Spice Pogrom
Page 10
She could hear something besides what he was saying, a low whooshing noise that rose to a dull roar and then subsided. (I can hear Mr. Okeefenokee snoring,) she said, and wiped her eyes on the hem of the sheet.
(Chris, listen, if there isn’t a space program, Okee’s not going to be the only one who’s in trouble. I didn’t exactly have official clearance to go undercover, and they’re going to want somebody they can blame this on. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back up there to get you.)
(I know,) she said, sniffling. Charmaine had left her box of Kleenex on the nightstand. She reached for the flashlight. Her hand groped in emptiness where the night-stand was supposed to be. “Hutchins!” she said out loud. “The nightstand’s missing.” She squinted into the darkness. She could faintly make out the walls of her room. “Air. Okeefenokee’s boxes are gone, too.”
(No, they’re not,) Hutchins said, and she could hear the rumble of Okee’s snoring under his words. (They’re here. Did the nightstand have a box of Kleenex on it?)
“Are you all right, darling?” Stewart said through the door. “I heard you call out.”
“I’m fine,” Chris said. “I was dreaming. Good night.”
“Why don’t you come out and sleep on the—” Stewart said. His words cut off so abruptly she was afraid he had opened the door, but when she turned her head in that direction, she couldn’t see any light, not even the line of light that had been under her door.
(Are you still there, Chris?) Hutchins said.
(Yes,) she said, careful not to speak out loud since Stewart might be trying to unlock the door. I hope Molly took all her keys with her, she thought, and wondered if she should get out of bed and go wedge a chair against the door or something, but she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to find her way back to the bed. If the bed was still there, (Pete, what’s going on?)
(I don’t know,) he said. (This shuttle hangar is now full of Okee’s stuff. The microwaves, the trampoline, even the Christmas tree in the baby buggy.)
Chris squinted into the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust, but after a long minute she still couldn’t see anything.
(He didn’t understand when you tried to tell him there wasn’t any space in your apartment,) he said slowly (and he didn’t understand the words “far away” and “close.” And how come? Not because he couldn’t understand the words, but because the concept didn’t make any sense. Chris, I think he’s got a space program, after all.) It was suddenly not as black in the room. She looked anxiously toward the shoji screen, afraid that Stewart had gotten it open, but the light wasn’t coming from that direction. It seemed to be coming from the back wall where the trampoline had been, only she couldn’t make out the wall.
(It’s not the kind of space program NASA thought they were getting, but so what? I think they’ll be happy with this,) he said, sounding excited. (I couldn’t figure out how he was going to get all this stuff home in that little ship of theirs, and the answer is, he wasn’t. He was going to send it Federal Express. I’ll bet he already took the piano home, and that’s why we couldn’t find it.)
The line of light was under the side walls where the stacks of boxes had been. They were much farther away than they should have been.
(Pete!) Chris said, getting onto her knees on the bed as if she were on a life raft.
(If Okee can send souvenirs home to Eahrohhsani, we’ve got interstellar trade. Not to mention what this means to Sony. So what if we can only transport freight?)
Now a thin line of pinkish-orange light was under the wall where the shoji screen should be. It wasn’t there. (Pete,) she said (I don’t think it’s limited to transporting freight.)
(I wonder what the high ceilings have to do with this. We can build space colonies on earth and then put them in orbit with—)
His voice cut off. (Just a minute,) Hutchins said after a pause. (The lights went out. I can’t see.)
(There’s a flashlight on the nightstand,) Chris said.
(I can’t find the nightstand. It was right here.) His voice sounded suddenly different, farther away, and she couldn’t hear Mr. Okeefenokee’s snoring under it. (Chris, I think it’s disappeared. It’s black as pitch in here. Is the nightstand there?)
(I don’t know. Just a minute.) She got up on her knees, waved her hand over where the nightstand was supposed to be, and cracked her knuckles against the corner of it.
“Ouch,” she said, nursing her hand. (Yes, it’s back.) “Damn!” Hutchins said. “No, it’s not. It’s here. I just ran into it.”
“But…,” Chris said, and then stopped and peered into the darkness. She crawled to the foot of the bed so that the orange-pink light was behind the nightstand and she could make out shapes. “Pete,” she said, “take off your subvocalizer.” She unfastened the receiver from her ear and closed her hand over it.
“In a minute,” he said. “Okee had a box of flashlights right next to the Christmas tree.” His voice sounded suddenly softer, as if he had turned away.
She unclasped the subvocalizer with her free hand and took it off. “Take off your subvocalizer and say something.” She put it under her pillow and leaned across the bed, feeling carefully for the nightstand.
“Now I can’t find the damned boxes,” he said. “Damn it, I hit my toe again.”
Chris turned on the flashlight. Hutchins had on jeans and no shirt, and he was standing beside the bed, holding his bare foot in one hand. “How did you get here?” he said blankly.
“That’s what I should be asking you. This is my room.” She shone the flashlight around at the walls. The line of pinkish-orange light was getting wider, as if a curtain were slowly going up. “Sort of.” She smiled at him. “Stewart wanted me to stay in my room, but I don’t think this is what he had in mind.”
Hutchins put his foot down and looked blankly behind him at the wall. “Where’s Okee?”
“I don’t know. I have a feeling he could be just about anywhere he wants. But I would imagine he’s in the shuttle hangar with all his boxes and the Christmas tree and the trampoline. And half of NASA when they realize we’re gone. You don’t suppose they’ll think he disintegrated us or something?”
He limped over to the bed and sat down beside her.
“He said he’d have a space program for them in twenty-four hours. They won’t string him up before then, and I have a feeling that at the end of twenty-four hours we’ll be able to tell them where we’ve been ourselves.”
“Which is where?” she said.
He looked around at the walls. The band of light was nearly a foot wide now. It looked more pink than orange. Chris switched off the flashlight and put it on the night-stand.
“Damned if I know,” he said. “That old faker! He understood every word we said. He knew exactly what kind of space program NASA wanted. And all that stuff about honeymoons and closings and not understanding what kind of roll Bets wanted. ‘Time alone. Talk, Neck.’ I could just…,” he said, smashing his fist against his open hand. He stopped and looked at Chris. “I could kiss him on the top of his lipstick-smeared head,” he said. “I thought I was never going to see you again. I figured by the time I made it back up to Sony, you’d have married your prospective buyer.”
“I couldn’t marry Stewart,” Chris said, taking hold of his hand. “I’m already married.”
“ ‘Put on subvocalizer. You and Hutchins get married. Hahnahmoon.’ ” Hutchins said, shaking his head. “I’ll bet he set up this whole thing with Charmaine’s lawyer, the marriage, the honeymoon, everything.”
He stood up and went over to the wall where the shoji screen had been. When he put out his hand to touch it, the band seemed to spread suddenly in all directions, suffusing the room in pink light.
“The honeymoon!” Chris said, getting up on her knees. “I think I know where we are. And you’re wrong. He doesn’t understand every word we say.”
“What do you mean?” he said.
“I’ll bet you anything those trees are cherry tr
ees, and that we’re on a hana moon.” A forest of blossoming trees stretched around them in all directions. She could almost smell the cherry blossoms. “It’s beautiful here,” she said. “It is,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the trees. “And I have the feeling nobody’s going to come in to evict us or use the bathroom or do a tap-dance routine.” He walked over to the bed. “Spielberg didn’t really give Molly and Bets a part in his movie, did he?”
Chris sat back on her heels. “You were right about Spielberg coming up to Sony incognito. You know the old man who lives above Charmaine?”
He pulled her up onto her knees. “In the baseball cap and sneakers? He’s not Spielberg,” he said. “He’s just some chip cam director who thinks he can bring back slasher movies. He wanted to hire Okee to star in a low-budget remake of Alien. When I told him I didn’t think Okee was available, he asked me if I thought people would believe in a pair of four-year-olds who were vicious murderers.” He put his arms around her. “I said I hoped it was one of those movies where the murderers get what they deserve in the end. I like movies like that, where everybody gets what they deserve.”
“So do I,” Chris said. Hutchins was even closer than he had been on the bullet. Chris could definitely smell the cherry blossoms. “What’s going to happen to Molly and Bets?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and leaned down to kiss her. “The old guy got this spooky smile on his face and mumbled something about tap shoes.”
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Document ID: fbd-36b763-6a63-0a4a-5cb2-9b8b-08be-3bb6e7
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Document creation date: 01.04.2011
Created using: Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
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