Halfskin Boxed

by Tony Bertauski

  The nurse, hesitating, reached out and gently touched the orderly, who pulled one of the cords from his ear.

  “Where’d you find that?” Marcus shouted over a passing truck.

  “This?” The orderly pointed at the empty wheelchair. “Got reported found. I’m picking it up and bringing it back.”

  “Where?” He twisted in the wheelchair, sparks lighting up his knee. He grunted. “Where was it?”

  “Red Roof said they found it in a room.” He pointed at the back of the wheelchair, where it was written, Northwestern Memorial Hospital. “Happens all the time, man. You know how much these things worth?”

  The orderly waited for more questions. When there weren’t, he plugged his ear and continued on.

  A certain thrill rolled through Marcus’s insides. A delicious feeling, it was. Something he was all too familiar with. A feeling he got when he was right. Or when he found treasure.

  This was both.

  52

  The taste of coffee still lingered.

  Cali wished for a mint or something that would make her feel new and fresh. Something that would wash away this feeling of waste. She was certain it would be different when she escaped the room, the hotel. When they were out in the open and away from danger. That was when she would feel normal again.

  Fresh and new.

  The door clicked quietly behind her. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt, with no lasting effect. Body odor clung to the fabric like a stain. The carpet felt spongy. She sensed the occupants of each room she passed. Most of them sleeping. A few reading USA Today. One couple was having sex.

  She smelled it.

  The lights buzzed in their sockets, throwing an iridescent glow down the hall. She passed the elevator alcove, pushed open the door to the stairs and descended, sure that someone had vomited somewhere in the long trail of treads within the last couple nights. Cali stopped at the bottom step and took a deep breath.

  Nix and Avery would stay up in the room for fifteen minutes, then come down and meet her in the parking garage. She’d have the door open, car running. She was sure he had the strength to walk normally through the lobby. She only wished she were there to help. Just in case.

  The door’s cushioned hinge resisted her initial shove. If she was superstitious, she might see that as a sign. Don’t go any further, stay in the room. But she’d been up there long enough. Cali leaned her shoulder into the red door and entered the main lobby.

  The ceiling was high, the room spacious. She stopped to collect her thoughts. She considered thought-commanding her heart rate to slow down, but adrenaline served her well. She was stressed, needed additional oxygen. She just needed a moment. A breath.

  A continental breakfast room was past the desk. There were donuts and bagels, cold cereal and orange juice. Even a waffle maker. Three people were sitting at small tables, reading newspapers and chewing. The lobby was nearly as empty. A middle-aged couple and their daughter sat on a couch. Cali felt their thoughts and figured they were waiting on the grandparents. They were checked out, ready to go home.

  There was one clerk at the desk and a heavyset woman talking to her.

  Cali needed to pick up the key, that’s all. The rental people parked the car in the garage and dropped the key off at the desk. She’d specifically instructed them to bring it to the room, but the front desk called when he left it there. Probably didn’t want to spend the extra time. No big deal, but Cali hoped her only challenge would be to walk through the lobby unnoticed.

  Now she had to talk with someone.

  She queued up behind the extra-large customer. Her swollen fingers gripped the counter while she ground her words through a triple chin. Her dress had faded floral patterns and a stain on the sleeve. Built for comfort.

  “I did not make those charges; take them off,” the woman said.

  The clerk was a tired woman in her early thirties. Her shift had ended, but her replacement was running late. Way late. Nothing out of the ordinary, the prick had done that sort of thing on a weekly basis. He’d lose his job pretty soon, but not soon enough. And now she had to deal with this self-centered mountain of flesh and three pornos racked on her account.

  Cali’s stomach curled. Sweat trickled down her ribs, soaking into her shirt. She couldn’t smell herself anymore, overwhelmed by the scent of baby powder that gummed the fat lady’s skin folds. Cali smelled cellulite.

  Fat woman placed her half-empty soda on the counter. She looked past Cali, her breath labored, as if exhausted from breathing. Cali wanted to ask if she could just ask for the key, it would only take a second. But the fat woman—sliding her oversized glasses up her pudgy nose—wouldn’t take that kindly. And she was taking all the attention away from Cali, so she’d wait.

  She’d wait.

  “Ma’am,” the clerk said, “I’ve taken the extra charges off your account. You’ll see a refund on your credit card, but it won’t show up for a couple of days.”

  “It better not say what was purchased. I am embarrassed to even have to ask about this. Can you imagine having movies like that?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” The clerk couldn’t look at the customer. She’d heard that bullshit too many times. The hotel’s policy was to refund their money, no questions asked. But the lying irritated her. Dishonesty always did.

  “It’s all taken care of, ma’am. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  The clerk looked at Cali, wanting to move on.

  “Yes, I’d like the name and number of your manager. I’d like to be compensated for my pain and suffering.”

  “Pain and suffering?”

  “Are you listening, missy? I’m embarrassed by this and I want a free room. Give me your manager’s name and number so I can call him.”

  “Her.” The clerk tried to bite her tongue. “My boss is a woman.”

  “Well, soooorry. HER. Give me her number.” Fat lady swallowed some flat soda. “I’d like to call her. And I want your name, too. Want her to know how rude you’ve been, she’d probably want to know that. I doubt I’ll ever come back to this place again.”

  Cali felt the tension winding around the clerk’s throat, her fingers poised over the keyboard, contemplating what she wanted to say. The customer, she’d seen them before, was baiting her. Say the wrong thing and get compensation and someone fired.

  Sick.

  Cali kept her attention on her surroundings. One of the men left the breakfast nook, carrying a Styrofoam cup of coffee. The family on the couch was watching the show at the counter. Cali moved off to the side and considered leaving, going back up the stairs. She could come back later, maybe even the next morning. The thought of spending another day in the room sank inside her like a trapped animal.

  No one paid her any attention. She didn’t see any thoughts relating to the shabbily dressed woman—the one that looked like an anorexia patient—standing in contrast to the obnoxious fat lady. Cali could wait another minute, just one more. Her hands were shaking—

  Small fingers slipped between hers.

  “Avery?” Cali looked down. Her daughter squeezed her hand.

  “It’s all right, Momma.”

  “I told you to wait with Uncle Nix.” Cali spoke quietly, her lips barely moving.

  “I’m worried about you. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  Cali listened to the clerk make a call. Listened to fat lips suck a bottle.

  The people on the couch watched.

  The clerk steamed.

  Avery’s hand was warm and soft. Cali squeezed it, but felt something twist inside. This is wrong. This is all wrong. She shouldn’t be out here, not in front of all these people. Nix needed her.

  “Honey,” she said, hissing, “I want you to go.”

  The fat lady’s head turned like a heap of flesh on a spike. Her nostrils flared. She looked directly at Cali, her eyes magnified through the lenses. Avery stepped behind Cali, still holding her hand. She held her gaze for several mo
ments, neither of them talking. Fat lady wanted to say something; she was fired up, ready to take on all comers. She thought Cali was talking to her, maybe; thought maybe Cali told her to get going. She wanted her to go, but that wasn’t what she meant.

  The phone hit the cradle. “Ma’am.”

  Fat lady turned.

  Cali pulled Avery around and knelt in front of her. Held her daughter’s cheeks with both hands while staying aware—remaining very aware of the couple on the couch and the two people in the breakfast nook, sensing their biomites like radar, no one else around—and whispered, “Go back to the room, darling. I’ll see you in a bit, I promise.”

  Fat lady was agitated. She glanced back, but the clerk held out a phone, the manager or someone with authority on the other end. Avery nodded, tears brimming.

  “Why are you crying?” Cali asked.

  “I’m scared.”

  “Of what.”

  Avery bit her lip. She did that when she was nervous. When she was little, she sometimes wet herself; now she just bit her lip. Her eyes flicked toward the hotel’s front doors, but Cali couldn’t sense any active biomites, no one back there.

  “I don’t want to leave,” Avery whispered.

  “It’s just for a few minutes, honey. I promise. Just for a few.”

  Avery danced in place. She was going to go if she didn’t settle. Cali took her hands. She heard something behind her, something that didn’t register.

  Avery stopped jumping.

  Her lip popped out from between her teeth.

  “I love you, Momma.”

  Cali felt a cold shank of fear drive through her organs. Something was about to shift. About to change.

  She sensed a phone call behind her. Someone called the authorities.

  She recognized the voice.

  Marcus Anderson was at the doors, propped on crutches in all his biomite-less glory.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  53

  Buzzing.

  A different buzz. A good one. This one potent, tight. This one powerful.

  Nix sat on the corner of the bed and checked the time. A few more minutes and he’d follow. Just give her enough time to get to the garage, to get the car and be ready. He wasn’t concerned whether he could reach it or not. He was only thinking of his sister getting there. He wanted her out of this situation, far away and safe. Then he could relax. He could let go.

  In the meantime, he buzzed with anticipation. Buzzed with excitement.

  He distracted himself by running his hand over his scalp, the fuzz gripping his palm like Velcro. He missed having hair.

  Nix was tempted to close his eyes, make a brief visit to the lagoon, tell Raine he was all right, that he was coming back soon. But he had promised. He had enough energy to stay there all day and be just fine, he was sure of it. His legs were wound springs. But he’d promised he wouldn’t. After that morning, he could go all he wanted. He needed to get through the morning.

  He thought about what she’d said. She never liked his dreamland. When he was little, she restricted how long he could go. She was probably right because, if she let him, he’d close his eyes and stay there for days.

  Maybe never come back.

  Yeah, she was probably right.

  But she was wrong about the reality. Raine wasn’t just some thought that seemed real. He was sure of it. She wasn’t a construct of his mind. He had a theory that the biomites manipulated reality, that they were able to take her from the vapor of another reality and spin her into existence where only he could see her. Where only he could go. The biomites were some sort of portal into a new dimension, something that made dreams reality. That maybe the human body was just a garden to grow the mind. Once it was mature, it existed somewhere else.

  Dreamland.

  He wasn’t deluded; he knew the difference between one reality versus the next. Knew when he was in the lagoon, when he was in the flesh.

  He checked his appearance in the mirror. His stomach tumbled like broken glass. There were still blotches on his cheeks, but the peeling had stopped. His eyebrows looked close to normal, but the eyelashes were lacking. At least he wasn’t lugging the ring around his neck. A hairless teenager would certainly be easy to pick out in a hotel lobby.

  “All right.” He checked his breath in his cupped hand, not sure why. “It’s time. Let’s go.”

  ______

  The buzzing energy turned to ice water, filling Nix’s legs.

  He wasn’t as strong as he thought. Or maybe it was nerves. Whichever, he stood at the bottom of the stairwell, his hand on the red door. Breathe, breathe. And think.

  He wished he could see outside and know what was coming. He closed his eyes, the buzz crawling over his scalp and tingling like millipede legs. He sensed spots of activity around him, like a field of snowy static where lumps of density could be felt. This was what Cali was talking about, using the new breeds like scanners. Nix had focused on George, manipulating his biomites, but this was like an electronic net that plugged into multiple people. He was a virus that could watch and feel all the players in the field.

  Most of the spots were quiet and pulsing. One of them, though, was bright and spiky. His hand slid across the door like he was feeling for direction. This one spot was big and dense.

  Agitated.

  Disturbed.

  Cali should be in the garage. That couldn’t be her.

  She wouldn’t still be there.

  But then he heard her. This wasn’t in his head; he heard his sister’s voice beyond the door. It was shrill, calling a name.

  Nix pushed the door open.

  A large woman was at the counter, the clerk on the other side. Cali was gone, but the disturbance was coming from somewhere around those people. That was what he felt. Maybe he imagined what he heard. Maybe his panic manifested as his worst nightmare: Cali searching for Avery in public.

  She wasn’t out there. She wasn’t in the lobby. But the people weren’t moving, they were looking at something. Nix moved toward them. As he came around, he saw her. She was on her knees.

  This time, he heard her.

  She was calling. Panic strapped her voice, making it tight and piercing. She was calling out for Avery. Over and over, she slung her daughter’s name out.

  In public.

  She was looking for Avery in public, in front of others.

  Her eyes wide, filled with blankness. She didn’t see him coming. Couldn’t see anything. Her lips trembled, spilling a name over and over. Over and over.

  Nix ran to her.

  He reached down and picked her up. He wrapped his arms around his sister, like she’d done so many times with him. She shivered with fear, her skin on fire. He closed his eyes, trying to connect with his sister, send a thought, soothe her panic.

  “Don’t move,” a man said.

  Nix ignored it.

  He sent an image to his sister’s mind, trying to reestablish an illusion that would keep her from falling completely apart. Tried to make her believe that Avery was standing next to them.

  54

  Impossible.

  Marcus tried not to smile.

  A man of his stature, with his power, should not smile like a child. The odds were long that he’d find them at the hotel, but he had a feeling. He believed that God graced him with senses beyond the ordinary. He always had a gut feeling that told him when good things were about to happen. Something turned in his stomach, like a shot of sugar straight to his veins. He sat in the back of the car, watching the city street pass by.

  With a smile.

  The black Mercedes rolled to a stop. The driver ran around the front of the car and opened the back door. He reached inside, set up a pair of crutches and helped Marcus out. The whole incident took five minutes.

  Marcus waved the man off, telling him to wait in the car. He’d be right out.

  He didn’t know what he was looking for. He needed to call it in, let those on the case handle it. It was a long shot, pr
obably nothing. It happens all the time, the nurse told him on the way to the car. Hotels get a reward for returning hospital property.

  Nonetheless, it wouldn’t take much to just look, ask a few questions. He didn’t know what was driving him. He hated loose ends. If he was honest, he hated losing. They beat him. Made him look like a fool. He wasn’t sure, just yet, how much they’d taken from him. It could be everything.

  That was why he looked.

  One step inside the lobby—

  THERE.

  An intoxicating fire, his heart pumped full of fuel, his veins surged with pure joy, the Blood of Christ…

  She was there.

  She was in the lobby.

  She was on her knees, begging forgiveness. Her sins weighed heavily, pressing her to supplicate right there in front of the witnesses, to cleanse her soul. She felt her redeemer coming; she knew Marcus was there, at the door.

  She was ready for him.

  Cali Richards had reaped the harvest. She had been to hell. She had withered to a faint shadow of a woman, the complexion of a prisoner. The color of death. The drab misery of guilt surrounded her like a toxic cloud.

  Marcus moved slowly. He didn’t want to scare her, not until he made his call. He speed-dialed one of his guys, speaking softly, calmly, never taking his eyes off her. Cali turned her head. First, she looked up, as if listening. Then she looked directly at Marcus.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  Her eyes widened.

  White, all around.

  “It’s over.” Marcus held out his hand, stop sign. “It’s over; don’t run.”

  She didn’t move.

  He wasn’t sure if she was breathing. He didn’t feel the air shimmer, didn’t feel the pulse strike the others but saw them simultaneously flinch. A fat lady turned around. A clerk dropped a pen.

  People on the couch stood up. An old man and young kid entered and stood stone-still. The old man held a bagel.

  Marcus adjusted the crutches, backing up a step. He wanted the driver to come inside. He couldn’t leave, couldn’t turn or call. But he needed someone in there, someone on his side.