Not Flesh Nor Feathers (Eden Moore 3)

“I don’t know,” I told him. “But I’ll think of something. I always do. ”

I caught a glimpse of Nick’s reflection in the mirrored wall. I turned to surprise him before he could sneak up on me. “Let me ask you something,” I dove right in. “Say, hypothetically, we needed some explosives of some kind. ”

“Say, hypothetically, that you’re out of your fucking mind. ”

“Man, there are kids here. Knock it off. ” I gave a parting nod to the kid on the floor and took Nick’s arm, leading him back into the hallway, towards the entrance to the parking garage.

“If the worst thing that happens to them today is that they hear a little bad language, they’ll be in ridiculously good shape. ”

“Yeah, but. Look, the things that are coming—they need to come up and out, and I think I know where. They’re working their way up the underground, into the old tunnels beneath the city. I heard them coming, I swear to God. There’s a boarded up little place—I was there when we spoke on the phone yesterday—and they’re coming up from underneath it. ”

“Not all of them, they aren’t. I saw them down by the water myself. People are still seeing them down there. They’re tearing through the things at the river’s edge—you know, the restaurants and stores, and the spots around the aquarium. ”

“Okay. Sure. Some of them are coming up the long way. But some of them are coming up from underneath. We don’t know how many of these guys exist. You said what—half a dozen, documented? That’s not much of a horde. ”

“Half a dozen caught on tape. Maybe twice that many actually spotted. It’s hard to tell at night. ” He let the thought drop and picked it up again. “But now that the sun’s up, it’s better than the rain at night. Maybe we could go scouting and—”

“Let’s not resort to such drastic tactics yet, all right?”

“Drastic? Last night you wanted to storm the old newspaper building, if I recall correctly. ”

“Not storm it, precisely,” I argued. “I merely noted it as a place of interest. It’s a spot we should check out if we can, because I think there’s something there. The ghosts were talking about it like it means something. ”

He leaned around me and pushed against the glass door, which opened to let us outside. Even though the air was palpably damp, it was better than the closed up, recycled oxygen within the old hotel. It was better than breathing everyone else’s used-up air; and smelling the rain was better than smelling overdue diapers, sick people, and body odor.

I turned my face to the sky and let the drizzle hit me, because at least it was only drizzle.

“But you’ve said it yourself, the ghosts don’t always know what they’re talking about. People who are wrong when they’re alive are just as likely to be wrong when they’re dead. ”

“True. But there seems to be a pretty good consensus among the early victims—they’re the ones I’m seeing, the skater kids and the homeless guys who went missing before anybody gave a shit. Speaking of which, have you seen Christ?”

We were back at approximately the spot we’d left him the night before, but there was no sign of him.

“Nope. Not since we left him here. Where do you think he went?”

“Heaven knows, but it might not care. ” I turned myself in a circle and made a cursory glance at the street—occupied from curb to curb with parked cars, the sidewalks lined with people smoking, talking, or just taking a chance to smell something fresh.

“So he’s the one who set the apartment fire, huh? I guess you knew about that all along, didn’t you?” I heard an accusation there, even though it sounded like he was working to keep it in check.

I tried not to bristle. “All along? You mean, did I know he was going to do it and then somehow fail to report back to you about it?”

“No, that isn’t what I mean and you know it. ”

“I knew he did it, but not until after the fact. I’d guessed he might have done it, and then he went ahead and confirmed it for me. He’s not much good at keeping secrets, in case you hadn’t noticed. ”

“I noticed. But you didn’t feel compelled to report him to the cops or anything—why’s that?”

“Okay, you know what? I’m not one of your three-minute feature packages. I’m not obligated to explain myself to you, so if you could drop the roving reporter act right about now, that would be great. ”

“I’m only making conversation. ”

“You’re digging for dirt and I don’t like it. ” I put my hands over my face and breathed through my fingers. “This was all a bad idea. A cosmically bad idea. I should’ve never . . . ” I stopped myself.

He got the gist of it, whether or not I’d finished it. “Nobody made you. ”

“I know. I know—but you’d think I’d know better, by now. Forget it. The short answer is yes, I knew Christ set the fire. The rest of it—about why I didn’t tell anybody—you ought to have figured out for yourself by now. He was on to something. I didn’t know what, and I’m still not positive; but I think we can both agree that maybe he was right insomuch as there was definitely something weird going on down by the river. ”