Chapter Fifteen

 

Wyoming, Rhode Island, 2027

 

I blinked, staring at the candle and the shadow of her sleeping silhouette against the floral wall. Lana had been in for nine hours. We were testing it, just to see.

Her vitals were strong and her heart rate steady.

The machine was replacing sleep for us completely now. Her nine hours would turn to my nine hours. We would be awake and in each other’s company the other few hours of the day.

A noise stirred in the hall.

I lifted my gaze, listening for it again.

The bell at the front gate startled me.

I sent the siren’s call to wake Lana up and shot up from the chair, hurrying downstairs to the door. I peeked through the window, confused and wondering if I was hallucinating when I saw who it was. The sound of the bell a second time assured me I wasn't.

I pulled on my raincoat and hurried outside in my rain boots.

“Emma!” Marguerite waved at me through the wrought iron and vines. “You’re here!”

“Marguerite, what a surprise.” I couldn't lie and say pleasant.

“I tried calling but your phone’s off. And you haven’t emailed me back. So I drove out, hoping I would catch you here or at least get some clue as to where you were.”

“Did you bring Lola?” I asked as I unlocked the gate using the large old skeleton key.

“No. She’s with the kids, probably helping the babysitter maintain the chaos that is necessary for my house to run. We’ve moved, did you know?”

“No.” I offered a smile. “I’ve been so busy.” I glanced back at the house.

“Can I come in?” She laughed, hugging me.

“Sure.” I hugged back, noting she smelled like perfume and soap.

“When did you get back from England?”

“What?” I scowled.

“You’re speaking with an accent.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Last week. I was there for a while. I always do that when I travel, pick up the accent. My old nomadic ear.” I laughed it off and headed into the house, trying to sound American again. “How is Lola?”

“She’s amazing. So spicy. She’s a little monster in that tiny body. And what a garbage dog. I catch her in the trash more often than not. I have a video.” She pulled out her phone as we got into the house. She paused and it took me a second to comprehend what she was staring at. I turned, seeing it through her eyes. “Oh, Emma.” She gasped.

“Sorry, I haven’t had the guys by to pick up the recycling. Like I said, I just got back into the country.” I smiled, hoping we could move on. But she couldn't. I saw that too.

Her eyes fixated on the piles of magazines, newspapers, and bags of garbage that we hadn’t ever taken to our bins. I didn't even know where they were.

The path that led from the front door to the kitchen was lined with stacks of newspapers and garbage bags. I hadn’t noticed it in a while. I didn't know when I last had.

The kitchen was a sight as well. Old stained countertops and what appeared to be mouse poop met her as she turned the corner.

She swallowed hard, her fingers twitching and shaking as she flipped over the phone in her hand and struggled to get the video. When she did, I half watched it and her, smiling at my dog tipping over a trash bin and walking right inside, growling at whatever she had found in it. The smile wasn't enough for her. When I lifted my gaze to hers again, I could see that. She was worried.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual mad-scientist stuff.”

“You sold the company, Em. Your mom called, that’s why I’m here. They don’t even know where you are. Hell, I didn't even know, not for sure. I came here because I remembered coming here before. And look at this place—look at you!” Tears filled her eyes. “Em, you need help.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m doing well actually. I’m doing better than well. Yes, I sold the company to protect myself from the mayor—”

“I saw that in the news, the assault. He tried to sexually assault you in a library with two other men and I found out in the news. Your mother is devastated.”

“He did what?” Lana came into the room with the spacey look in her eyes. “Marshall did what to you?” Though we had been together for years, I saw Lana for the first time through Marguerite’s horrified stare. She was decaying before my very eyes.

“Mrs. Delacroix? Everyone is looking for you.” Her eyes darted to mine.

“We’ve been hiding, avoiding the mayor.” I tried to rationalize it.

“What did he do to you, Emma?” Lana sounded lost.

“He attacked me. He and some of his henchmen tried to get me to come with them, hold me hostage so you would come out of hiding. We were fighting and they ended up ripping at my clothes. So the librarian and the police thought they were trying to sexually assault me. I never told them the truth. I agreed and even gave a statement suggesting I believed they were going to rape me.”

“The cut, that day you phoned 911 and said someone recognized you. It was Marshall?” Lana’s eyes flickered to the old faded scar on my arm. “That was from him?”

“Yes.” I confessed, realizing how long it had actually been since that had happened.

“Oh, Em, why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't want to scare you. The police took care of it. I believe he was found guilty.” I glanced at Marguerite.

“Yes, he was. And a few other charges they’d been investigating him for. He paid fines and got away with no jail time. Em, you two look dreadful. Are you doing drugs?” Her eyes lowered to Lana’s thin arms with needle marks covering them.

“No.” Lana laughed. “I’m a diabetic.” Her lie was so believable. “I test my blood a lot and give myself insulin.”

“This house should be condemned. You can’t stay here. You both need to leave.” Marguerite’s eyes were wide with concern.

“We can’t leave.” I said it firmly. “We’re doing research.”

“Research?” Marguerite sounded astonished. “You don't believe that. You don't believe this is research, living like this? Like animals? You don’t even take the trash out, you leave it in bags in the middle of the room to rot. The smell in here is ungodly, and I can’t decide if it’s garbage or you two!”

“Thanks for stopping by.” I’d heard enough. She didn't understand.

“Emma! Listen to me! You are dying in this house. Dying! You look fucking crazy! You’re gray—not even just pale but gray! You leave your dog at my house for years and vanish. I don't hear hide nor hair from you and then you pop back up in the media after the mayor tries to rape you or kidnap you. You’re hiding his wife, just like he said you were. And she looks like a hostage, not a friend. She has needle marks and she’s filthy and you’re filthy. What the fuck is going on?”

“We’re working on the machine, trying to get the bugs out.” I tried to sound like I wasn't getting angry, but I was.

“You still have the fucking machines?”

“Yes, Marguerite! I do. I invented them. They’re mine. I can do whatever the hell I want. We’re not hurting anyone living here. We don't have kids or spouses. We’re two lonely ladies, minding our own business, living alone. We work on the machines and stay here, enjoying the quiet. How is that so wrong?”

“She’s right.” Lana stepped forward. “We don't want help or interference from anyone. We’re happy here. We like our lives. We might look crazy to you, but this is just a shell. The real world is up here.” She tapped her head and I winced. I agreed, but I also didn’t want Lana to get us sent to the nut house.

“You’re both certifiable.” She pointed at me, shaking her head. “We’re done, Emma. Me and you. We’re done. This friendship is over. I can’t have this toxic bullshit in my life! I have been worried sick about you and searching everywhere. I came here as a last resort because it’s so close to the place the mayor attacked you.”

“Say goodbye to Lola for me.” I blinked, not feeling anything about the sentence she’d said.

“You’re a fucking bitch! We’ve all given you a break on life and being a terrible friend and person because of Jonathan’s death, but this is it. The buck stops here. No more breaks. You’re fucking crazy and I’m glad Jonathan isn’t alive to see this hot mess,” she spat and turned on her heel, leaving the house and slamming the door.

I sighed and waited for her to be gone before going out and locking the gate again.

When I got back inside I grabbed Lana’s hand. “We need to look at the house, really look at it. Ready?” I stared her deep in the eyes.

“Okay.” She sounded uncertain.

“Close your eyes.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and turned us both, “Now open them.” Opening my eyes and staring at the filth everywhere was worse than seeing it before.

“Yikes. No wonder she was so pissed. We need to get rid of this shit. If she comes back with doctors we’ll be locked up. We’ll never get back into the machine if they lock us up.”

“You’re right. I’ll call a cleaning company and we’ll sit in the attic while they clean.”

“We could do it ourselves right now.” Lana eyed up the mess.

“I don't think we have the strength to do it.” I glanced at her skinny arms and then mine.

“No. This entire day has worn me out. I’m getting a snack. You want one?”

“Yeah. I’ll call the cleaning company.”

She walked into the kitchen, leaving me to stare at the mess.

Turning in a circle and taking it all in, I caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror. I didn’t know the woman staring back at me. She was haggard and skinny, old-looking well beyond her years. Her hair was frizzy and yet thinner and her eyebrows were almost touching. I lifted an arm, wincing at the reflection. My tee shirt was rotten, stinking to high heaven.

I didn't know when it got this way but I knew it would happen again. We needed to consider the fact Marguerite had seen us. We needed to fix everything before she came back.

But I didn’t want the solution to cut into our time in the machine.

Lana would never agree to that.