Amber is still out there.
She will fix all this for me.
First, just to make everything neat and tidy, I take all the police gear out to the old well. I let it all drop in the water and listen to it as it sinks below the surface.
I’m not describing this right. My brain still thinks that it’s in control. In reality, I’m watching all of these things happen with my imperfect eyes. All these tasks are pure instinct. My legs move me around. My hands have their own plans. My nose keeps turning to the wind to add to our knowledge of the world. I’m no more in control than someone watching a movie. Sometimes what’s happening on the screen makes perfect sense. Other times, like when I stop to count the stars, I have no idea why I’m doing the things that I’m doing.
I’m a passenger.
(The light doesn't bother me.)
The light doesn’t bother me.
I’m much stronger now. Amber has every light on the first floor of Mr. Engel’s house on. It’s a hot night, but all the lower windows are closed. From a distance, my eyes watch her shape move through a rectangle of light. She’s looking in the direction of my uncle’s house. I bet she’s watching for the return of the police. They’ve been gone a while now.
I see her moving to the kitchen and I remember the phone on the wall.
I’m not conscious of any intention that I have to stop her from contacting the outside world. My arms and legs propel me through the grass anyway. Soon, I’m at the front corner of the house where the phone line emerges through the foundation and connects to the phone box. One of my talons pushes through the insulation and interrupts the connection. It was a new wire. They must have replaced it recently. They’re going to have to replace it again.
I hear her inside the house, practically shouting at the phone.
I know the feeling.
We’ve grown so accustomed to being in constant contact with the world. A small amount of isolation is terrifying.
When I was a kid, I resented my mom’s phone calls when I visited Uncle Walt. She always wanted to know details about what projects we were working on and what I had learned. Those intrusions sucked the life out of the lessons that I learned. When I had to encapsulate my accomplishments into words, their size and importance shrank. I eventually resorted to monosyllabic responses to her questions. She got the point eventually and called less frequently.
While my brain recalled that memory, my body was busy.
I’m clinging to the side of the house, lifting the sash of one of the bedroom windows.
I try to yell to Amber to tell her to run. She has to run before my eyes snare her.
I pause at the top of the stairs and tap on the bannister. It’s not to find her—I already know that she’s in the kitchen. I can hear her rapid breathing. When I really focus, I can hear her pounding heart. I’m tapping because it’s an innocuous sound. It will draw her closer to me.
I’m also tapping to find the switch at the bottom of the stairs. If I can get it to flip, the lights in the downstairs hall will be extinguished and I can move closer to her. We’ll meet in the middle and she’ll get to see my eyes. I think she will like them.
The switch is easy enough to locate, but it won’t flip. It should be well within my power, but it won’t flip. Everything in Mr. Engel’s house is old. It’s probably rusty.
Everything in Mr. Engel’s house is old.
That means that the lightbulbs are probably old too. They probably have those old, delicate filaments that could easy be vibrated until they break. As soon as my talons receive that information, they shift their focus to try to shake the bulbs. My eyes inform them that their efforts aren’t working. The yellow waves come back from the bulbs. They’re not moving like they’re glass and filament. The bulbs have been replaced with newer types. These aren’t fragile lightbulbs at all. Amber must have wanted to save money on the power bill.
I think about the breakers in the basement. I managed to flip one in my house. I can probably do the same thing here.
Just as I start to tap, music blares down in the living room below. It’s loud and the bass thumps. There’s nothing I can do against this onslaught of vibration. It effectively cancels any tapping that I might do. I’ve lost one of my primary senses and one of my strongest powers.
It will be uncomfortable, but I think that my body will be able to handle the lights downstairs. All I have to do is get close enough for Amber to look into my eyes and then I can get her to shut off the lights for me. Actually, it would be best if she shut off the music first. That sound is horrible.
It’s…
“The Mountain of Pure Rock,” the voice says. After a thunderclap and a gong, AC/DC plays.
Amber didn’t strike me as a WTOS fan. I guess I misjudged her.
If it were up to me, this would be a good time to leave. The bedroom window is still open. Climbing up was simple. I’m sure that getting back down will be even easier. I’m still full of power and I don’t have a particular hunger for Amber.
The problem is the letter and the snitching. She called the police once and she has paper evidence to back
