“I know.”
She stepped closer for a good look at his eyes. They were calm, but now that she knew it was there, she could see the hint of madness lurking behind them.
Embarrassed, he turned away.
They spent the next ten minutes quietly stripping and disposing of the tape. Afterward they sat on the sofa and watched cartoons. He put his arm around her, but neither said a word for the duration of a
“I have an idea,” she said. “Why don’t we go out?”
“We can’t go out. Not tonight.”
“It’ll be fun.”
“But he’s out there.” Chuck pointed to the door. “And he’s not going to let me leave.”
“Your dog? He’s not there. He hasn’t been there all night.”
“That’s just what it wants you to think.”
She opened the door to reveal the empty hallway.
“See? Gone.”
“It’s there. It’s just waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“I don’t know.”
She took him by the hand and playfully pulled him toward the door. “We’ll just go for a walk or something. Something short. Be back in half an hour. Less.”
He yanked his hand away. “I said no!”
She couldn’t see it, but the monster pup yipped from the other side of the threshold.
“I told you it was out there!” shouted Chuck. “Why did you try and make me leave? Now you’ve made it angry.”
The pup wagged its spiky tail.
“It was her fault. She wanted me to do it.”
The dog squealed.
“Yes, I’ll get her to leave. Right away.” He pushed her toward the door. “You have to go now.”
“But—”
He shoved her into the hall almost hard enough to slam her into the opposite wall.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow then?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll see.”
He slammed the door shut. The demon pup paced in three small circles before sitting at its designated post. The creature lowered its head, covered its eyes with its paws, and whined.
“Who asked your opinion?”
It belched, spewing out a foul reddish cloud.
She went back to her apartment. The monsters asked her about her date, but she just mumbled something about a change of plans and shut herself in the bathroom.
Diana studied her face in the mirror. Particularly her eyes. She searched for the same troubled psyche that she’d seen in Chuck’s, but she couldn’t find it.
Having encroaching dementia and being unable to diagnose it didn’t bother her nearly as much as the notion that maybe there wasn’t anything to see. Maybe she wasn’t going mad and, despite the weirdness of her situation, she was bearing up well.
That scared her more than mere insanity.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
West knocked on the door.
Diana knew it was West before she even answered, because his knock was peculiar. Two quick raps, a pause, and then a third harder rap. She thought about not answering, but the thought took too long to mature. She was already turning the doorknob when it hatched, and there was no going back by then.
West held a cardboard bucket of fried chicken against his hip. While he was always a disheveled soul, now his drab clothes were covered in brown and gray dirt. It coated his wild beard.
“You like gravity, don’t you, Number Five?” he asked.
Zap, sitting on the sofa, chimed in. “Gravity is highly overrated, if you ask me.”
She ignored the comment, but she did take a moment to mull it over.
“I’m for it,” she said.
“Good. I could use your help then.” He offered her the chicken bucket.
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
A lie. She was always hungry now. It was only the smallest portion of the ravenous compulsion that raged throughout Vom’s being. While it was rarely overwhelming, her appetite was never satisfied. But she was getting used to the hunger. A hunger she very deliberately did not indulge for fear of where it might lead if fed too well.
“I’ll take it if she doesn’t want it,” said Vom.
West’s mustache twitched, releasing dust particles into the air. “It’s not for either of you. I just need you to carry it for me, Number Five.”
He turned and walked down the hall, leaving a trail of sand in his wake. She followed.
She asked, “This isn’t going to end with me facing down an army of giant cockroaches with only a bucket of chicken to defend myself, is it?”
He shrugged. “Can’t make any promises, Number Five.”
They took a turn down an unfamiliar hallway. She was used to that. Maybe West was the only one who knew the building’s secrets, although she doubted even he knew them all, butshe was getting the hang of it. The trick was not to expect anything and to be ready for anything.
They ascended several flights of stairs that led to a door.
Despite her resolve not to be confounded, she was getting a little nervous. At the same time she was excited by the prospect of what lay behind that door, excited to peel back another layer of an increasingly strange universe. She didn’t quite believe there was no going back to a normal life, but while she was here she might as well find something positive about it.
West opened the door, revealing just another hallway.
She was disappointed, and that told her what she needed to know. She might have started out a reluctant prisoner of this weirdness, but something had changed. She didn’t know if she was getting used to it or if she was being corrupted by the madness always around her. Either way, the peculiar didn’t seem quite as peculiar as it once had, and the ordinary was…
She wasn’t quite sure what it was anymore.
Predictable? Reliable? Safe?
Boring.
And boring was supposed to be good. But Diana cringed, if only just a little, at the thought of going back to it.
West walked down the hall, and she followed. The air smelled sweet, but not in a good way. It was the sweetness of decay, of milk turning and meat two days past its expiration date. She’d always had a weak stomach, but it didn’t bother her.
A door opened and a pale thing stepped into view. It looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy, but with a featureless face. It wore a gray housecoat and had a gray scarf wrapped around its lump of a head.
The thing withdrew into its doorway as they passed. It shrieked, and nearly all the other doors opened. More dough people poked out their heads.
“They’re not dangerous, are they?” she asked.
“They’re wondering the same thing about you.”
