The Spaces Between Us

by Ethan Johnson

“But what about Marc? We’ve got to save him!”

  Agnes shook her head and pulled Gracie away from the sink, with the water still running. “He’s not in there, it’s okay.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “There’s no time, Gracie, we have to leave now!”

  The door fell away, revealing a fiery furnace where Marc’s bedroom used to be. Gracie shrieked. Agnes pulled her out of the apartment and did her best to hustle Gracie toward the side entrance of the building.

  “Shush, Gracie, you’re going to get us into trouble. This way, quickly!”

  “But the fire…! We need to call somebody!”

  Agnes stopped and looked Gracie directly in the eye. “Gracie, I need you to trust me.”

  Gracie’s face froze, stunned. She nodded hesitantly and followed her sister. They rumbled down the carpeted stairs and pushed open the exit door. Once Gracie was outside, Agnes doubled back and pulled down the fire alarm. She heard someone cry out through the walls.

  “Stupid kids! The running down the stairs was bad enough, but now this? I’m calling the manager. I’ve had just about enough of those—”

  The door slammed shut and Agnes missed the rest as she ushered Gracie away from the building. She reached into her knit bag and searched for the key ring from Marc’s coat. Her finger hooked it, and she yanked it out and tossed it to Gracie, who thought fast and caught the keys in her sore palm.

  “Ow! Jerk!”

  Gracie shook her hand in pain. Agnes gestured toward the cars in the side lot.

  “Are any of these Marc’s?”

  “How should I know? I don’t know what he drives.”

  Agnes nodded at her hand.

  “Oh. Duh.” Gracie squeezed the button on the key fob that remotely unlocked the car doors. Both girls scanned the parking lot until they saw an amber turn signal flash twice. Gracie pointed the fob at the car and pressed the button again. The amber light flashed.

  “There,” said Agnes.

  “I’ll drive,” said Gracie.

  They got into the car and Gracie was about to slam the door in all the excitement. Agnes waved her off and showed her how to close the door gently. Gracie followed suit.

  “We need to keep this quiet. Just get us out of the parking lot and away from the building.”

  “Got it.”

  Gracie put the car into gear and let it roll out of the lot at low speed, then she turned onto the street and stepped on the gas. Black smoke billowed up from the back of the building as the front yard began to fill up with apartment residents. Agnes sat back in her seat and exhaled.

  CHAPTER 48: MERCY

  Bess had been transported to the emergency room and transferred onto a gurney, freeing up the ambulance crew. She was placed in a triage room with wispy curtain dividers. She was stripped out of her frock and covered loosely with a speckled blue hospital gown. Nurses took turns taking her vital signs and attaching leads to monitor her breathing and heart rate. One nurse set her up with an IV, announcing Bess was dehydrated and they needed to push fluids. Bess nodded weakly as various questions were asked and assurances given.

  She asked for pain reliever, but the nurse balked at the request, pushing it off until the doctor had conducted an initial assessment. If the doctor thought it was okay, she’d put in the order, she assured. Bess moaned in agony but accepted the process.

  She heard various ER noises. Somebody else was being brought in with a broken leg. Bess strained to hear, but all she could piece together was that an elderly man had a slip-and-fall accident in his bathtub.

  She knew when he arrived, as one of the louder nurses greeted him with, “Hi there, Mister Harris… I heard you had a little oopsie-daisy in the tub, is that right? Well, that’s no fun!”

  Another nurse ducked in to check on Bess. “Still waiting on the doctor, okay? She’ll be with you soon. She knows you’ve been waiting.”

  Bess gave her a baleful nod. The nurse smiled and slid the curtain closed again. She heard another nurse walk up, and the two of them, lacking subtlety, discussed her case.

  “I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”

  “No?”

  “No, she should be able to get something down. I hate to say this, but… maybe she went on a binge and now there’s no more room. I mean, look at her, she’s kind of... you know.”

  The second nurse gasped. “Donna, you’re bad!”

  Moans from down the hallway interrupted the confab.

  “Yes, Mister Harris, I’ll get you more blankets.”

  The second nurse called after her sympathetically. “Hang in there, hon.”

  There was a new noise from beyond the fabric barrier. A steadily increasing clip-clop of well-dressed feet. Bess heard the footsteps come to a stop and the second nurse wafting away in their direction. The curtains fluttered as she passed.

  “Oh, Mandrake? (pause) Yes, she’s right in there. (pause) And you’re her aunt? (pause) I suppose that will be alright. (pause) Yeah… we’re gonna fix her up. Just waiting for the doctor.”

  Bess heard a familiar voice drift into clearer focus. It was cloyingly sweet, with lots of extra twang.

  “Oh, dear heavens, yours is the Lord’s work. I’m praying that you can restore my baby back to health. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s my angel.”

  “Right in here, ma’am.”

  “Oh, please, call me Barb.”

  “Sure, Barb.”

  The nurse pulled the curtain aside and revealed the patient. Bess looked miserable, with electronic leads streaming out from under her gown, and an IV jammed into the back of her right hand. The countess put her palms to her cheeks and let out a sad, “Ohhhhh!”

  Bess smiled weakly. “Hello, Momma.”

  The countess rushed to her side and gripped Bess’s left arm. “My poor baby! My poor heavenly angel! God can’t have you back yet, I still need you here with Auntie Barb.”

  Bess smiled apologetically at the nurse. “You’re so dramatic, Momma. It’s just food poisoning.”

  “Oh, this is the devil’s work if I ever saw it. She don’t even recognize her auntie no more. Auntie Barb’s gonna pray for you.” The countess made a show of dropping to her knees and appealing to the heavens. The nurse rolled her eyes and pulled the curtain shut after she stepped out.

  “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

  The countess smiled. “Bless your heart.” The countess rose from the floor and dusted her knees off with one of her gloves. “Heavenly father, we pray for your mercy, and hope that…” The countess lowered her voice, “you can tell me what they know.” She raised her voice again. “Your humble servants, always and forever, world without end.”

  Bess shook her head. “They don’t think it’s food poisoning, Momma.”

  The countess gave a curious look. “Ours is not to know your plans, heavenly father, we stand ready to carry out your…” She lowered her voice again. “What do they think?” Louder: “Humble servants.”

  “They said I was fat and ate too much.” Bess fought back tears.

  “And woe, woe to them, who deny your almighty power, heavenly father, woe…” Lower: “Oh, baby, now that’s just a natural fact! Don’t be so sensitive.” Louder: “To they who deny your almighty power.”

  Tears spilled down on Bess’s cheeks. Another voice sounded down the hall. “We’re going to need an x-ray on five.”

  The countess turned pale, but otherwise did not betray any other emotion other than extremely pious concern for her daughter’s health, and soul. “Get thee behind me Satan! Get thee behind me! Shame! Damnation! The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” She pulled Bess’s pillow out from under her head and pressed it firmly down on her face. “He leadeth me not into temptation, but delivers me from evil.”

  Bess flailed around, but the countess maintained her death grip.

  “He leadeth me into green pastures, my cup runneth over, thy rod and staff comfort me.”

  Bess flatlined.

>   “Oops, I knocked that thing loose. Let me get that for you, baby.”

  Footsteps approached, then stopped. “Everything okay in there?”

  The countess tucked the pillow back under Bess’s lifeless head. She patted her forehead daintily. “I think my prayin’ got a little carried away. I probably unhooked something.”

  The nurse pulled the curtain aside. She glanced at the monitor and her eyes widened. “Coding on five!”

  A rumble of footsteps approached from the left. The nurse pulled the countess away from Bess. “Need you to wait over here. Give the doctors some room.”

  The countess cried and reached out for Bess. “No! My baby! Don’t you take my baby, Satan, don’t you do it!”

  “Ma’am, this way. Please, don’t make me call security.”

  The countess wailed and tried to push past the nurse. “Get thee behind me, Satan!”

  From behind the loosely closed curtains, the countess and everyone else in the ER heard CPR being administered in vain.

  CHAPTER 49: SUSPICIONS

  As was often the case, Jacqueline was ensconced in her office, reviewing project plans. A meeting reminder popped up for a 2:30 P.M. status briefing conference call with Mercurio-Atlan. She instinctively reached to press the OPEN REMINDER link to get set up for the call, but hovered over the DISMISS button instead, wistfully.

  She had returned home the night before, with just enough time to kiss Millie and Monroe goodnight, get ready for bed, and set a stack of paperwork on her nightstand. She slipped into bed, followed momentarily by Richardson, who seemed perturbed. Jacqueline didn’t inquire as to why. She traced her finger along rows and columns of data. She found it to be a good way to appear wrapped up in something important, with the bonus of making anyone who interrupted appear especially rude for breaking her concentration. Richardson’s voice did just that.

  “...at Mercurio?”

  Jacqueline looked up. “Hm?”

  “I said, is everything going okay at Mercurio? I heard there’s been a big shake-up.”

  A jolt of adrenaline surged through her stomach, but she tried to maintain a dispassionate exterior. “Well, sure, Project Caribou has been pushed off to Q3, but I don’t think that qualifies as a big shake-up. I’m not particularly concerned.”

  Richardson chewed his thumbnail. “And Phillip?”

  Jacqueline set her reports down, with more than a touch of annoyance. “Phillip’s fine.”

  “I heard he had some sort of family emergency. Something that required him to make an urgent trip to Dubai.”

  Jacqueline tried to tamp down any sort of emotional reaction. She took a deep breath and tried her best not to sound defensive. “Oh?”

  Richardson turned sharply. “You didn’t know?”

  She sighed and picked up her pile of reports. “I’m afraid not. I’m not in constant communication with Mercurio, and they don’t share everything with me. I don’t tell them everything about my other endeavors either.”

  Richardson nodded, and chewed his thumbnail some more. Jacqueline returned to her data tracing exercise. A few moments later, she furrowed her brow, reached over and pulled her husband’s thumb away from his mouth. “Stop it. That’s an ugly habit.”

  “Sorry.”

  Richardson kissed her forehead and settled in to bed. He reached over and switched off the light. Jacqueline waited an hour before following suit. As she laid there on her side, facing away from Richardson, she processed the news about Phillip. His parents had a place in Dubai. His father had a place on the advisory board, but as he was officially an emeritus member, she didn’t think anything of it if he missed a meeting or two. Her eyes widened.

  When was the last time Phillip’s father had attended a meeting? October?

  CHAPTER 50: GUMSHOES

  Gene pulled over and scraped the tires of another borrowed company car up against the curb. He wondered how “trash detective” became part of his job description. At least he wasn’t alone in this, he thought, as he insisted that Sharon join him on this outing. After all, she was the one that was so concerned about the case of the missing garbage, so she could freeze right along with him.

  They had agreed on a spot close to the center of Red 23. Whatever was going on seemed to be spreading slowly in that direction, so there was a good chance they’d at least get an idea of how many people were involved in this caper.

  They exited the car, and Gene made his way toward the nearest alley. He expected Sharon to be a step or two behind, but when he glanced over summarily, she wasn’t there. He stopped and looked back toward the car. Sharon was standing at the parking meter, digging through her purse for loose change.

  “Come on. This will only take a minute.”

  Sharon fed the meter. “So does this. Keeps the windshield clean.”

  Gene huffed. Sharon walked up and adjusted her purse strap. “Okay, chief.”

  Gene grunted and led the way. He walked a few feet down the alley, found a rolling trash bin, and flipped open the lid. He stepped aside and waited for her to catch up. “Ta-da.”

  She peered into the bin, which was completely empty. She wrinkled her nose and pulled away. “Huh.”

  Gene closed the lid. “Happy now?”

  Sharon shook her head. “Not even a little. Let’s move on.”

  He started to walk further down the alley, then realized that Sharon was walking in the opposite direction. “Where are you going?”

  “Come on, this way.”

  “What for?”

  She motioned for him to follow and did not answer.

  Gene blew a puff of air up through his mustache, and grudgingly obliged. He watched her stride purposefully out of the alley and thought it was too bad they were out in the dead of winter. If she’d lose the coat, he could at least enjoy the view, he thought sullenly. They made their way up the street, and into the next alley. They checked a couple of bins, and both were empty. Sharon signaled to move on to the next alley over. Gene huffed but didn’t object.

  She lit up as they rounded the corner into the next alley. “Third time’s the charm.”

  There was no need to flip open any bins. A pile of black trash bags was nestled at the base of the closest one, and more dotted the landscape as they surveyed the alley.

  “Okay, so now what, we put this in the trunk and impound it?”

  She raised her hand in a shushing gesture and squinted toward the other end of the alley. He followed suit, and a chagrined expression contorted his face.

  “What the hell?”

  Two homeless people with empty shopping carts appeared at the other end of the alley. A third person stood behind them, and seemed to be directing their movements: a black man, with a heavy black coat, topped off with a black snow cap. He pointed down the alley, said something to the pair, and disappeared off to the right. The people pushing the shopping carts each pulled up to the nearest trash bin and began to load their respective carts, taking care to mash the garbage down as tightly as possible.

  Gene started to walk down the alley to confront the pair, but Sharon tugged his arm and held him back. “Let them come to us. I want to see this.”

  The pair moved on to the next bin and repeated the process. They completely emptied out five bins apiece before reaching their load limit. The pair turned around and leaned heavily into their loaded carts, visibly straining to get the cart moving. They turned right and made their way down the street. Gene huffed and started to walk toward the other end of the alley again.

  “Gene, hold on.”

  Another pair rounded the corner with empty carts. They walked up to the next loaded bin on either side of the alley and got to work.

  “I don’t get this,” Sharon said, quietly.

  Gene shot her a smug look. “You’ve never seen garbage pickers before?”

  “Yes, I have, smartass. But they were never this… organized.”

  “Yeah.” Gene put his hands in his pockets.

  Six bins were cleared out t
his time. They noticed that loose garbage was placed under a bag to prevent it from falling out of the cart or blowing away. It took them longer to make the return trek, but sure enough, the loaded carts were hauled away and replaced by another pair of empty carts. By his count, this would put them at least close enough for him to have a little chat and get to the bottom of this.

  Sharon beat him to it. When he was looking down at his shoes, she walked a steady, determined march directly toward the garbage pickers. The pair wore heavy black coats and snow hats. One was male, the other female. They set about their business and did not speak to her, or each other.

  “Excuse me.” The man stuffed a bag down into his cart and pressed the air out of it. “I said, excuse me.”

  Gene walked up and stood at her four o’clock position. The duo kept to their task and didn’t respond.

  “Hey, que paso?” Gene figured he’d try Spanish, not that he knew enough to have a conversation. No reply. Sharon walked up aggressively to the female.

  “Hey, put all of this back. Hey, I’m talking to you.”

  The female gave Sharon an irritated look but said nothing. She had finished loading her cart and began to press on to the next bin. Sharon grabbed the front of the cart and tried to spin it around. The man left his cart and pushed her aside. He glowered at her and waited for his partner to steer the cart to its intended target. Sharon pulled her arm back. “Don’t… touch me!”

  Gene tried to hustle her away from the garbage pickers. “Come on, we’ve seen enough. It’s not worth losing teeth over.”

  Sharon glared at the duo, and clumsily stepped backward at Gene’s urging. The pair of garbage pickers resumed their labors.

  CHAPTER 51: REGROUPING

  Gracie pulled into the parking lot of the Green Submarine sandwich shop and came to an abrupt stop in one of the parking spaces. Agnes lurched forward as her sister slammed the car into Park. Gracie cut the engine, then turned to Agnes.

  “What the hell was all of that back there?” She waved her arms across the windshield. “And how did we end up here? Good going, Agnes, I hope you have a new job lined up for me somewhere because Warren is going to toss my ass out for no-call no-show.”