Autumn in the City of Lights

by Kirby Howell

  I placed the cup in the corner, close to the wall behind the door, so if it opened suddenly, the door would shield me for an extra moment before someone came in. I hesitated one more moment, then the pressure became unbearable, as if my bladder had sensed it was about to be relieved. There was no turning back now.

  I unzipped my jeans and braced myself against the wall over the cup. Not as bad as camping, but certainly not ideal either.

  I felt amazing when I was done. I could think clearly again, and my spirits lifted an eighth of an inch.

  I had to figure out where I was and what Karl wanted now. Then I had to assess the possibility of escaping, or at the very least, getting a message to Grey. To do any of that, I needed to get out of this room.

  I knelt down in front of the door and inspected the doorknob. There was nothing to indicate where I was. It was just a generic doorknob. There were two small screws on either side of the doorknob, set deep into recesses at its base. Maybe it would be possible to take it apart.

  I used to carry around a Swiss Army Knife in Hoover, which had been incredibly helpful, but since coming back to New Burbank, I didn’t feel the need to carry it with me anymore. I checked my pockets again, but they were empty. Then I remembered the Euro coin.

  I turned around and plucked it off the floor and returned to the door. Maybe I could use it to work the screws on the knob loose.

  I placed the edge of the coin against the recess holding the first screw. My heart fell. It was no use. The recess was too deep, and the coin didn’t even touch the notched head of the screw.

  I sat back against the wall, and the wind that had momentarily lifted my sails died. I wondered how long I’d been in here. It felt like a very long time, more than a day if I'd gotten so hungry, but a couple of hours could feel like an entire day with no way to measure it.

  I would just have to wait for someone to come again. Sam, hopefully, because I had a history with her. Then again, I wasn’t sure how she felt about me. I might be in favor with her after helping her escape from a certain death in Las Vegas. Or... she might not care for me very much after wandering the desert for God knows how long on her way back to Los Angeles.

  I closed my eyes again, leaning my head back against the wall. What would happen to me if I couldn’t get out? If Sam never returned? If Karl changed his mind about keeping me alive with Tasty O’s! and I died in here? It seemed a very real possibility. He’d made it clear he wanted me out of the way, that I caused trouble for him. I wouldn’t put it past him to put me in here and forget about me.

  I wanted to cry, but no tears came. My entire head ached. I passed what felt like another few hours daydreaming about Grey. I pictured him laying siege to a generic office building, outsmarting his way through hordes of Frontmen, karate-chopping Karl after an elaborate mid-air twisting kick, and then swinging across an atrium with me like Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia in Star Wars.

  I woke from a fitful sleep and sat up, frightened and alert. The door opened suddenly, and I lurched to my feet, unsteady and lightheaded.

  Sam entered the room, carrying a jug of water. She found the plastic cup with her eyes, noticed it wasn’t empty, and then looked at me.

  “Empty it,” she said, her voice flat.

  “What... ?”

  She pointed at the cup half full of urine. “Empty it.”

  “Empty it?” I didn’t understand. “Where?”

  “Tip it over, or I’ll do it for you.”

  I stared at her. She couldn’t be serious.

  “Do you want water or not?” She impatiently shook the water jug, which made a pleasant sloshing noise. My mouth went dry.

  “I do,” I said. “But there’s nowhere to empty the cup.”

  Before I could say any more, she reached out a toe and gingerly tipped over the cup. The urine gushed across the white floor, and the acrid smell flooded my nostrils. I braced myself against the wall, feeling sick.

  “Pick it up,” she ordered.

  “Sam, please,” I pleaded.

  She turned to leave, taking the water jug with her.

  “No! Sam, wait!” I rushed to the cup and righted it, careful not to step in the pale yellow puddle. “Please, Sam, please leave the water.”

  She studied me a moment, then uncorked the lid and proceeded to fill the cup to the brim with water. My stomach turned.

  She straightened, smirked at me and left without a word, taking the water jug with her. Well, I guess I had my answer about how Sam felt about me.

  I stared at the closed door, then the cup. It was so full the water seemed to bulge over the brim. But I couldn’t drink it. And now there was a mostly dried crust of vomit in one corner, and a fresh puddle of urine in the other. I turned toward the wall and tried to remember Grey’s advice on how to focus on my breathing.

  I went through four cycles of sleeping, pacing, and sitting before the lock clicked in the door. I was awake this time, though I felt barely there. I was beyond hungry, and my head pounded with pain. The Tasty O’s! box was empty and the water in the cup had been replaced with urine again. I was too exhausted to care. My eyeballs swiveled toward the door. I didn’t have the energy to turn my head.

  Sam entered the room with the water jug. She glanced at the cup and then at me. Without a word, I tipped the cup over with the toe of my shoe, splashing the wall with its contents.

  She hesitated, then said, “Pick it up.”

  I just stared. For a moment, I felt as if I were floating above her, then like I was a million miles beneath her, staring up at the soles of her shoes. Then I was back on the floor, and Shad was sitting across from me, his long legs sprawled out across the floor, taking up all of the space. His head was tilted back against the wall, but his eyes were open and alive. He blinked and sighed heavily, as if he were bored. Of course he was bored. So was I. If I was still alive.

  Sometime later, I realized Shad and Sam were gone, and the jug of water sat beside me, uncorked. I reached for it but couldn’t seem to find it with my hand. It looked so close. I waved my hand around and finally bumped against it, splashing water onto my jeans. I wrapped both hands around it and tried to lift it, but couldn’t. I fell forward onto my elbows and put my lips against the edge and drew water from the top until my head cleared a little. Then I tried to lift it again but only managed to tilt it toward my face.

  It was incredible how much the water helped. I was still hungry and weaker than I’d ever felt, but my head was clearer. I could think.

  Sam must have left the water for me. She hadn’t refilled the cup, so she must have felt bad. That was a good sign. I would have to be as focused as possible when she came back again so I could engage her in conversation. Which meant I needed to be careful with my water intake.

  I knew I could survive on only water. At least for a little while. Karl must want me alive to use for bargaining, but broken and weak, so I couldn’t cause problems. I resolved to pace out my water breaks and try to sleep as much as possible to pass the time. Karl would come for me when he was ready. And I wanted to be as ready as I could be, too.

  After a particularly lengthy nap, I woke staring at one of the electrical sockets. I had never realized just how much they looked like two little surprised faces, their eyes and mouths opened wide in shock. One little screw was all that held the plate onto the wall. I reached up and touched the screw. It wasn’t recessed into the plastic cover, like the screws on the doorknob. I could feel the narrow ridge cut across its head.

  I was digging for the Euro coin in my pocket before I fully realized what I was doing. Holding my breath, I pressed the coin into the screw ridge. It fit. Using it as a screwdriver, I loosened the screw, then wiggled it out of its home.

  It fell onto the concrete floor and spiraled to a stop. The plate stayed stuck to the paint on the wall. I picked up the tiny screw and marveled at its sudden usefulness.

  I crawled to the door and studied the doorknob again. I tried putting the sharp tip of the screw into the rid
ge of one of the recessed screws on the doorknob, but I couldn’t get it to turn. I tried digging the screw under the base of the doorknob, but the screw was too short to use as a lever to pop the doorknob off.

  Disappointed, I sighed and studied the screw in the palm of my hand again, watching it roll around in a tight circle on my palm. I looked up at the screw in the doorknob again, then leaned forward and fit the edge of the flat top of the screw into the recessed screw’s ridged top. It fit, and I began the tedious project of loosening the two screws that held on the doorknob.

  Before I could get too far, the lock clicked. I palmed the screw and threw myself onto the floor right as the door opened. I tried to look like I was sleeping. It must have worked, because Sam nudged my foot.

  “Wake up. Karl wants to see you.”

  I raised my head to look at her and rubbed my eyes.

  “Hungry?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, you’ll have to wait, because he wants you to shower first.”

  “Huh?” was all I could manage.

  “You’ve been in here for a week, laying in your own piss n’ puke.” She said “piss n’ puke” like she would have said “Golf n’ Stuff.” “I told him you reeked. He wants you to shower so he doesn’t have to smell it. Can you walk?”

  I raised myself up and slowly stood, steadying myself against the wall. A week. I’d been locked up in here for a week. It felt strange to suddenly have time defined for me again. It didn’t feel like a week, but then it also felt like it’d been closer to a year.

  I followed Sam on shaky legs through the door and into a hallway. The walls were lined with framed pictures. The carpet was flat blue and commercial. I ran my hand along the wall as I tried to keep up with Sam’s brisk pace. We passed an open door, and I looked in, expecting to see another small, white concrete bunker like my own, but instead, I saw a plush recording studio, complete with a grand piano, a harp in the corner, and tiny black microphones dangling from the ceiling.

  I paused to look in, leaning on the doorframe. “Where am I?” I asked Sam.

  “You’ll see soon enough. Come on.”

  We rode an elevator up several floors and came out into brilliant orange sunlight. I squinted, backing into the dark corner of the elevator. Sam sighed, exasperated, and grabbed my arm, yanking me into the light and out of the elevator.

  She pulled me along beside her while I hid my watering eyes with my free arm.

  “You’re such a drama queen,” she complained, stopping and yanking my arm away from my eyes. She jammed something hard into my face. I felt my face with my hands and realized she put sunglasses on me.

  She was dragging me along again before I could say thank you. My eyes slowly adjusted to the light, and I looked around for clues to our location. Sam was hurrying me down the sidewalk of a city with tall buildings on either side of the street. We reached the corner, and she turned us left. A star passed beneath my feet, then another one. I looked up. A sign reading “Pantages Theater” was in front of us. Relief flooded through me. We were in Hollywood. Just over the hill from New Burbank. I was so close to home. I looked over my shoulder at Mt. Lee, the hill dividing Hollywood from New Burbank. It was still black from the fires, and only the letters “OOD” from the iconic “Hollywood” sign still stood, blackened with soot.

  I had a sudden thought. I could get away from her right now and make a run for New Burbank. I gathered all my strength and tried to pull away from Sam. She turned suddenly, still clinging to my arm, and punched me in the stomach hard. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the starred sidewalk, the sunglasses she’d put on me clattering to the cement. I managed to hold onto the screw, but any thought of fighting Sam flew from my head as I gasped for breath.

  “That’s the last time I let you wear my sunglasses,” Sam scolded. She picked them up and tucked them in her pocket, then dragged me to my feet, and we crossed the street to a fancy, high-rise hotel. I hobbled to keep up with her, one arm wrapped around my aching stomach.

  We passed a few guards in the lobby, who nodded to Sam as we boarded the elevator. We rode it all the way to the top floor, then she led me through the first open door. It was a beautiful suite overlooking the city. Two pure white couches faced each other with a low glass table between them. A floor-to-ceiling window revealed the sunset to the west. Orange light glinted off the sides of the buildings in the distance. A fireplace dominated one corner of the room, its marble mantle elaborately carved into scrolls and pillars. A wet bar was in another corner, complete with an assortment of half-full liquor bottles.

  Before I could look any longer, Sam dragged me into the bathroom and opened the clear glass door to the shower. She turned on the water and, with no warning, shoved me in. I stumbled on the lip of the door and fell, cracking my forehead against the tile wall. I splashed down into the gathering water around the drain and felt her yank my shoes off, then my socks.

  I pushed up off the shower floor and felt my head. I gasped as Sam yanked my shirt up over my head. I turned away from her, and she snorted.

  “Oh, please, like you have anything to hide,” she chuckled. “If you have so much spirit left in you, take off your own damn clothes.”

  I looked around, unsure of what to do or how I’d found myself in this situation. I didn’t want to strip naked in front of her.

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Autumn. This isn't a spa weekend. Can you hurry?”

  I hesitated.

  “Alright, fine. I won’t look. Does that make you feel better?” She turned her back, and I gripped the screw between my fingers. Before I could lunge at her, she turned around again and drew a small pistol from her waistband. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Strip.”

  I turned my back to her and quickly tucked the screw into my mouth, then reached behind me to unhook my bra. I angrily flung it behind me, hoping it would hit her in the face, then unbuttoned my soaking wet jeans and peeled them off one leg at a time. I flung them behind me too, panting in exhaustion.

  “Panties,” she commanded.

  I leaned my head against the tile wall, teeth chattering in the ice-cold stream of water. I tucked the screw under my tongue so I wouldn’t crack my teeth on it.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, just take them off. And then wash. I have other things I want to do tonight besides babysit you.” She paused, and I heard the barrel of the pistol click into place. “Or I could just shoot you right now, and my job would be done.”

  I slowly looked over my shoulder at her. She stood there, smirking, clean and well fed. While I was starving to death, exhausted, and surrounded by enemies. I was suddenly reminded of when she appeared at the Hoover Settlement and I saw her at the dance. Her cheeks had been hollow, her eyes had bulged with emptiness, and I was pristine in Connie’s green dress. Our roles were now reversed.

  I turned back to the wall and pulled off my underwear.

  “Just throw it over there. I don’t want to touch it,” she said. I tossed the offending panties where she was pointing. She slammed the shower door, then tapped on the glass with the barrel of her gun.

  I did my best to glare at her, then stepped into the stream of the shower. There was a bang and thunk as something ricocheted off the shower wall and landed at my feet. It was a bottle of shower gel. I picked it up, careful to keep my back to her.

  “Sorry, no shampoo for you. You’ll have to use the soap. Have fun with that.” She smirked, then sat down on the edge of the large garden tub in the corner.

  Well before I wanted to be done, she opened the shower door. “Time’s up. Turn off the water.” She held out a towel for me, and I gratefully accepted it, wrapping it around myself against the chill. I looked around the bathroom.

  “Where are my clothes?”

  “They were filthy,” Sam answered. “What’s the point of me making you take a shower, if you’re just going to put dirty clothes back on?”

  “What am I supposed to wear? A towel?”

  She laugh
ed. “Oh, don’t worry. I have something you can borrow. It’s hanging on the back of the door.”

  She moved to close the door and revealed a white dress on a hanger. On closer inspection, I realized it was a white nightgown, and practically see-through.

  “I can’t wear that!” I said, turning to her. But I knew that was the point. She wanted to embarrass me. So my own clothes had disappeared, and this white nightgown was all that was left.

  “It’s this or the towel you’re in now. It’s up to you.”

  I pulled the nightgown off the hanger and over my head. I could feel my face turning red as I pulled the towel off. I immediately tried to wrap the towel around myself again, but Sam yanked it out of my hands and tossed it across the room, then sat me down on a stool in front of the mirror and began combing my hair. It was full of nasty tangles and knots, and she wasn’t gentle while working them out.

  I held out my hand for the comb and through chattering teeth, said, “I can do this.”

  She only swatted my hand away and continued ripping the comb through my hair. Shivering, I managed to grit my teeth and get through it without crying. She tied my hair into a knot at the base of my neck and then yanked me to my feet again.

  “Time to go,” she said.

  I did my best to cover myself while Sam led me through the empty suite and back into the hallway. I was surprised when we only went as far as the next room over. She knocked on the door, and it opened immediately.

  The blood in my veins ran cold as Karl stared down at me. He looked at Sam, exasperated. “I said to give her some fresh clothes, Sam. What is that?” He gestured at my nightgown, which was now damp down the back from the moisture seeping from my bun.

  Sam shrugged. “It’s the only thing I had that was big enough. You didn’t exactly give me a lot of advance warning so I could swing by the Beverly Center to do some personal shopping for her.”