Authors: Carol Plum-Ucci
It was everything I needed to hear. He used his thumbs to work the top of my scalp, and I felt my body going limp, though the slight throbbing persisted.
Aleese ... hissing, edging toward me, and she's got some sidekick who reminds me of
The Exorcist.
They stink like muck, and Aleese hisses out, "You're not really seeing me! I'm just a dream," and then laughs in that awful way of hers.
Scott had been concerned I would hallucinate because I'd already done so at St. Ann's. He'd said it showed that I was prone to them. He had not said anything about hallucinations containing a smell. Maybe he'd thought I wouldn't really have any.
Henry's head massage was beyond relaxing, and when he eventually stopped, he brought something out from under the tea tray. It was a children's book that looked slightly familiar, and I stared, intrigued. I recognized the artwork of Maurice Sendak, because Oma had read his stories to me over and over until I was at least seven. I had never seen this one before.
The Big Green Book
featured simple drawings of a couple, a dog, and a small boy.
I would recognize Sendak anywhere. I breathed, enchanted. "Where did you get this?"
"It belonged to Mrs. Starn's daughter when she was a little girl. It's pretty old. Early sixties. My parents read a lot of Maurice Sendak to me when I was little."
"My Oma read them to me, too." I took the book from him and leafed through the pages with it resting on my ribs. "I
love
Maurice Sendak. Loved..."
"I just grabbed it on my way out of the house today. I was thinking..."
I turned to stare into his kind eyes and warm grin, wondering what on earth had inspired him.
He laughed awkwardly. "Gee. I don't know what I was thinking. If I'm telling the whole truth here, my brushes with womenfolk have revolved around work and research for many years now. I guess you could say I'm
all thumbs
."
The pun worked well. He worked his thumbs into the base of my skull again, though I noticed for the first time a slight nervousness in him. More tension escaped me as the confession lingered in the air.
How charming.
It had never struck me before, but I saw no reason that "older" had to mean "very, very experienced," and therefore, "very, very intimidating." Any pictures I'd had of Henry pulling some fast older-man routine on me dissolved and was replaced with a firm trust.
"Your instincts are very good," I said dreamily. "I love children's stories. One thing I've considered, if I ever decide on a major, is to write them."
"I just imagined you would love some escape into another world. It's a sweet and innocent read for a sweet and innocent person."
Henry sat beside me on the bed, opened the book, and simply started reading. I could see Marg peering in from the corridor, but it didn't matter. We weren't doing anything or talking about anything I thought we should hide. I lay beside him and he read the title page. "...by Robert Graves. Artwork by Maurice Sendak." I smiled dreamily. Oma used to read all title pages.
The pictures brought to life a little boy named Jack, who'd found a book containing magic spells. He turned himself into an old man, then made himself disappear. Then, he turned the spells on his starchy aunt and uncle, triumphing over their rules and regulations. It made me feel powerful, like I could triumph over this world, however harsh and inconceivable it often seemed. At one point, I nodded off, Henry's hand still stroking my hair, while lulling me with his words. I awakened, still hearing his voice and not wanting to miss the end. But I never heard it.
SCOTT EBERMAN
MONDAY, MAY 6, 2002
1:22
P.M.
PARLOR
I
RAN IN THE HOUSE
and noted the basement door kicked in, and Alan's new security machine in three pieces on the floor. Like Mike said, Alan would not be thrilled to have to replace it so quickly. I made for the stairs, but a movement in the parlor caught my eye. Hodji Montu was sitting straight up on the couch, looking like hell. Without his famous cowboy hat and with his face rearranged, he was almost unrecognizable. He smiled and stood up.
"I've seen worse." I chuckled as he approached. "In the ICU."
He hugged me with three claps on the back—a lot, since I'd met him a total of four times, and the first time I was in a coma.
"It doesn't hurt much," he lied.
"Hodji, I'm sorry. I know how much you loved him."
He looked ... angry. I could relate. But I couldn't imagine what would inspire him to want to quit USIC. The loss would have gunned my fight engine, but according to Rain, Owen, and Cora, I'm not normal. Plus, he had the other problems Mike told me about. He still had his cell phone in his hand. I gathered that meant his son, Twain, hadn't called yet.
"Listen, I'm here now, Hodji. Why don't you go get some sleep?"
He looked torn up. "If I drift off now, I'll never sleep tonight. That's my latest decision, though I'm back and forth like the wind. I was just enjoying sitting here with the breeze blowing in on my face."
"What happened?"
"I actually had been asleep. I heard a USIC security alarm far off, reacted like a USIC agent, and had Cora's photography teacher in a pop lock before I knew what happened."
If only you knew how good that makes me feel.
Fortunately, I managed to bury my laughter in a cough.
"I was very embarrassed, apologetic. He's a great guy. Very understanding. Thinks he can beat me at chess. I've played while undercover as everything from a paper salesman to a chicken farmer. People tend to think I'm an easy mark. When I play money stakes, the truth comes out." He laughed, and I forced myself to do the same.
"There's only one person who has ever legitimately beat me," he said.
The Kid?
He walked to the window and stared out. I approached him hesitantly, not wanting to interrupt an obvious memorial moment.
I cleared my throat. "How is Cora? She seemed okay?"
"Yeah, she's up there with him."
"Did she fall? Hit her head? Get bruised in the ruckus? She's on a hefty dose of blood thinner."
"When I got down there, she was just standing in the darkroom screaming. I actually tackled Henry out in the corridor before he could get that far. She witnessed the whole thing, but we never came near her down there, and she never moved."
"Good, then."
"She's just shook up. The nurse told me she's switching medications?"
"Yeah. I told her she might be prone to hallucinations, but I didn't think she'd have a doozie like that. Sounds like a remake of
Creature from the Black Lagoon.
"
"That's what the nurse said. She said most people hallucinate out of the corners of their eyes or through their sense of smell. Though she also said anything is possible. Your medication and dosages are highly experimental."
I was itching to question Cora, but I had my pride, too.
"Where's Marg now?"
"Sitting outside Cora's door, pretending to fold wash. She mentioned the huge age difference, and her motherly instincts are on full alert."
"Good for her."
He watched me, and I hoped my expression bore out nothing. But I was not going up there to play audience to their little drama. Still, that hallucination ate at me.
"Are you sure she didn't see
Henry?
And that's what made her hallucinate?"
"I don't ... follow," he said. His mind was blotto right now, I assumed, though he probably wouldn't know about this stuff anyway.
"Generally, when people hallucinate something full-blown like that, it's not all hallucination. There's something there that they
did
see. For example, I have heard of people in withdrawal claiming to see spirits or even ghouls. But generally, there's someone standing there, and they make a transferal, add to it with their overloaded autosuggestion."
He watched me uncomfortably, to the point where I wondered if I'd alarmed him.
"She did not see Henry," he said. "Henry kicked the door open because she was already screaming."
So, that was no good. And true, the door had been locked. I'd given it a pull for good measure just before I took off with Alan.
"Maybe it's just one of those things," I said, but he moved toward the door and pulled it open, staring down in a way that made me edgy.
He sighed, banging his heel absently into the space above the top step. "God, I so do not want to play USIC right now."
I barely heard him, my heart revving up. "Hodji. ShadowStrike would have no interest in the four of us, right? Alan assured me of that before I even agreed to the place. It's remote. We're wide open. The property is too big to fence in..."
He sighed more loudly. "What did I just say?"
"Sorry."
He pulled me out onto the porch, and the air seemed to revive him a little. I couldn't help it. Questions popped out of me as I followed him.
"You don't think they got down there somehow, do you?" I asked.
"Scott, all I can tell you is the common mindset of terrorists, which has worked throughout my entire career. They don't chase down individuals they missed the first time around."
"So, they would have no business in this house."
"None whatsoever.
Shhh
," he said, and a smile bloomed on his face. I looked over my shoulder to see Henry pulling on a light jacket.
"She is very sound asleep right now, and Marg is folding wash right outside her door. Please bid her adieu for me when she wakes up."
Oh, adieu? Adieu, and screw you.
"I will" I pulled a grin out of my ass. "And thanks."
"No problem at all."
"So, when's our first big chess game?" Hodji asked. "I thought you were staying for dinner."
"I wasn't invited."
I prayed really hard and bit my lip.
"Too bad," Hodji said.
"And I actually have papers to mark and a meeting at the college in about forty-five minutes."
"After dinner?" Hodji asked.
Henry laughed in disbelief. "You sure you want to take me on? I understand you're sleep deprived."
Please, God, no.
"Sometimes it's the more relaxed mind that takes the game. Why don't we make a scientific experiment of it? Your alert mind versus my concussion. Five bucks down. If you don't take it, Alicia's divorce lawyer will."
Henry looked at him in sympathy. "If it'll keep your mind off that. Sure."
I went through my sins of the day, trying to figure out where I'd gone so wrong. Maybe I could connive Marg into slipping Cora a sleeping pill so she wouldn't watch Henry beat Hodji's ass.
Hodji waved, his smile stuck on his face like plastic, but it dropped as soon as Henry was out of sight.
"Nice guy," he said. "But you don't tell him nuthin'. I'm sure Mike's been over that with you."
"Can I tell him to go to hell?" I blurted, at the end of my patience. I tried to cover it with a laugh but my face was on fire.
"Uh-oh," he said. He wasn't
that
asleep. "You're in love while she's got older-man syndrome."
"I'm not in love," I countered, but he ignored me.
"You'd better keep your mind occupied. I'll give you a job to do."
"Like what?"
"I don't know."
"I thought you weren't USIC anymore."
"I'm not. But if I didn't search that basement right now, I'd be half an idiot. I don't think there's anyone down there. But I'm going to pull my gun, so you stay out here right now. Don't let anyone onto the first floor. Where's your brother and the Steckerman girl?"
I listened for the TV and heard it. "TV room, probably crashed out."
"I'll be careful. Make sure no one else comes down here. God forbid, but if I should fire a weapon, it would probably go right through the floor. Listen for my holler."
He went through the foyer, and as he turned the corner I saw a flash of metal—his gun. He took so long that I almost went inside, but I wanted to do like he told me. After probably ten minutes he hollered my name loudly.
All clear.
"I'm not done yet," he said as I came downstairs. "I just did the people search. I wasn't terribly concerned about finding 'somebody' down here, but rather, finding the evidence of somebody. That takes longer."
"What do you look for?" I asked.
"Microcams. Bugs. I've got a bug-and-cam detector in my bag. Wait here."
I guessed he was dead serious about being unable to untie himself from USIC. A
bug-and-cam detector in his bag.
I wondered if I would be so compulsive about this someday. I listened and stared all around, trying to pick up energy. I believed in energy. Having been a medic, I could wander into somebody's house and follow the sick energy without the homeowner showing me which room the person was in half the time. I had never opened a wrong door. If Cora had seen a ShadowStrike member, she would have sensed bad energy. She would have transposed this in her mind into something she could understand, or in her case, something she could more easily tolerate.
But my instincts were cluttered, and I merely wandered into her darkroom, noting that the carnation-talcum-powder smell of her was still here.
Hodji came back and started in with a humming machine, going up and down the walls of the outer room and most especially around the computer. It crackled pretty steadily but never bleeped.
"What do you think?" I asked as we stood in the hallway. "Is there any way someone could have broken the security code and gotten down here with her?"
"No," he said, sounding weary. I wanted to get him back upstairs, back into the sun and out of this dank basement, which was no good for a depressed and sleep-deprived person. But he wanted to check up the goddamn chimney flue, and while he was doing it, I noticed something stuck to the wall down near the baseboard that looked like mud. I ended up peeling away some mucky weed about eight inches long that smelled like pond scum. It was still wet.
"Um..." I held it up, not knowing quite what to say. "Didn't she say she saw creatures from the pond?"