Reaction

by Seth M. Baker

  “All these dead saints,” Lilly said. “I wonder if it was worth it.”

  “If what was worth what?” Amadeus asked.

  “Dying for whatever they died for. You do or say something to piss off the Big Power, you get yourself killed, and a couple centuries later they build a statue for you. Then the tourists,” she nodded to a man setting up a tripod, “come and take your picture.”

  “These statues probably don’t even look like them,” Amadeus said.

  “Nobody even knows who they are or what they did, they just see some old guy covered in pigeon shit that looks pretty on a bridge.”

  Lilly stopped, put her elbows on the balustrade and looked out at the city. Amadeus started to pull her on but she shook her head. Nearby, a man sat with an easel, sketching charcoal caricatures. A little fluorescent light illuminated his work-in-progress.

  “It’s so old, this city, this continent,” Lilly said. “But I wouldn’t want to live in the old days. People talk about the good old days but they forget about things like fleas, raw sewage, and plagues. Can you imagine what this place smelled like three hundred years ago?”

  “Probably pretty bad,” Amadeus said.

  “You know what else smells bad?” Lilly asked. Amadeus eyes darted around the crowd but saw nothing that looked out of the ordinary. So he leaned toward Lilly and made a show of sniffing her. She smirked then smacked his shoulder.

  “No, what?”

  “My father.”

  “Umm.”

  “Not smell, I mean he’s just acting kind of strange, distant, like he’s hiding something. He’s up to something, I just don’t know what. I’ve caught him on the phone several times. Whenever I walk in, he shut the screen down. I have never known him to do that. He just doesn’t hide things. So when he does, it’s terribly obvious.”

  “Lilly, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Amadeus said, thinking about Gravity’s note. “This is your father we’re talking about. He’s probably trying to figure this thing out, just like we are.”

  “I’m sure he is, that’s probably it, but he’s never been like this.”

  “It’s a stressful time. Maybe he has a girlfriend.”

  “He scares women away. I told you about the nurses. He can be a pretty intense guy. All I’m saying is…well, I don’t really know. I just wanted to tell you. What do you think?”

  “So far he’s done more than anyone else to help me. Not to downplay what you and Grassal are doing, but still. I trust him; I kind of have to.”

  “I wish I did,” Lilly said. She placed a hand on his. Amadeus jumped at her touch then enjoyed the feel of her skin on his. “I know that sounds like a horrible thing for someone to say about their father, especially after you just lost yours. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Lilly,” Amadeus said. He thought about his father, how hard it was to see things as they really are.

  “Let’s keep walking,” Amadeus said. “I think back at the restaurant I was just being paranoid. I’d like to show you some of the town.”

  They walked over cobblestone streets and through alleys that didn’t feel like alleys. They passed under an archway and stopped at the base of the astronomical clock; its orange and blue circles and strange symbols reminded Amadeus of a deck of tarot cards.

  “Those are zodiac signs?” Lilly said.

  “Yeah, I think so.” He had read about the clock on his way to Prague. “You see the four figures? On the far left, the guy with the mirror, that’s vanity. Beside him, a Jew. When this was built, Jews weren’t popular, usury and all that. The skeleton there, that’s time, and beside him, a Turk. The king gouged out the clockmaker’s eyes after he finished so he couldn’t make another.”

  “That’s a hell of thank you, isn’t it?”

  “I’m still thinking about what you said about your father.”

  “Maybe I’m just imagining things, something’s going on.”

  “Anything else I should know about?”

  “Someone recognized you up in New York, right after the demon ate all those investment bankers. They connected that with your father’s murder, Ramona’s murder, and the dead cop on the roof. You’re a popular villain right now.”

  “Great,” Amadeus said, looking over his shoulder, “that’s just great.”

  “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you this when I first got here, but I just wanted us to, you know, enjoy my time here and pretend that things were normal, that I was just here to visit an old friend, that you weren’t wanted for several counts of murder.”

  As Lilly spoke, Amadeus’ eyes slid across the crowd. A familiar figure stood across the street, a barrel-chested man with shoulder-length hair. Even from the back, he recognized the man, knew that if he turned around, even from across the street, he’d see the man with the black eyes.

  “Lilly, maybe I was wrong about being paranoid. Over there’s the same man I bumped into at the airport. He’s across the street. Don’t look now. Wait. I’ll turn you around.” He put his arms around her and they twisted around. He whispered in her ear. “Have you seen him before?”

  “Oh my. Yeah, I’ve seen him. Twice.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.”

  They walked down a tight alley to another street. Crowded pubs and souvenir shops lined the way, wooden puppets and red-faced men staring out of the shop windows. After a block, they turned down another side street and ducked through an open door to the foyer of an apartment building.

  Amadeus’ hands began to shake. In the dark, he imagined the mutilated body of Vesely Gustavius, the metallic blood smell, and the terrified woman in the hallway.

  “Lilly, I don’t like it in here. I really want to get back on the street.”

  “We’re hidden. What’s the problem?” Lilly said, peering out the little glass pane on the door.

  “I just, this, the dark,” Amadeus said.

  “Shh.” Lilly dropped her voice to a whisper. “He’s coming down the street.”

  Amadeus sat up and peered through the window to the street outside. The man strolled through the night, his hands in his pockets. His lips were puckered like he was whistling. Though the foyer was cool, Amadeus felt a film of sweat growing on his forehead. He wiped it away. The black-eyed man leaned close to a window across the street and gazed in. From upstairs, Amadeus heard jingling keys.

  “Shit,” Amadeus said. They looked at each other. “We’ll go upstairs.”

  Before going up, Amadeus looked out again. The man was still across the street, hands behind his back, looking in another window, not even trying to be discreet. The dark staircase had landings on each half floor. They crept to the first landing, Amadeus following Lilly. Footsteps coming from above. On the second floor landing they stopped.

  “What if they question us?”

  “Kiss me hard,” Lilly said. Amadeus hesitated. “I know you don’t have to fake it. Just do what you wanted to do back in Colorado.” Amadeus pressed his lips against hers. Lilly stepped back and he pressed her against the wall. She tasted like beer. He ran one hand down her leg, over her jeans; she bit his lip and pushed his hand away. The footsteps grew closer, closer. Lilly tugged at a handful of his shirt. The person ignored them as they passed by and went on downstairs, muttering something as they passed. When the sound of the steps faded, they bolted up the stairs to the second floor. At the rear of the building, a green sign showed the way to the back exit.

  “Down the hall then out the back way,” Amadeus said.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea. That was just a distraction.” Flickering fluorescent lights lit the hallway, the wood floor scraped and worn from years, centuries, of footsteps. Each door had a brass mail slot. On the other end of the hall, a swinging wooden door led a narrow stairway, winding and dark.

  As Amadeus pushed the door open, heavy footsteps started approaching from the front stairs. They slipped into the back stairwell. Amadeus stopped the door from swinging behind them. With each step they took, the stairs groaned their p
rotest. They gave up trying not to make any noise and ran down. At the bottom, the back door. They tried to open it. Locked. Amadeus turned the knob back and forth, pushed and pulled, but it wouldn’t open. In the dark, he ran his hand up and down the door frame.

  “Deadbolt,” he said, fumbling over it in the dark, imagining its shape. He found the latch, turned it, and flung the door open. Lilly ran out first, then Amadeus. He closed the door behind them.

  “Walk fast, don’t run,” Amadeus said. “Get to the main street. We can lose him in the crowds.”

  They started back towards the Old Town Square. Every few steps, Amadeus glanced over his shoulder. He didn’t see the man. As they pressed their way through the crowds, Lilly began to giggle, just a little at first, but after a moment she was doubled over with her hands on her knees. Amadeus looked at her, puzzled, then felt it too, the relief, the release, the escape. Their waning adrenaline propelled them through the floodlit night, laughing all the way.

  When they returned to the guesthouse, Amadeus waved at Jan and told him he’d be down in the morning for the documents. Jan looked at Lilly and gave Amadeus a knowing wink. Amadeus just shook his head. Upstairs, Lilly flopped down on the full-sized bed and stretched her arms. Amadeus wondered if they could both fit into the bed, and if so, where that would lead.

  “I know what you’re thinking, so don’t even ask,” Lilly said.

  “It was that obvious?” Amadeus saw no point in trying to deny it: he wanted her.

  She smirked then tossed a pillow onto the woven rug by the radiator. “There’s your bed, flyboy.”

  “That’s cruel,” Amadeus said. But only minutes after he covered himself with the airplane blanket Lilly had taken as a souvenir of her flight did he fall into the black sleep of the exhausted.

  *

  Sometime before dawn, Amadeus’ own screaming startled him awake. His body jerked and he hit his head on the warm metal of the radiator. Her expelled a string of curses then put his hand on his head to soothe the pain as he got to his feet. He fully expected Lilly to be staring at him with sleepy green eyes, but she was still asleep, rhythmically breathing in the stuffy air of their room and wrapped up in a tangle of sheets. He thought about waking her but decided to let her sleep off the jet lag. For now, he padded down creaking stairs and found Jan at the desk.

  “Good morning,” Jan said. “You had a satisfying night?” His hair was slicked back with pomade. Amadeus thought he looked like a man who just stepped out of a wind tunnel. Jan offered him coffee. Amadeus declined with a smile.

  “I slept, I’ll say that,” Amadeus said, leaning on the counter. Jan frowned and appeared genuinely disappointed for Amadeus. “Yourself?”

  “I wished for good night, but it never happened. I had nightmares, first since I was child.”

  “Nightmares?”

  “Your friend or associate or whoever he is, he is crazy man. Rich, too. Maybe he is writer, man who constructs fictions. He mentioned to make profit talking to dead people and doing teleporting. Maybe he is crazy rich writer. Who knows? I just make translation.”

  “You’re finished, then?” Amadeus asked.

  “I am finished, yes,” Jan said. He handed Amadeus the original document and a three typed, double-spaced sheets. “I made marks on original, I hope is okay.”

  “It’s okay,” Amadeus said. “Here is your payment.” He handed him a small stack of notes he had set aside, folded, in his wallet. “Now, two more questions. One, where can I hire a driver, and two, what would it cost for you to forget I was ever here?”

  34

  They drove along the road beside the tracks. Amadeus liked the feel of the wind on his arm, which hung out the window. For a driver, Jan had called a friend of his. This friend had arrived an hour later, blasting Czech metal from the tinny speakers of his old Bongo III. Amadeus had showed Jan the place he wanted to go. Jan explained the deal to his friend and apologized that his friend didn’t speak any English. “But for driving, he is okay,” Jan had said.

  Now the unshaven driver was singing along to an angry song. The stale smell of cigarettes lingering like a bad rumor. He offered cigarettes to Amadeus and Lilly. Lilly took one. Amadeus sighed.

  “What would your father say?” Amadeus said.

  “My father is an asshole. I’m due for a little rebellion. Didn’t you wonder why he sent me instead of using FedEx to send the parts?” Amadeus said nothing because he hadn’t actually thought of it. “I told him the only way I’d stay locked up in his little compound was if he let me bring you the parts. I had to get out of there, if only for a couple days.”

  “And if he would’ve said no?”

  “I would’ve taken the Jeep and never looked back.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “It’s getting that way. Have I ever told you about the panic room?”

  “Um.”

  “Maybe you never went down there. Remember the door in the hangar with the round handle, like on a ship?” Amadeus said he did. “That leads to the panic room. Down there he has enough supplies to live for three years. Three years! And he says it’s for me. Fuck that, if the world dies, I don’t want to stick around. What’s the point? But he says it’s for me, to protect me. I said if he wants to protect me, that his plans should include my brain as well as my body. I told him I would go crazy down there.”

  As she spoke, she tried not to blow the smoke in his face, but with the windows down, the cigarette’s fumes flowed in all directions. Amadeus said nothing more, only rode the waves of the wind with his hand and gazed at the passing landscape.

  “That’s odd. You told me he scared off nurses. Is that really the only reason you’ve stayed? I mean, to me it sounds like he wants to keep you locked away.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Just because you had to sleep on the floor doesn’t mean you can interrogate me.”

  “Come on, Lilly, talk to me.”

  “No.”

  “Lilly…”

  “Fine. You really want to know me? Okay, here it is: I was in juvie for two years. I burned down a convenience store.”

  “Jesus. Why?”

  “I had my reasons. They had it coming. Is that enough for you? Have you satisfied your curiosity?”

  “Okay,” Amadeus said. “I got caught shoplifting once.”

  “We’ll, aren’t we just a regular Bonnie and Clyde” Lilly was silent for the rest of the drive.

  Half an hour later, they reached the spot, about fifty kilometers out. No houses nearby. Only the desolate road and a nearby forest. The driver spoke in a perplexed tone, probably asking why they would want to be let out here, as he helped them unload the heavy suitcases. He handled them with care, as if they were full of snow globes. When the driver pointed to the forest, Amadeus said “camping.” The driver knew this word because he smiled, looked at Lilly, and gave Amadeus a sly grin before he hopped in his truck and drove off. Amadeus sighed.

  All four suitcases all had wheels, but pulling them over the bumpy ground of the forest floor made them both strain. Lilly, as she pulled her two, grunted and strained. They reached the Pachyderm after an hour. Amadeus followed the notches he had made with his knife.

  The Pachyderm still sat under its tarp, undisturbed in its temporary forest home. Amadeus pulled the tarp off. Lilly hopped inside and started playing a jazz recording Amadeus found slightly grating.

  “Coltrane?” Amadeus asked. He had already opened all the cases and was inspecting the parts.

  “Charles Mingus,” Lilly said. “The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady, good stuff. Mingus was one of the few jazz guys to actually do full arrangements; people called him the heir of Ellington. He was an asshole, though. Had temper tantrums.”

  “You don’t have temper tantrums,” Amadeus said, only half-listening to her.

  “I’m a balanced girl,” she said. “With a totally normal life. Just like you.”

  “I had a normal life,” Amadeus said. He began to unpack the replacement p
arts and lay them on the tarp he had spread over the forest duff.

  “You were never normal,” Lilly said. “But maybe you’re not as weird as I thought.” He narrowed his eyes then smiled.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Can you get me the calipers from the toolbox?” Amadeus asked.

  “Do I look like your bitch?” Lilly said. Amadeus scowled. “Just playing.” She handed him the calipers. “Um, this might be an awkward question, but...”

  “All questions that start with ‘this might be an awkward question’ are going to be awkward questions,” Amadeus said. “Shoot.”

  “Have you ever been in a relationship with a woman?” Amadeus blushed as he thought about Regina, an English major who worked as a whore. Amadeus had met her through friends, and he used to pay her one or two awkward visits a month during his time at UConn. Amadeus reasoned it was both ethical, since she spent the money on rare illuminated medieval manuscripts, and economical; based on what his friends with girlfriends said, visiting her was a far cheaper way to meet his needs than to get into a committed relationship. Besides, Amadeus liked that both knew exactly where they stood with each other: she provided a service, and he gave her money for it.

  “Yes, I mean, I’ve been with women. A woman. Several times. I’d rather not talk about it.” Lilly didn’t seem satisfied by the answer, and Amadeus didn’t want to elaborate, so he said:

  “She died.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Lilly examined her wrists as if her veins were interesting headlines.

  “It’s okay. Now, will you help me with this compressor?”

  35

  By nightfall, Amadeus had replaced the damaged parts. Lilly had started to read the translated documents but had fallen asleep. The papers had slipped out of her hands and onto the floor. He thought she looked like a student on the night before a final exam, exhausted from last-minute cramming.