He put the gift under the largest tree in the room. His hair was shiny blond, almost gold. It was properly cut and recently combed; his shorts were pressed and his checkered shirt tucked in. He smiled innocently.
“How did you open the doors?” he asked.
“I didn’t.”
“Who did?”
Sandy wasn’t by her side. He was a two-dimensional figure plastered to the wall and well out of the boy’s sight. Silently, he lifted a stick finger to his puckered lips.
“They just... opened.”
“Funny,” the boy said, “you must be from the west end. Mother told me about you.”
“The miser?”
“Who?”
Sandy threw a scowl at her. “Oh, you mean Heether?”
“Yes, that’s Mother. Do you want to play?”
Kandi scratched her head. Something about the way he said that. He had a few pimples, but his voice hadn’t already passed through the deep canyon of puberty. But he looked older than that.
Do you want to play?
“In there?” Kandi pointed inside the room.
“I’ll bring it to you; we can play at the glass. I’ve got checkers, chess, backgammon, Chinese checkers—that’s Mother’s favorite—and dominoes.”
He ran off before she could answer. She had played all of those games on her phone, usually against the computer because no one wanted to play old-fashioned games. The boy came back with a stack of boxes that rattled.
There were gorillas at a zoo Kandi once visited. She’d watched them through a thick panel of glass. Sometimes one of them would lean against it. She would be so close to it, but they were in two completely different worlds.
“Do you stay in there?”
“I used to go to the west end in the afternoon, but not anymore. You’re there now. Mother felt you would enjoy seeing the sun set. That’s my favorite part of the day, aside from opening presents. Did you like the decorations in your room?”
“They’re amazing, but a lot different than your room.”
“They are?”
Sandy’s scowl turned placid. His head pivoted back and forth. Kandi wanted to yank him off the wall. If he wanted to coach her, he could stop playing charades.
“What’s your favorite decoration?” the boy said.
“My favorite?”
“Yes, I have a favorite. What’s yours?”
New life ignited Sandy into action. He remain two-dimensional and out of sight, silently mouthing a single word as he shaped something large and triangular.
“Um, the tree.”
“Yes! I love the Christmas tree more than anything else. I love the way it smells and the way it feels. It’s so refreshing. It makes me feel so... so alive.”
So alive? Why does it sound odd the way he says it?
“How did it get in there?”
“Pardon?”
“The tree is so big, how do you get it in and out of the room?”
“Why would I take it out?”
Sandy’s head was violently turning. He appeared to be trying to stop a train. Kandi looked down the hall—it was still empty—then realized he was signaling her. To keep him from short-circuiting, she changed the subject.
“How about checkers?”
“Oh! My favorite, again.” He pushed around the boxes and realized he’d forgotten the checkers. He skipped behind the tree. “Do you have a favorite song?” he called.
Kandi looked to Sandy. This time he shrugged.
“Mine is ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town,’” the boy said. “‘The Christmas Song’ is good, too, the one about chestnuts. When I’m in the mood, I listen to that one, usually with hot chocolate in front of the fire.”
He returned with a box.
“I’m so sorry, there’s no chair. Mother usually brings one with her. This is so rude of me. Do you want to sit crisscross applesauce?”
He plopped on the floor and folded his legs. He had a system of how she could tell him which checker to move. It was somewhat complicated but proved effective, he said. There would be no confusion that way. And she would be red because Mother was always red.
And red goes first.
“Your mom doesn’t come inside your room?”
“No.”
He was already hunched over the board and rubbing his chin. Kandi made her move and he followed. It was better to wait for her turn to ask a question. He didn’t answer when it was his turn.
“Why doesn’t she come in there?”
“It’s safer that way.”
“Don’t you get bored?”
“Sometimes. It’s your move.” Three more turns and a black checker double-jumped her. “Mother always falls for that.”
“How long have you been in there?”
If Sandy was trying to stop a train before, he was now attempting to prevent an avalanche. She ignored him, but now he was bouncing on the ceiling. At one point, all three perfectly round sand balls became detached. His arms clattered like fallen limbs. She’d seen a lot of strange things so far, but watching orphaned arms reassemble a body was in the top three.
“I’ve always been in here,” the boy said.
“Always?”
“It’s your turn.”
Kandi made a blind move and confused him. It was another minute before he slid a black checker and another thirty seconds before he took his finger off it. He bit his lower lip.
“How old are you?”
He looked up for the first time since the game started and grinned a million-dollar smile. Kandi was hot, but his smile warmed her from the inside.
“Nine.”
“Nine?” Kandi waited for the punchline. She even chuckled. “You’re serious?”
“It’s your move.”
“It’s just... you don’t look nine.”
Sandy wasn’t falling apart anymore. He had dissolved into a two-dimensional pile of sand that spelled out one word.
STOP!
The boy looked like he was her age, but he sounded like a nine-year-old. A very well-behaved nine-year-old.
A tailor-made Cub Scout.
The game was nearly finished when her dad called. His voice echoed down the hall. It sounded like he was on the other side of the island.
“I have to go.”
“The game’s not over.”
“Oh, it’s over. You won.”
“You’re right.” He poured the pieces into the box. “Will you come back tomorrow?”
She stammered. Sandy was still a puddle. He remained that way even as she turned around. The boy stood at the glass with the box of checkers under his arm. He was waving.
“By the way,” he said, “what’s your name?”
“Kandi.”
“Like the sweets?” He said it so innocently and hopefully. That warm feeling welled up inside her again. “My name is Sonny.”
“Like the sun?”
“Yes, like the sun.”
The doors began to close. She waved back and started down the hall. He stood there until the doors had completely shut. The music grew louder. She could hear him singing.
“CAN YOU READ?” SANDY was still a two-dimensional poster sliding down the hall. “Words, sign language, that sort of thing?”
“If you didn’t want me to talk to him, why did you open the doors?”
“For a little company, not an interrogation.”
“That was a conversation. We played a game, talked, and he was happy. You saw it. Oh, wait. You didn’t see it. You were hiding.”
Kandi’s dad whistled. He was walking toward her now. She picked up the pace.
“You don’t just blurt out how old are you?”
“What was I supposed to ask him?”
“What’s your favorite present?” Sandy swung his arms in an imaginary conversation. “What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite food? You see a pattern?”
“Why did you hide?”
“When’s the last time you played checkers?” He frown
ed. Get it?
There was no technology in the room and nothing in the hall. He was living in another era, one that was old-fashioned and simple. Maybe that was why all the decorations were illusions where she was staying. They could be turned off. Sonny was from an old sitcom. The only thing that was missing was a laugh track.
“Why is he in there?”
“He told you, it’s safe.” He folded his twiggy arms. For the first time, he appeared serious. “He needs a friend. That’s all.”
They continued in silence. Her dad waited with his hands on his hips. He wasn’t mad, just concerned when he couldn’t find her. Sandy vanished in a doorway before her dad saw him.
“Is it always Christmas in there?” Kandi whispered. “In his room?”
He didn’t answer back. Maybe he wasn’t always listening like the miser. Kandi hadn’t done anything that would get her in trouble. She could explore the building and the doors that were unlocked. Sonny’s doors opened on their own.
Her dad was holding out a bottle of water. Before she was near enough to take it, Sandy answered.
“Every day.”
KANDI
9
Lunch was on the veranda.
The ocean breeze dried Kandi’s cheeks but couldn’t blow away the pesky gnats that hovered overhead. And it couldn’t cool the beef stew. Even the spoon was hot.
“Why isn’t there air-conditioning?” she asked. “Or an ice cube or something? There’s enough technology on this island to make an iceberg. I don’t get it.”
“Maybe the building is old. Do you see any ductwork?”
She hadn’t thought to even look for ductwork, but this building didn’t predate air-conditioning. If the miser could make a sandman walk and talk, she could figure out how to pump some cold air.
“It could have to do with power.”
“Come on, Dad. There’s enough power to build the Death Star.”
“It’s not the power production, it’s the distribution. That’s why I’m here.”
He massaged his temple with two fingers then blew on a spoonful of stew. He wasn’t looking at her.
“No offense, Dad, but there are way smarter people to solve a programming problem. I’m mean, there are companies with more resources and teams of expertise that could solve it without even flying out here. You’re just a guy with a tool bag.”
He shrugged. When the heat of Kandi’s unblinking stare exceeded the temperature of the stew, he sat back and sighed.
“She’s a private person, Kan, who prefers to keep her affairs from the public.”
“That’s why she called you? Is it legal, what she’s asking you to do?”
His jaw jutted forward and his lower lip stiffened. He dropped his spoon into the bowl. “Eat.”
It was a legit question. Maybe there was a programming problem, but he was here for other things. His reaction proved it. Why would someone fly a man with a questionable career all this way to solve critical problems unless she had something to hide?
Or did he know something no one else did?
Her food was almost cool enough to eat. At least it wouldn’t peel the skin from her mouth. That was another thing, the food. Where was that coming from? These weren’t microwaved meals, they were closer to gourmet than hot pockets, and they just appeared when it was time to eat. No servants or robo-waiters.
Like magic.
Her dad was nearly halfway done, picking up his cloth napkin and gazing at the ocean. He seemed to appreciate the beauty, just like the miser had made them do when they arrived. Or maybe he was still in awe.
“Why do you think she pronounces her name that way? She says Heether instead of Heather. No one says it like that.”
“To each her own.”
“Have you seen her yet?”
Kandi explained how she had seen her walking toward the tower that afternoon when she moved the telescope to the other room. She didn’t look like her silhouette—no big hat or slender dress—but there was something about the fluid way she moved that seemed familiar. The robe was weird, especially as hot as it was outside.
Maybe it was medicinal.
“Don’t spy,” he said.
“I wasn’t spying.”
“How did the telescope get in that room?”
“She didn’t say I couldn’t move things. Besides, the only view from our room is the ocean. I wanted to see the island.”
He never asked how she got the telescope in there. It was too heavy to move, even onto the glider. If it wasn’t for Sandy, she wouldn’t have figured it out. And Sandy seemed to disappear when he was around.
“Did you know her son lives at the other end of the resort?”
She described the decorations and lack of technology. But, most importantly, she told him about the glass wall that kept him inside. It didn’t seem too strange when she was playing checkers, but it now seemed one hundred percent kooky. Her gauge for normality was completely jacked.
So is that glass wall.
“Don’t you think that’s weird?” she said. “Her son kept inside a room like a storefront display from another era? He said it was safer.”
Her dad tossed the napkin over the bowl. Wistfully taking in the view, he asked, “Do you have your phone?”
“It’s turned off.”
He held out his hand. She gave it to him and it was off, just like she said. He turned it on, thumbing through several screens. When he slid it back, a tracker app had been activated and a little icon flashed at the top.
Wi-Fi!
“It’s a small island,” he said, “but we won’t have to guess where we are from now on. Okay?”
His voice was tight. Maybe he had been a little spooked when she wasn’t waiting for him in the computer room. He was good at hiding his emotions, but she was expert at decoding them.
“You’re coming with me next time,” he said. “There’s no reason you can’t see what I’m doing. Besides, I need some assistance.”
He said it loud and clear then sat back and closed his eyes. The distant waves were rhythmic and tempting. Soft, little snores soon escaped his open mouth. Kandi slunk in her chair and closed her eyes, too. Half an hour later, she woke up slightly woozy but quickly refreshed.
A golf cart was waiting at the bottom of the steps. They climbed aboard and made it twenty yards before Kandi stopped him. She’d forgotten her phone. Racing up the stairs, she returned to find it where she left it.
The dishes had already been cleared.
WE’RE SCREWED.
The ceiling fan wasn’t moving. Her dad was on his bed, fully dressed. He hadn’t bothered to pull back the bedspread or take off his shoes. Perspiration had become a logo across his shirt.
She slipped off her bed and tiptoed around him. Desperate for a shower, she didn’t want to wake him with Niagara Falls. Instead, she washed her face. Her complexion was already darker. Even rosy.
When she came out of the bathroom, he was flipping a wall switch. The ceiling fan began to creep around.
“Thank God,” she said. “Why was it off?”
“Power surge, maybe.”
The fan would have come back on if it had been a power surge. He knew that, too. There were no clocks flashing because there were no clocks in the room. The switch had been turned off and neither of them were sleepwalkers, that she knew of. He was rubbing his temple when he said that.
Why would he lie?
“It’s late.” He looked at his phone.
He was like a rooster. If he didn’t see the sun rise, he was late. The light blue sky suggested the sun had been awake for a while. She took a shower while he packed his tool bags.
His blood test kit was on the nightstand.
Diabetes was in his family. He tested his blood every once in a while, usually when she wasn’t around. She assumed he was checking his blood sugar, but he would sometimes touch his temple when he talked about it, but only briefly. She didn’t care what he was testing, as long as he was taking care of himself.
As long as he’s not experimenting on himself.
He had a reputation for that. He was confident in his work, but if something should go wrong, he didn’t want someone else to pay for his mistakes. No one would volunteer in his human trials before he did it to himself.
“Breakfast?” he asked.
A full spread was on the table when she was done with her shower—eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, French toast and omelets. Once again, it just showed up. Dad didn’t seem to notice. The heat, however, was killing her appetite. She’d already lost weight on this vacation. Alaska would be even colder without the little bit of fat she still had.
“Have you seen my phone?” she asked. “It was on the dresser.”
She had checked the time before falling asleep. It was fully charged, so she didn’t plug it in. Her dad grabbed his tool bags and handed one of them to Kandi. He stopped in the hallway and pulled out his phone.
“Your phone’s not locating. Did you turn it off?”
He seemed a little concerned she wouldn’t have it with her, but she was coming with him and that would ease his worry lines.
She was more concerned that it had been turned off.
They loaded the cart and headed for the jungle. They’d been there a week and this was the first time she’d been on this side of the resort. It was wild and refreshing, green and alive. The winding path was strewn with spiderwebs and heavy foliage. She was wet dew by the time they reached the end.
This is better than air-conditioning.
Her dad went into a small building. Kandi spread her arms, pretending the cliff was a stage and the ocean an idolizing crowd. The westerly wind raced up the island’s high wall and whipped through her hair. She closed her eyes and breathed the salty air, standing on the granite ledge.
She wasn’t at the cliff’s precipice. There was another ledge several feet below where she was standing. If she jumped down and took a few steps, that would be the long drop. She was fine where she was.
The power station was a small building perched bravely on the granite lip. A fenced region contained a myriad of transformers and a big red sign that read Danger. Cables emerged from below like braided anacondas feeding power from tidal transformers and titan wind harvesters stationed in the water. An array of dual-tracking solar panels was posted along the ledge.
Rise of the Miser: Claus, #5 Page 6