INDELICATE INCIDENTS: 13-16
The dead don't rest. The living don't sleep.
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13.
‘This is a profoundly bad idea.’
Grady chews his thumbnail as he spins in his desk chair. Legs stuck out straight in front of him. Worn red Converse sneakers drift just above the ground.
The glow of the computer monitors is the only light in the room. It highlights Grady’s sharp profile, his strong nose and furrowed brow.
Light glints off thick, black framed glasses. His hair is dark and curly and rough against my face. When he smiles his eyes crinkle. He’s got a short beard and dark hazel eyes.
He makes me feel safe.
There’s a wall of monitors, all endlessly processing data and decrypting files and other things I don’t understand. Grady talks about technology as if it’s his native tongue. It’s as easy as breathing to him, as natural as when he twines his fingers with mine.
I don’t like technology.
Don’t really like conspiracy theories, when it comes down to it.
But I adore how much he loves them. How his eyes brighten and his hands fly through the air while he speaks. How he talks so fast I can barely keep up, so excited to share this information. To include me in something so intimate and genuine. Something that brings him so much happiness he wants to share it with me.
It doesn’t matter if I understand what Grady’s saying. His joy is what matters.
This is technically Grady’s office, but has been permanently dubbed The Computer Room.
Grady finds the name ‘reductive but better than ‘Crazy Person Bunker’.’ The windows are covered with blackout curtains. The walls are papered with news clippings and sticky notes and bits of paper that Grady found important when he hung them up.
There are gum wrappers with coding on them and notes hastily scribbled across receipts for Chinese food. It’s a huge, cluttered mess filled with old books and hard drives and circuit boards and metal and plastic and wires.
It’s like every conspiracy board in every shitty movie had a fuckfest and this cork board was the misbegotten child.
The Computer Room is my favorite part of the apartment, even more than the kitchen or our bedroom. The Computer Room is cozy and dark and hums with energy. It’s cluttered, organized chaos or chaotic organization.
The Computer Room feels like Grady. It’s the only place where I get any real rest. I wake up curled in the armchair he got for me so I’d stop napping in his desk chair. Blanket covering my shoulders that wasn’t there when I fell asleep.
I want to make a nest out of his papers and breathe in the cozy smells of our home.
I never tell Grady this. He’d be annoyed about the papers.
The chair comes to a stop against the edge of his desk. Grady meets my eyes. Pushes the chair with his foot.
‘A remarkably, astonishingly, karmically bad idea,’ he continues as he spins.
‘Can you stop?’ I ask. I sit down on the edge of the desk. He swipes at me, irritated. I pull up a chair and sit on it backwards. Just out of his reach.
‘I’ll stop saying it when it stops being true,’ says Grady. He’s quiet for a beat. ‘This is a bad idea.’
‘Nescio was fine,’ I say. ‘It was easier than I expected.’ I put my chin on the headrest between my hands and look up at Grady.
‘I’m sure it was,’ mutters Grady.
‘Are you mad?’ I ask. He’s not looking at me. Mouth curved down in an unhappy little frown. I’m getting familiar with it.
‘I’m concerned,’ he says.
‘Everything went fine,’ I say.
‘Is that meant to be reassuring?’ Grady asks. ‘Because your barometer for ‘fine’ is somewhat askew. There’s nothing fine about any of this.’ He stops swinging in his chair to stare at me.
‘So you’re mad,’ I say. Grady’s frown deepens. I’m making new wrinkles under his beard. Around his eyes. More grey hairs.
‘I’m not mad,’ he says. ‘You know how I feel. I don’t like this. I don’t trust Nescio, and I don’t trust The Program. You’re being lied to. Manipulated.’ He looks up at the ceiling. ‘I think we should keep looking for Jakob ourselves.’
‘How’s that worked out?’ I ask. Grady folds his arms across his chest.
‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Don’t act like we haven’t gotten valuable information. We’ve learned a lot.’
‘About finding demons and summoning the dead, sure,’ I say. ‘About spells and strange hell dimensions and the fucking Jersey Devil, but not about where the fuck Jakob is.’
‘I’m doing everything I can,’ says Grady. ‘I’m not saying we give up on him. But going to The Program for help is naive at best, Frank. If you think you’re going to find anyone at that lunatic asylum who can decipher demonic cuneiforms better than I can, you are in for a rude awakening.’
I press my forehead against the headrest.
I’m tired. I’m always tired. But sometimes it hits me. Strikes across my skull like my mother and father used to, and I can barely keep my eyes open. Body pulled down to the ground.
I can smell Grady’s cologne and a hint of his sweat. Earthy and clean and familiar.
‘This isn’t a dig at you or your research skills,’ I say. Grady nods.
‘I know,’ he says. ‘I’m being an asshole because you aren’t listening to me. So I have to keep saying it. This is a bad idea.’ I shake my head.
‘I’m not backing out,’ I say. ‘He said he’d help.’
‘You think you can trust him?’ asks Grady.
‘I don’t have to trust Nescio to use him,’ I say.
‘Can I say anything to change your mind?’ asks Grady. Sounds desperate, voice torn between anger and fear. Something inside me twists black and rotten.
I’m sorry, I don’t say.
‘This isn’t about me,’ I say instead. ‘He can help us find Jakob.’
Grady leans forward, his head in his hands. I put my hand on the back of his neck, smoothing down the thick dark waves. He huffs out a laugh.
‘I may be having a panic attack,’ he says in a calm voice. I squeeze his shoulder, sliding my hand up and down the wide expanse of his back. I watch it rise and fall with each breath. Crouch down beside him. Put his hand on my chest. Mine on his.
‘Breathe,’ I order. Like he always does when this happens to me.
Grady nods, eyes clenched shut. His heart is racing under my hand. I’ve never seen him like this before. I don’t like it.
‘Grady,’ I say. ‘You’re okay. You’re here with me. We’re safe. Focus on breathing. Breathe with me.’
‘I’m fine,’ he says without moving. Breath still coming in short, panicky bursts. ‘I’m being a pussy.’
‘You’re not,’ I say. Keep our hands in place until his heart slows from thundering to just fast. His gasping breath returns to an approximation of normal.
‘I’m better,’ Grady says. ‘I’m fine.’ His voice is a touch unsteady, but I don’t push it.
He’s not fine.
‘I’m fine,’ Grady says again, reading my silence. He’s curt. Won’t look at me.
‘You said yes,’ I tell him. ‘You could have said no.’
‘Bullshit,’ says Grady, his voice muffled by his hands. ‘And you know it.’ I lean forward, kneading the back of his neck. He lets out a groan. ‘Not fair. Sneaky tactics.’
‘We need him,’ I say. Dig into a large knot in his shoulder, earning another, deeper groan. ‘I didn’t mention your name.’
‘He knows it’s me, Frank,’ says Grady. ‘I don’t understand why you keep pretending it’s some big secret.’
‘Because it annoys him,’ I say. I tug at Grady’s hair, firm but gentle. ‘Stop being paranoid.’
‘You can never be too paranoid,’ he says.
‘That’s what I have you for,’ I say. I lean down and press a kiss to his bristly cheek. Grady doesn’t respond. I keep my face close to his. ‘If you want to back out-’
‘Stop,’ he says, voice sharp and ugly. I stop. He twists around to look me in the eye
I stand up. My knees crack. I’m a few years shy of 40, but just barely.
I feel a lot older.
‘I want you here with me tomorrow,’ I say. ‘I’m not forcing you.’
‘You know I’ll be here,’ he says wearily. Same conversation we’ve been having for months. ‘But I’m begging you, Frank. This is dangerous. Please. Don’t do this.’
‘Can you think of a better idea?’ I ask. He doesn’t answer.
‘Exactly,’ I say. I take his hand. Squeeze it. ‘I need to find him, Grady.’
‘I know,’ he says in an empty voice. Distant and detached.
‘He’s the only family I have left,’ I say. Grady stands up with a jerk. Pulls his hand from mine.
‘I thought I was your family,’ he says.
‘You know what I mean,’ I say.
‘Here’s what I know,’ says Grady. ‘You’re not listening to me.’ He walks to a keyboard at his auxiliary desk. His fingers slam against the keys in a whirlwind.
It’s aggressive typing.
‘Grady-’
‘I know this is a wildly dangerous idea,’ he says without looking at me. ‘So do you. I know we can find Jake without them. It will just take more time.’
‘We don’t have time,’ I say. ‘The cops are looking for him. Everyone is. We have to be the ones to find him.’
I take his hands off the keyboard. Grady resists for a second, then relaxes. He rubs his thumb over my knuckles.
‘I know,’ says Grady. ‘I just wish you’d change your mind.’ He’s annoyed, face twisted in a way that’s unfamiliar. Disappointed, somehow. I kiss his forehead.
‘We’ll be okay,’ I promise. His smile is forced.
‘Sure we will,’ he says without enthusiasm.
I kiss Grady until some of the tension bleeds out of his body. Climb onto his lap. He wraps his arms around me. It’s quiet but for the reassuring hum of the computers.
Grady presses our foreheads together, sharing the same breath.
‘You all right?’ I ask.
Grady nods. Mouth quirks.
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Yeah, I’m good.’
‘Cool,’ I say. Kiss him once more. Stroke the hair above his lip with my thumb.
I climb off his lap and put my hands on my hips.
‘Enough of this mushy crap,’ I say. ‘Let’s go steal a corpse.’
14.
Jakob stood at the threshold of the hotel room, leaning against the doorframe. For a second I didn’t recognize him.
Last time I’d seen Jakob, he’d been all soft baby fat and toothless smiles. I could pick him up and carry him around under my arm like a living football.
That was a long time ago.
In the years since, Jakob had grown thin. Scrawny limbs and sharp cheekbones and twisting edges I couldn’t seem to piece together. He had our father’s jaw and our mother’s coloring and the same eyes as the rest of our brothers.
Same eyes as me.
Looking at Jakob was looking at a stranger. Or a version of myself, younger and through a mirror darkly. I could see echoes of our brothers in his face, traces of our mom and dad in the curve of his cheeks or the way he scowled when he was confused or upset. I could see my own furrowed brow when he pouted. His short, hurried stride.
At the moment he was giving me a frown that could bend spoons.
‘This room smells,’ he said, as if it was my fault. I sniffed the air. He wasn’t wrong.
‘It smells like a hotel room,’ I said. He wrinkled his nose and pulled his shirt up over it, covering the entire bottom half of his face.
‘It smells like crap,’ he said, his voice muffled.
‘It smells like a crappy hotel room,’ I said. ‘You’re being a baby.’
‘I’m not being a baby,’ he insisted. ‘It’s disgusting here. There’s mold on the bedspread. We’re going to die from the mold. Why can’t we stay somewhere that doesn’t smell like ass?’
‘It doesn’t smell like ass,’ I said, my voice muffled. ‘It smells like mold. Don’t say ass.’
I was lying facedown on the bed. sprawled on the scratchy, stained bedspread. The flower motif was painful, the purple a hideous contrast to the off-yellow walls. Like sleeping inside a giant, infected bruise.
‘You shouldn’t put your face on that,’ said Jakob. ‘It’s covered in gross stuff. Even worse than mold. People do awful things in hotel rooms.’ He looked around the room, prepared to bolt if he saw someone doing anything awful. ‘There are probably fluids on there,’ he said, pointing at the bed. ‘Human fluids.’
‘Yeah, probably,’ I said. Didn’t move. ‘Are you going to come in here or stay in the hallway?’ I could hear Jakob shuffling around, fidgeting with the doorknob.
‘Have you ever seen one of those shows where they do the blacklight in the hotel room?’ he asked.
‘Get in here and close the door,’ I said. He let out a full-body sigh, the type only put-upon teenagers ever mastered.
Out of the corner of my eye I watched as he stepped inside. Closed the door behind him. Locked it. Checked the lock. Rattled the door to be safe.
I felt the bed move as he sat down.
‘Hey, Frank,’ he said after a few moments of silence.
I didn’t answer. The mold smell was worse than I’d thought. At least the air conditioner worked.
Most importantly, the door locked.
I’d figure out a way to barricade the window later.
‘Frank,’ said Jakob again.
I grunted. A long finger poked me in the side. Hard.
‘Ouch,’ I said without any heat.
‘Frank,’ said Jakob, dragging my name out by a few extra syllables.
‘Yep,’ I said. Turned my face towards him and half-closed my eyes, enjoying the relative coolness of the bedspread against my cheek. Jakob picked at a loose thread.
‘We could stay somewhere nicer,’ he said without looking at me.
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘It’s one night.’ Jakob looked around the room and shuddered dramatically.
‘We’re going to get murdered,’ he said. ‘This place is a flophouse.’ I raised my head off the bed.
‘How do you know what a flophouse is?’ I asked.
‘That’s not the point,’ said Jakob. ‘I’m not asking for a jacuzzi. Clean sheets would be fine.’ I shook my head and let it fall back onto the bedspread.
‘We’re on a budget,’ I said. ‘We’ll only be on the road for a few more days.’
‘This whole place is heinous,’ he said. ‘I’m going to sleep with my shoes on.’
‘Okay,’ I said.
‘You’re such a jerk,’ he groaned.
I hummed in agreement. Could feel the weight of Jakob’s gaze on my back, a slowly filling bag of sand pushing me down into the bed.
‘I’m trying to sleep,’ I said.
‘Are we going to talk about it?’ he asked.
‘Five minutes,’ I mumbled. Sleep was scratching at the edges of my eyes but I wasn’t tired. Not really.
‘I’m serious,’ he said.
I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes. My tank top was sticking to my skin, and the rough bedspread uncomfortable against my back. I needed a cold shower and something to drink.
‘What do you want?’ I asked. I was too tired for his bullshit. I hadn’t slept in weeks.
When I did manage to sleep, I wasn’t getting any rest.
‘I want to talk about The Incident,’ said Jakob.
‘No,’ I said. Jakob gaped, mouth gone slack.
‘Seriously?’ he asked. ‘You haven’t said anything about it.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ I said. ‘And we shouldn’t. You know that.’ I waved a hand in his general direction. ‘Go watch TV.’
‘I don’t want to watch TV,’ he said. He bent down over me. I could smell the stale onion rings on his breath. ‘I want to talk about it.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I have a headache.’
‘Stop avoiding me!’ He punched his fist against the bed.
‘I’ll give you money for the soda machine if you stop shouting,’ I said without moving. Jakob didn’t seem to notice. He pushed himself off the bed.
‘We don’t know what happened,’ he said. ‘We don’t even know who those guys were, not really.’
‘Sure we know,’ I said. ‘They told us. You were there. You heard what they said. You saw what happened.’ I bit my lip, realizing I was veering close to the talk Jakob wanted. ‘Crank up the AC, would you? It’s hotter than the car.’ Jakob didn’t move. His face was creased in frustration like a little old man.
‘You haven’t said anything,’ he repeated. ‘Even when they were talking about it with us. Giving us their rules.’ He spat out the last word like it was bitter herbs. ‘You didn’t say anything. You just listened and nodded and didn’t say anything.’ I bristled.
‘What did you want me to say?’ I asked. He shrugged.
‘Something,’ he said. ‘Anything.’ Jakob was almost pleading.
‘There was an accident,’ I said. I was getting better at it. Repeating the lines until they became real. Until I convinced myself they were true.
Truer than what I saw, anyway.
Jakob gave me enough practice saying the lines. Over and over until I was blue in the face.
It was getting real old, real fast.
‘It wasn’t an accident,’ said Jakob. He crouched down by the bed, his face level with mine. ‘And you know, and you’re okay with it? You’re okay that Mom and Dad and Georgie and -’
‘Stop it.’ I sat up. ‘Right now. Shut up. We made a deal.’
‘I didn’t make one,’ Jakob said, his tone sulky.
‘Well I did, and I’m in charge of you,’ I said.
‘I hate you!’ he shouted. I stood and walked to the bathroom.
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Glad to hear it. I’m taking a shower. Then we’ll go find some food.’
Jakob looked at the discolored carpet. His sneakers were ripped to shit. I felt a rush of anger towards our parents for letting him walk around like this. Duct tape was holding them together. I knew they were his only pair of shoes.
Pretty sure they used to be mine.
For a moment I was glad my parents were dead, before a hot rush of shame washed over me, twisting and coiling in my chest. But it didn’t last long.
‘Jake,’ I said quietly. ‘Come on.’ He glanced in my direction. His shoulders slumped. He sat on the other bed with a defeated air.
‘Fine,’ he said, voice listless. ‘Sounds good.’ I lingered for a moment at the bathroom door. Jakob turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. Infomercials and talk shows flashed by. Sudden rush of fear. If I look away for a split second, Jakob will be gone.
‘Don’t go anywhere,’ I said. He looked at me as if I was stupid.
‘Where would I go?’ he asked.
I closed the door behind me. Leaned against it. Listened to the muffled voices from the television in the next room. After a few seconds Jakob settled on some crappy true crime show. I heard the bed creaking as he got comfortable. Didn’t hear any crying.
I made sure the door was locked. The window was too small for anything to climb through. Made sure it was locked too. Nearly tore off a nail checking it. Shoved a towel against the bottom of the door.
Once I was satisfied everything was as secure as it was going to get, I pressed my back against the wall and slid down into the space between the toilet and the bathtub. Wrapped my arms around my legs and started shaking.
If you ever need to scream but don’t want anyone to hear it, I’d suggest a bath towel instead of a pillow.
It’s much more effective at muffling the sounds.
Trust me on this one
15.
If I run they’ll catch me.
If I don’t run they’ll catch me.
They know I’m here and I can’t save them but maybe I could, maybe I could fight back but I don’t know how and I can’t see feel anything I’m alone in the dark no I’m not alone, it’s me and something in the dark something hungry and vile and it knows me in every way and I’m in the dark and this is where my parents are, my brothers.
DennisGeorgieTobiasTimAaronJakob
And I can’t find them because I’m nowhere and they’re nowhere but they’re here and I’m here but not Jakob, Jakob is okay Jakob is fine.
Quid pro quo. My life for Jakob’s.
I can’t pull my brothers out of the terror and the nothing and the darkness, darkness so deep it hurts, so intense I want to claw out my eyes but I can’t, I don’t have eyes or hands or anything to help me and I know my brothers are here but no matter what I can’t find them before the things are upon us.
I can’t see them either.
But I know the sounds of my little brothers screaming.
DennisGeorgieTobiasTimAaron
They scream and it hurts, it hurts more than the darkness and the sense of nothing, not even existing, forced to exist in this way, but none of it hurts as much as DennisGeorgieTobiasTimAaron screaming for help.
I don’t help.
Right before I die, before I cease, before I go away to whatever is on the other side of the darkness and the cold and the pain, before the things in the dark find me, I hear my brothers screaming and screaming.
I can hear my parents laughing in the distance.
I wake up screaming. The people in the room next to ours bang on the wall.
Jakob doesn’t stir.
I sit in the shower under the water until it grows tepid.
Wait for Jakob to wake up so we can get breakfast.
16.
‘You’re really bad at this,’ Grady says in a low voice. I kick aside the can I just tripped on. Hush him. ‘This is an astonishing amount of noise.’
We’re crouched in an alley behind the county morgue. It smells like shit. Despite the late hour it’s still staggeringly hot. Flies buzz half-heartedly around us. The air smells like rancid soup, thick and and sickening. Grady peers around the corner. He’s dressed in all black, backpack slung over his shoulder.
‘Are they gone?’ I whisper. Grady nods.
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘How are you so loud?’
‘I’m not,’ I say. ‘You’re freakishly quiet.’
I step outside the door of the grey, fading building. It looks like a place where accountants go to cry. ‘Are you ready?’
‘There’s a good chance we’re going to get arrested,’ Grady says, almost conversational.
‘If you don’t think you can get us in…’ I say. Fight back a grin,
‘You’re not funny,’ Grady says. He slides his back down the wall so he’s in a low squat. Pulls his laptop out and flips it open. ’The security system isn’t a problem. It’s barely worth mentioning. But what if there’s a guard? Or someone walks by and sees the lights on? There are way too many variables.’
‘You watch too many spy movies,’ I say. Peer over his shoulder at the blinking computer screen. ‘What are you doing?
Grady’s fingers fly over the keyboard. Sigils and numbers scroll down the screen. Dead languages and ones never spoken by humans. Or maybe it’s just code. Same difference.
‘Finishing touches,’ he says. ‘Relax. I’ve done tests at our place.’
‘This isn’t the one that blew out the generators is it?’ I ask. Don’t get a response.
‘Just one more - ah, we are in business,’ he says. Grady stands. Pulls me to my feet. Cradling the laptop in one arm, he walks to the entrance and opens the front door. ‘All security is now disabled. But keep quiet. Stop tripping on shit.’
It’s too quiet in the office. Our flashlights bounce off abandoned desks and empty offices. Can’t shake the feeling we’ve crossed over onto sacred ground. I find myself sticking closer to Grady than I need to.
‘Did I mention this is a bad idea?’ Grady says in a low voice. Our footsteps are loud and jarring on the linoleum floor.
Despite his protests, Grady seems calm. Each step deliberate.
‘If you’re going to be like this you can wait outside,’ I say. Grip his arm.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ says Grady. Tired and annoyed and a bit resigned. Tension fraying the ends of his words. Urge to push against his walls. Pick at the edges just a little.
We enter the morgue. It’s small. Feels crowded. Strange medical-looking devices cast unnatural shadows. Smells like death buried under antiseptic. People huddled in corners and bodies made something less than human.
The room hums with lost potential.
In the dim light, there are too many dark things in the corners. Some are moving. For a second I see something walk towards me, but I blink and it’s gone.
‘I hate this plan,’ I mutter.
‘This is your plan,’ Grady says. Looks around the room with a frown.
‘Can still hate it if I want,’ I say. I take a deep breath. Walk over to the body lockers.
I’m off balance. The shadows are moving again. Someone’s watching me. But a someone can be a something at the same time.
I’m surrounded by the judgmental dead.
I place my hand against the cool metal. I’m sorry, I don’t say.
‘How does this work?’ I ask Grady. ‘Do we pick one at random? Or do we have to find a specific corpse? How dead is too dead?’
‘This is an insane conversation,’ Grady says. He puts his laptop down on a metal desk, the noise making me jump. Takes me by the shoulders and moves me aside before opening the first locker.
‘We’ve had worse,’ I say. I prod the foot of the body. It’s covered by a white sheet. Grady clicks his tongue disapprovingly. I ignore him. Helps to imagine something is under the sheet. Something that didn’t used to be a person.
It helps to remember we’re doing this for Jakob.
‘We need a corpse in decent condition,’ says Grady. He reads the card attached to the corpse. Closes the drawer shut. ‘Too much external damage. Younger is better too. We want something that will last.’
‘Young, relatively fresh,’ I say, my voice wheezy. ‘Got it. Cool.’ I reach for the next drawer, but Grady puts his hand on my wrist. His face is eerie in the dim light. Familiar angles made strange and sinister.
‘It’s not too late for us to leave,’ Grady says. ‘We could go home. Figure out something else. We don’t have to do this.’
I move his hand away. Open the next drawer. Grady shakes his head, but walks to the other end of the room. Opens a draw. Peels back the shit politely.
The next drawer holds an elderly man. He’s smiling. Peaceful. I close the locker carefully and let him rest.
The next drawer is home to an even older woman. The skin around her eyes is crepe paper. I want to touch it with my fingers to see if they rip through.
‘Got one,’ says Grady from the other end of the wall. I walk over and see a young woman with dark hair and pale skin. There are tiny cuts and scrapes on her face. Her head is at an unnatural angle. I look away, and focus on Grady’s voice.
‘Late twenties, broken neck,’ he says. ‘Car accident.’ He flips through a chart. ‘This should work.’
‘Great,’ I say. He peers at me over the papers. ‘You know what I mean.’ I scan the room. ‘I’ll grab a gurney.’ I let myself smile. ‘And you were worried-’
‘Is someone there?’ asks a deep, solid voice. A low rumble, warning and not at all pleased.
We freeze.
‘Hello?’ The strange voice bounces off the walls. Gives it a tinny quality. Could be coming from anywhere.
Grady slides the corpse back into its drawer with barely a whisper of sound. He gestures with his head, but I can’t move. I can’t breathe.
This is real. This is real. This is happening. Trapped in a moment. Grady moves towards me, silent and streamlined.
The flashlight bounces off the drawers.
I must make a noise because a warm, calloused hand covers my mouth. Grady hushes against my ear. His lips brush my skin. He drags me back into a utility closet. Slides the door shut behind us.
‘Do you want to finish your sentence?’ he hisses, hand still over my mouth. I shake my head. Shove him away and gasp for air.
There are footsteps entering the room. One set. Just one. Two feet. Human. Feet not tentacles. Not skittering spider legs or no legs at all.
The right number of feet. No sliding rotting slithering howling silent thing following us, following me.
Grady presses me back into the wall. I realize I’m shaking. The walls are too close. There’s just one set of footsteps.
Not here. Not Grady. Not him. There are shadows at my feet and it’s too close in here. We won’t be able to run. All you can do is run. But we’re trapped and it’s going to get darker and drown me. It’s going to get Grady. We’re trapped.
‘You’re okay,’ Grady whispers against my cheek. His lips are pressed so close I feel the words more than hear them. I close my eyes, hide my face into his neck, and breathe. Tell my riotous heart to slow down, force my lungs to follow the rhythm of Grady’s.
‘Hello?’ calls the voice again. There are more footsteps. Is it two feet is it four what is it where is it has it found me is it here after all this time no no
‘Holy shit!’ the voice shouts. Grady’s body goes tight against mine. I resist the urge to scream. A second voice laughs.
‘You scared the shit out of me, Rob.’
‘Look who’s talking. They sent you out here too?’
I force my eyes open. Peer through the crack in the door.
Two men in security uniforms hold flashlights.
‘Apparently the entire block is down. Phone and internet too,’ says the first man.
‘Security system went down fast, I heard,’ says the second man. He holds the flashlight under his chin, pockmarked skin aglow. ‘But it didn’t set off any alarms. All those fail-safes? Not one sounded. Nobody noticed until the backups for the other buildings didn’t kick in.’
‘Probably a power surge,’ says the first man, who’s short and wide and keeps wringing his hands nervously. ‘You see anything weird? While you were looking around?’
‘Just your dumb ugly mug,’ says the second man. ‘Why?’
‘I thought I heard something before you came down here,’ says the first man. The second man laughs.
‘Maybe some of the customers here wanted to file a complaint,’ he says. Walks to the body locker and raps on it with his knuckles. ‘Chill out in there!’
He’s so close to the door of the closet I can see the grease stains on his uniform.
‘Stop it, Rob,’ says the first man. ‘Let’s keep going.’ The second man snorts.
‘Pussy.’ He returns to his companion. ‘Fine. Sooner we can get this done, the better.’
They move out of my line of vision. Their voices fade. Grady and I stay frozen, locked in a strange embrace. I’m still shaking. I move away from Grady and straighten out my clothes for something to do.
‘Get the corpse,’ I say. ‘We need to go.’ My voice is rough, like I’ve been screaming for hours.
‘Hey,’ says Grady. He reaches for me. I push him aside and open the closet door. I’m soaked in sweat. I go to the drawer and pull it open.
‘I’ll get a gurney,’ I say. I dig my nails into my hand until the pain punctures the raw panic. I jam them into my pockets. ‘Those guys might come back.’ He doesn’t move. ‘Come on, Grady.’
‘What’s going on with you?’ he asks. Perfectly at fucking ease in a dark morgue with the moron twins wandering around.
‘Now is not the time for this conversation!’ I hiss. Grady sighs. I see the shift in his features that always makes my stomach sink. Detached and distant. Shut down in a way I still can’t unlock even after all these years. It happens at the strangest times. Don’t know what sets it off. It’s cold.
‘Fine,’ he says. ‘You watch the door.’
I get the gurney. Grady is gentle as he moves the corpse. Keeps her wrapped in the sheet. Handles her with care. Carries her bridal style.
I don’t feel like I can breathe until we pull out onto the road. I stick my head out the window and let the wind dry my sweat.
‘You were really brave,’ I say eventually. Grady scoffs.
‘Please,’ he says. ‘I was scared shitless. Nearly pissed myself.’
‘You didn’t act like you were,’ I say. ‘You were great. Really cool.’ He shrugs, his eyes never leaving the road. He drives like a little old lady, hunched over the wheel.
‘I didn’t have time to act scared,’ he says. ‘I was ready to unleash my deadly fighting skills to defend your honor. And I needed to make sure you were okay.’ He glances at me. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Just had a moment.’ We cover a few miles in silence. His jaw is tight and his face has the pinch I hate. ‘I’m fine, Grady. Forgot where I was for a few seconds. It happens.’
I look over at him. Passing cars illuminating his profile. In the brief blinding flash I love him unabashedly, adoringly. Glad he can’t see the naked feelings on my face.
I reach over to the steering wheel and squeeze his hand. After a moment that feels like an eternity, he twines his fingers with mine and squeezes back.