The Spaces Between Us

by Ethan Johnson

  Marc nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes… yes, of course you aren’t. Nobody thinks you are. So, you probably wouldn’t fit in well in the Gold Coast. Maybe Evanston.”

  “Evanston?”

  “Yeah, it’s a town near Chicago. It can get kinda richy-rich, but there are some cool parts too.”

  “Someday, you will take me there.”

  “Sure, I can be your tour guide. Show you around.” He glanced over at Inanna. “Both of you. You should see the Baha’i Temple.”

  Inanna’s eyes flashed for an instant with fury. She hissed something to Tobias in their shared language. Tobias raised his hand and replied calmly. Whatever he said caused her to sit back in her chair and simply say, “Hmph.”

  “Forgive my sister. She knows not of this god. She has much to learn about these times. You will teach her.”

  “Yeah, sure, of course. I’m no expert, but yeah, I can do that.”

  Tobias nodded. “Already, you have work. I am generous.” He smiled broadly.

  Marc sipped his water and agreed.

  Breakfast was interrupted by a harsh buzzing sound. Tobias and Inanna looked around but did not know what the buzzing signified. Marc excused himself from the table and walked over to an intercom panel on the wall. He pressed the TALK button and held it down with his thumb.

  “Um, hello?” He released the button. A male voice crackled over the intercom, speaking another language. Whatever it was didn’t sound like the one Tobias and Inanna shared. Marc pressed the button again. “Who is this?”

  The male voice spoke more urgently.

  Marc took a deep breath and lifted his thumb to press the button again. Tobias and Inanna were on their feet, walking slowly toward him, eyes wide and mouths open in astonishment. Marc shook his head sadly. “I don’t know what he’s saying.”

  Tobias summoned his servants and guards. He gestured to Inanna to get dressed. “We must leave at once.”

  Marc dropped his arm to his side. “He’s… he’s telling us to evacuate? Is there something wrong, like a fire?”

  Tobias nodded gravely. “Yes, a fire.”

  Marc ran to the guest room and put on his street clothes as quickly as he could. Inanna slid into a green dress and chose a gold necklace and flat sandals. Tobias and his staff stood by the front door. He was fully dressed in a suit. Marc looked Inanna up and down.

  “Looks great.”

  Tobias was all business. “We go now to the temple.” The guards left the apartment first, then the servants. Tobias ushered Marc and Inanna out next. He stayed behind for a moment and placed his hand on the front door after it clicked shut. He muttered something in a mysterious language, then straightened his collar and brought up the rear of the exodus. One of the elevator doors chimed, and frantic sounds echoed down the hallway. The group walked quickly to a service elevator. Marc directed them to the stairs. They clomped and clacked their way down well over thirty flights, by Marc’s estimate, not that he was keeping an exact count.

  Phillip and a security officer from the building management company entered the freshly vacated apartment. Fearing it had been looted, Phillip instead gasped in awe when he saw how incredibly well-appointed the front room alone had become. His father was not prone to ostentatious displays of wealth, his condo in Dubai aside. Of course, fine materials were commonplace in the upscale properties throughout Dubai. Marble counter tops, gold accents, the occasional ivory inlay, but this was beyond his imagination. His father had never said a word about any such plans to upgrade each and every surface in the condo, and Phillip had been there just over a year ago. The investment in the raw materials alone was enormous. His father founded Mercurio-Atlan, and wasn’t exactly crying poor, but this? Even the wealthiest sheikhs would have had to pool resources to approximate what had been installed here in such a short time.

  Phillip tried to focus. He called out for his parents, and when he heard no reply, he began to search room by room. When he entered the master bedroom, he fell back into his shocked state of awe. He gaped at the sheer scale of the bedroom itself, then walked dazedly up the first small flight of stairs. He pushed a door open and stepped into the master bathroom. He found a bank of light switches and turned them all on. His eyes were nearly blinded at the dazzling display: gold, silver, platinum, diamond, marble… these materials combined to form an utterly overwhelming display of unimaginable wealth. Things that he didn’t think could be rendered in any of these materials were, and in the most astounding ways. Phillip began to feel his jaw ache from being kept agape for so long.

  The security officer called to him from the other room. Phillip snapped out of his stupor and ran in the direction of the officer’s voice. He entered the guest bedroom, and the officer gestured to the statue that flanked the right side of the bed. “This is Mister Mercer, yes?”

  He was rendered incredibly accurately in stone. His father wasn’t prone to such narcissism. His portrait hung in the New York office, and if anything, he would either make disparaging remarks about it, or not mention it at all. Phillip looked at the other statue, and his stomach soured. “Mother?”

  She wasn’t the sort to pose for oil paintings, let alone having her likeness carved in stone. If she ever did, she sure as hell would have chosen an outfit and facial expression that was more flattering.

  Phillip turned on the officer. “Who was up here? What have they been doing? How could you let this happen?” He wasn’t exactly sure what “this” was, yet, but this wasn’t just a squatter. He was determined to get to the bottom of it and press charges.

  The officer pleaded with him. “We can review the security footage and find the ones responsible for this intrusion.”

  “Did you check all the rooms?”

  “There is one room still unopened. The door is locked.”

  Phillip glared at the officer. “Then break it down.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” He led Phillip down the hallway to the office door. He took a deep breath, then kicked the door. He bounced off it awkwardly and fell on his back. Phillip helped him up from the floor.

  “Shoot it.”

  “But sir… we do not wish to alarm the other residents. I will get someone who can pick locks and we can do this quietly.” He turned to head for the front door.

  Phillip reached over and pulled the officer’s gun from its holster. He fiddled with it and removed the safety. He glanced away and pulled the trigger. The officer hollered his objections and shielded his eyes with his forearms as Phillip fired five more shots into the door and frame. He kicked the door open, sending splintered wood in all directions.

  The office was as well-appointed as the rest of the condo, but fewer modifications were evident. It seemed to be more in line with what the builders and management company had installed before selling the unit to his father. Phillip found a deed for a parcel of property zoned industrial in Chicago. His eyes scanned over the document, then he folded it into thirds and stuffed it into his suit coat. As he did so, he noticed a red stain on the carpeting. Was it wine, or blood? Phillip would have the police take samples.

  He heard strange noises coming from outside of the office. He stepped out into the hall, and saw the walls start to dissipate into falling sand. It came from all directions, as even the ceiling began to transform and pour down upon the two men. They covered their mouths and coughed, and headed for the front door. They reached the grand living room amid coughs and near blindness from the sand and dust that collected on their heads and shoulders. The electronics remained unscathed, but the shelving unit collapsed, sending the phone handset and cable box crashing to the floor.

  Despite the objections of the security officer, Phillip fought his way into the depths of the condo. He made his way to the guest room and saw the statues that flanked the bed dissipate into sand. The bed and nearly all the other items in the room—including the ceiling and walls—became a pile of dusty sand.

  Phillip staggered back to the front door and out of the condo. The security offi
cer was already in the hallway. They coughed and sloughed off dust and sand from their heads. Phillip bent over and put his hands to his knees. Once he could breathe normally, he looked up at the security officer and gestured down the hallway. “Show me the footage. Show me who did this.”

  The officer nodded and coughed.

  CHAPTER 72: DUMPED

  Gene awoke to find himself surrounded by garbage. His head pounded again, and he squinted into the sunlight. A middle-aged man wearing a red company vest peered at him through a rectangular opening.

  “Goddamn bums.” He tossed a bag on top of him and slammed the side door closed.

  Gene grimaced and threw the bag aside. “To hell with you, too.” Whoever did this to him was fricking poetic, he concluded. It wasn’t enough to send him on his way with some sort of warning. Instead, they really wanted to rub it in. They were done with him. This is how little they cared about him or his well-being. He figured he was supposed to be grateful that he wasn’t dead.

  Sharon was dead. So was his interest in returning to work. What was he going to say? Something crazy was going on near Red 23, and Sharon had been turned into clay somehow? He was going to end up in a room somewhere, getting grilled by detectives for hours until he cracked and confessed to killing her and dumping the body in the river. They’d send divers looking for her, figure the current got ahold of her, and call off the search, figuring his confession was all they really needed. The body was more for the family’s benefit.

  Ambiguity was his best and only option. If they both disappeared, there could be all sorts of theories, and the cops would have something new to chase after for a few weeks. The trail would run cold, neither of them would turn up, and the official word would be that they ran away together and for some reason don’t want to be found. After all, to his knowledge there was no immediate sign of foul play. Then again, he had ditched his car. That might keep the case afloat longer.

  He crawled over the garbage bags and slid the side door open. He groaned as he struggled to reposition himself, then stuck his legs through the opening and dropped to the pavement. He felt around his pockets and swore when he found that all his personal effects had been taken from him by his captors, including his wallet and car keys. He was really going to have a rough go of it, starting over in some other town. He couldn’t even empty out his modest bank account.

  He decided on something a bit more drastic. He wasn’t proud of this, but he truly was desperate, and payback was going to be a bitch. He stumbled over to the door that led to the man in the red vest. The door was unlocked, and Gene pulled it open and stepped into the back of a small hardware shop. The man in the red vest stood at the front of the store, counting his cash register drawer.

  Gene grabbed a pry bar and approached the man, who looked up and cried out just as Gene took a swing at his head. Blood spattered against the closest wall, and the man crumpled to the floor. So much for simple larceny. Gene stuffed the paper bills into his pants pockets. He walked around the counter quickly and scanned the aisles until he found a hook with heavy work coats. He found one in his size and pulled it on. He grabbed a pair of cloth gloves as well and walked quickly to the back of the store. He stepped out into the alley, then stopped suddenly.

  He blew a puff of air through his mustache and turned around. He went back into the store and stepped behind the front counter again. He felt around under the counter and found the panic button. He leaned into it and counted to five. He looked down at the fallen store clerk and sighed. “Hope we can call it even.”

  Gene ran out into the back alley. He staggered along, trying to return to a normal walking gait. Being stuffed in the dumpster and left out in the cold wasn’t exactly good for him. He wasn’t frostbitten, probably because the plastic garbage bags helped provide some sort of insulation. The heavy coat helped, and he tore the product card away from the cloth gloves and slipped them on. He wasn’t going to win any beauty contests, but he’d blend in well enough. The cash would get him out of town. It wouldn’t last forever, but he was miles ahead now in his escape plan.

  He made his way south. He wasn’t sure exactly where he had been dumped, but figured he was still close to the factory. The path led west to east, so he figured north-south was the better option to put distance between him and it. The last thing he wanted to do was run into any more garbage pickers.

  He ducked down a residential alley. He flipped open the lid to an errant trash bin. It was filled to the brim with white trash bags. This wasn’t one of the routes the pickers were working, or they hadn’t gotten this far yet. He rubbed the back of his head and continued down the alley. He found a rusty bicycle leaning up against a garage. It wasn’t chained to anything and seemed to be usable. He pulled it out into the alley. He hadn’t ridden a bike since his childhood, and the first few attempts to pedal were shaky and tentative. He righted himself and steadied the handlebars. He snorted at the realization that the ability to ride a bike never fully goes away once it is mastered.

  Houses and buildings rushed past him as he pedaled along. This was a good head start, but he’d need to get further away, faster. His breath trailed behind him as the bike squeaked noisily down another alley, then another.

  CHAPTER 73: REBOUND

  Gracie hopped a ride to the skating rink with her father. He was heading out of town to run another errand and wouldn’t be able to drive her home until much later. Gracie said she would walk home. Her father seemed troubled, and after a mile or two of driving in total silence, he turned to her at a stoplight and shrugged apologetically.

  “I’m sorry, honey, your mother, well… you know how she is when she feels strongly about something.”

  Gracie smirked. “Oh, the rent? It’s fine. Whatever.”

  “I really don’t know how Agnes is going to pull through. She’s never had a real job before. It’s not going to be easy landing a job without experience.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know.” The car lurched forward when the light changed.

  They rode along in silence once more. Her father made whistling sounds when he would turn onto cross streets, when they pulled into the skating rink parking lot, and when he pulled up to the main entrance. “Here we are.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Gracie unfastened her seat belt and got out of the car. She slammed the car door shut and trotted over to the glass doors. Her father waved to her back, then pulled away.

  Gracie pulled the front door open. As she had hoped, and expected, Warren was the first one in. He stood behind the front counter counting the cash register. He glanced up and scowled, then looked back down and mouthed his count to reinforce that he didn’t want to be bothered. Gracie stood a few paces away and waited for her chance to break in and talk to him.

  Warren exhaled sharply as he dropped a wad of twenties into the register. “What?”

  “Hey Warren, about yesterday, I…”

  He shook his head, put the cash drawer into the register and slammed it shut. “I don’t care.”

  She approached the counter. “Please, Warren, let me explain. I had a family emergency yesterday. I’m sorry I didn’t call. Something came up really suddenly and my sister and I had to go out of town.”

  Warren looked up and put his hands to his hips. “A hairstyle emergency?”

  Gracie ran her hand over the right side of her head. “Oh, this? No, that wasn’t it. Please Warren, you know I would have called in if I could have. I’ll do make-up time. I’ll work that birthday party next week. Please, let me make it up to you.”

  He grunted and looked down. “You’ve never been particularly happy here. I can get someone else who wants to work and doesn’t just tolerate it.”

  Gracie’s face fell. “Please, I know I can do better. Please give me a chance. Please? Warren, I need this job.”

  He guffawed. “Well, that’s compelling. Where was this commitment a week ago? Or yesterday?”

  She bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”

  He sighed and glanced at the clock
. “Listen, I’ve got to get ready for open. Leslie will be here in a few minutes. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “Sure you will.”

  “I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself to you.”

  Warren threw his arms up and started to walk away. “Fine, grab a seat somewhere and I’ll let you know when I have a minute.”

  Gracie started to walk into the office area. Warren turned on his heel and halted her.

  “No. Grab a seat out there. Not back here.”

  She nodded and shuffled over to the concession area. She found a table for two in the back that would keep her out of the way but still present for her meeting with Warren. Leslie’s pony tail swished by a few minutes later, and she did a double-take when she saw Gracie camped out.

  “Ohmygaw, Gracie, what are you doing here? Does Warren know?”

  “Yeah, he told me to sit here.”

  “Are you going to beg for your job back? I dunno, Gracie, Warren is…” She looked around in case any customers had filtered in. She whispered anyway, after determining the coast was clear. “He’s pissed.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Leslie’s eyes widened. “Gracie, your hair! What happened?”

  Gracie tousled the hair that cascaded over the left side of her head. “Oh, this? It’s a long story. You like it?”

  “You look like a punk rocker.”

  Gracie stuck her tongue out and made a rock star hand gesture.

  Leslie gazed at her with a blend of admiration and sadness. “Gracie, Warren’s not going to go in for that. It’s one thing when the derby girls rent the place, because they’re paying customers.” She swished her pony tail from side to side. “He wants a more… wholesome look.”

  Gracie shrugged. “I’ll let him tell me that. Besides, I can wear a hat.”

  Leslie bit her lip uncertainly. “I guess. Anyway, good luck… I’ve got to get concessions going.”

  Gracie waved her off and sat back in her chair.