“You made your own decisions,” Carlisle said, a little too loudly. He was trying to sound calm, and not quite succeeding.
“Yes, Frederick. Of course. My own decisions. And now I’m making another one.” He sounded tired. “I’m calling to let you know I’m on my way.”
“Here?”
“Fool. Yes, there. To kill you. Sometime in the next few days. Does that make you nervous?”
“Go to hell, Nathan.” A slight tremor in Carlisle’s voice now. He couldn’t control it. “Where are you?”
Kline coughed. “Maybe close, maybe not. Hard to know for sure. Anyway, who says you should be watching out for me? I’ve made some new friends lately. One of them might come in my place.”
Carlisle gripped the phone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means look out behind you, partner. Look behind, look around, look down in the ground. Just be afraid, Frederick.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Am I? You’ve been distracted lately, I suppose.”
“Why?”
“You should check the Concord Star. Or the Boston Globe – I think they’ll pick it up.”
“Pick what up?”
Kline ignored him. “You’re the last one, Frederick.” He paused. “Well, that’s not true. Not yet. But you will be last. There’s the Patton brothers first, but I don’t think they’ll take more than a moment of my time.”
“What have you done?”
“Afraid yet?”
“No, you lunatic, I’m – ”
“Yes, you are.” There was satisfaction in Kline’s voice. “I can hear it. I know the sound.” He laughed. “See you soon, Partner. Watch out for me. Or for anyone.”
“It wasn’t my FAULT – !” Carlisle yelled into the phone.
“There it is,” Kline said sharply, sounding pleased. “That’s what it’s like to be paranoid. Keep it up, Frederick.”
The line went dead.
3
Melissa woke up, leapt from her bed, and ran to the bathroom. She was quick, and she almost made it. A roommate, if she had had one, might have remarked that this was nothing more than the classic college freshman scene: the attractive girl leaning over the sink, spewing up a foul, green-brown sludge. Her shoulders trembled.
When she was finished, Melissa stood up slowly. A string of saliva hung from her bottom lip. She looked back towards her bed, where a trail of vomit marked her path. Thank goodness this dorm room came with its own little sink.
It was that smell.
Where is it coming from?
Slowly, she approached the window. Maybe a pack of dogs had been hit by a car outside. Whatever it was, it had to be coming from something dead. The smell was rotten. And huge. When she found it, she knew it would be covered with flies.
Thousands of flies.
She opened the window, and immediately regretted it. There were no dead dogs outside, but there was something else. A combination of mulch and grass and cement and exhaust – oh my God so much car exhaust – and it all seemed to be pumping straight into the window and up her nose and right into her brain.
She slammed the window down and concentrated on not throwing up again.
I don’t know what’s going on outside, Melissa thought. But I’ve got to find this dead thing first. Because it’s apparently inside my room.
Which was ridiculous, she knew. Because the smell was strong enough to be coming from a whole bunch of dead bodies, and there was no space in her little single-occupancy room to hide a stack of corpses.
Melissa began drawing small sips of air through her nose. She was careful not to breathe all the way in, for fear of setting off another appointment with the sink. The smell was so strong, it seemed to come from everywhere at once. Then, very gradually at first, she began noticing small differences. She turned first one way, then another. Tasting the air. She tilted her head back a few degrees. She began to walk. Slowly, one step at a time. She was still taking those little sips of air, and making delicate adjustments to the direction her nose was pointing.
Here, she thought. Right here.
Melissa looked down. She had walked to the corner of the room, just behind her bed. The shadows from the bed frame made it difficult to see. There was a cheap lamp on the desk, one she had bought at the beginning of the week when she arrived, and she turned it on and picked it up, shining the light down into the corner.
There it was.
A baby mouse.
She stood there for almost a minute, peering down at the lifeless thing. There was an expression of disbelief on her face.
That can’t be it.
To create the stench Melissa was smelling, there would have had to be a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand dead mice.
Maybe they’re in the walls. Piled up in heaps. Families of them, And they’re all dead because the exterminator came.
Right. And when had the exterminator come, exactly? Last night, while she slept?
No. She knew there wasn’t any exterminator. Just as she knew there weren’t any other dead mice.
This is the only one. I can tell.
Her nose told her so.
Melissa didn’t touch the mouse. She pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed her keys, and bolted out the door. The most important thing was just to get away from that smell for a few minutes. Or a few days.
Walking into the Zimmerman common room was like walking into a wall. The stench of garbage hit her so hard that she actually stumbled. She closed her eyes and put her hands on her knees, willing the nausea to pass. She didn’t have to look, or even turn her head, to know where the smell was coming from. There was a huge bin next to the television, where students dumped old pizza boxes, soda cans, banana peels, and anything else they didn’t want stinking up their rooms.
Melissa tried not to picture each festering item in the bin. Her stomach turned over again, and she bit down hard. Someone entered the common room from outside, walking fast.
Girl, hung-over on peppermint schnapps, returning from the room of a boy who eats too much red meat and drinks too much Coke.
The information came so quickly that Melissa didn’t have time to wonder how she knew it.
She’s perspiring from the walk. She had sex last night… twice.
The girl continued on to her room, leaving a floating trail of decaying odors in her wake. Melissa waited until her nausea had receded to a manageable level, and then she stood. She looked around the room, and a sudden memory occurred to her. It was so vague that she wondered if it might be something from a dream.
She and Lea had walked back here together.
But that wasn’t everything. All four of them had walked back here. After… something. With a professor, maybe? Lea would remember. She would go talk to her. And Lea’s room was… right over there. Even if this really was from a dream, Melissa was sure Lea lived in 12B.
Maybe Lea had told her that earlier.
She went and knocked on the door. Almost at once, Lea’s voice came floating out. “Yeah?”
Before stepping inside, Melissa reminded herself not to breathe through her nose. That precaution had only been partly successful so far – the smells seemed to find a way in regardless – but it was better than nothing.
Lea was sitting on the edge of her bed. She had a strange expression on her face. She looked up as Melissa came in, and her expression changed. She looked horrified.
“What?” Melissa said. Suddenly she was afraid, though she wasn’t sure why. “Lea, what is it?”
“You’re so – ” Lea turned away, as if the sight of Melissa hurt her. “You hate me.”
Melissa was shocked. “No, Lea. What are you saying?”
Lea didn’t look at her. “You think I’m disgusting,” she said. “I make you sick.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Melissa began, and she stopped. She had been so distracted by the distress in Lea’s eyes that she had forgotten to control her breathing, and a full dose of air had gone sweeping up
her nose before she could think to do anything about it. A flood of information came with this breath, and it unbalanced her briefly.
Lea hasn’t showered since last night. The shirt she’s wearing has sweat stains in the armpits. She’s getting a cold.
To be honest, it did make her a little bit sick. Not like the garbage bin in the commons, but still. “That’s ridiculous,” Melissa said again, with more authority this time.
Lea finally turned to face her. “Please don’t lie.” She sounded miserable. “Your face twists like a wrinkled towel. It’s painful to watch.”
“I’m sorry.”
Lea relaxed slightly. “Okay,” she said. “Better. But why do you think I’m so gross? I feel weird – my ears are ringing a little, as if I drank too much – but I don’t feel disgusting.”
“You’re not – ” Melissa saw her friend wince. “All right, all right. Yes. Just wait a second, okay?”
Lea breathed a little sigh of relief.
“Something’s wrong with my nose,” Melissa said slowly. She tried to choose her words carefully. “Everything smells strange.”
Lea squinted at her. “Now you’re just covering. Can you please talk to me?”
Melissa thought for a moment, wondering how to proceed. Finally, with a little shrug, she gave up. “I smell you,” she said. “I smell every piece of you. The oil in your hair, the bits of food caught under your nails and between your teeth. You have a slick of bile at the back of your throat because you just woke up. Your feet are dirty.” She paused and waited for Lea to yell at her, or throw something, or start crying. But Lea didn’t. Instead, she nodded as if Melissa had just described the choices on a breakfast menu.
“Okay, good,” Lea said. “Now, what’s your question?”
Jesus, that was weird. How did she –
“It’s all there,” Lea said. “Like you’re carrying a big, flashing neon sign. The question expression, and now the confusion expression. You can smell me? Well, I can see you.”
Melissa stared at her for a beat. “I’m wondering about last night,” she said at last. “What were you doing? Was I with you?”
“Oh, I – ” Lea stopped. Her face clouded over. “I don’t remember.”
“Nothing? What about your boyfriend? Was he with you?”
Lea tried to frown, but her face lit up. “Jason’s not my boyfriend.”
“No?” Melissa smiled. “Maybe not yet. But you’re hoping he will be.”
“Maybe.”
“Who’s covering up now?”
They heard a crash from the common room, as if someone had thrown open a door too fast. Then heavy, running footsteps. Another door opened, followed by muffled shouts. More running. A second later, there were several hard knocks on Lea’s door.
“Lea!” A boy’s voice outside. A strong voice. A former hockey player’s voice, if there could be such a thing.
Melissa winked. “I wonder who that is.”
Lea leapt up from her bed.
“You going to put on some pants?”
“Right. Thanks.”
“Come in.”
Jason flung open the door and burst into the room. The doorknob slammed into the wall, making Melissa glad that she had taken a step back ahead of time. There was a quick billow of air from the common room, and she cringed. The smell of boy wafted into the room, strong and sharp. It was an animal scent, nothing like Lea’s smells. Melissa felt her eyes begin to water, as if she had just walked into an unventilated holding pen for breeding horses. She would have liked to suggest that Jason march off to the men’s room and take a shower, but he obviously had something pressing on his mind.
Jason looked at Lea for a beat, who stood there saying nothing, studying his face. She studied his posture, his hands, the tilt of his head. She must have liked what she saw, because she bit down on her lower lip to keep from smiling. Melissa wondered what secrets Jason had just unwittingly given up.
He smiled back at her. “I am so glad to see both of you. Could one of you talk to me, please? Say anything, put on some music, I don’t care, just make this stuff stop.”
Lea’s expression of girlish delight turned to concern. At the same time, Melissa realized that she had almost missed an important piece of Jason’s scent profile. So many things were obscured by his “maleness,” it was difficult to catch anything else.
He smells exhausted, she thought. And a little bit afraid.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything. I don’t think we should have done that yesterday, but it’s more than that. Because you don’t even know what everything means, right? I mean, no one does. Or no one did, until now. You know?”
Both girls shook their heads. “No,” Lea said. “What are you talking about? And what happened yesterday?”
“You don’t remember?” He stared at them with disbelief on his face. “Wow. I guess that’s good. And you’re not going through anything weird this morning?”
The girls glanced at each other.
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Melissa said slowly.
“There’s maybe a couple of odd things here and there,” Lea added.
“You have a nice voice,” Jason said, taking a step towards Lea. “It makes the crap in my head get less loud.”
Lea looked as if she might start giggling. They stared at each other.
Jesus, Melissa thought. We’re never going to get anywhere like this. “Listen,” she said briskly, “what happened to us?”
Jason shook himself out of his Lea-trance. “You really don’t know?”
Melissa sighed. “Jason, if you can remember what happened yesterday, please spill it. Spill it now.”
“If I can remember?” He laughed. A little too hard, Melissa thought. As if he hadn’t slept enough. “I remember everything,” he said. “And not just about yesterday. I remember what Lea told me when she tutored me. I remember what she was wearing in class the first day.” Lea smiled at this, but Jason didn’t even notice. “I remember what all the people around her were wearing,” he went on. “And my mother…” He put his hands to his ears, as if blocking out the screech of a fire-alarm. “She will not shut up. Everything she’s ever yelled at me. It’s all there. Like a really bad record. Over and over.”
Melissa turned to Lea. “What’s the last thing you remember from yesterday?”
“Going to Carlisle’s office.”
Melissa nodded. “That’s it for me, too. Although I could barely remember his name until you said it just now.” She looked at Jason. “Can you give us the details after that?”
Jason’s face tightened up suddenly. “What?” He tapped his head as if he were trying to clear water out of his ear. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. End of game five in the high school division playoffs. Mom went ballistic that day. Say it again?”
“Just tell us what happened. Start from the office in the afternoon.”
“Should we get Garrett in here first?” Lea asked.
Jason shook his head. “I checked his room. Empty.”
Melissa shrugged. They could always fill Garrett in later, assuming he had forgotten too. She turned to Jason. “Come on. Let’s have it.”
“Okay,” Jason said. “For starters, that was no T.V. antenna.”
“What? Start at the beginning, please.”
Jason sighed. “You guys are like a couple of Alzheimer’s patients. First we went to this psycho ward, okay?”
Lea nodded. “Right. I remember that.”
“And do you remember the pointy-nose guy?”
“I do,” Melissa said. “Now that you say it, I do. That guy was pissed.”
“Yes, he was. Pissed off at Carlisle. And I think I know why.”
Jason laid it all out for them.
For the first time in almost two months, life was smiling on Garrett Lemke. His memory of yesterday – of the last few days actually – was spotty, but he attributed that to the headaches.
Ah, the headaches. He loved thinking about them n
ow. Because they were gone. Not gone as in “tolerable.” Not gone for a little while. Just gone. All the way. Whatever the problem had been, he was apparently cured. And it was better than that. He was more focused; everything seemed easy. His mind was flying.
He had woken up far earlier than usual, and instantly his head had been filled with thoughts of the women’s swim team. He had to go find them. Right that minute. He got out of bed, showered, shaved, and was ready in less than fifteen minutes. By the time Melissa Hartman was waking up to the stench of a dead mouse, Garrett was already out the door and on his way. There would be no problems with Alyson Morrone this time. He would say the right things. And in the right voice. He would be irresistible.
I can feel it, Garrett thought. He almost started running.
He headed for the breakfast hall. With any luck – and surely this morning he couldn’t help but have good luck – the swimmers would all be there when he arrived. It was still early, and there were not many students on the paths around campus. As Garrett walked, he saw few people he knew by name.
But here came Amy Till.
That was too bad. Amy had never liked him, and she was a close friend of his ex-girlfriend. He hadn’t run into Teresa yet in this first week, but he didn’t expect a warm reception from any of her friends. Amy least of all.
Garrett thought quickly. Feeling as he did this morning, he decided to risk going on the offensive. It was a narrow path – he’d have to say something to her – and it would probably be best to speak first.
“Amy!” He held out his arms as she came towards him. Her head was down, and she only looked up and saw him at the last minute. She would have had to veer sharply off-course to avoid the embrace, which might have been awkward. She submitted to the hug, though stiffly. Then she stepped back and looked at him. Her expression was not quite as hostile as Garrett had been anticipating; she seemed cold, but not frozen.
“Amy, good to see you,” Garrett said. “How was your summer?” He noticed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that his voice sounded perfect now. Deep, and rich.
Charcot's Genius Page 16
