Array: Byte shorts and other stories

by Cat Connor

  “He reads a lot,” Lee commented.

  “He does.” I scanned titles on the walls. “Lot of crime fiction and thrillers here. He likes Jeffrey Deaver, a lot.”

  I noted a high proportion of medical texts among his books. There were a pile of medical journals on the corner of the desk.

  I looked around the room no sign of an eReader anywhere.

  “Let’s see what he reads at night …,” Lee said.

  “Bedroom,” I replied. A little bit of guilt edged in.

  His bed was unmade. The closet open. His many suits hung in color order. From left to right, starting with a platinum pinstripe and ending with a black tuxedo.

  I wouldn’t mind seeing him in that again. I peered into the bottom of the closet and saw a large shopping bag.

  Red and gold gift paper peeked out from inside the bag.

  Gifts.

  For whom I did not know.

  But I did know they weren’t for family.

  Kurt was an only child and lost his elderly parents some time ago.

  It comforted me that I knew something about his life.

  Kurt delivered that nugget of information while we were on a case in Lexington not so long ago.

  On his nightstand, there were three books in a pile. No eReader.

  “All right. An eReader. That’s what we’re getting him.”

  “Maybe he likes the feel of books,” Lee replied.

  “But he’s also out of shelf space,” I countered.

  “Clever.” He nodded his head. “Liking this plan.”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  My phone rang.

  Kurt.

  “Hey,” I said while following Lee to the front door.

  “I’m done just heading home to change. Might be a little early, that okay?”

  “Sure.” I hung up.

  “Let’s go. He’s on his way.”

  We hurried out and relocked the door. On the way to the car, I had some observations.

  “No Christmas tree,” I said.

  “No decking the halls,” Lee replied.

  “Apart from his bedroom it didn’t look like anyone lived there.”

  “He reads, takes photographs, and listens to music. That’s all we know,” Lee said.

  “Not all. He’s a good photographer and he reads a lot.” I decided the music thing bordered on creepy and left it alone.

  We climbed back into the car.

  “We’re going to Best Buy. Carla and I will buy him a Kindle you two can buy him a case and light,” I said pulling away from the curb.

  Christmas solved.

  I decided on the scenic route from Kurt’s to Fair Lakes Shopping Center. Didn’t want to risk seeing Kurt on his way home.

  “I’ll drop you back at your car when we’re done here,” I said as I pulled into a car park across from Best Buy.

  “He does celebrate Christmas, doesn’t he?” Lee asked. “Nothing indicated Christmas in his apartment.”

  “Did you look inside his closet?”

  He shook his head. The four of us stood in the icy cold outside the car.

  “There were gifts wrapped in red and gold paper at the bottom of his closet.”

  “Let’s go get his presents before we freeze to death.” Lee shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and hunched his shoulders against the cold air.

  “And I have to get home and cook dinner - can’t very well have nothing to offer Kurt when he arrives.”

  Carla linked her arm with mine. “What are you going to make?”

  “Roast beef,” I replied.

  “We’re coming for dinner,” Sam said nudging Lee. “Unless you want to be alone?”

  “You’re not as funny as you think you are,” I said walking in the door of Best Buy. The greeter smiled at me. “Where do you keep your kindles?” I asked.

  He pointed to the left of the store and spoke into his headset then to me. “Someone will meet you by the display stand, ma’am.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we had a kindle, a cover, and a light, all gift-wrapped.

  “Market for beef then home,” I said to Carla.

  Presents wrapped in shiny paper lay piled under the tree.

  Carla curled into the sofa and flicked channels until she found a Christmas special on the television.

  In the kitchen, Sam and Lee peeled vegetables.

  The roast beef was cooking in the oven and the aroma from the meat was just beginning to waft through the room.

  My stomach growled.

  An open bottle of tequila sat on the counter.

  Kurt called out from the front door as he let himself in, “Where is everyone?”

  I walked down the hall to meet him.

  “We’re in the kitchen.”

  He smiled, lifted a bag up and said, “I’ll put these under the tree and then join you.” Red and gold gift-wrap peeked out of the top of the bag.

  “Okay.”

  I headed back to the kitchen and the sound of liquid pouring into shot glasses.

  Four shots were waiting when Kurt appeared and placed a bottle of wine on the countertop. He sat next to me on a barstool. Sam and Lee finished off the last of the vegetables. Kurt lifted a shot-glass.

  “Funny thing,” Kurt said. “Got home and found this on one of my jackets in the closet.” He retrieved something from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. When he opened his hand, I saw a small plastic bag.

  “What is it?” I asked. Sam and Lee turned to look.

  Kurt held the bag up so we could all see. I saw all right, I saw a strand of blonde hair.

  “Yours?” I asked Kurt.

  “No. The strand is over a foot long.”

  I swallowed.

  Lee dropped the peeler into the sink; it clattered against the stainless steel.

  “Looks like one of Ellie’s,” he said. “You two have something you want to share?”

  Sam leaned over and took the small bag from Kurt’s hand. “You two been snuggling up all cozy?”

  Kurt smiled. “It was on a new jacket.”

  Without missing a beat Sam replied, “Transfer from another jacket.”

  I downed the shot in front of me.

  “That’s what I thought,” Kurt said. “It’s not like Ellie was in my closet.”

  Sam poured me another shot.

  “Exactly, it’s not like I was in your closet,” I replied, swallowing the second tequila shot. Maybe a hairnet would be a good idea before I go snooping again.

  Mac’s voice bounced around inside my head, “Maybe’s ass.”

  A very Delta Christmas Eve eve stretched into the night.

  Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight.

  2. Room at the End of the World:

  Places that should be safe and we think are safe aren’t always.

  Lee waved over his shoulder.

  Doc handed me a cup. “Don’t look so suspicious. Coffee at this hour is not going to do you any good. You need sleep.”

  “Yes, Doc, and this is?” I sniffed the hot washed out looking liquid. Tea, he’d made me herbal tea.

  “Chamomile tea.”

  “Chocolate would’ve been better.”

  Regular sweet tea would’ve been better.

  “There was only one chocolate sachet and you had it earlier.”

  “Thought that woman filled up the beverage containers,” I said.

  “Me too.”

  My nose wrinkled. Doc watched as I took a sip. It wasn’t horrible. In fact it was quite nice, hot but nice. “Chamomile tea? Who knew?”

  Doc smiled. “I’ll be back. I’m going to go rescue our clothes.”

  “Oh, yeah, the drier.” I’d taken our saturated clothing to the laundry room, washed it then put it in the drier.

  Good thing Doc remembered, I probably would’ve forgotten.

  Was that kind of night?

  I was tired beyond belief.

  We were no closer to finding answers to a series of horrendous rapes
cases that had us traipsing all over Virginia.

  The door shut behind Doc. The tea was a little too hot to drink. My head felt heavy, like my skull was thick. I could see the coffee table. My hand stretched out to put the cup down and missed. The cup hit the floor, hot tea splashed up onto my right shin.

  It was wet but didn’t hurt.

  My head was so heavy that if I leaned down to get my cup I knew I’d fall off the sofa. I watched my fingers open and close. I watched, but couldn’t feel them. Was there pain? Not that I could determine. Heaviness, fog, stars swimming in front of my eyes. They needed to stay still.

  I knew I was alone. That wasn’t good. Things that used to make sense seemed like hard work.

  Slow motion. Sweaty, clammy, dizzy, sick. My left hand pulled my phone from my pocket. Who you gonna call?

  It took forever to find Doc’s number. Would’ve been easier if I looked under K for Kurt not D for Doc. My slowness frustrated me. I knew what I had to do but couldn’t seem to do it.

  Forever became nothing. Time stood still. My thumb pressed the call icon on the screen. The phone rang. I couldn’t count the rings. I was trying but the numbers spiraled out of sight, hiding behind the stars.

  Then there was a voice spilling words. They weaved between the stars but couldn’t catch the numbers.

  “I need you.”

  His words jumped a tall building and swooped around me. “I’m coming. Don’t move.”

  Two words hovered right above the coffee table.

  “Don’t move.”

  Fascinating. Sparkly.

  I don’t know how long they were there or how long I watched them.

  Maybe I closed my eyes.

  Words came back. Clearer but not sharp enough for me to understand them.

  More words.

  The voice.

  I knew it meant I was okay, I could hear him talking to me, but was clueless as to what he was saying, and if I was answering.

  There was something very wrong.

  Something was on my face.

  The room came back.

  “Ellie?”

  “Kurt.”

  “Welcome back,” Kurt said with a small smile. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The walls undulated, picking up pace and gathering the rest of the room into a writhing mass. So much saliva I couldn’t swallow fast enough to get rid of it.

  I knew what came next. I struggled to my feet with my hand over my mouth.

  Kurt was right beside me. He knew too. I leaned on him, I had no choice, walking was difficult.

  He opened the bathroom door. A quick flash of this being funny one day was all I got.

  We’d been here before, but last time he held my hair for me, it was self-inflicted.

  I did not do this to myself by drinking too much champagne.

  No, I did not.

  The only thing I ate different to everyone else was a candy bar. But no one but me drank a hot chocolate or chamomile tea either.

  What the hell?

  A cold towel was waiting when I stopped talking to the porcelain. I sat on the floor and hit the flush button feeling sorry for short people without a decent reach.

  “Feel better?” Kurt said.

  “I think so.” I took a breath. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. Saliva built up.

  Oh God.

  I leaned over the toilet bowl and hurled again.

  Rinse and repeat.

  Eventually even the gagging stopped.

  “How about now?” Kurt said.

  “Yeah, no. Jesus, Kurt …”

  He helped me stand. Shaky didn’t begin to describe how I felt. Swirling grey-edged fog wafted in and over me. The floor wobbled away from my feet. Stumbling is so attractive. Way up there with vomiting and drooling. Suddenly I knew. This was not a stomach bug.

  “Drugged,” I mumbled and tried to get the wrapper from my pocket.

  Sleep came too fast. As I drifted into dreamland, I wondered if Kurt slipped Ketamine into my tea. No, it was before the tea, dumb ass. And everything was gone. Gone crazy. I had no idea what was happening or if any of it was real. A dream, perhaps.

  The world shimmered like a heat wave in the sand.

  A kitchen door came into view.

  I could see Kurt as he leaned on the door jam, one hand shoved into his jeans pocket, the other swinging his sunglasses.

  Sunlight shone from his sandy hair. It seemed a little longer than usual. It suited him. A smile crept over his face as he looked down the hallway at me. I think I was smiling back.

  He was happy. I ducked under his arm and headed down the path to the edge of the driveway. I heard the door shut and his footsteps following me. His fingers wrapped around my upper arm.

  I turned to face him.

  A giant soap bubble appeared over his head; as he spoke words appeared in the bubble written in black Comic Sans script. “You can’t ignore this, Ellie.”

  “This?” I had a word bubble of my own. It was fascinating.

  “This,” he replied. Mesmerized by the advent of the soapy speech bubbles I watched as a new bubble attached to his first one. “We need to talk about what happened in Lexington.”

  Air rushed from my lungs so fast it made me gasp.

  Without any effort on my part, a new speech bubble grew. “I lost the plot,” I replied. “You know why. What’s to talk about?”

  “My jaw still aches every now and then,” he responded, rubbing the side of his face.

  His bubble popped. Soapy suds flew in all directions.

  My words filled a new bubble. “I thought you said I hit like a girl?”

  As I watched, Kurt grew a shiny new speech bubble from his mouth. “I may have misspoken.”

  It was hard to maintain eye contact with a giant bubble anchored to his mouth.

  That was when I noticed the color and texture of the world had changed.

  There were only four colors; everything was flat and framed by black lines. We’d become a comic strip. I reached for the car door but wasn’t close enough.

  His fingers encircled my wrist. The word bubble in front of me filled again. “You can let go my arm. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not going to hit you.”

  He nodded, his fingers released. He thrust his hand into his pocket.

  Kurt’s bubble reformed; the words appeared and flashed. “Do you remember what I told you in Lexington?”

  I stretched out my finger and poked the bubble. It wobbled. He was right there in front of me, paying no attention to the bubbles. “Ellie?”

  Oh right, I have to answer. Movement on the roof of a nearby house drew my attention. Spiderman crouched on the edge of the roof, watching. A thought bubble emerged from his head. It said, I can’t help her with this.

  And he calls himself a superhero.

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “This isn’t going away. We need to face this and deal with it.”

  I saw his words before he said them. Cool. They shimmered inside the bubble. It was so clear. All I needed to do was pop the bubble to destroy the words. I stretched out my index finger and pressed on the surface of the bubble. Words jumbled then straightened out.

  “Ellie? You with me here?”

  I blinked.

  Everything I saw stayed right in front of me.

  Enough. I pulled back my hand and jabbed my index finger into the bubble. It wobbled like Jell-O. I jabbed again. It popped.

  Soapsuds soaked into the page. The ink smeared.

  One last bubble floated from Kurt as he smudged across the wet page. “Don’t ever change.”

  When I next opened my eyes, the room was dark apart from a lamp on the far side of the beds. There was no heat shimmer or sunlight.

  No movement. No voices. Parts of a strange dream floated across my internal screen. Glimpses of Kurt and the conversation we shared. Thirst.

  There was a glass of water on the nightstand. Sitting up enough to drink i
t was okay. I figured sips were smarter than gulping the whole thing. After three I stopped. Not keen on tempting fate I put down the glass.

  “Hey.”

  I jumped.

  “Sorry,” Kurt said. He wasn’t. I heard him laughing. “How you doing?”

  “Not sure.” My mind seemed clearer. I’d held down water. “Better?”

  “Good.” He crawled over his bed and onto mine, his fingers resting on the inside of my wrist while he looked at his watch. Thirty seconds passed.

  “Good,” he said again.

  “Anyone else sick?”

  “No.”

  “This isn’t a bug?”

  “No.”

  “What is it?”

  “A drug of some kind. I sent the vending machine contents to our lab. Could be a case of some nut job poisoning candy bars for kicks.”

  It’s not like that hasn’t happened before.

  “And I ate one … what are the chances?”

  “Slim,” he replied. “This is why Sam and Lee are interviewing all the hotel staff.”

  “Wasn’t an accident was it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “How the hell did someone drug me? And what was it?”

  “I’m picking Ketamine,” he said.

  “Didn’t feel like Ketamine. Or maybe it did. Not like I can judge, last time I met Ketamine I also met its friends skull fracture, broken arm, and coma.”

  Kurt smiled. “I remember.”

  “What makes you think Ketamine?”

  “Most common side effects are blurred vision, confusion, drowsiness, increased or decreased blood pressure or heart rate, mental or mood changes, nausea, nightmares, vomiting.”

  That seemed about right especially the nightmare thing. Yeah, that’s what it was a nightmare. Not something I wanted at all. A twisted Ketamine dream.

  “Is truth part of it?” I said, hoping to make the question sound casual.

  “It does make people a little freer with observations.”

  What if it wasn’t a dream? “Was I talking?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh, man. “What’d I say?” I braced myself.

  He smiled and stood up. “I’ll make you a cup of tea, and then I’ll tell you.”

  Again with the tea.

  I watched him make the tea and talk on his phone, and pace the room while talking on his phone. I remembered bits and pieces of my dream. It wasn’t a nightmare.