Confabulation (The Department) Page 5
Henry cringed. He tried to ignore the thoughts and the headache, but they both grew in power. Though his stomach turned, Henry lifted the bottle to his lips again. He sat down on the couch, reclined, and hung his head over the edge in case of accident. He lay there for hours, fighting against sleep, and drinking into oblivion. He continued drinking until he heard the garage door open.
"Henry. Henry, you need to get up."
Henry fought through the pain of opening his eyes and saw Kelly standing above him. He tried to talk, but alcohol had robbed him of the moisture he needed.
"Don’t talk. I don’t know why you got so drunk last night, but we can talk about it later. Right now, I need to get going, and you need to get ready for work."
Henry shook his head, trying to tell her not to go to work.
"Yes, you do have to get up. Decent people don’t drink themselves into a sick day, Henry." She pulled her bag over her shoulder and took her keys in her hand. "I’ll be out of the office all day, so I’ll talk to you tonight."
Henry sat up quickly, but reclined again under the pressure of the ensuing headache. He opened his eyes again when he heard the door to the garage close. He scrambled to his feet and tried to race to the door. However, by the time his stumbling gate took him far enough, Kelly was gone.
Henry walked with small careful steps to the bathroom and turned on the shower. "I guess I’ll go to work." Henry stepped into the shower and let the water fall over him for several minutes. He knew it didn’t matter. And that he couldn’t do a damned thing for Kelly, but he had to do something to keep him mind busy. Other than drink.
Henry finished his shower. Shaved. Brushed his teeth, which was welcome, and trimmed the nose hairs that he saw in the mirror across the room. He felt human again by the time he he was done. After a small breakfast of yogurt and toast, he headed to work. The drive was silent, and for a few minutes Henry could remember what his life had been like just a few weeks before.
CHAPTER 11
Carolyn parked her car. After several hesitant efforts to lift it, she picked up the note from the seat next to her. Checked the address to make sure she found the place. Once sure, she looked at. Her handwriting. She remembered writing it, but it felt like a dream. Like someone else had control of her mind. And her hands. She wrote it, but had no idea why, or what to expect once she got there.
When she saw the note taped to her bedroom door, she pulled it off, knowing what it was, but not wanting to believe it. She sure as hell wasn’t about to go. Someone was messing with her, and just following along seemed like a damned stupid plan. She ate, with the note right in front of her. Going seemed like a better idea with each bite. Did she want to go? Was someone making her want to go? In the end, she figured that if someone could make her think what they wanted, she didn’t have much choice in the long run.
She stepped past the heavy green door. A bell jingled above and she giggled at the weak sound that welcomed her. She took a few moments to take in the musty smell of old books and old wood. The place seemed well-lit and cool but not cold air. A nice change from the already hot summer morning outside.
"Can I help you?"
Carolyn turned. A short, bald man with large glasses stood in front of her. She stared at his white shirt, pinstripe pants, and braces. Seemed more at home in one of the books on the shelves than in the store. She blinked and realized he’d asked her a question. "I’m not sure what I’m looking for."
"Oh, just browsing then. Why don’t you come with me to the back?” He motioned with his head down a hall. “It holds our more interesting pieces. Not many people buy any of the books back there, a bit pricey, but they’re nice to look at. It’s like my own little book museum." He reached for her hand.
She took the wrinkled hand. Strong grip. She followed him to the back. He opened the door to a small room full of old books sitting face out behind glass doors. The clerk placed his hand on her back and stepped behind her. "I’ll leave you alone now. Enjoy the items, and let me know if you need anything." As he stepped away, he pointed to a small book that seemed newer than the others, alone in a case that was unlocked. "Many people enjoy that book, since you’re allowed to read it."
"Oh, thanks." She watched him leave. She turned back to the book. Heard the door shut behind her. "Now, what is in this book?"
Though it appeared newer than the others, the pages still seemed dry and the binding rigid. Carolyn turned the pages of the old text. Blank. She flipped through more pages. Blank. All blank. She cleared her throat and closed the book. Looked at the back and cover.
A symbol on the back and front. Wavy lines.
No title. No author.
She looked at the spine. Wavy lines.
She opened the book again.
Still blank, but there was something there. A memory. A notion of what she had seen before. She shook her head. She’d never seen the book. Still, she could remember the pages full of words. She tried to remember. Tried to picture the pages.
She could see the type, but not read the text. Just an image of a book. She put it down.
“Damn.”
"Is there a problem with the book, ma’am."
Carolyn slammed the book shut and jumped from the chair. She was relieved to only find the aged store clerk standing in the doorway. "Sorry. You startled me."
"Then I’m the one who’s sorry." He bowed his head. "Didn’t you enjoy the book?"
"Well, I found it, difficult to read."
"Ah, I see. As I said, it’s quite a curiosity around here. I have something else you might be more interested in, though. Exactly what you’re looking for, I’d say. You’d have to buy it, though. It’s wrapped, you see. One of the few things."
She nodded. Followed him back into the main store and to the counter.
He took out a box from underneath the register. Full of shrink-wrapped postcards. Pulled one from the end middle of the stack. "I had these made last year. Pictures of some of my favorite books, as well as some book and magazine collectibles around the world. I think they’re quite lovely, don’t you."
She smiled. "They certainly are.” She felt like she was in the middle of a strange role playing spy game. “I think I’ll take a package."
"Excellent.” He placed the selected pack in a bag. “I’m sure the recipients of these will enjoy them just as much as I do." He slipped her receipt into the bag.
"I’m sure they will." She smiled and took the bag from then clerk. She turned to exit.
“Excuse me, miss. You forgot your receipt.”
She turned back as two men brushed past her on their way out. “Thank you, but I’m sure you placed it in my bag.” She opened up the top.
“Oh, you’re right. Sorry. I must have printed a duplicate. Never mind.” He waved and turned away, placing the box back under the register.
After a slight wave of her hand, she exited the building and back out into the cement intensified heat. She slipped in her car, thankful for the space she was able to get close to the door. She started the car and air conditioning, wincing from the blast of hot air that hit her in the face. As the car cooled, she took the postcards from the bag and opened the package.
Just note cards. Nothing special. Pretty pictures.
She set the cards in the seat next to her. Looked at the door and considered going back in. Wondered if she got the wrong package. She watched two men, maybe the same two from before, head for the door.
Saw the old man flip the sign to closed.
The two men knocked.
Old man shook his head.
The two men looked at her. Stared right at her from behind their sunglasses before turning and walking away. She watched them go down the sidewalk, turn a corner and vanish from view. She looked back to the shop. The old man looked out the window and shook his head slowly. Pointed to the seat next to her.
She flipped through the cards again. About halfway through, she found a picture of the book with wavy lines. She turned it over.
Blank.
But she knew what it said.
"I can help you. You must know that you are being watched and manipulated. The people doing this are dangerous and will go to great lengths to keep me away from you. I am watching as well, and won’t let them harm you, but you must keep to your routine. I’ll contact you again, soon. Be careful."
Carolyn’s heart raced as she completed the note. The note that wasn’t there, but was as clear as day. "Who’s watching me?" She considered the possibilities.
The old man.
The two men.
Someone else.
Were they dangerous or there to help? Who could she trust? The questions ran through her mind, not taking the time to be answered to take root. She looked around. Saw nothing out of the ordinary. No men. Closed shop.
Deep inside, she felt that she could trust the anonymous helper, but she couldn’t be sure if the emotion was her own. Not anymore. She could be playing into the hands of the people out to harm her.
She drove back home. Thought about the different options. Only one answer seemed to ring true. She was being watched. This person, whoever it was, wanted to help. She prayed that the conclusion was her own.
CHAPTER 12
Simon Klein sat in the small booth. He watched men and women walk by, wondering which of them, if any, sent him the note. Each time someone passed he hoped and feared they’d stop and sit.
During the cab ride over, he felt good about the meeting. Hope that he might get answers. As soon as he stepped out, fear planted a seed. He was alone, in a place he’d never been, hoping to meet someone about an ailment that had ruined his life.
As he waited, the seed grew. Worries that this was just a step in some plot to destroy him. Maybe just a practical joke. Maybe someone just wanted him out of his house. He tried to remind himself that he was probably safe. He was surprised to stop at a restaurant. He’d expected someplace more private. He had to admit, though, he was glad there were other people around.
He sipped on his water, still waiting.
Almost choked on a piece of ice when the waiter slipped his menu under his arm. He hadn’t seen or heard the waiter approach. He might have admired the talent under different circumstances.
"I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to startle you."
He cleared his throat. "That’s okay. I was just thinking."
"Very well, sir. I believe you’ll be dining alone this afternoon. Can I offer you a glass of wine? Or perhaps a cocktail."
"Wine would be nice. A Riesling. I’m expecting someone to join me, though."
"The reservation was for one, sir. I’m quite sure of that."
Simon felt something in the waiter’s tone and stance. Seemed he knew more than he could say. He ignored it. The other person must have a reason. He took the menu from the waiter. "Thank you."
"Yes, sir. I believe you’ll find the list of specials inside the menu quite appealing."
Simon watched the waiter walk off. Head up. Rear in. Looked uncomfortable. He took the menu from the table. Looked at the outside first. No markings. No messages. He turned to the specials. A note was tucked into the menu insert.
"First, let me assure, you are fine. There’s nothing wrong with your vision or brain. However, someone has targeted you, and you are in danger. They’re watching. I’ll contact you again, soon. Be careful."
Simon stared at the note and tried to find an emotion to hold onto. His mind jumped from fear to anger to depression to relief. Someone was behind what was happening to him. Even if the person who sent him the note was more enemy than friend, he or she still knew what was happening to him. He hated that he felt like a guinea pig, but the relief that came from knowing there was a cause, and therefore a cure, outweighed everything else.
"May I take your order, sir?"
"Yeah, I’ll have the lobster. I feel pretty good today."
"Excellent choice, sir. I’ll get that right to you." The waiter picked up the menu, slipped the note into his pocket.
CHAPTER 13
Henry kept peeling the potatoes. Kelly kept asking questions.
He hoped she’d give up if he just ignored her. Didn’t harbor much hope for success, but it’s what he did when he didn’t know what else to do. Even in elementary school, he would simply ignore the bell to go to lunch or recess to avoid bullies. Teachers would tell him he had to go, but he would change the subject to school work each time, or just ignore them.
When talking to his parents didn’t get anywhere, they left him alone. It didn’t really work much after that, but Henry kept going back to it. Like a ratted out, threadbare security blanket.
"Henry, did you hear me? Where have you been the past couple of days?"
Henry figured she wasn’t going to back off. He put the peeler and the tuber in the sink and turned slowly. "What do you mean?" he hoped he could just play stupid.
"I tried calling you several times the past two days, and I couldn’t get a hold of you. I left messages, but you didn’t call me back."
"Oh, yeah, sorry about that. We’ve been having reengineering meetings at work. I haven’t been in my office. I mean, I rush in to check e-mail, but then it’s right back out to the meetings.” He giggled. “I mean, why we have to be off-site at a hotel for this shit, I have no idea.” He turned the water on to wash his hands. “I’ve been coming straight home after. We’ve been wrapping up at about four.”
“And your cell?”
“Oh. Yeah. I turned the sound off on Monday. I think I forgot to flip it back on.” He walked over to his bag, a black backpack with the company logo, and pulled his phone from the side, flipping the mute switch as he did. “Oh, shit. Yeah, lots of missed calls. And messages. Sorry, baby.”
She rolled her eyes. Sighed. "Next time tell me when you’re not going to be around. I need to know how to reach you if your phones off."
"Sure. Did you need to get a hold of me?"
"No, not really. I just wanted to talk.” She pointed at him. Smiled behind the finger. “But I still need to know, for future reference."
He puffed his lower lip out. "Okay."
She laughed. "Good. Now, I’m going to go change clothes. I’ll be back in a minute."
Henry flipped the water back on and skinned the last of the potatoes.
He was glad it worked, but he hated lying. Still, he couldn’t have Kelly suspicious of him. He could feel that the danger was growing. Somehow, he knew he’d have to act soon. He needed to be able to keep track of her for the next few days.
Henry noticed Kelly returning, adorable as always in her sweats and t-shirt. "Kelly, I forgot to tell you something."
"What is it?" She reached across the island, grabbed a carrot, and began chewing.
"Um, I’m pretty sure I forgot to tell you I’ll be out of town for a few days."
"Yeah, you forgot. Now, what am I supposed to do?” She crossed her arms, and pouted. A little thing, but Henry felt the familiarity and comfort between them again. Made lying to her feel even worse.
"We have meetings at a client office for several days. I’m hoping to be done Saturday."
"Saturday? How long have you known?"
"I just found out this morning. I was pissed, and wasn’t going to go, but Dennis got called onto another project with the seniors."
She dropped her arms. "Oh, well, when do you leave?"
"First thing in the morning, but you can call me anytime you want while I’m gone."
"Oh, I will. I’ll call so many times, they’ll never send you to one of those stupid meeting meetings again."
Henry and Kelly laughed and hugged. Henry rubbed her head gently and stepped back toward the kitchen. "Now, I need to finish dinner."
"Well, I’ll just be on the couch with a book."
"I’ll let you know when it’s ready. It should still be another half hour or so."
"Okay." She kissed him briefly and hopped into the nearby couch.
Henry laughed and returned to the stove.
He just wished he knew why he knew it.
CHAPTER 14
Simon sat in his house wondering what he was supposed to do with the bizarre information he had received. Someone was messing with his mind. His thoughts. He believed that, but wondered if he really did. He guessed if someone was making him believe it, then he had good reason to go along. But, he didn’t know who these people were, why they were doing it, or who he could trust.
He wondered through his house in a haze. Not one caused by blindness, but by a mix of anger, fear, and confusion. He needed some contact. Needed to know what to do next. Alone, his thoughts turned to the worst.
Maybe both sides were working together. Play him against each side to get him to do what they really wanted. Sure, someone said they were trying to help, but Simon didn’t see them, or know any more about them. Other than they were watching him. Not very comforting.
He opened the refrigerator door, and reached for a bottle of soda. As he pulled the bottle from the door, his vision began to blur. He hurriedly set the bottle down, shut the door, and sat on the floor. He knew where this was headed.
Sparkles and worms crawled across his vision, but the blank out didn’t happen. It wasn’t anything like he remembered it should be. He tried to stand, but he slipped back down. Couldn’t identify up from down.
Half an hour passed.
Simon changed positions. Sprawled on the floor.
An hour passed.
A headache grew between his eyes.
Another hour passed.
"Is this it?” Simon stared at the ceiling. His hands balled into fists. “Is your little game over? Was the restaurant some kind of test?” He pounded the floor. “Who the hell are you?" His mind danced among the possibilities and his heart began to throb. Taking a breath was labored, as fear tightened his chest. He tried to scream, but the terror took the wind from his throat.