Chiral Mad 3 by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Published: 2016-04-02T22:00:00+00:00

I pulled out the card Marco had given me and phoned for him to come take me back to the motel, which he said that after he was through with his fare, he’d do. I didn’t really care how long he’d take. I was fine with waiting. I had a lot of thinking to get done. And sitting with the house at my back, both the one from my memory and the one that was real, I came to realize what I was in for. But even though I knew what must be next, knew in my heart, knew in my soul, there was still the part of me that thought—what if I was wrong?

Which is why by the time Marco arrived to pick me up, I’d changed my plan, and instead of having him head back to the motel, I merely had him drive me a couple of blocks away and let me off there. I apologized for the short fare, made sure to tip him well, and explained what I needed from him next. He didn’t seem to mind. The desperation was probably spilling off me, and he could probably sense that.

I walked back to the house, keeping to the shadows, and watched from across the street until lights went on upstairs in Lou’s room … and then off again. Once I figured he had to be asleep, which his snoring from the night before told me he would do solidly (and a good thing, too), I entered via the back door, which led directly into the kitchen.

Off to the side, I could see Mom back in her cot, asleep this time, or so it seemed, no longer staring off at things unseen. I watched her for a while, wondering if the part of her that mattered really could have gone where I’d thought it had gone. I looked away, scanning the ephemera around us, enough for multiple lifetimes. Could I possibly be right?

There was only one way to find out.

I started with a box above the refrigerator. As quietly as I could, I unfolded the lid and filled a bag with sock monkeys, Raggedy Ann dolls, and packages of cookies with long-passed expiration dates (why were those things even together?), then resealed the box so no one could possibly notice anything had been taken. Until I was proven right, everything had to be done surreptitiously. I moved through what once was a kitchen and what once was a dining room, looking for the most easily reachable boxes, ones which I could ransack and still leave appearing undisturbed. I took nothing that was in plain sight, loading bag after bag until I’d reached the limit of how many I thought would fit in the back of the cab, and dragged them through the backyard to a side street. I left them there, knowing they’d be safe—as far as I knew, Mom was the only one who rummaged through trash in this neighborhood—then went back to say goodbye. But also a hopeful hello.

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