Firefly. Part 6

"I won't have to stay around?"

"You won't even have to see her, Demerit, if you don't want to. She will be in hiding, a virtual prisoner. But that's better than being dead, I think. You should proceed about your business exactly as before, arousing no suspicion. Your life-style should change very little." She glanced at him. "But you know, it might not hurt you to get to know her. She's not an aggressive sort, and I suspect she's lonely. Her husband is having an almost open affair with another woman, and her child is dead. You may not need any support from the opposite s.e.x, but she does."

He was nonplussed. "Women-I don't-"

"For G.o.d's sake, you don't have to sleep with her!" she snapped. "Just talk to her, show her a bit of sympathy. She's like a person recovering from a serious injury, only it's emotional, not physical. I think she will need to talk to somebody. Someone nonthreatening. You are ideal. Just sit there and listen. You might learn something."

"Listening I can do," he agreed.

"Good. Now I don't know when I'll bring her, but it could be as early as tomorrow. I'll have to see about covering her tracks. If I can, I'll spirit her out of that house, and her husband will return to find a message that she's gone to Timbuktu with her son. He'll hardly miss her; he's usually elsewhere. The monster won't find any more prey at that house, and if we're lucky it will move on to another region, or Mid's exterminator will catch it and kill it."

She moved on out the door. "I'll try to bring groceries today; when will you be in?"

"Dusk."

"Good enough." She braced herself, and opened the door to the heat. She hoped she was doing the right thing. If something went wrong with the Brown woman, May's job would be on the line, and she would pay heavily for her sentimentality.

* 9 - GEODE SHOOK HIS head as the Flowers woman drove away. Suddenly she had foisted on him a house-guest, and if that guest did any harm to the premises, he would be the one in trouble. Yet there was also an unholy temptation in the notion. He did not relate well to women, but neither did he relate well to men. He didn't understand normal people, and they didn't understand him. The Flowers woman, pushy as she was, related to him about as well as anybody ever had, except for Mid, whom he had never met. If this other woman was just an ordinary person who was willing to talk to him without getting impatient, and just wanted someone to listen, he would listen and like it. Listening made few demands. If the woman was lonely-well, so was he. He stayed clear of other people because interactions always got awkward, not because he wasn't interested. If the woman didn't want to talk to him, then he could just ignore her, as suggested; his daily rounds did take time.

He wondered if the Flowers woman knew that he wanted someone to talk to. She seemed pretty sharp, in her uncompromising way. She was intent on her job, certainly, but maybe she did see some around the edges of it.

Also, he had heard what she told Mid: "I feel for her." The professional coldness of the woman had been cloven asunder with those words. Sympathy moved her. Then she had said, "I suspect she's lonely." And that she needed someone nonthreatening to talk to, to have listen to her, and that he was ideal for that.

That animated him. The notion that he could actually be good for someone else, for a woman. No one had ever suggested that before. For whom was May Flowers actually doing the favor-the woman, or him? Did it matter?

He closed up the house, armed the alarm, and set off on his rounds on the bike. He had a lot to think about, and this activity was an excellent time in which to think.

At dusk the Flowers woman did come with several bags of groceries, which she stored in the main refrigerator-the one that Geode didn't use. "If anyone asks, these are yours," she told him. But of course no one would ask; no one should be here to see it, other than those who already knew. "Tomorrow I'll ask her."

Geode, normally a good sleeper, had a restless night. He kept thinking about the visiting woman, imagining her already there in the spare room, going about her business, watching TV, eating, sleeping. He had been so long without company, it was hard getting used to it-even though he knew it hadn't happened yet. What was her name? What did she look like? He knew only that she was "no young beauty." But she was married and had a young son, so she couldn't be too old. About his own age, perhaps. Did it matter? Not really. She would be company; that was all that counted. For a week or two he would have company. He would try not to turn her off. In the early days he had not understood what made others avoid him, but after the mental hospital it had been clear. He had a fair idea what not to say or do now. She might accept him as a normal person.

In the morning the deputy sheriff came again. "Any news?" The Flowers woman had told him about the monster, and the man had agreed to keep it quiet. Geode would not be in trouble for moving the truck and the body. Indeed, he had had to move the body again, to the bushes near where he had left the hunter's truck (it wasn't there anymore), so that another deputy could find it. There had been no news report; as far as the authorities were concerned, the hunter had died in some freak accident, and the ants and vermin had had time to pick his bones clean. Maybe later the story would come out, but for now it was under wraps because they were still investigating.

"Did the Flowers woman tell you about the boy?" Geode asked.

"Yeah, she called."

"She wants to hide the woman here."

"Now, that she didn't tell me! What woman? Why?"

"The boy's mother. Flowers is afraid she'll be next, so she wants her here until it's safe."

The deputy nodded. "Makes sense. That makes three times the monster's struck at her place. Just plain luck her window was closed, maybe, or it would've taken her too. If Middleberry-you call him Mid?-if he sends an exterminator, maybe it'll be over soon, and you, me, the Brown woman, and Flowers'll be out of trouble, and no harm done to any of us." He paused, reconsidering. "Well, except for her son. Too bad about that. But who would've thought it would come right in the house and take a kid?"

"This house is better guarded."

"It sure is! Well, if it's okay with Mid, it's okay with me. You take care of her, Demerit." The officer seemed to find something humorous.

"What-what is she like?"

"The Brown woman? She's a mouse. A bedraggled housewife. Mid-thirties, sort of worn down. I guess a bad marriage will do that to you. Quiet. But I'll say this for her, she had the guts to bury her son and keep her mouth shut. Must be more to her than shows. Maybe you'll find out, eh?"

Geode didn't know what was meant by that. "I probably won't see her much. She'll hide inside, and I'll be out on my rounds most of the time."

"Sure." The sheriffs deputy shrugged. "Well, keep me posted. When that exterminator man gets here, I want to see him. And if the monster takes any more meals here, sing out."

Geode nodded. But his mind was less on the monster than on the mouse. He liked mice, as he did all wild things. A woman like a mouse-he could like her too.

The deputy started his car and moved on around the loop. Geode watched him go, glad to be rid of him.

* 10 - FRANK SHOOK HIS head as he left the loop behind. Funny man, that Demerit! There seemed to be a blankness about him, as if he were halfway in some other world even when directly talking to a person. But harmless.

Then, stretched across the pebbled asphalt of the drive, he saw something that wasn't harmless. He screeched to a stop before running over it. It was a rattlesnake, about five feet long and so thick through the body it reminded him of a python. Sure, he'd heard tales of much bigger rattlers, but this one was plenty big enough!

He waited, but the reptile just lay there, not coiled. It was taking in the sun. The pattern was bright enough, but not truly diamond; it was more like a series of brownish patches. The rattles were plain too, but dull. The fact was, this creature was neither resplendent nor aggressive; it was in its drab housecoat, relaxing.

Frank turned his wheels sharply and pulled slowly around the snake. He had to ride on the weeds and dirt at the edge to do it, and he knocked down a few dog fennel and a pokeberry plant in the process, but he made it. Then, after he was safely past, the snake moved. It brought its head about and glided slowly off the other side of the drive. It was as if the d.a.m.ned thing had dared him to run it over and now was contemptuously departing, having proved its point. Well, so be it; Frank wasn't much for killing anyway, and he knew that all wildlife except maybe stinging flies was protected on the Middle Kingdom Ranch. So it was a poisonous snake; so it wasn't menacing him, and he didn't have to menace it. What would be the point of squishing it under his tire and losing all cooperation from the Middle Kingdom folk? What would be the point even if this wasn't a wildlife sanctuary?

He drove on, and his chain of thought resumed. That was a good notion the Flowers woman had, to hide the Brown woman there. The security system was intended to discourage human intruders, but it was so tight that it should give the monster pause too. If the monster even knew she was there.

What Flowers surely had in mind was to clear the woman out and lay a trap for the monster. Why the monster hung around there no one could guess, but since it did, that was the place to catch it. Maybe they could wrap this whole thing up in the next two days. Then Frank could make his report and get some credit, and everything would settle down.

What was causing the trouble? They called it the monster, but that was just a name for something unknown. Could it be a deranged man with some kind of hypodermic that dissolved flesh? What did he do with the flesh? Did he trundle a tank along and save it up for some mad experiment? It would be nice to catch him at it!

But Frank couldn't dwell on the matter. There was a lot of small business crowding his schedule, and this monster investigation was still off the record. The authorities didn't want to know about it. That set of bones by the river was bad enough; they hadn't liked that at all, but had agreed that it wasn't enough to make a commotion over.

For now, Frank wanted the monster kept quiet. It was his baby, as it were; he wanted to see it through on his own, and that wouldn't happen if it suddenly started making headlines. It was intriguing as h.e.l.l, this business of sucking bodies bone-dry; he'd never heard of anything like that before. He intended to be on the scene when they caught the monster, whoever or whatever it was.

But meanwhile he had to carry on with the routine.

"That woman called again, Frank," his wife announced. "She says there's been another feeding at the first house."

Frank, about to sit down to breakfast, changed his mind. He grabbed his hat. "d.a.m.n!"

"What's this all about?" his wife asked.

"Nothing you'd want to know!" he said, hurrying out. He'd been busy for three days, and forgotten to check on the Brown woman. Now it had happened!

He careened his car onto the street and turned north. Why hadn't Flowers gotten that fool woman out of there? Now it had hit the fan, for sure!

But the Brown woman was standing outside her house when he screeched in. "G.o.d!" he exclaimed. "I thought you'd-"

"Not me," she said. "My-"

"Don't say anything!" Because what he knew for certain he'd have to report. "Let me check around, see what I can see." Because now he realized that it was her husband who'd been taken. How would they cover that up?

He walked around the house. There was no sign of disturbance, just a faint smell. He found himself getting an erection. Brother! That was the monster, all right.

Another car pulled in. There was the Flowers woman. She'd had farther to drive, so had taken longer even though she'd had a head start. He walked briskly across to her. "I haven't gone in. Listen, I think you'd better get that woman the h.e.l.l away from here! The smell-"

She nodded. "She wouldn't go before. But I think now she will. And I think we have some work to do here first."

"Put it in a bag, take it with you," he said. "There'll be people poking around here. I'll have to put in a missing-person report. This thing won't hold together long! No, I have a better idea. Clear her out and don't come back, then phone in an anonymous query about this house. That'll make it official, but there'll be no traces."

"I understand. Thank you, Frank. I'll do what is necessary."

"You'd better! We're getting in deep."

"We certainly are." She turned and walked toward the house.

He returned to his own car, got in, and started the motor. He could be canned for this, covering up a killing! But his superiors didn't want any big news about any monsters, and he didn't want to tell them. Maybe it would seem that the Brown family had taken off together. That the woman had found out about her husband's affair, and made him take her on a sudden vacation, well away from temptation. Or something. Anything, just so long as the truth didn't come out!

He drove out. At least he'd have time for his breakfast now. The trouble was, he wasn't very hungry anymore.

* 11 - NONE TURNED TO the journalist. "Why wouldn't he listen?"

"He's an employee of the county. If he sees something significant, such as a dead man, he is obliged to report it. He has agreed not to do that, so he has to avoid seeing it."

"But doesn't he want to catch the monster?"

"Yes, Jade. May I call you that? I think we shall be working closely for a time."

none hesitated. She wanted to conceal what the monster had done here, and protect herself from what the law might do to her, and this woman was helping her do that. But that was because the woman had an agenda of her own; it wasn't friendship. So she did not tell her real name. "Yes."

"And you call me May. Now, I asked you to let me take you to a place of security before, but you demurred. Now you must go."

"Yes." none had hoped to maintain a pretense of normalcy, but now that her husband was gone, she would have no way. She had to take what was offered, and worry about the future later.

"I have a plastic bag in my car," May said. "And gloves. I hoped there would be no more deaths, but I prepared, just in case. Are you up to helping me load him?"

"I loved my son. Not my husband. I know the monster is near. I want to get away from here." Understatements, all. She was running on unreality again, doing what she had to, until it was safe to collapse. The moment she had a chance, she would adjust reality to reflect a temporary absence by her family, so that there would be no pain of death, only of separation. It was the sort of thing she was good at: revising realities. But others did not understand, so she didn't speak of this. If only the monster hadn't struck again so soon; she hadn't really gotten her mind-set straight from the loss of Jame, and now she had to do it over. She was in emotional trouble despite her ability to adapt.

They entered the house. There was the body, laid out on the couch. none had locked her bedroom door because of the monster, and he must have come home in the wee hours and concluded that she was mad at him-a good enough conjecture-and so just slept where he could. And the monster had gotten him. It must have come for her, and took him instead. So Paris had done her one favor, in the end. Such as it was.

He had been a corpulent man, but now was just a skeleton in undershorts and T-shirt. The bones of his toes stood up at one end of the couch, and his skull rested at the other. It looked as if he had been dead for three millennia, with just the suggestion of desiccated skin. She almost liked him that way. Paris had wooed Helen three thousand years ago, and now both were skeletons, as was fitting.

They donned the gloves and slid the plastic bag up over the body, starting with the feet. none lifted, and May slid, and it proceeded well enough because the bones weren't that heavy. There was a faint aroma a.s.sociated with it, not unpleasant, and it triggered notions of s.e.x. But she knew about that now and ignored it. She wondered whether May Flowers was experiencing a similar reaction, and concluded that she was; pheromones cared nothing for att.i.tude.

Soon the bag lay on the couch. May folded it in the middle and carried it out to her car while none straightened up the couch, making sure no evidence of her husband's presence remained. On May's instructions, she left everything else untouched. She was departing in the clothes she wore and with her purse, nothing more.

She went out to the car. May was already in it. She started the motor and pulled out. "The presumption is that person or persons unknown abducted your family and drove you to some other point, not close by," May said. "Your house is undisturbed, as if you had no intention of leaving. They will check everything in it, of course, but there will be no evidence where you went. This sort of thing happens not infrequently, I'm sad to say."

"Where are you taking me?"

"To the Middle Kingdom Ranch."

"Where the other animal was killed?" none asked, dismayed.

"Where the other man was killed," May said evenly. "Now you will have to know: I came here at the direction of the owner of that property, when that man was found, because there is to be no adverse publicity. The ranch is a secure private estate, intended for the owner to use as a retreat at such time as he chooses. He is a rich and perhaps powerful man, probably with enemies, and he guards his privacy scrupulously. You will refer to him as Middleberry when you talk to others, if you do, and as Mid when you talk to me or the caretaker. I asked him to let you stay there because it is the safest place for you I can think of. The monster may be there, but I doubt it can reach you in that house."

"But how will I eat?"

"I have provided an a.s.sortment of groceries. There is also the caretaker, a strange man but not a dangerous one; simply ask him for what you need, and one of us will provide it. If you simply wish to talk with someone, ask him whether he cares to listen; he may, but will not volunteer. He is-diffident about women, you see. You may consider it a vacation at a remote resort. Once we have dealt with the monster, you will be free to leave."

none thought about that. Free to leave-but where would she go, with her husband and son dead? With no income and no marketable skills? She had remained in her bad marriage because she had no alternative; now she was out of it, but her alternatives had not improved.

What could she do? She would have to exist one day at a time, and see what happened tomorrow.

The drive was not long. They came to the gate marking the Middle Kingdom Ranch, and drew up to the keypad mounted on a pole, like a parking meter. May touched a b.u.t.ton, and in a moment the metal gate cranked open.

They drove down a lane lined with young pine trees. Then it turned, and they followed it into a region of overhanging live oaks interspersed with magnolias and more pines. Finally the house came into sight, big and beautiful, white with green shutters. A modern-day palace! It was hard to imagine that she would be staying at such a residence!

A man stood outside. He was about six feet tall, lean in jeans and short-sleeved shirt, with brown hair and a diffident look. That would be the caretaker, precisely as described. May had said he wasn't dangerous, but of course that depended. May was a lot more competent in such respects than none was.

They stopped. They got out. May introduced them. "George, this is Jade Brown. Jade, this is George Demerit. He will have to let you in the house; only he knows the alarm code. Let's show you to your room; then we'll see to the disposition of the bag."

none stood facing Demerit, realizing that this was as awkward for him as it was for her. Neither knew what to say.

But May did. "George, lead the way."

The man turned and entered the front door. none followed, and May after her. It was hot outside, but cool inside. There was a carpeted staircase. They went up that. At the top were three closed doors. They trooped around to the left, where there was another door and an offshooting hall, all carpeted. Down that hall were more doors, and the man opened one on the left. It was a nice room, with a made bed and a dresser and mirror and closet. There was a large slow fan in the ceiling.

"The bathroom is the next door down," May said. "The kitchen is downstairs. You will want to treat the premises as if no one is here; don't leave anything that any visitor might see to suggest that you are here."

none nodded, somewhat overwhelmed. What a change from her small, hot, crowded, messy house! It was as though she had stepped into another world, leaving her family at the old one. And that was the way she would frame it. This was a far hotel, and no one had died. She was a peasant girl mysteriously brought to a strange, lovely palace. What awaited her here?

"Now we must hide that bag," May said to the man.

The two of them departed, leaving none to herself. She sat on the bed, making her adjustment of reality. As she did so, she felt better. She would be able to function now. She had started the process of adaptation internally, and had it abruptly facilitated externally; what she had feared would be difficult had become easy.

After a bit she went out, turned left, and went down the hall. It ended abruptly at what she recognized as a sliding panel; something was beyond, but she was not supposed to go there. The bathroom was just before the panel, to the left; it was actually the next room to hers, though the doors were fifteen feet apart, with a small closet between.

The bathroom was as clean and nice as the room. The floor was kaleidoscope-patterned vinyl, with an absorbent carpet near the opaque window. The curtains were feminine. There was a toilet, a marbled counter with an inset basin, and a six-foot mirror paralleling it on the wall. A flowery curtained shower and wood clothes hamper which doubled as a seat completed the set, except for a closet.

She shut the door, then used the toilet. The water in it was blue. When she urinated, the water turned green. When she flushed it, dark blue flooded in, banishing the green. The relatively colorless act of elimination had become colorful!

"I am in love with this apartment," she breathed.

She ran water to wash her hands and face. There was a white hand towel beside the sink with which she patted her face dry. But being clean did not improve the rest of it: she looked forty, with her drab gray dress and lank brown hair. The lines of her drabness were etched into her face. She was growing old without ever having truly experienced youth.

She went out and down the stairs, feeling the spongy softness of the carpet, running her hand along the smooth wood rail. So this was the way the wealthy lived! She would imagine that she was a rich girl, taking all this as a matter of course, not even noticing it except perhaps as something incidental, something commonplace and dull. What luxury, to imagine an att.i.tude like that!