Dark Places

by Krista Cairn

  “So, you want a teddy bear?”

  “Like a teddy bear that will protect me while I sleep,” she yawned, hoping she’d forget all this and wake tomorrow, smiling.

  “I’m liking this job description. If I do a good job, we can discuss perks and benefits.”

  She climbed up on the bed and lay back onto the pillow. That first night weeping under his window was as much a surprise to her as it was to him. Maybe that was the day she first knew. They say the heart knows first. Still, she didn’t have the energy to do more than sleep, and he wasn’t the kind to take advantage of a sleeping woman.

  “I’ll leave so you can get comfortable,” he offered.

  She heard the door shut. Should she strip down and get under the blanket? She was too tired to answer that question. Closing her eyes, she fell deeply asleep.

  Her dreams were a mess. Justin kept popping up out of hidden spots and blasting her with radiation guns or throwing cats at her. What were the cats a metaphor for? Maybe she was losing her mind.

  When he wasn’t, Neil was trying to get her stuck in things. Then Karen and Heather started giving her the cold shoulder, acting like they’d never met her, but worse had heard she was a plague carrier. Then the three of them came at her, each pointing something she couldn’t see at her.

  At one point, Simone knew she’d screamed, momentarily conscious enough to think she’d wake up under the bed. She felt an arm wrap across her and hold her safe. Then, oddly, a sense of calm filled her. She rolled to lay tight against the source of her comfort, and knew she was nestling close to her only hope.

  When she woke next, she was alone. Mitch had been here, she was sure. She looked for signs he had disturbed the pillow, or blankets. Something to prove she hadn’t imagined his kindness. Wait, when had she stripped down to her underwear and climbed under the blankets? She thought hard. How much of last night did she remember? Or yesterday, for that matter.

  It all came back to her. Hemlock, the transmitters tucked in the sides of buildings, the locker. Justin. Laying back, she fought the urge to cry. It never really seemed to help anyway, and she was left a red-eyed, emotional wreck afterwards.

  It’s easier to pull yourself together if you don’t completely fall apart in the first place, she whispered. Her only recourse was to ghost and work through the details. The facts.

  Then it hit her - she was in a dark room and she was solid. Mitch! Where was he now?

  Gone off to his own room to get some actual rest, probably. Then again, he could even be at work. What time was it? Her real cellphone was at the apartment.

  What was she going to do today? Justin said the scientist wanted to save people from radiation by creating humans that could do rapid cleanup safely. Mission accomplished.

  So why keep experimenting on her? And probably Justin. And definitely Mitch.

  She sat up, looking around for her clothes. Unable to see them, she pulled the top blanket, intending to use it as a wrap. As she did, she noticed a scrunched up bundle of clothes near the foot of the bed, under the blankets. She needed to go back to the apartment and gather up some things. Shower supplies rated high on that list.

  Dressed, she went out into the hall, walking softly, looking for a clock. She went from room to room, seeking her host. She’d opened every door now, some of them twice.

  Free to be curious, she walked into them, looked around and left. The room that caught her attention had a covered mini-grand piano with a photo on top. Leaning close, she looked to see who was in the image. Mitch, younger, and a woman. Girlfriend? Teacher? Wife?

  She picked it up to see if there was a note on the back. There was but it was in Korean. She sighed and put it back. Maybe she’d see if Jenna could visit. Jenna would be the person to call, for sure. Maybe she would even bring over some of Simone’s clothes, now that she was stuck here.

  Stuck here? No, that wasn’t fair. She was hiding, but hardly stuck. Maybe she should earn her keep, clean up a bit. Dusting. Definitely dusting. And every spot in this place could use a good sweeping, too. Not one room had carpeting. Where did he keep the cleaning supplies.

  She knew she was cleaning as a way to keep herself busy, distracted. That was fine.

  Time was a good distancing tool, too. If she could put off thinking too deeply, she could separate the emotion of the moment. There were too many maybe’s right now. How could she go about eliminating some of them? Pen and paper. List and evaluate. Soon. Right now she had to work through some ideas.

  Was Justin really helping the scientist, and when did he get altered? And yes, it mattered. If she was going to win him back, she had to understand why he thought the way he did. Surely he didn’t see himself as a real god. She’d proven he was beatable. Hopefully this didn’t push him to drastic choices. She didn’t want to hurt him.

  The light blast, or actually, the radiation blast she did in the theatre worried her. She could do some serious damage, if they pushed her too hard or too far. She could find a way to moderate it, and somehow incapacitate people instead of hurting them, that would be amazing.

  People who exploit others find a need in their lives and fill it by giving the person a noble cause. Giving them something to hope for. So what was Justin’s hope? He didn’t actually devote large-scale disasters like a nuclear meltdown, and tell he became radioactive.

  What if she were to tell him he was toxic to the people around when he was doing this work? Something had to get through to him. There was so much she didn’t know about him anymore. Falling out of touch for five years tended to do that.

  Wait… how did he recognize her?

  Chapter 22 // Just Right

  Simone ran to a mirror, wondering what her changes were. She’d noticed that each time Mitch overloaded, his hair got lighter, his skin darkened. It was as though he’d spent a solid week on a bright beach.

  Looking, her reflection seemed normal until she realized the makeup was gone. She shook her head and felt a little stupid. Of course it was gone. It was the same as how the clothing she wore came back clean. She supposed it was like dimensional shifting, but her understanding of elementary particle physics was weak, she joked. That wasn’t exactly part of grade ten science.

  She felt the skin on her face, noting how sensitive it was, as though she’d exfoliated.

  More likely, the oils were gone and therefore the protection.

  If she went home, Justin might be waiting. She did need to talk to him. He wouldn’t hurt her. She was sure of it. He had a good heart. That’s how evil caught him - by masquerading as good, and saying the cost was worth it. Justin understood sacrifice. How could she appeal to his other strengths? Her only edge was being his little sister.

  Rene wanted his envelope. She needed her cellphone. How many messages had she missed today? It was a little thing, but she focused in on that. She needed her cellphone and wallet.

  If Justin was there, she’d talk him into sitting for coffee. They could peaceably agree to be on opposite sides of an issue, right? She could talk him into stepping aside if the… no, she wasn’t calling the maniac a scientist anymore. He lost that title when he went rogue.

  Now he needed a Villain name. Everything she thought of seemed stupid. She’d just call him Ray for now. Radiation Ray. She snickered.

  She pulled on her shoes and walked out into the rain. She’d have to remind herself to bring an umbrella with her next time. Jackets were her weakness. Nothing beat a well-fit jacket, in any form. Leather, casual, suit. The ones she planned to bring back with her were comfortably worn, but still in great shape.

  She pondered jackets the whole way back to her apartment, knowing it was just a tactic to keep herself from panic on the way there. Justin had to be there. Neil should not be there. Or Karen, or anyone else she knew. Why did that matter, she asked? Justin wouldn’t hurt them. Not to get to her. Would he? An apartment was hardly the place for a showdown, now was it?

  Her licorice-colour leather military-style jacket started it all. A favo
urite aunt gave it to her back when she was in grade nine. Close behind was a quilted twill jacket with a fleece hood that she kept for cool fall days. She’d definitely have to bring that one.

  As her apartment came into sight, it looked normal. Dark. Empty. Inviting. She squinted, looking for signs of disruption. Footfalls behind her slowed as they neared. She spun around, ready to hide but it was Mitch.

  Blinking as if seeing things, she stepped back a pace. She was happy to see him, but her focus was on fighting, not defending. “I can’t keep you safe,” she said.

  “You keep running off and getting hurt,” he said, ignoring her comment. “Thought you could use a sidekick.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “You talk in your sleep.”

  “You mean scream.”

  “That too.”

  “I just came to pick up a few things.”

  He nodded. “And I just needed a walk.”

  “I don’t want this to turn into a situation where one of us is strapped to a laser table as some maniac makes threats about curing the world.”

  He reached out and messed her hair up. “You have an active imagination. And a movie addiction.”

  Rolling her eyes, she turned away. “Okay, well, we might as well get in there.”

  Mitch pulled his detector out of a pocket and followed.

  Now, instead of jackets, she had to think about Mitch; about what she may be leading him into. Why couldn’t he stay home, or go play racquetball, or something?

  Her apartment key was hidden under a ceramic gnome in the rock garden to the side of her basement apartment. Justin knew that. Neil knew that. Even Karen, Carol, and Rene knew that. She may as well be renting this place out as a B&B, at that rate. All she asked was that people clean up after themselves.

  She looked at the gnome. Today her normal smug smile seemed a bit crooked.

  Simone walked over and pulled the key out from under a foot, then settled the gnome in a way that didn’t imply menace. Who trusted garden gnomes, really?

  Yup, she was losing her mind.

  “Hey,” Mitch said softly as he put a hand on her shoulder. He pointed around to the side of the building.

  Feet. Those were feet, presumably attached to legs. They stuck out like someone was unconscious, hopefully sleeping. But there?

  “Let’s call the police.” She suggested. “I’m not here to deal with drunks.” She hoped it was a simple drunk, as she inched her way forward, following Mitch.

  “Ahem,” someone said behind them. Simone’s heart jumped up in her chest then sank again as she recognized the voice. “I caught him snooping. Had to shoot him.”

  They turned to see the elderly woman spinning a slingshot around her index finger like a six-shooter. She winked and walked away.

  “Um, who was that?” Mitch asked.

  “Landlord. She’ll shoot anyone who doesn’t stop to look for the gnome. Let’s see if he’s alive.”

  “Alive?” Mitch sounded surprised.

  “She’s a really good shot, so he’s probably okay.”

  They stopped near his face.

  “Recognize him?” Mitch asked.

  Simone shook her head. “He seems familiar, but I did work at a café. Half this side of town looks familiar.”

  “Odd either way. Why was he here?” He pulled out his cellphone.

  Simone nudged him with the tip of her shoe, wondering if he needed a coroner, ambulance, or coffee. The man groaned and turned to sit up. Looking at her, he jumped up.

  “Help me,” he grabbed her arm. “I heard you can help me.”

  “Who are you?” Mitch grabbed the man’s hand and pulled it off Simone. “What do you think we can help you with?”

  He was middle-aged and gave the impression of a business man even in a track suit.

  “My wife is sick.”

  Silent, Simone waited for his explanation but inside, her mind was already stacking questions.

  “Can you come to the café right now?” He rubbed the side of his head. “And do you have a painkiller?”

  “You should get checked at the hospital. Then we can have coffee,” she said.

  “The hospital can wait. You’re my last hope.”

  “Who told you to come here?” Mitch asked.

  The man took hold of Mitch’s arm and pulled him. “Let’s sit. I’m kinda dizzy still.”

  As they walked, the man explained how his wife had radiation poisoning from all the work she did overseas in third world health clinics. “Toxic levels. Her hair is gone, her skin looks like it’s melting, and the doctors say she hasn’t got enough time left for them to help her. I don’t know how you can cure her, but Eliza swears you cured her kid. She sketched you, and when I saw you yesterday, I followed.”

  “Can she travel?” Simone wanted to help.

  He stopped. “She’s there.” There was a mid-range silver sedan sitting in front of the café.

  “In the car?”

  “Eliza said you were able to help her boy, and he was sitting on the sidewalk. A car can’t be that different.”

  Location is everything, she wanted to say. “Her street was deserted. No one can accidentally look while we do this.” She took the device from Mitch and held it up for the man to see. Better for him to think the device did it than her.

  “Can you pull into the alley, there?” She pointed to the other side and gave Mitch his device back. He turned it on and started fiddling with dials.

  “Sure. Yes, of course.” The man jumped into the car.

  “It’s a trap,” Mitch said.

  “Probably, but I think he’s sincere,” she sighed. “He doesn’t know he’s being used.”

  “Do you think he’ll wait in the café?” he wondered.

  “Would you?” she asked.

  “Probably not. I’ll walk around the back, see if anyone’s waiting. You keep him talking until I get there.”

  “I can do that.”

  She watched until he rounded the far corner of the café before walking after the car.

  What if she stood where she was and directed a pulse their direction? She might not even need to be near, right? As her own pulse rose, she looked at the exterior of the two buildings for spots that might be hiding a transmitter or other trap. Nothing seemed likely.

  She knocked on the door of the car and looked in. The man was sitting, cradling his wife against him, rocking her slowly. Was he crying?

  Simone opened the door.

  “Excuse me, sir?” She said.

  He didn’t respond, but sat, weeping. Mitch walked up, puzzled.

  “I think we’re too late.” Simone leaned to whisper in his ear.

  Suddenly Mitch flared up, brilliant light pulsing out of every pore.

  “Whoa!” Simone said, grabbing his arm. As he returned to normal, she stared at a bright spot still shining out of one of the windows in the building opposite the café. “There’s someone up there,” she pointed as she started running to the nearest entrance.

  It was an apartment building with no front buzzer. She whipped the door open and ran up the nearest stairs, imagining where the light must have come from. Third floor seemed about the right height. Mitch sounded close on her heels. There was a window on the third floor landing. Looking out, she had a clear view of the car, noting that the man had started backing out onto the main road again.

  “That guy - he’s leaving, and he’s not in a rush. Was he there to lure us?”

  “Too bad your landlady didn’t hit him harder.”

  “Mitch, use the detector. Whoever was in the window has got to be radioactive.” She turned to watch. “Hopefully it can help us track them.”

  “I’m not sure it’s sensitive enough. This might take time.”

  “We have to try.” She was already itching to run after them, looking out the window, watching activity.

  A motion on the sidewalk below caught her eye. Someone was walking, hands jammed deep into their pockets, hood pulled up and then
down over the face, as if to hide their identity. Too obvious, she thought. No one is going to look that suspicious when they know they’re being watched for. She waited.

  “Any luck,” she asked a moment later.

  “I think so,” he said as he started to walk past the door to the third floor.

  “Up?”

  “There’s only on more floor. They may have climbed down the fire escape.”

  “Right,” Simone darted past him, up the stairs. “You go down, in case I miss the second guy.”

  “Second guy?”

  She didn’t stop to explain. The rooftop was empty. Turning to go down the ladder, she swallowed her fear of heights and just looked at the wall.

  Mitch met her at the base and shrugged. “He’s got to be hiding somewhere nearby.”

  “The café!” Simone started running.

  As she slammed the door open, a few of the customers looked her way. A few familiar faces. No signs of distress. She nodded or waved as she passed the ones she knew.

  Where was Carol? Or anyone that usually worked here? She turned and used her head to indicate the open door to the back room.

  As they ran through, she saw the back door was wide open.

  “Carol?” she called out.

  No answer.

  Running out the back, she didn’t stop to look for anything except a desperate blonde waving for help. Hopefully screaming, if she was out of sight. Where was René when they needed him?

  There was a bang at the huge trash bin, just around the corner to the left. Turning, she saw Carol walking back.

  “What’s wrong, Simone?” she asked.

  Simone blinked a couple times. “Anyone strange walk through here?”

  “Anyone aside from me? No, sweetie.” Carol smiled at Mitch. “So, you’re the fellow that’s taking up all her spare time these days. It used to be I couldn’t get her out of the building. I suppose I should thank you.”

  “Hello.” Mitch inclined his head slightly in greeting.

  “No need to be so formal with me, dear. Just be yourself.” She tapped him on the shoulder as she walked by.