“No, it’s all right. I want to know the truth.” She looked at the hills where Valentine had been staring a moment before. “If it wasn’t so scary here, I’d like to see the people who write in hieroglyphics.”
“We can’t do that,” Valentine said. “But I can give you what you came here for. I can take you to see Father. I know where he lives.”
“I’d love that.”
“How’s your ankle?”
“Much better.”
“Then let’s go.”
They crossed the roofs under the moon, back the way they’d come the previous night, and descended the fire escape to the street. Then they turned inland, headed toward the heaps of giant apartment buildings she’d seen from the roof. At the corner Valentine stopped her. He turned up the collar on her coat so that it covered more of her face. After studying her for a moment, he ran his hands down the sides of a telephone pole and wiped smeared dirt across Zoe’s forehead and cheeks. He ended by popping a final dot of dirt on the end of her nose with his thumb. “Now you look more like one of us,” he said.
She soon lost track of time as they walked. In the day that was exactly the same as the previous night, the idea of seconds, minutes, and hours became fantastical, like something from a fairy tale. She tried counting the streets, but they were so twisted around she had no idea where one stopped and another began. But they were definitely in an older part of the city. They crossed tall stone walkways lit by bent gaslights and descended long flights of cobblestone staircases to narrow catwalks just inches above murky canal water. Since she couldn’t make out streets, Zoe tried remembering landmarks along the way. There was a half-burned billboard with the remains of a woman’s smile beneath one of the stone walkways.
As they walked, Valentine dragged his boots through debris in the gutters and picked up anything he could find that was shiny, sometimes throwing it away and sometimes pocketing it. She understood now how his little house had become so crowded. His delight when he found something he liked was almost like that of a kid, Zoe thought. In fact, even though he was older, in some ways Valentine felt more like a little brother. She guessed it had something to do with his being dead so long. He never had the chance to go out into the world and grow up like Zoe and her friends did. He started collecting junk when he got to Iphigene and never stopped because there wasn’t anyone to show him that there was anything else to do. He’d been cheated of so much. It didn’t seem fair, but then what was fair in this strange place?
At the bottom of a staircase, in a circle of stones made where twisting buildings left an open patch of land, were the remains of what looked like a campsite. Ragged beds, tables, chairs, and lamps had been dragged outside.
“Why would people take their stuff outside where it rains?” asked Zoe.
Valentine didn’t even turn his head.
“Not all the apartments are that nice. Some people prefer the street.”
The camp was all just wreckage now. Splintered wood and gutted mattresses. The place hadn’t been dismantled the way police would do it. It was torn to pieces, as if by angry animals.
Zoe’s bad ankle hurt and Valentine had to help her limp over heaps of trash that filled some twisting streets by some of the old apartments. They were back on a street that looked more like a normal modern city. “Sorry about the trek,” he said. “Truth is, you can take that big street over there most of the way back to the ocean.” He pointed over his shoulder. “But I thought if Hecate’s dogs had maybe heard about you, it would be good to go the long way round.”
“It was a good idea,” said Zoe, panting. She sat and retied the rag Valentine had put around her ankle. She still limped a little but she could walk just fine.
“Anyway, we’re here.” Valentine nodded to the nearest building. The address was 5,111,304 Ouroboros Street.
The apartment building across the street wrapped around the building, tightening it in the middle so it was shaped like an hourglass.
“This is where Dad lives?”
“Yep. Fifth floor, all the way in the back, on the right.”
Zoe nodded, feeling both excited and nervous.
“Before you go in, there are a couple things you need to know. I’m not going in with you for the reasons I told you about last night.”
“Just because,” she said.
“Right. The second thing is that when we’re out like this, if something happens and we get separated, you head straight back to my house. Got it?”
“I don’t think I can find my way back the way we came.”
“Then take the street that leads to the boardwalk and come back that way. And if you’re ever alone, don’t ever, no matter what happens, ever go down
“Okay,” she said. Zoe wanted to ask more about the dying dead but knew it wasn’t the right time.
“I’m going to go wait over there.” Valentine nodded toward an alcove at the side of a nearby apartment building. “Take as long as you need.”
“Thanks.” Zoe leaned forward and quickly pecked him on the cheek. He stiffened a little, but didn’t pull away. She took that as a good sign, then hurried into the building.
There was an elevator in the lobby, but when she looked closer she saw it was just an open elevator shaft. Someone had moved a bed and chair into the opening and it looked like they’d been living there. She found stairs around the corner and climbed to the fifth floor. At first, the building seemed utterly silent, but as she climbed, she began to hear small sounds of habitation. Footsteps. A drawer opening and closing. The tinkle of a glass on a table.
Zoe’s heart raced as she stepped onto the fifth-floor landing. Her ankle hurt but she couldn’t help herself, and ran all the way down the hall to her father’s door. She knocked but didn’t hear anything from inside. She knocked again. “Dad?” she whispered to the door. No response. She quietly turned the knob and the door opened.
The inside of her father’s room was so spare it was almost empty. Like a prison cell, thought Zoe. While Valentine’s place was stuffed to the rafters with goodies he’d plucked from the city’s overflow, her father’s room held a bed, a table, and a dresser with a vase of plastic roses on top. There was a discolored spot on one wall where a mirror or a picture might have once hung.
A straight-backed wooden chair had been dragged from the table and set before the room’s one window. Every surface in the room seemed to be covered in dust, except for the windowsill in front of the chair. That area was clean. He leans on the sill right here, she thought. He sits here all day and night. This is his real life in Iphigene. Her breath caught in her throat and the stab of grief and loss made her fight back tears. Zoe reached for the rubber band on her wrist but it was gone.
She went back downstairs and found Valentine in the alcove. She told him what she’d found in the room. “He wasn’t there,” she finished.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “There’s another place where he spends some of his nights. Maybe we’ll find him there.”
They took the shortcut to the beach. The route was much quicker, and Zoe could see the reflection of the moon in the sea after just a few minutes of walking.
“Remember, walk slow,” Valentine warned her as they crossed the street to the boardwalk and climbed down to the beach.
The wet sand was heavy on Zoe’s sneakers, but it sparkled like snow under the moon. They were headed for the old amusement park where she’d spent the happy afternoon with her father. Zoe knew that she was getting used to Iphigene because it wasn’t at all surprising to her to see that the park was a wreck, a heap of collapsed timbers and rides that had slipped off their foundations and lay lopsided in the sand. She had to admit, however, that the place still held a kind of sad beauty, like a winter carnival frozen in a blizzard.
People were wandering down onto the beach behind them. Zoe turned in terror and was ready to run from the mob. But Valentine grabbed her shoulders and held her where she was, pointing to the street.
