

  We step inside and Nikki locks the door behind her. The room is cold and smells stale. I maneuver around an armchair and go to the window, pulling it open a couple of inches to let the fresh air in.

  “It’s freezing outside.” Nikki drops her bag on a gray loveseat.

  Goosebumps rise on my arms. “We just need to get things circulating.”

  The lights click on, three weak 40-watt bulbs casting halos of illumination around the room.

  “You’re not a fan of luxury, are you?” Nikki’s eyes slide over the secondhand furniture, the shag carpet the same color as the hallways, and the general cramped nature of the room. The cabinets of the kitchen nook are an old wood laminate and my guess is that there isn’t any food here.

  Gloria slides into a seat at the oak kitchen table. “I have all of my needs met.”

  I’m wrong about the food. I find a handful of cans in the cabinet above the stove and several 2-liters of soda in the fridge.

  Gloria removes her laptop from her pack and opens it on the tabletop. “You two can share the pullout bed.”

  “Where will you sleep?” I ask.

  “I won’t.”

  “Gloria,” I begin, intent on scolding her. She’s even worse at taking care of herself than Jesse.

  Gloria sighs. “If I need to sleep, I’ll take the chair.”

  Gloria is at least twenty years older than me. Probably twenty-five. She doesn’t need to be sleeping upright in a chair in her own place. I can sleep on the floor, shag carpet or no and Nikki can sleep in the chair. Of course, I already know that will be a losing battle. Nikki won’t let me sleep on the floor.

  Nikki leans over my shoulder, peering into the open cabinets. “Boxed mac and cheese and canned chili.” She kisses my temple. “We’ll have chili mac.”

  My stomach rumbles. “Better get on with it.”

  Gloria doesn’t look up from her computer, already deep in her task. “There’s some cookware in the drawer under the stove.”

  I leave Nikki alone in the kitchen to do her thing and sit at the table beside Gloria.

  “So does this place have a back door too?”

  “Yes.” She leans out of her chair and pulls open the curtain, revealing a bridge stretching over a canal. She points at the shadows beneath the bridge. “I have a boat under there.”

  “Good to know.”

  “We can jump from this window if we need to.”

  “Are you trying to break your other leg and mine too?”

  “Parachute jump.”

  I blink at her. She stands and demonstrates. “Put your legs together like this and bend into the knees. It distributes the impact evenly. Most of the time.”

  “How can you do that with your cast?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Or destroy your knee.” I raise my voice so Nikki can hear me over the clank of pans. “Do you know how to parachute jump?”

  Nikki who’s got a pot of water on the stove, ripping open the box of macaroni, pauses. “Unfortunately.” She fishes out the packet of powdered cheese and dumps the noodles into the water. Sometimes I’m amazed at how useful Nikki is, how functional. If Jesse were here, she’d be pacing the room or lying across the sofa whining dramatically.

  I wish she was here. What is she doing right now? Is she frightened? Does she have Winston? Is she in pain?

  I scoot my chair closer to Gloria. “You said you know where Jesse is.”

  Blue shadows dance across her face, projected by the computer in front of her.

  “She’s here.” Gloria turns the laptop toward me.

  Here is in the middle of Lake Michigan, about half a mile from shore.

  “Oh my god.” I grab the screen and adjust the angle. “They killed her and dumped her body in the lake?”

  I imagine Jesse wrapped in chains and thrown into the icy water to die over and over and over again.

  “No.” Gloria pulls her computer away. “She’s in The Needle.”

  It was described as a modern marvel on our city tour. Jesse had absolutely hated being on that bus with all the Asian tourists taking pictures of the buildings.

  Why do they have to take pictures of everything? It’s just a Coca-Cola can.

  I enjoyed learning a little more about the city. It was a nice activity, incredibly normal, and for one afternoon it was just us. We got coffee and when I got too cold, Jesse wrapped her arms around me and tucked me into her coat, insisting I warm my hands in her pockets.

  She was very sweet that day.

  “So Caldwell owns the building?” Nikki grins at me triumphantly. “You owe me $5.”

  “I’ll pay you later.”

  Gloria frowns.

  “I bet it was Oprah’s.” I shrug. “She seems like the type to want an impenetrable fortress suspended over water. Don’t you think? Caldwell has so many other properties in town, I just assumed he wouldn’t need another.”

  “It was a good guess,” Nikki says.

  I lean over and peer at the screen. “How are you following her?”

  “I implanted a tracker when we were still at Tate Tower, when I yanked out her IV.”

  She’s very good. I hadn’t even seen her do it.

  I lean back in my seat. “What inspired you to tag her?”

  Gloria frowns and suddenly looks very old. The skin under her eyes is puffy and unflattering. More lines than I’ve ever noticed before bisect her forehead and surround her mouth.

  “When he took her before, we wasted too much time looking for her. As soon as I knew he’d contacted her on the roof, I wanted to prepare for this.”

  Nikki opens and closes several cabinets, making a whole lot of noise.

  “What are you looking for?” I ask, turning in my seat.

  “A strainer.”

  “I don’t have one.” Gloria’s full attention has returned to the screen.

  Nikki closes the cabinet door. “That’s okay. I’ll make do. You have a can opener though, right? If not, I might have a multitool in my bag.”

  “Drawer to the right of the stove.”

  I reach out and touch Gloria’s hand, forcing her to look away from the computer and meet my eyes. “How are we going to get her out of The Needle? The tour guide said it was surrounded by rocks that would destroy any boat and no helicopter can land there.”

  “I’m working on that part.”

  “No doubt Caldwell can get in and out fine. Smart,” Nikki says from the kitchen, peeling back the lid on a can.

  I sigh and pick at a chip in the chair’s wood with my fingernail. “Would it be too much to ask that our villain be a little more stupid?”

  Nikki turns on the fan above the stove. For a moment, the grating whirl of the blades is all I can hear.

  “I’ve called my back up.” Gloria leans toward me, keeping her voice low. “They’ll join us as soon as they can.”

  “Who?”

  Gloria closes the laptop and gives Nikki a sidelong look. “You’ll see.” />
  Chapter 18

  Jesse

  This is the worst kind of torture I’ve ever experienced—close and constant contact with an emo teen.

  Just when I think Caldwell can’t get any more depraved, he pulls this.

  I sit on the beanbag chair, watching Maisie lounge in her bed with her laptop in her lap. Huge earphones cover half her head, her eyes wide and focused on whatever internet crap she’s engrossed in. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here with a pug in my lap surrounded by those eyeliner boys staring at me from the walls. Every few minutes, like clockwork, Maisie lets out a passive aggressive sigh to end all passive aggressive sighs.

  Minutes tick into hours, and finally I can’t take anymore.

  “Sweet mother of god. You’re killing me.”

  As soon as my leg muscles twitch, giving the signal of my intention to get up, the pug leaps. He lands on a pile of magazines. The glossy covers slide off of one another and create a cascading pyramid on the floor.

  “What’s your problem?” she asks, slipping the large headphones off of her head.

  “I can’t just sit here and watch you read articles about Jonathan Kiss-a-lots or Grant Great-hair or whatever the hell you’re doing. It’s making me crazy.”

  “Sorry.” She throws up her hands. “I don’t have an abundant social life here. I don’t know anyone who flies, do you?”

  I resist the urge to look for Gabriel, who’s been strangely absent despite the fact it’s just me and the kid. “Did you have friends?”

  Her face goes as ice cold and unreadable as any sculpture in the Art Institute. “Yes. I have friends.”

  “I’m surprised.” I shrug. “Caldwell doesn’t seem like the type to encourage outside connections.”

  She blinks at me.

  “Listen, I’m going a little stir crazy here. Don’t you ever sneak out or anything? Don’t you teens smoke or do drugs? Are you sure there’s not some way to get a little fresh air?”

  “Eww, gross. And no. There’s not,” she says with the same flat expression. “Unless you want to jump onto the rocks and get brained.”

  “I could use my shield,” I say. “I can jump with Winston. Just point me to the window.”

  “You’re not listening.”

  “You’re not listening. I can’t stay here.”

  She shrugs and puts her headphones back on. I fall back onto the beanbag and Winston curls up on my belly using me as a pillow. Within three minutes, he’s snoring.

  Gabriel, I think, hoping he’ll show up.

  Gabriel flickers into focus. He’s standing like a giant in the middle of the girl’s room.

  Where do you keep going?

  “I can’t materialize here,” he says as if that tells me anything. “I stay close.”

  How’s Ally and Gloria? I couldn’t care less about Sasquatch.

  “Jason attacked. Gloria protected the group.”

  “What?”

  Maisie rips her headphones off again. “What?”

  “This is a private conversation with—me and myself,” I tell her. “Put your headphones on.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “In most civilizations, younger siblings are subservient to the older ones.” I consider igniting my hand to prove my point. I decide against it, knowing that it could go really badly if this place doesn’t have a fire extinguisher. Those boyband posters look very flammable.

  “Whatever.” Maisie rolls her eyes and yanks the headphones back on, punching her keyboard more furiously than before.

  I watch her for a moment and I decide she probably muted the volume, waiting to see what I’d say. I storm out of the room. By the time I reach the center of the bulbous needle, Gabriel appears. To my surprise, he’s pretty substantial. Not the so-real-I-can-touch-you Gabriel that I usually have my conversations with, but much clearer than before.

  “I need to get back. They’re defenseless without me. Okay, not really. Gloria’s badass and Ally is super smart, but I should be with them, not here.”

  “They may succeed. He isn’t invincible. None of you are.”

  “Do you see any way out of here? It can’t really be sealed up, can it?”

  I pace the great room, looking at the Chicago skyline. Ally is out there somewhere. Safe, I hope.

  “There are no doors and the windows do not open. It would take immense force to break the glass.”

  “Like a firebomb?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ok, if I firebomb the glass, can I survive the fall?”

  “Winston would not survive the fall.”

  “What if I cradle him against my chest? He might be small enough to fit inside my shield.”

  “If your shield does not hold, he would die of hypothermia. You cannot leave with him. If you are willing to leave him behind, you may leave.”

  “No.” I throw up my hands, irritated that Gabriel has nothing to tell me but what I’ve already figured out myself. “I didn’t come here and suffer through all this—” I jab a finger in the direction of Maisie’s bedroom. “—this emotion, just to abandon my pug now. I don’t abandon people, unlike someone we know.”

  “Then you must wait and hope they come for you.”

  I frown. “No, I didn’t come so Ally could do another risky rescue mission. I don’t want her trying to save me.” As soon as I say it, I realize my mistake. Of course, she’s going to try. She’ll always try.

  “Fuck.” I fall onto the sofa. “How did I overlook that?”

  I pull at my face with my hands.

  I look up at Gabriel. “Can you shield her, even if I’m so far away?”

  No answer.

  I clench and unclench my fist. I want to throw something. I decide the couch is too big so I snatch off the pillows and hurl one after the other at Gabriel. They sail right through him of course.

  “Shielding her is the least you can do to make up for being such a giant asshole!”

  Gabriel’s feathers stiffen, rising up like fur. “What did I do to upset you?”

  “You lied to me.”

  “I have never lied.”

  I want to slap him. “You sure as hell left out a lot. When did you plan to tell me I was going to die? Huh? When exactly were you going to say ‘oh hey, by the way, you’re going to have to blow up or the whole world is going to die, including the woman you love’?”

  I stagger. “What did I just say?”

  “You said ‘you sure as hell left out a lot. When did you plan to tell me I was going–”

  “Yes, I know what I said. Thank you.” I look at Gabriel in such a way that I hope I can melt his face.

  The woman you love.

  I mean of course I love Ally. I tell her I love her all the time.

  I wail and pull at my face.

  Gabriel crosses the room and peers down at me where I lay collapsed on the couch. “Your heartbeat is elevated. Are you distressed?”

  “I hate you. Go away.”

  He blinks his big cat eyes at me. “I do not sense that you actually want me to leave.”

  I cover my face with my hands. “Please stop talking.”

  Gabriel listens to this command at least.

  For a long time, I sit on the leather sofa, face covered, listening to my breath.

  “Is there anything else terrible you should tell me?” I lower my hands to make sure Gabriel is still there. He is, hands in the pockets of his black dress pants. “Is Ally going to be skinned alive in front of me or something? Am I going to go all dark and murder her? I want full disclosure now.”

  Gabriel turns away from me and looks out over the water. “You are in control, Jesse. Not me. You will have whatever you want.”

  “I don’t want to die.”

  “Is that all?” he asks, his back still turned to me.

  I guess not. But how did I expect this to end? I was so sure insanity would get me first—and it still might at the rate I’m going, talking to angels, jumping out of burning buildings, and allowing ps
ychopaths to cart me off into the night.

  But this is a little different. I have this hope that I’ll get lucky. Yeah, the odds are shitty that I’ll sort out all of this mess with Caldwell and the partis, yet I hoped that I would and even better, that there would be an end to all this fighting. A happy ending.

  The happiest ending I can hope for now is that if I explode, it doesn’t hurt so much.

  I pull my cell out of my pocket. No signal.

  It couldn’t have anything to do with being suspended over a huge freshwater lake, could it? I scroll through my contacts and see Brinkley’s name on the screen.

  My thumb hovers over the send button.

  Oh B. What I wouldn’t give to call you now and have you tell me what to do.

  My chest aches the longer I stare at his name. In my mind, Caldwell appears behind him, grabs hold of his neck and—snap. The stark horror of the moment replays over and over.

  I can’t forget that Caldwell is a monster. And monsters lie. God, I wish he was lying about the end of the world crap. But Gabriel hasn’t said a word to contradict him.

  I squeeze my phone until my fingers turn white. I push the scroll down button until Brinkley’s name disappears. I come to a stop on a second name.

  Lane.

  I haven’t even thought about him. Okay, so this is what he wanted anyway—a break. And who said I had to think about him while I’m on this break? At first I thought about him a lot. I imagined what it would be like when we made up. I pictured fantastic makeup sex of course. I also imagined eloquent speeches where he explains what a fool he is for dumping me and how he knows now he can never live without me. But I haven’t had one of the makeup-sex-I’m-an-idiot-forgive-me fantasies in a while.

  Then I find out I’m going to explode the world and who’s the first person I think about?

  The woman you love.

  “Ah, shit.” I sink into the sofa. “I’ve just learned I’m going to die like forever, and I haven’t even thought about Lane.”

  “You do not love him,” Gabriel says. “You love Alice.”

  I grit my teeth. “Yes, thank you.”

  He frowns. “You seem as though you would like answers. I am providing the clarity you desire.”

  “Okay, really, I do want you to leave now. Do you sense that? Go on. I’ll call you if Caldwell shows up with a machete or something.”