She smiled back at me, not really like an adult to a child, more like another kid. “Sometimes,” she said, “you have to talk tough to these people.” There was a pause and then we both started to laugh. “Oh God,” she said, still laughing. “I sound like a gangster movie.” That set us off all over again.
After that, I felt kind of embarrassed. “I guess I better go,” I said.
She ignored me. “Tell me about yourself,” she said. So I told her about where I live, and school, and how a lot of times the other kids all seemed like jerks to me. She nodded and said she used to feel that way too. “Still do, sometimes,” she said, and we both laughed again. Then she asked me if I knew what I wanted to study in college. I didn’t dare look at her as I said, “I kind of thought I would study demonic law.”
She didn’t say anything personal or cute. She just said, “It’s a good profession. A lot of work, a long time to study. But it can be worth it. When you apply to colleges, let me know. I’ll write a recommendation.”
My mouth fell open. It really did, just like they say in stories. “Thank you,” I said finally. “Thank you very much.” I could just imagine those college admission officers opening up yet another application envelope and finding a rec letter from Alison Birkett.
I went home a little after that. I didn’t look forward to facing my parents. I thought they would ground me or something for running off to Ms Birkett by myself, but all they cared about was the attack. How could it happen, they wanted to know. Didn’t Alison Birkett say Lisa Black Dust 7 was just a branch of a single entity? What did it mean? Though it kind of excited me that they were questioning me, I finally got them to call Ms Birkett. After half an hour shouting on the phone they calmed down. A few days later, the official SDA report came. It didn’t say that much really, just promised extra vigilance, greater surveillance, that sort of thing. After a few weeks without any trouble, things sort of got back to normal.
Over the next couple of months I came into town to visit Ms Birkett about once a week. They weren’t very long visits. I’d go in with my father, or Mom if she needed to go shopping, and I’d stop by the office for maybe half an hour, then meet Mom or take the train home. A couple of times she took me to lunch. When school started it was a little harder, but Ms Birkett often worked Saturdays and my folks sometimes went into town for cultural stuff on Saturday so that worked out.
Maybe I should have spent some of that time with Paul. Maybe if I’d been there for him things wouldn’t have happened the way they did. I did go see him pretty soon after the incidents. I was excited, actually, and I guess I went on too much about the stuff Ms Birkett had said on the phone and how she’d treated the SDA head like a bad boy. Paul didn’t seem to care. He tried to smile a few times, but mostly he just sat bent over, not saying anything.
I think I got annoyed with him, because I started to attack him for not reporting the strange phone calls and the other stuff that had happened.
“But they weren’t anything bad,” he said.
“Not bad?” I yelled. “That cab driver almost drove you into a building.”
“I mean the things before that,” he said. “Some of them were kind of nice. Like the smell in the shower.”
“Ms Birkett says that’s how they pull you in. Get you to lower your guard.”
Paul shrugged. “I guess.”
“Paul,” I said, “I want you to promise me you’ll protect yourself. Please.”
He smiled at me. “Sure.”
“Promise you’ll report any strange events. Even pleasant ones.”
Still smiling, he nodded. “Okay. I promise.” We hugged each other, but when I let him go, he just sat there again.
“It’s just…I don’t know. Sometimes I just feel so lonely.”
“You can always call me,” I said.
“You know,” Paul said, “she always said she would never harm me.”
“Paul!” I yelled at him.
He held up a hand. “I know, I know,” he said. “I promise.”
“And promise you’ll call me if you feel lonely.”
“Okay,” he said. “It’s a deal.”
I know I should never have taken his word. I know I should have kept after him. Maybe made him see a therapist or something, someone to wave rattles over his head and “travel the circles of his inner being” (I read that once in a brochure). But instead, I just went off on my own. With Alison.
But I was with him when it happened. I saw it even though I couldn’t stop it. In a horrible kind of way I’m glad about that. I would have hated it if Alison Birkett had told me on the telephone.
What happened was that I went to see Paul one day. I’d like to say I was worried about him, but what really happened was that my folks had been complaining about my seeing Ms Birkett too much. My mother even said it was “sick”, until I screamed at her to take it back. So when I had a day off from school I called Paul and got him to invite me for lunch. It was the only way I could get into the city. I figured that after lunch he would go back to work and I could stop in at the office.
He seemed really happy to see me. We went to a Chinese restaurant where everybody stared at us for laughing so hard. I loved seeing him like that. But then, when he paid the bill and we started back, his mood collapsed. He stopped joking, he mumbled or said nothing when I spoke to him.
By the time we reached his building I was starting to get angry. Why was I wasting time with this mopey slouch cousin of mine? I almost walked away from him at the bronze and glass door leading into the lobby. But I followed him in, along with a couple of men and women in suits.
Paul’s building was one of those early model office towers, with overlapping plates of steel outside and lots of polished wood and brass inside. A mosaic of the Army of the Saints driving the Malignant Ones out of New Chicago filled the floor of the circular lobby. Usually the building super kept the floor all clean and shiny. It’s a big tourist attraction and helps keep the rent high. That day, the tiles looked all dull, as if someone had tracked mud and gas station grease all over them. When I looked at it I felt queasy, but Paul didn’t seem to notice, even though he walked with his head down.
We went to the row of elevators, with their glossy walnut doors. In a moment, I thought, I can get rid of him. Go see Alison.
I started to hear voices. Crowds of whispers, hisses, laughter, people shouting something too far away for me to make out what they were saying. I looked around, surprised. There were only about twenty people in the whole lobby. It’s in my head, I realized. Get out of my head. I stamped on the floor, hit my hands against the side of my head. And then the elevator door opened.
A bright light burst out of the steel box. I shouted and jumped back. When I could see again the elevator floor heaved and rolled. I shook my head and stared. The floor was covered with snakes.
I started to scream. People were screaming all around me, climbing all over each other to get away. I started to run. But Paul just stood there. He looked at the snakes with his mouth hanging open, like a baby watching TV. “Paul!” I shouted. “Run. Get away from there.” He turned towards me and squinted, as if the light in the elevator had blinded him. A second later he was back looking at the snakes.