Curse by Steven James

Author:Steven James
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781503933453
Published: 2016-05-23T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Tane’s snoring doesn’t let up, even when we slow down and exit the highway.

“He must need to catch up on his sleep,” Alysha whispers.

“I guess so.”

“So you’ve been quiet for a while.”

“Just thinking. Looking at the scenery.”

“Hey.” She pats my knee. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how you knew there were seventy-two cars back at the parking garage. There couldn’t have been time to count them.”

“I do it without thinking. Numbers. Math. It’s like this constant thing going on in the back of my mind.”

“Sure, no, I get that . . .” Our driver makes a turn, taking us onto a quiet country road lined with horse fields. “So, you said you were looking at the scenery. Describe it to me. What do you see?”

“Fourteen horses. Some rolling hills in the background. It all looks really peaceful. Blue sky. White clouds.” Then I catch myself. “Wait. That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to you, does it? The colors blue or white.”

“Not exactly. Tell me about the sky—not how it looks, but how it makes you feel when you look at it.”

“Okay, so let’s see. Think of warm sunlight on your face. Or maybe touching velvet or silk with your fingers.”

“Okay.”

“Now imagine listening to Rush.”

“Rush?”

“The band.”

“I don’t know their music.”

“How could you not know Rush?”

“Sorry.”

“Tom Sawyer? Fly by Night? The Spirit of Radio?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Alysha, we’re seriously going to need to introduce you to some contemporary culture when all this is done.”

“Sorry.”

“Okay, well then, think of the most beautiful music you ever heard.”

“Mozart.”

“Oh. Well, okay. I guess.”

“Not a fan of classical music?”

“Not so much, but we’ll go with it. So, the sunlight, the silk, the music. That’s what the sky is like today out there, only for my eyes.”

“It’s beautiful.” Her voice is soft, almost reverent.

We ride for a couple of minutes in silence.

“Daniel, have you ever heard the story of ‘The Country of the Blind’ by H. G. Wells?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It was first published like a hundred years ago. When you said that about the colors not making sense to me, you made me think of it.”

“What’s it about?”

“Well, it’s been a while since I read it—Braille, you know.”

“Sure.”

“As I remember, there’s this mountain climber in the Andes Mountains. I don’t know if this is exactly accurate, but I’ll just tell it to you. One night he goes out to find some rocks for a shelter or something and ends up slipping down a glacier. He survives, but he discovers that on all sides he’s surrounded by these sheer cliffs thousands of feet high. The only thing he can do is make his way down into the valley. Eventually, he comes to some llamas grazing there, and then, farther down, he finds a village. All the homes lie along a single road. Every one of them is windowless and awkwardly built with strange angles. Then he sees the people. When he waves to them, they don’t respond. Finally, when they turn their heads, he realizes that they have no eyes—just shriveled slits of skin where their eyeballs should be.

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