Toymaker by Tony Bertauski

Author:Tony Bertauski
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DeadPixel Publications

14

The doorbell played a merry tune. Avery was halfway up the spiral staircase, debating whether to answer it. The celebration committee was in the round room. Certainly, they’d heard it. There had been more laughter that afternoon than the past three months.

Avery stared at a painting. It was a white landscape beneath a white sky, the horizon delineated by the promise of morning light that would never arrive in the Arctic winter. Tracks dotted the landscape, leading to a lone figure in a barren world.

“Hello, welcome.” Bradley answered the door, the wind whistling into the house. There was polite conversation. He introduced himself. “My sister’s around here somewhere.”

She was as still as a mouse. Not a single creak from the steps. Listening to the guests shedding their coats, the casual banter and soft footsteps in stocking feet. The smell of Dad’s award-winning three-bean chili. There was a rise in voices and greetings of friends. All mourning seemed to have passed. Christmas was nearly here. Exactly what Nana wanted, her mom had said.

Avery climbed the stairs unnoticed.

She slid across the third floor, muting much of the popping sounds the boards would make, and opened Bradley’s room. The bed was made. The shirts folded in drawers; laptop stored in its case. She resisted snooping through his briefcase.

She went back to her room. She’d kept her promise. It had been two days since she told her parents. Not once did she use the hiwires or even try to open Nana’s room. They’d been on the desk for two days, same spot. Never moving. She stared at them. Something was wrong.

The lenses are up.

She slid them on and entered a neutral virtual space, pulled down a menu and searched the history. No one had logged on since she used them. She was certain, mostly, that no one else could use them anyway. They were keyed for her eyes only. But if anyone could find a workaround, her brother could. And he would erase the log if he did.

The history was intact: where she’d gone, what she’d done. The last time she used them was with Bradley. She watched the recording of that day: standing at the tree, a clue springing from the gift. Bradley opened a map. The terrain highlighted possible treks to a cabin. The cabin.

“Avery?” Dad’s voice echoed in the empty space.

She stripped off the hiwires. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. The stairs were creaking. Quickly, she lay on her bed. Her dad knocked softly.

“Hey.” He peeked in. “Lunch is ready.”

“Okay.”

He nudged the door. “You all right?”

“Fine. Just tired.” She sighed. “It doesn’t feel like Christmas.”

He didn’t disagree. This was a traditional Christmas with snow and cold. Just like home. Temperate holidays and blinking palm trees were all she knew. “Why don’t you come down, get something to eat. Everyone’s in the spirit.”

“Maybe later.”

“You feeling sick?”

“No. I just need a nap, that’s all. I’ll be all right.”

He wasn’t buying it. The edge of the bed sank under his weight. He felt her forehead like she was a child pretending to be sick from school.

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