Happy Slumbers, Page 3

  "Seems to us on the task force that you and your brother and your friend Sapphire seem to crop up an awful lot in this situation. You're all over the files, and over a long stretch of time. What is it, now? Fifty years? Why do you think that is? Why you? Why your uncle? Why your brother? Why Sapphire Karadjian?"

  Alex pulled his head back and tried to think of the best way to answer those questions. He had his own theories, of course, but was it best to share them with these officers at this moment?

  "Mostly it was my uncle," he ventured. "That's how we got involved. The rest is just history, I guess."

  "Just history, huh," Vasquez was clearly not satisfied with that answer. "Well, it sure wasn't money," she snorted. "Every one who ever put a penny into that little property there has lost it a thousand times over." She paused and gave him a serious look and then bluntly said,

  "You were there this morning. Why?"

  Alex was startled for a moment. How did they know that? Come to think of it, how did they know he was here in the Burger Joint. Then it occurred to him. They had probably intercepted his car's net connection. In which case, they could track him, but only to a point. They didn't know what he was doing at Sea Dragon Park, and they wouldn't have known about Happy Slumbers either.

  "I was just looking for my brother," he said.

  "And that's the last place on Earth he would have gone," Vasquez snickered. "You know that and we know that. However, it seems you didn't find him."

  "Do you know where he is?"

  "No idea," she quickly answered. Then just as abruptly as they'd arrived, the two officers stood up and prepared to leave.

  "You do know," Vasquez said as she was walking away, "that tomorrow it will be exactly seventeen years since the day that Sapphire and the Burning Girl were, what? Abducted by aliens as you say?"

  "Yes," Alex replied. "I did know that"

  Then, after the officers had left the building he added, aloud,

  "But you knew that I knew that, didn't you?"

  Chapter Seven

  While he chewed on his remaining french fries, Alex re-considered his plans. He had intended to go straight back to the park after his meeting with the captain, but now saw matters in a different light. On the one hand, he did not want to raise suspicions, but on the other hand, he was not at all happy about the ease in which they tracked his movements. It was not just the car, he realized. They could also track him through his phone and through his credit cards. As long as he remained plugged into the network, he was theirs to trace at will. And yet, he hadn't 'gone native' in ages. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd left the house without all that connected equipment. He was resolved to do so now. Let them be suspicious, he thought. I'm not going to actually do anything, and it'll only be for one day.

  The next problem was money. If he was going to leave his credit cards behind, he was going to need cash. Outside the Burger Joint, he spotted a branch of his bank across the street, and on the way to it he calculated how much he might need and in what denominations. If he took out too much, that might look strange, but if he didn't take out enough, then he wouldn't be able to do what he intended. He settled on five hundred, with enough in small bills, and waited patiently in line for the single teller available, while multitudes helped themselves to cash in bulk at the automated machines.

  The next step was to take the car in the opposite direction, and leave it. It had to be somewhere relatively safe, since he planned to keep his phone and wallet locked up in it there, and at the same time it had to be convenient to transit. He hoped, and then confirmed at a nearby stop, that the old Venezia line still ran out towards the former Sea Dragons stadium. It did, though it was no longer a bus but a subway-surface rail line. He smiled in satisfaction as he discovered he now did indeed possess the exact change required. Things were going his way.

  He had the car take him all the way down to the waterfront, near the turnaround of the Venezia line, and there find a parking spot with no neighborhood timing limitations, and no street-cleaning for at least forty-eight hours. The car, as always, performed its duties admirably, and he found himself on a side street near the wharf, parked in front of some newish looking townhouses backed onto the water. The next task was to filter the belongings he'd packed in his suitcase. He did not want to lug the whole thing all the way across town by hand, so he removed the smaller duffel bag from within it and re-packed the bare essentials he would need for a day or at most two. This took some time as he had already brought what he considered to be the minimum and it was hard to choose among that. Finally he decided that enough was enough, zipped up the duffel bag, stowed his phone and wallet in the glove compartment, and zapped the door closed with the dongle on his key ring.

  He strode off toward the nearest stop, and although it was only two blocks away, he felt nearly suffocated by the intense heat. He sweltered in the futile shade of a useless urban tree-let while the Venezia train refused to arrive. Only then, looking back into his memory of the glass screen on the transit stop he'd consulted downtown, did he realize that the Venezia ran only every ninety minutes during the day. This location had no screen and no schedule posted anywhere. It was going to be a long hot wait.

  And then, while standing there practically melting, Alex realized with a sharp pang of disappointment in himself that his well-intended plan had missed one crucial point. It was going to take too long. He was certainly going to miss the two o'clock appointment he'd mentally made with the old lady at the park. She would not be there when he arrived. He only hoped he'd be able to find her at the Happy Slumbers, and that she would, what? He stopped his reverie in mid-thought. What did he expect from her?

  He couldn't answer that simple question and his mind remained a blank for the rest of the time he stood out there on the sidewalk, the only passenger for the train that finally arrived and carted him off. A few other riders did ascend and descend during the thirty minute, multi-stop trek across town, but Alex didn't notice them. He was staring out the window at the streets that looked both familiar and unknown, filled with memories, ghosts and new things he'd never noticed before, like random images overlayed on top of each other and compressed into a jumbled collage. He was right about one thing. When he finally arrived at the end of the line, it was already past two-thirty, and there was no one in the park.

  Chapter Eight

  Alex decided to remain calm and to continue as planned, so he did not linger at the park but proceeded to the dingy Happy Slumbers lobby and rang the bell on the deserted desk. He felt in his pockets to make sure the wad of cash was still there, and studied the rate chart taped to the top of the counter. He had to ring the bell two more times before a rickety old man staggered out from behind the wall. He was as small as Josefa, as dark as Rosario and as bald as Sergeant Romo. His face was so wrinkled that Alex couldn't help but wonder just how many centenarians there were lurking around the area. The old man made his way, slowly, to the desk and flashed a sly grin at Alex as if hinting at some secret only the two of them knew about.

  "Yes, sir!" he proclaimed in a loud steady voice.

  "I'd like a room," Alex said simply. "No, wait. I'd like the best room you've got", while thinking to himself, "or at least what qualifies for 'best' in this place."

  "For how many nights, sir?" the old man inquired. Alex hesitated.

  "I'm not sure. At least one, maybe two. Is that okay?"

  "Certainly, sir," the old man pulled a binder from under the desk and plopped it onto the counter. He flipped through a few ragged pages, apparently seeking the most recent unscribbled-upon one. He seemed to take his time, though, as if studiously reading the book's entire contents. His lips trembled as he thumbed through it, mumbling names like he was reciting their past.

  "Annabelle Smith, yes, sir," he said. "Oh, Lawrence Peters, yes, Mister Peters. I remember him well."

  "Do you have any rooms?" Alex asked, impatiently, causing the clerk, whose name was Rolando Sparks, to look up and partly snarl in r
esponse.

  "Oh, we've got rooms. We're a motel, sir. Rooms is basically what we do have, if you know what I mean."

  "I'd like one," Alex snidely remarked and Rolando snickered.

  "How many guests?" he said slyly.

  "One," Alex answered, "no wait, make that two," he added, and Rolando nodded as if he thought as much and had already anticipated it.

  "Number nine," he said, turning around for a key. The motel was that old, Alex thought, that they actually had metal keys to the rooms, and kept them on hooks. He hadn't seen anything like it in many, many years.

  "How many beds are there in that room?" Alex asked. "I was hoping for two."

  "Got two beds," Rolando nodded, "if you count the sofabed which I do. Count it, I mean. Got your queen and you got your sofabed too. It's a suite."

  "Good enough," Alex replied and fished for his bundle of money. "How much for that?"

  "Be two hundred a night," Rolando said. Alex stopped with his hand in mid-pocket. Had he heard that correctly? Two hundred? That was definitely going to put a dent in his wad. And he hadn't seen any listing higher than one-fifty on the sheet.

  "I was thinking one fifty," he said out loud, without meaning to.

  "All right, one fifty," Rolando countered with a dry cackle. He didn't care. Most nights that room remained vacant, like most of the other rooms in the place on most nights. One fifty was plenty and certainly more than nothing. Alex counted out the money and placed it on the counter. Rolando turned the binder around and, pointing at a line, handed Alex a pen and told him to fill it out while he took the money and stuffed it into a shoe box. When Alex was done, Rolando handed him the key along with an illegibly scrawled receipt, and told him the room was outside, make a right, and three cabins down. Alex thanked him and dragged his duffel bag back with him.

  He didn't go to room nine, though, but continued on to room twelve, where he tapped very gently on the door. After a few moments, Josefa opened it and beckoned him inside. Etta had already had her two sips of tea and was snoozing quite peacefully on the bed, not making a sound. Alex took his old seat on the sofa as Josefa went to briefly check on the old woman.

  "I have a room now," Alex told her. "She can stay there tonight. That way your family will be more comfortable."

  Josefa looked back at him and gave him a sad smile.

  "Oh, we couldn't do that," she said. "You stay in your room. We'll be fine. Besides, Etta has to be here. She cannot go to another."

  "Why not?" Alex asked. "It's a bigger room. At least I think it is. It's number nine. Is that a nice one? I didn't go in yet."

  "Number nine is just fine," Josefa chuckled. "You will like it. It's cozy."

  "Why can't she go? You need a break. I can look after her. I promise I'll take the best care of her."

  "No. She has to be here," Josefa insisted, and pointed at the crucifix above Etta's head. "He wants her here," she continued. "He's protecting her from the, from the ..." she was reluctant to finish, as if by saying the word she would be summoning the creature. Alex had a sudden inspiration.

  "Well, at least your daughter and grand-daughter can stay in number nine," he suggested. "That way at least they can be comfortable."

  "And you?" Josefa asked. "Where will you sleep?"

  "I could stay here," he said. "On the cot. I can sleep on the cot."

  Josefa shook her head, then after taking a few moments to reconsider, shook her head again, but then said,

  "Okay. Rosario and Elma can stay in number nine for tonight, but you must have the couch. I am used to the floor. I will sleep there."

  Alex was unable to convince her otherwise and finally relented and accepted her terms. By that time the nap hour had come to a close and Josefa was waking up the old woman. Etta once again roused herself and made ready to resume her vigil in the park. She smiled at Alex this time, seeming to know who he was but not saying anything to him. He greeted her and tried to make small talk about the weather, and wasn't she awfully warm sitting out there in the sun, and wouldn't she rather find a bench in the shade, but she ignored him as the three walked back out into the park, directly to the benches where he'd met her earlier that day.

  "At least it's the last shift of the day," Alex said, and noticed, or rather imagined a slight breeze had kicked up. He gave his new room key to Josefa who had to get back to work, and took a seat on the bench next to Etta, just like he had in the morning. He thought maybe she would say more, so he prompted her with remarks about Sapphire and Argus and Daniel Fulsom and anything else he could think of that might get a response out of her, but nothing had any effect. She stared straight ahead and paid no attention to him. She might as well have been hypnotized.

  "They tell me you say you're a hundred and twenty three years old," Alex said. "That's pretty old, you know, unless you're a tortoise. I've heard those things can live a really long time. How'd you get to be so old, anyway? I see you don't eat and barely drink. Is that your secret? Starve your way to immortality? Could be an exciting new diet fad!"

  Still no response came from the old woman, and Alex began to feel more and more ridiculous. She was clearly out of her mind, he thought, but was he as well? He probably looked like a fool to everybody else, except there was nobody else. The park remained absolutely deserted, not even a gopher disturbing the lawn. It was eerie. Surely the law of averages would have brought somebody here at some point. The city had hundreds of thousands of citizens, and there were residential streets on all sides of the place, yet no one walked even on the far sidewalks, and no cars were driving themselves down those streets.

  "How much?"

  The old woman had suddenly spoken, but just those two words. Alex repeated them back to her.

  "How much what?"

  "How much would you pay?" she continued, not looking at him. "When all you can spend is your time?"

  "I don't know," Alex replied after a long moment. "I guess it depends on what you're buying with it. We spend our time on all sorts of stuff," he considered. "We spend our time at a job in exchange for money. We spend our time in a movie in exchange for entertainment, or in a book for its story. You want to go into it, get lost for a while. It's worth some time for that."

  "Dribs and drabs," Etta nearly spat out those words. "A little bit here and a little bit there. How much would you pay all at once?"

  "I guess it depends," Alex said, sitting back. Etta was not looking at him but seemed to be communicating, definitely. He figured he didn't have to look at her either, but once he turned his eyes from her, she fell silent once more, and nothing he said evoked any response. He shifted again to look straight at her and talked, trying to get her attention again.

  "You can go on vacation," he said, "spend your time at the beach. Is that all at once? Does that count?"

  Etta did not reply, nor did she say another word for the rest of the entire three hours. Alex attempted to speak now and then, even got up and stood right in front of her, then sat down beside her, then wandered behind the benches, still talking, but to no avail. She had spoken all that she was going to speak in that vigil, and eventually he grew too hot and had to return to the Happy Slumbers lobby and the soda machine he had seen there. He came back minutes later but nothing had changed. Etta remained motionless and did not respond to his offers of a cold beverage. In the end he gave up and took his place on his bench and waited for Josefa or Rosario to come when the shift was officially over.

  Chapter Nine

  Finally, Josefa arrived to take Etta back to Happy Slumbers. She did not seem at all surprised to see Alex sitting there, but when he got up to accompany them, she shook her head and waved him away.

  "It's cleaning time," she told him. "I will give her a nice bath and wash her clothes. You can come back later. Two hours," and with that she dismissed him and, holding Etta by the elbow, left the park with her charge. Alex was annoyed, but mostly with himself. It was impossible to be angry with Josefa, who was as dedicated and as steady as a nun, and was obviou
sly taking the best care possible of the old lady. Alex realized he was hungry after doing practically nothing but sweating all day. He thought of several decent restaurants he knew downtown, then remembered that he'd left his car several miles away and didn't feel like taking another long rail ride. He figured there must be something in the neighborhood out there and decided to walk around and see.

  The park was only four square city blocks, covering almost exactly the area where the weird volcanic sinkhole had been. Alex walked all the way around the perimeter one time before deciding to head off on a random side street that looked like it might have some commercial establishments a few blocks down. All he found was a bakery that was closed, and an Asian Fusion restaurant that was much fancier than he felt comfortable about, and was pricier than he'd counted on. Nevertheless, he was tired and still had enough cash in his pocket so he went in and ordered the first thing he saw on the menu. He didn't want to think about anything. He only wanted to get back to the room and find out whatever he could from the old woman. The idea had taken possession of him and he could think of nothing else. He replayed in his mind every word she had said during the day, trying to make some sense of it all. He was certain she had the answers that everyone had been searching for all of those years.

  He was the only customer in the restaurant, yet still the service was unbearably slow. Everything seemed to take much longer than it should that day, from the train to the vigil in the park to the noodles and sauce which only required a little boiling and re-heating, as far as he could tell. He sat staring out at the quiet neighborhood where only an occasional car drove by. He wondered how any business managed to survive in this sleepy residential backwater of the town. It had only been a bustling area once, when the Sea Dragons stadium was on the site where the park was located now, but that was such a long time ago and nothing had taken its place.

  Alex was in a much darker frame of mind when he finally gobbled his food and left far too many of his remaining dollars behind. At least the long meal had used up a good chunk of time, and he really had nothing else to do, so it shouldn't have bothered him so much, but he was restless, and cranky and growing more irritable with each passing moment. He had to force himself to slow down, to walk calmly on his way back to the motel. When he got there, he knocked gently on the door, hoping not to wake up the lady if she was sleeping. Josefa opened and silently beckoned him inside. Etta was indeed sleeping, looking refreshed and relaxed as she dozed on the bed.