Chapter Seventeen
Gavin and I trooped back to the bed. All of a sudden, the few hopes I had were dashed. I sat on the bed with my hands in my lap. Gavin sat down next to me, hoping to calm me down. “So we’re prisoners?” He shrugged. “What’s going to stop us from escaping?”
“I don’t know,” I looked around. “Maybe the absence of windows?” It was true, the room had no windows.
“Is that all?” Gavin prodded.
“What are you getting at?” My pointer finger brushed the scarred tissue on my arm; I had a strong urge to relieve the building pressure. Sadly, several things stopped me from my sanity; namely Gavin, but the lack of a suitable knife also placed a damper on things. I had a plaintive wish that if I could find a blade, I’d be able to convince Gavin that in light of recent events, he would accommodate my needs. In reality, it was just a fantasy.
“Sure, we may not have an obvious way out, but we have,” He tried to be confident but his tongue was articulating words faster than his brain could fasten ideas to the speck. “Um,”
“You’re a genius.” If my tone had been a person’s skin, it would’ve needed half a bottle of moisturizing hand lotion.
“We could look around for an air-conditioning vent to crawl through, like in spy movies.”
“Gavin, I hate to break it to you, but spy movies don’t involve tool-using monsters who made a four level shopping mall the scene of a massacre nor do they have antiqued billionaires with a fetish for birthday suits!”
“But sci-fi war movies do, and aside from the heroes likely suffering from PTSD afterwards, they always have a shimmer of hope when the plot’s got them down.” Gavin had a knack for optimism. “I saw a laundry chute in the closet, isn’t that a shimmer of hope?”
I looked deep into his eyes, mostly for the shimmer of hope I so wanted. “We both know we couldn’t escape from this place through a laundry chute.”
I saw a glint sparkle in his eyes. “Maybe we don’t need to escape, at least not yet.”
“Are you saying we should just sit here, as prisoners?”
“No, but if we hide our concern for a while, maybe we could escape later, when it would be less noticeable.” Gavin explained. “Sir Harold said we could exploit his servants, perhaps that’s enough to get us through until we have a chance to escape.”
Gavin was beginning to succeed in lifting my spirits, although the progress was slow. Thankful for his efforts despite my pessimism, I hugged the boy.
“Let’s see if we can contact the servants so we can get some food.” Gavin suggested. “We slept through breakfast and probably lunch.”
Finding the way to contact the servants was difficult; there weren’t any bells or intercom systems in the room. Gavin and I scoured the room to find an attention getter for the servants. The solution came through technology but not before nearly an hour of searching. We found a way to contact the servants on a thin laptop hidden beneath the cover of the desk.
Almost as soon as Gavin pressed send on the message, a person knocked at the door. I answered the door to see a sixteen-year-old, blond-haired girl smiling standing in front of me.
“Hello, did you need something?” She asked pleasantly. She wore a short-sleeved light blue blouse, similar to the blouses waitresses wore at casual restaurants. Her blouse wasn’t tucked in, but instead it hung loosely over a long flowing skirt of the same color. The skirt she wore stretched to her ankles and looked like it would dance on its own if she did a pirouette. Overall, it was a good look for her but the most interesting that caught my eye was at her shoulder level; the energy beams holding Gavin and I in the room had turned off in order to let the girl in.
“Yes, we were hoping someone could bring us some food.” I stated.
“Sure thing!” She chimed. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No, thank-you.”
She turned on her heel and started out the door before spinning around the other 180 degrees to face me again. “I almost forgot!” She reached behind her and unhooked a hand radio from her waist band. “Here, you can reach me at anytime with this radio; it’s already tuned to my channel and if you need anything, just talk. Of course, you can also use the computer to contact the rest of the Servants, but I’m here to serve you specifically unless you need something I can’t provide.” She winked and tapped her earpiece with a radiant smile. Having delivered her message, she bounced out of the room.
Gavin came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. We didn’t close the door until she left, and not surprisingly, as soon as she passed through the door, the bars reformed our prison.
We sat on the couch; the air had a smug, stagnant feel to it again. Pretending to be unaffected by our confinement wasn’t easy but perhaps Gavin and I could have a better time of it with some company. Doing something I wouldn’t normally do, I decided to invite the girl who’d just been here, into the room, if she had time that is.
I knew that in my right mind, I’d never accept a stranger into my personal space, even if she was near my age but I was afraid; watching thousands die bothered me so much, I wanted to know that there were still living breathing souls in the world. Sure, I’d seen a few dozen police officers sucked into the Catrion ship when Hubert died, and had even watched a man’s face melt off his skull but it wasn’t the same. I’d loathed the space Hubert took up, so his death wasn’t unwelcomed. The police officers didn’t seem to bother me because I didn’t know whether or not they had died; they were still alive when I last saw them. The shoppers in the mall however, I saw them alive, and moments later, dead. I needed to meet someone who was untouched by the macabre game death played.
Within ten minutes, the girl was back with a tray of blueberry muffins and a glass decanter of orange juice. “Here you go, I had the chef save some of the batter from breakfast so you’d have hot, fresh muffins whenever you woke up.”
“Thanks, that was very thoughtful of you.” I tried to be as cheerful as she was, but struggled. “If you’re not busy, won’t you come in and sit for a while?”
“I, uh,” she looked around, perhaps checking for one of the other Servants. “Sure! I’d love to!”
So, we all sat down on the long couch with plenty of room to spare.
“What’s your name?” Gavin asked while I peeled the top off a muffin and nibbled on the sweet crumble topping.
“I’m Alexia Davis. I’d ask your names but I already know them. Sir Harold filled all the Servants in on who you are.” She spoke with her hands a lot.
“So why are you here?” I asked. I was curious about her connection with Sir Harold.
“I live here. I’m working as a Servant because going to school here is free if I do.”
“Excuse-me, did you say ‘going to school here’? I thought this was just a house.” I wondered.
“Oh no!” She scrunched up her eyebrows and shook her head. “Sir Harold keeps this house as his home, but it also shelters the Servants, serves as an orphanage, and a university all in one. Sir Harold invites orphans to live here, people he thinks are significant, and also bright college students. The orphans of course get free tuition, but the college students who live and school here have to pay for it. Most pay by becoming Servants.”
“What about you? You seem a little young to be in college.” Gavin asked.
“You’re right, I’ll be seventeen in November.”
“Me too! What date?” Gavin was more excited than I could have been after the recent events.
“Really? I was born on the twenty-first—what about you?”
“Ha!” Gavin sort of pointed, but not really; he didn’t seem to be acting himself. “I’m older than you! My birthday is the fourteenth!”
“So how do you fit in?” I asked, eager to return to the previous topic of discussion. “You just said you’re too young to be a college student.”
“Actually, I am a college student. I graduated from high school a year early.” Alexia admitted. “I don’t like telling most people because most of them are jealous; they think I’m smarter than them, and that I think I’m better than them because of it.”
“It makes sense.” I ceded.
“So where are you staying?” Gavin asked. “Are there special rooms for the Servants?”
“I’m actually living just next door to you in the Honeybee Suite.” She responded.
“The Honeybee Suite?” I was in disbelief over such a dorky name. “You named your apartment the Honeybee Suite?”
“No! Of course not!” She defended herself. “Sir Harold did! Every room in McLeod Manor is dedicated to something Sir Harold has spent a large sum of money on.”
“Then what’s this room dedicated to?” I wasn’t all that interested, but it continued the conversation, hence my reason for asking.
“I believe it’s the Paraplegic Recovery Suite, but I’m not entirely sure. You’d have to find and read the plaque on the wall. It would say.” Alexia saw Gavin and I were finished eating, so she gathered what was left. “I’ve stayed long enough. I really should be getting back to work. Thank you for inviting me to sit with you.” She left.
Entertaining ourselves for the rest of the day was dull. Gavin spent most of the day stretched out on the couch reading a novel he’d found in the closet. I tinkered with sound waves on the piano to appease my boredom.
One would have thought that with both of us waking up at two-thirty in the afternoon, we would have been up all night afterwards, but I went to bed after a quick shower at nine. I heard Gavin plop down on the couch moments after I’d pulled the bed curtains shut.
Nightmares haunted my sleep. I watched Hubert die over and over again, only the man dieing transformed into Gavin half the time. Bodies littered the ground like dandelions on a green hill in the spring. Uncountable times did I trip over the body of the shoplifter to fall into the stroller containing the twins. Horrified, I always jumped up and kicked the stroller; I never intended to but I couldn’t avoid it. As the cycle of dreams started over, the wind pulled my hair across my nose and face; every time I’d turn my eyes away from the stinging wind, the truck I was in would roll over and dozens of men in uniform rocketed up into the almost human ship.
Gavin shook me awake. “Sruun! Sruun! It’s okay! I’m here!”
I blinked awake; cold sweat drenched my hair and torso. Almost as soon as I woke up, the images of the dream left me, except that I knew I’d been in danger and something had been about to happen. Not knowing what had frightened me was worse than knowing every detail of the dream; I couldn’t rationalize the images and found myself imagining the worst scenarios my mind could conjure. That alone was terrifying since I could create a graphic depiction worse than the dream, or because my imagined worst wasn’t as terrible as the dream had actually been.
“Sruun, are you alright?” Gavin scanned the depths of my eyes for an indicator that might help him determine my status.
“I’m,” I exhaled all of the air in my body, until my diaphragm was tight and my lungs empty. “Fine.”
Gavin was sitting on the edge of the bed; he was backed up to my hip and leaning over me. His eyes shimmered with concern and his lips were pressed tightly against one another.
Not sure what else to do, I propped myself up on my elbows. “I’m fine, it was just a bad dream.”
Gavin nodded. He knew it was a bad dream but he didn’t believe much else I’d said. “Would you feel better if I slept here again?”
Would I feel better? Of course I’d be at peace with Gavin so close! “No thanks, I’m fine, really.”
Gavin walked back to the couch and fell asleep. I didn’t bother to close the curtains and rolled onto my side to go back to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I was on top of Gavin on the couch. My ear was flat on his chest listening to his heartbeat and both of his arms were wrapped around me keeping me warm.
Alexia stopped by again that day, and again, I invited her in to talk. I found she was the best distraction I had, even if taking advantage of the distraction required I attempt to be social.
The breakfast she brought was delicious, although the words “out of place” also fit in the sentence. Fresh buttermilk biscuits and homemade orange marmalade were on the platter; I felt as if I were eating in a diner in the southern states of North America. The scrumptious cooking had the same welcoming aroma and hearty texture as the soul food served in a set-in-place trailer in a small county in Mississippi. All that was missing were the savory strips of greasy bacon or the other slices of happy, unhealthy cholesterol.
“Again, a continental breakfast, I see?” I asked with an eyebrow raised.
“It’s not a problem, is it? I can bring something else if you like?”
“You don’t need to go through the trouble; this is fine, I was just wondering if I was seeing a pattern.”
She laughed; I could tell she was relieved I wasn’t going to make her go out of her way. “Continental breakfasts are Sir Harold’s wish. He hasn’t forbade other breakfasts but he did tell the Servants to serve baked or once-doughy things for breakfast and also to keep a variety of different foods coming to the inhabitants of McLeod Manor.
“So Sir Harold wishes for his guests to get a warm continental breakfast? What do those who want something else do?” Gavin asked.
“They just ask their assigned Servant for whatever they want and the Servant informs the chefs and it’s delivered to the guests exact specifications as quickly as possible. Just let me know if you need or want anything.” Alexia winked.
Before the conversation could continue or die off, I startled both of the other living entities in the room. “Would it be too much to ask for one of the servants to get our things?” I was thinking of my knife but they couldn’t be allowed to know that. “I’d like my laptop and maybe some clothes.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but that’s an abnormal request.” Alexia answered. At the perplexed looks of Gavin and I, she elaborated. “I don’t mean it’s strange, just that it’s not normal and requires a specially trained Servant to accommodate you.”
“It takes a specialist to go to an apartment to retrieve a sack full of clothes and two bookbags?” Gavin inquired.
“Yes, because it’s a specific item that isn’t available locally. If you want, I can get you some clothes.” Alexia suggested.
“That’s better than nothing.” Gavin commented and I nodded in agreement.
“Let me run next door to get another hand computer so you both can order what you want.” Alexia darted out of the room, leaving our door wide open. I saw the bars holding Gavin and I captive vanish when Alexia came near them, and then reappear the moment she veered to the right. Moments later, she was back with a computer and booklets of glossy paper. I thought the books were magazines Alexia wanted to show us, but contrary to my thoughts, they were shopping catalogues.
Alexia handed me everything she’d been holding and gave Gavin a second computer from her back jeans pocket. “Just type on the computer your basic sizes and a color preference, if you have one.” She said with a cheerful flash of her white teeth. “The catalogues are so you can order a special item. You could also describe special items on the computer but anything other than the basic clothing will take time.” Alexia spoke like an infomercial host; she was quite good at it. “Basic clothing will either arrive this afternoon or tonight, and if tonight, we’ll put them in the dresser for you.” Alexia took a seat at the desk.
Trying not to smear the glob of sticky jelly on my thumb onto the soft buttons, I typed in everything the computer asked for.
Gavin finished just before I did and so he collected my computer to give back to Alexia. She departed soon afterwards, taking with her our leftover food.
Having little better to do, I sat down at the piano; I was fortunate to have it with my laptop in my bag on another continent. Without this piano, I would’ve gone crazy from cabin fever. Gratefully, my fingers skated atop the keys; the reverberating chords improved my mood.
“Play that thing you just did back again.” Gavin stood up from his position on the couch and walked over to sit next to me on the piano bench. “That was really cool what you just did.”
“What, this?” I flexed my fingers in rhythm on first a white key, then a black one, and then three more white ones in succession.
“Yes! That was awesome!” Gavin enthused. “If I can write the lyrics, would you want to write a song together?”
“I’m not that bad of a lyricist myself, so we could both work on it.” I admitted realizing a flock of butterflies had entered my stomach. “But yeah, I’d love to write a song with you. Who knows, it might even keep us busy while we’re confined here.”
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