The Object: Book One (Object Series)
Page 15
"Oh good," he said, stepping past her to his bed. He lay back against the pillow on the side next to the door. Here he could feel a cold draft.
They watched the news for a little while with the lights off, Lillia bathed in the glow of the screen. He stared at her, trying to think of something to say, and as if she sensed him watching her she began to tug at the hem of the t-shirt, straightening it over her pale hips.
"Is it okay if I turn this off?" she asked on a commercial break.
"Yeah, go ahead. They're just saying the same things over and over anyway."
The television cut off, and with the curtains closed the room went pitch black.
Hayden heard the creak of the other bed as Lillia stood, and then he felt the depression of the mattress as she climbed into bed with him.
Silence ensued. He lay in the dark too nervous to even look her way. Eventually he assumed she'd fallen asleep, until finally she said, "Are we going to look for Drake and Kate tomorrow?"
"Sure," he said.
She nodded and her forehead brushed against his shoulder. He hadn't realized how close to him she was, or that she was facing him.
"I think we should go back to the library."
He felt a twinge of panic. The blood. She'd see it and know he lied to her.
"I looked all through the place," he said. "Didn't find anything."
"They could have left a note. Drake used to write me notes all the time." She made a sound that might have been a diffident laugh. "One time we were playing in my room and I went downstairs to make us a snack. When I came back, there was a note on the door that said, 'We are hiding under the bed.' So I got down on my knees to check, and they came jumping out of the closet and scared me to death." She paused. "I bet he left one."
"I didn't see any."
She nodded again but didn't speak.
Hayden was so nervous he began to sweat. He sat up. "Are you hot?"
"I'm fine," she said. "You can change the thermostat if you want."
"I think I might."
He got out of bed and walked around to the air unit in the window between the two beds. As he fiddled with the settings in the dark, he said, "Let's find some breakfast in the morning. Then we'll go to the library."
"Okay," Lillia said. "I just want to check. Thanks."
When he returned to bed, she slid her arm over his chest. He lay flat on his back for nearly an hour, feeling her moving fingers, an invitation for him to put his arm around her, he surmised, but he couldn't do that. No matter what she thought of him tonight, tomorrow she would hate him. She would leave. He would push her arm off him right now, but that would only serve to hurt her more. The best thing he could do was let her have a safe, comfortable night. She likely wouldn't have one again.
He was almost asleep when he heard the thunderous rumble of another explosion.
~ ~ ~ ~
Roger saw the fireball as he emptied the gas jug into the tank. The van had died on Preston Highway, half a mile from the closest filling station. He and Trey had walked to get gas, leaving Meredith with the young boy and a gun.
He was pretty sure it was a helicopter that had exploded. He couldn't hear it from this distance, especially since Trey never stopped talking, but several minutes before he'd seen a spotlight pointed downward in that part of the sky.
Now Trey talked about it incessantly. "Wow, did you see that? That was awesome! Did you see it, Pete? Something exploded!"
"People probably died, you know," Roger said.
With everyone in the van, he pulled off the side of the road and continued south on Preston Highway, Meredith in the passenger seat propping Sprinkles up so he could see. Sprinkles had meowed them all the way from 2nd and Muhammad to here, and they'd driven at least two miles down Preston without a peep. Roger was afraid if they travelled too far south, they'd pop up over a hill and find themselves face-to-face with a shooting gallery from one of the barricades.
They were within sight of the Outer Loop intersection. If you made a right turn there, you'd come upon I-65 in less than a half mile, and then you'd be just north of the interstate barricade, where the girl he'd met on Watterson Expressway had been torn apart by bullets, and where, he assumed, that helicopter had just been shot down.
He was about to put on his blinker and cut into a parking lot when Sprinkles meowed. He put on his brakes and glanced over. Sprinkles had his head tilted to the left, so Roger put on his left blinker and slowed down, waiting for the final meow to indicate which parking lot to enter.
Meow.
A hotel. He pulled in and stopped near the entrance. The parking lot went both ways around the building. Sprinkles meowed and pointed right with his head.
Roger pulled around to a large parking lot half-enclosed by the L-shaped building and parked along the right edge of the lot, in front of a tall barrier fence.
When he opened the door to climb out, Sprinkles leapt over his lap and out the door, miraculously landing on his feet and darting for the building.
Roger jumped out and chased him, but as he bounded towards the breezeway and the staircase, he spotted Sprinkles on the second floor. He ran up the stairs and around the corner, calling out quietly, only to find the walkway empty, Sprinkles nowhere to be found.
He searched for half an hour, until finally he encountered a security guard who said he hadn't seen a cat and that if Roger wished to remain on the property, he would have to rent a room.
~ ~ ~ ~
In the dark, a sliver of warm, golden light filled the crack under the hotel room door, growing brighter and brighter, then dulling as a tiny, translucent creature manifested from the light, still carrying that golden glow in each of its countless angel hair tentacles, like pieces of fishing line bundled together, wavering as they would underwater.
The little creature floated up the side of the bed and above the place where Lillia's arm lay draped over Hayden's chest.
Another source of light generated nearby, a creature of equal features, clinging to Lillia's head, its tentacles woven into her hair with such delicacy and perfection as to not disturb its natural flow.
The two creatures stared at one another with their hollow black eyes, pulsating in turns as if communicating with light itself. Then the one on Lillia's head disappeared, and the other turned in the air and floated up to Hayden's pillow.
Time to Tell the Truth
Lillia awoke to find herself lying nearly on top of Hayden, who had one arm wrapped around her back. For a moment she didn't remember where she was, nor anything that existed beyond what she could see, the only sound that of the air conditioner's soft rattle.
A car honked outside and suddenly the world outside flooded back into her mind: Drake and Kate, the police killings, the seedy hotel, the object.
Lillia sat up carefully so as not to wake Hayden and slid out of bed. She sorted through the pile of clothes until she came up with a pair of jeans, a fitted gray long-sleeve shirt, socks, and a bra. He'd asked for her bra size yesterday, right before he got out of the car and shot out the department store's glass door. Embarrassed enough with the question to only ask at the last minute but in no way shy about robbing a store.
She'd expected him to bring her a bunch of clothes she couldn't wear, but he even got the bra exactly right. Lillia pulled the baggy shirt over her head and then quickly covered her chest with it and turned to make sure Hayden was still asleep. A hitch in thought and she'd forgotten he was there, forgotten what she was doing.
She quickly dropped the shirt and put on the bra. Then she pulled the shirt over her head. Mrs. Wilkins had always made her change clothes this way, starting with her shirt and moving downward. The longer Lillia was away from that woman, the crazier she remembered her to be. Mrs. Wilkins believed if you put your pants on first, then tried to change your shirt, the shirt's filth would rain down upon the pants. Ridiculous, but here stood Lillia in a shirt and underwear, shoving her right leg into a pair of jeans.
She lost her balance o
n the second leg and fell back against the bed. Hayden began to move and she hurried to pull up the pants and button them. She yanked the zipper up and, still lying there, looked over at Hayden. He was smiling. "Having trouble?"
Lillia sat up, spun around, and sat cross-legged with her elbows on her knees. She brushed the hair out of her face and then folded her arms over her stomach, trying to warm herself.
"I didn't mean to wake you up," she said.
"I could tell. Everything fit okay?"
"Yep. I'm glad to be out of that skirt."
"I bet. How'd you sleep?"
She smiled and shrugged. "I zonked out fast, I know that."
"The explosion didn't wake you up?"
"What explosion?"
"I don't know," he said. "It was pretty far off, though."
"How late were you up?"
"For a while after you fell asleep, I guess. Man, I had some crazy dreams last night. You were in them. Well, sort of."
Lillia laughed. "Sort of? How sort of?"
Hayden sat up in bed and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Well, I dreamed I was a cat," he said. "And I was fighting this guy. And then I was . . . looking for you." He stopped there and his eyes trailed away. For a moment he looked deeply disturbed. Then he blinked and returned his gaze to Lillia. "How is that possible?"
Lillia flinched. "What?"
"Something happened," Hayden said. "Do you feel that?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lillia said. The look on his face made her a little uneasy. The look a person gets when processing a lot of information in the mind all at once. The look Mrs. Wilkins would develop sometimes while on the phone with a friend or co-worker, the look that always led to shouting and things being thrown.
But Hayden smiled. "So that's how." He suddenly reached out to Lillia and leaned forward. She recoiled and he drew his hand back. "You've got one on your head, too, don't you? That's how you can float."
Lillia realized the feeling he'd inquired if she felt. It was like the heat from a shaft of sunlight on a winter morning. A calming, reassuring feeling, and it seemed, strangely enough, to have a shape. An umbrella of energy under which the two of them huddled.
"Check it out," Hayden said, dropping his gaze so the top of his head faced her. "I'll show you my alien if you show me yours."
Lillia laughed. She reached out and touched the invisible squid on his head, her fingertips producing tiny ripples of light that revealed its dimensions. Then she ducked her head for Hayden.
~ ~ ~ ~
They ate breakfast at a diner up the street. Hayden was surprised to find it not only open but completely slammed with business. This was a poorer neighborhood than his own. Fewer people with the means to flee the city, which meant more people lingering, food growing more and more scarce as businesses shut down and grocery stores with no resupply on the way emptied of their shelves, either by shoppers or, near the end, thieves, some of whom were simply hungry, others who stole to mark up and sell when famine set in.
For now, people still dined here--at least those who had money yet to spend.
Hayden and Lillia got a table immediately, but it might well have been the last one. The diner bustled with loud conversation over the tinker of silverware on plates. People either shouted or didn't speak at all. Somewhere a man berated a waitress for not being prompt. "The service here is an absurdity," he said, with emphasis on the last word. "I never come to places like this. You see why?" He was looking at his wife. "They don't care. They just don't give a flying shit."
The hostess led them into another room and he saw the complaining customer sitting with his frightened upper middle class family. They were dressed for church, the man, his wife, and their two daughters. This was a person with the means to leave the city but not the will. His family now clung to him in fear.
As they approached the family's booth, the waitress stepped back between two tables to let them pass. She was close to tears. Hayden stopped and turn to the man, the hostess going on ahead, unaware. Lillia stopped behind him.
He didn't know what he was going to say, but looking at the man he suddenly realized he'd seen him before, push mowing his small front lawn. He even remembered what the house looked like: three stories, blue siding, white pillars at the top of the porch steps. Even the date. How could he remember something so insignificant?
Hayden put the question aside and smiled. "Hey, you're my neighbor, right?"
The man scowled at him. "What? I don't know you."
"You live on Willow Avenue. The blue house. I live across the street, a few houses down."
This last part was a lie, but the man flashed a look of false recognition and, smiling, extended a hand. Hayden took it and the man's demeanor instantly changed. He said, "Yes, that's the house all right. I didn't know I'd see anyone from my neck of the woods down here. You can't get a damn meal in this city anymore."
"We're facing quite a struggle," Hayden said, nodding. "That thing up there hovers over all our heads, and who knows what it's up to, right?" He turned to the waitress, noticing too that the hostess had turned around and was coming back. "How are you holding up, ma'am? With all this."
The waitress struggled to speak. Her voice quivered. "I don't know," she said.
"How about your family?"
She looked up at him, paused, then said, "I had to leave my kids at home alone. I don't want to be here, but my landlord put a note under everyone's door saying if we stop paying rent we're getting kicked out, even with that thing above us. So I didn't know what to do."
The hostess was here now, hands on her sides, eyeballing the waitress.
The man's wife spoke so timidly Hayden barely heard her. "Harper always says children should not be left alone, don't you honey?"
"I do indeed," Harper said, crumpling a napkin in his fist. He looked up at the waitress and shifted his body towards her. "You don't have a husband?"
"He died," she said. "In Iraq."
"Well surely you draw some sort of check."
The waitress spoke faster now. "I do. I have plenty of money. But all the branches of my bank are closed, and when I try to take money out of the ATM it won't let me. I don't even know if I can cash my check here. I have to make tips to pay my rent. I'm trying but we have a limited menu and I have to explain that to everyone and it's taking longer and people aren't giving tips because they can't get to their money either."
"Your table is this way," the hostess said to Hayden.
"That's what I always say, isn't it, babe?" the man said to his wife.
"Yes," she replied.
The man poked the tabletop as he spoke. "You always keep a cash savings, just in case. Don't I say that, babe? Just in case? You always keep cash on hand. Isn't that right, um . . . what's your name, by the way?"
"Hayden," Hayden said. "You're right. I have a stash at home." He looked at the waitress. "If I had it on me, I'd help you out. I only brought enough to eat with."
"Hell," the man said, grunting and standing. He stuck his hand in his front pocket and pulled out a money clip thick with one-hundred dollar bills. "How much is the rent, honey?"
The waitress looked stunned. "Um. No, it's five-hundred dollars. I'm fine, thank you."
"You probably have bills coming up, too, right?" Hayden said.
The man looked up from counting out money. "You have bills too? Do you have food?"
"Yes," she said quickly. "We're fine, really."
"I'll tell you what, Harper," Hayden said. "Throw her twelve-hundred and I'll run half of it over to you when I get home this afternoon.
The man studied him for a moment, brow curled. Then he swatted at the air and said, "Just stick it in the mail slot on the front door. Which house do you live in again?"
Hayden pictured the street in his mind. "Two houses to the left of the one across the street from you. The maroon one. There's a pink flamingo in the yard."
"You're the one with the flamingo?" Harper asked, disgusted.
This lie seemed to seal the deal. Harper counted out twelve bills and handed them to the waitress.
"Go on home," Lillia said to the waitress. Hayden turned to her and found her smiling and staring at him.
"I'll go talk to my manager," the waitress said.
"If he gives you any trouble," Harper said, sitting back down, "you just come tell me. Good luck, honey."
Hayden offered his hand to the man, whose wife was rubbing his forearm.
"I'll see you this afternoon," Hayden said.
Harper nodded. "If we get some service sometime today, that is."
The hostess led them to their table and took their drink orders. When she left, Lillia leaned forward and whispered, "That was brilliant. You played that guy like a fiddle."
He smiled. "Oh, did I?"
"You were lying," Lillia said. "You don't live on Willow Avenue."
"How do you know where I live?"
"Save it. I can tell when you're lying. Are you going to give him half the money?"
"Well yeah," Hayden said. "I don't want him terrorizing whoever does live in that house."
"See! I knew it. I can tell when you're lying."
Hayden smiled and looked down at the table. He felt her staring at him. He'd been dreading this moment since last night, but he might as well get it over with. Or should he wait until they'd eaten, so at least she wouldn't leave him hungry.
A group of people passed by, being led by the hostess to a table still piled with the dishes and soiled napkins of previous customers.
"I've been lying about something else," he blurted out.
Lillia nodded. "It has something to do with the library, doesn't it? I knew it."
"I saw Sherman."
"You what?" she said loud enough to draw attention. "At the library? Why didn't you tell me? Where are Drake and Kate?"