Ocean ran the tip of her finger along Baby’s cheek, feeling the tickle of the downy fuzz that lined his soft skin.
“Is that why he has those fits, you think? Because of the fire, I mean?”
“Probably.” Levi shrugged. “Maybe there’s something to Gauge’s brain boiling theory after all.”
Ocean held her breath and looked down at the child bundled in her arms. Baby’s diminutive fist clutched her shirt and his nearly transparent eyebrows arched with each slow breath he took. When he was sleeping, Ocean was content to hold the infant forever. She loved looking down on his round face and bowed lips that for some reason reminded her of the statue back home. Her father had told her once that it was called a cherub and that, back when the world was still alive, water had flowed from the bucket tucked under its arm and collected in a pool at its feet. You weren’t allowed to drink the water, but that was okay, because back then if you were thirsty, all you had to do was turn something called a spigot and fresh, clean water would come right out of your walls. If anyone else had told her this, Ocean would have suspected they were teasing her. But not her father…
For what was about the millionth time, she wished that he were there, that she would look up and see him striding out of the north tunnel with his coarse, reddish beard and blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. He would take care of her just as he always had. Corduroy wouldn’t so much as look twice at her and would certainly never dream of laying his grotesque hands on her.
“He scares me sometimes.” Ocean admitted as she watched Baby sleep. “Does he ever scare you?”
Levi wrinkled her brow and leaned back in her seat.
“Cord? No… he’s like a brother to us. Actually, I can’t imagine living down here without him. I know all those burns probably creep you out a little, but he’s really nice once you get to know him.”
Levi’s answer told Ocean everything she needed to know. It was good that she hadn’t blurted out the truth, that her intended conversation had been cut short by Gauge thinking Corduroy’s comment had been intended for him. She’d just have to make sure that they were never alone together and a witness was always close by. But still… some of Levi’s answers had planted seeds of curiosity in her fertile mind.
She thought about her father again. What was it he used to say when he’d watch the rotters from rooftops? To beat your enemy, you’ve got to understand them. She’d heard that so many times that memories of the phrase sometimes crept into her dreams.
“Wonder what’s taking the guys so long. It’s not like they had to go far for those tools.”
“Maybe Gauge is taking time to calm down.’
Ocean’s voice was as soft as Baby’s snores. Mentally, she was going over the night before once again, trying to recall if she’d seen any tools once she’d opened the heavy, metal door. She couldn’t remember anything that looked as if it could be used to dig a latrine… but what if they were in one of the other little rooms? One like the door with the barred window…
Had she left any clues behind, anything which would have betrayed the fact the someone had been in there last night? Maybe she’d left footprints in dust or dropped something as she rushed out?
She pulled Baby more tightly to her and closed her eyes as she tried to will away the shivers that tickled the back of her neck.
Was there evidence? Would they know?
“And where the hell did Pebble run off to, anyway?”
Levi’s question merged so seamlessly into Ocean’s thoughts that at first the young girl was confused as to why she was wondering about Pebble at a time like this, but then she realized the voice hadn’t been her own, after all.
“Uh, he was looking for something earlier, I think.”
Levi bolted out of her chair as a stern frown pulled creases into her cheeks.
“I swear to God… he better not have went into the tunnels.”
Without another word to Ocean, Levi darted out of the room and left the young girl staring blankly into space.
Maybe Pebble had gone into the room. Maybe Gauge and Corduroy had found him there and that’s why they were taking so long. Had the little boy been given the same warnings she’d been? Ocean was positive that he had. After all, what she’d seen last night would have to remain hidden from him as well, wouldn’t it? If Ocean herself couldn’t quite come to grips with what it all meant, then surely a child would be even more confused.
And, if he had slipped through the forbidden door in search of whatever was missing, there was a chance that any trace of Ocean’s presence may have already been wiped away. If he didn’t realize what was behind the barred door, he’d tear through the place just like he’d done searching through his own things.
But why would he look there to begin with? If the little hallway lined with doors was truly off limits, then there would be no reason for him to think of searching there, not in a place he’d never been before. It just wouldn’t make any sense.
Ocean realized she was grasping at straws in an attempt to relieve some of the weight that made her heart heavy. She forced herself to take a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled through her nose. Though she didn’t want to admit it, there was truly nothing she could do. They would either find evidence that she’d broken Gauge’s cardinal rule and knew the secret that was hidden away in that musty little corridor… or they wouldn’t.
Either way, it was out of her hands. Worrying until her head was throbbing wouldn’t change any consequences that may or may not stem from her disobedience. As hard as it was, she had to put that little room out of her mind and focus on something that she had more control over—Corduroy.
Was it really possible that she could completely avoid the man? A lot of times, life underground crept along at a slow and leisurely pace. Without the sun moving across the sky to help keep track of time, they simply ate when they were hungry and slept when they were tired. Everyone had their own chores to attend to: cooking, washing, mending clothes that had become ripped and torn, and knocking chunks of soot from the pipe that channeled the smoke from their cooking fire out of the chamber. These tasks usually took a minimal amount of time to complete and then they’d be forced to find ways to amuse themselves.
Pebble had his toys. Gauge and Corduroy spent a lot of time playing a game that seemed to involve moving miniature horses and castles around a board. Levi always had her nose in books bloated with mildew, and Ocean, of course, had Baby.
There were also times when it seemed like everything that could go wrong, did. The gutters that they’d fastened to the walls of the tunnels would collapse beneath the weight of the rain that poured through the drains. They would suddenly realize that they were nearly out of wood at the same time that Pebble’s antics would send cans of food clattering to Heaven’s floor. During these times, their little home would bustle with activity, like an anthill that had just been crushed under the foot of a passing rotter, they would dart off in all directions, each person tending to a separate minor emergency on their own.
How long would it be before Pebble, Levi, and Gauge were busy in the tunnels while she and Corduroy remained behind? A week? A month? Sooner or later, it was bound to happen. Only this time, he would be more wary of the young girl and would, undoubtedly, be more prepared.
To beat your enemy, you’ve got to understand them.
Ocean’s gaze drifted to the entrance of the south tunnel. This time her mind wasn’t preoccupied with what might be transpiring further within its depths. This time, she was looking at the neat stacks of folded clothes bordering a mound of blankets on the floor. The pair of muddy boots that were held together by the same silver tape as Baby’s crib. The bulging duffel bag with it’s rope strap.
Corduroy’s things.
His secrets.
I bet he remembers more than he lets on, Ocean thought. I bet that son of a bitch remembers just fine.
She slid out of the chair with her back arched so as not to jostle the sleeping infant in her ar
ms. The last thing she needed was for Baby to wake up again. There was always a chance, albeit a slim one, that his cries would draw the others back to the main chamber. She had to move as fluidly as possible, to be as patient as she’d been back when she’d had to trap flies for food.
Raising Baby to her shoulder, she settled his bottom in the crook of her left arm and his head lolled against her neck, then she crossed the room as silently as the ghost that Gauge blamed all the missing items on. Her footsteps were nothing more than a soft shuffle as she crossed the space between the table and Corduroy’s bedroll.
She stood there for a moment and craned her neck as her eyes peered into the darkness of the south tunnel. She watched for anything that seemed to be moving down there, listening for voices wrapped up in conversation that would grow louder the closer they came, but there was nothing more than the plinking of condensation dripping from the rounded ceiling.
Ocean lowered herself to a squat and balanced on her toes in front of Corduroy’s duffel bag.
To beat your enemy, you’ve got to understand them.
With one final glance at the tunnel, she pulled the zipper back as slowly as she could. The air in the chamber suddenly felt as thin as it had in the hot kitchen and she took quick, shallow breaths. With a trembling hand, she reached into Corduroy’s bag and searched through its contents like a blind person.
Her fingertips felt something coarse and thick, something else that was softer than anything she’d ever touched… and then a texture she knew all too well. It was so slick and cool that her fingers seemed to glide over its surface as if it were made of ice, but that smoothness quickly gave way to a dip that felt rough and jagged.
She jerked her hand out of the bag and stared at the little glass monkey with the missing tail. Pebble’s monkey. The one she’d given him on that first night and probably what he’d been searching frantically for earlier. But what was it doing in Corduroy’s bag? Why would a grown man take a toy from a little—
The color drained from Ocean’s face and her eyes grew wide as the realization hit her. It was Pebble’s monkey, true. But it hadn’t always been, before that first night it had been her monkey.
She plunged her hand back into Corduroy’s bag again and yanked out handfuls of belongings, no longer worrying about everything being in the exact same place it had been before she started snooping around. At first there was nothing more than the burned man’s belongings. Folded pieces of paper with words scrawled across them—ink so faded that the words seemed to be disappearing—a pair of rusty scissors, balls of twine, old shirts…Then, as she neared the bottom of the large bag, everything changed. Now she was pulling out tins of food, the can opener that had taken them nearly two weeks to replace, the grimy rags she’d been wearing when Gauge had first rescued her, and every single pair of her underwear that had ever gone missing.
The room seemed to close in on her as she saw all of her personal items mixed in among his. She teetered on the balls of her feet and had to put one hand on the cool floor to keep from toppling over. Now she truly understood, the man was so completely and utterly obsessed with her that he felt compelled to steal all of these objects. All of these things she’d touched or worn or possessed, he stockpiled them all in some sort of personal shrine.
Her father’s voice echoed through her mind again… To beat your enemy, you’ve got to understand them…
How could she understand someone who was not only dangerous, but obviously insane? How could she ever hope to beat someone who would be as relentless and focused as a rotter on the trail of the living?
Ocean realized that she would never be able to simply avoid him. He would stalk her like a predator, would always be lurking in the shadows or just around the corner, waiting for just the right moment to pounce again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
So I could feel consciousness slippin’ away from me, right? Now that’s an odd feeling. It’s almost like you haven’t slept for days and keep nodding off in the middle of a movie that you’re watchin’, only you’re playing the leading role in the film and you’re tryin’ to come to grips with how they can just write you outta the scene like that. Sure, you feel the panic eatin’ away at ya, and somewhere deep down inside, all these regrets and misgivings come bubblin’ up. All these things you woulda liked to have done or seen. All those missed opportunities. At the same time, you’re kinda detached from it all, like maybe the last time your head was pounded on the pavement, it jarred your soul loose and set it adrift in your mind.
This part of me watched everything through a hazy veil. Clarice fuckin’ Hudson was waverin’ in and out of focus, but I could still see the change that came over her. The snarl just kinda melted away from her face and her mouth hung open like a trapdoor. That weird energy that seemed to sizzle in her eyes, man? Gone. She raised her hands up in front of her face and just sat there on my chest, blinking at them like she couldn’t understand what they were doing attached to her wrists.
Her eyes flickered down to me and I’m sure I was moaning or something, and I was definitely trying to wriggle out from under her while pressing my hand into the wet, bloody tangles of my hair. I wasn’t so much tryin’ to stop the bleedin’ as I was protecting the wound. Even teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, see, I knew that if just a drop of her sweat or spit fell into that gash I was as dead as if she woulda continued bashing my brains out.
So, anyhow, Clarice fuckin’ Hudson kinda scrambles backward until she’s sittin’ on the little curb where the parking garage meets the entrance to the mall. At some point she’d managed to get some of my blood on her hands and she kinda absentmindedly wipes the sweat from her face and leaves this big ‘ole smear across her forehead and eye. She looks like she’s about ready to turn on the waterworks again. I’m staggerin’ to my feet, right, ‘cause at this point, I just want to get as far away from that mall as humanly possible. Shit, I woulda set up base camp on Pluto if I coulda. At the same time, I don’t really wanna turn my back on this bitch, ‘cause she might snap back into infectious mode at any second, ya know?
About this time, a security guard kinda steps outta the shadows, right? I don’t know how fuckin’ long he’d been there, but I got to assume that he just showed up on the scene. Otherwise, he woulda pulled her off of me before she turned my head into Hamburger Helper. I’m still a little woozy, but I’m tryin’ to focus on this dude because I feel like I need something to anchor me to the here and now. Something concrete, that I know is real.
That’s when I notice that it’s the same guard who was starin’ me down on the day that I first started this whole Clarice Hudson chapter of my life. He’s got the sleeves of his blue shirt pushed up and on his forearm I can see this scar, right? Not like from a knife wound or anything. More like tribal branding, if ya get my drift. The ridge of pink flesh is in the shape of a figure eight, and that’s mainly what I’m focused on, because somehow that seems like the most real thing in the world. It was like his scarification was the only thing keeping me up on my feet. Like I said earlier, it’s weird what the mind will seize on when given half a chance.
By this time, Clarice is bawlin’ her eyes out and she’s kinda looking from her bloody hands, to me, and then back to her hands again. And the entire time, she’s just whisperin’ so softly that you can barely hear her over the rush of traffic down on the boulevard. “Why? Why? Why?”
Me, I know the score right away. She’s trying to come to terms with what’s happening to her, right? I figure she was, on some level, aware of everything that had been going down. She saw herself chasing me, saw her frenzied attack… but couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. Kinda like she was a passenger in her own brain.
That guard, though? All he knows is that there’s this woman sitting on the curb of his mall with blood streaked across her face and lookin’ like she might be in shock or some shit. And, even though she’s questioning her inability to control her own actions, he interprets it entirely differently, man.
> His hand drops to the pepper spray on that shiny belt of his and you didn’t have to be dimensionally unstable to see what was going to happen next. In his mind, he just stumbled across an attempted rape or mugging, and I’m the scumbag responsible for this crying, disheveled woman.
“You!” he hollers. “Don’t move!”
His voice echoed through the parking garage like it was God himself barking out the command. But do you think I’m about to stand there and try to explain all this shit away? You think he’d believe it was Clarice Hudson who fuckin’ attacked me? No way, dude. He’s makin’ his own flawed conclusions based on the limited set of evidence before him.
So what did I do? I take off like the devil himself was after my soul, man. I’m headin’ for that spiral down ramp because I know if I go for my car this dude will have my license plate number, right? And I can hear him callin’ out behind me.
“Stop! Stop right there!”
I glance back over my shoulder, just to see if he’s givin’ chase, but he’s back there speaking into his radio. The way I see it, this little party is about to get a lot more guests. By the time I make it to ground level, I’m positive there’ll be a shit load of other guards waiting to nab my ass. The cops will probably be along shortly as well, right?
I’m running down the ramp and thinking about how royally fucked I am, all because I couldn’t keep my ass at home and lay low like Steel told me. At the same time, I’m thinkin’ that there has to be some way outta this shit, ya know, because if I get picked up then there ain’t nobody out there looking out for Ocean. For mankind as a whole, even. So I do the first thing that comes to mind without really puttin’ too much thought into it. Just acting on impulse, ya know?
See, what happened is that I vaulted over the side of that ramp like I was an Olympic gymnast on the pommel horse, man. My legs and torso swing over the side and, next thing I know, I’m fallin’ through the air. Of course, this coulda turned out really bad. I mean, I wasn’t that high up, but all it woulda taken was for me to land the wrong way and my ankle woulda snapped as easily as a Dollar Bonanza pencil.
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