“Your room is almost prepared, madam.” He motioned toward the door and she fell into step behind him. “You’ll enjoy our Caribbean suite. It has been newly redecorated and has had kings and presidents grace its walls with their presence.” He slipped the key into the locked door and slowly opened it, his eyes adjusting to the near total darkness. “Hello?”
Trevor listened for any odd noise but Patricia pushed past him and walked inside.
He grunted as he kicked the door shut behind them. “I’m glad that the suite meets madam’s approval.” He tossed the towels to the bed and set the soaps onto the small round table. “You’ll note that here we have the elegant dining room. Over here is the sleeping chamber where madam can rest her weary head.” He stepped over to the bathroom and pushed the door open. “And here we have madam’s water closet. Unfortunately, it is a bit dark inside, but we can adjust the lighting to meet madam’s preferences.”
Trevor stood back and watched as she stared at the tiny room. “Yeah, my thoughts too, kid. It’s a dump.” He tossed his bag onto the bed and watched as it bounced. “But it’s our dump for the night…well, for the day, at least.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her toward him. “We’ll make the best of it, won’t we?” He tugged her hoodie over her head then raised her arms. He slipped the t-shirt off of her and set it aside. “I wish I could get us a room someplace really nice. Like maybe a Holiday Inn or something fancy like that.”
He lifted her to the bed and slipped her sneakers off. “Did you know that at places like that, they even cook breakfast for you?” He tugged her socks off and tossed them aside. “Now, we’re not talking Denny’s here, but it’s pretty good. Me and Lacey stayed at one on our honeymoon.” He lowered his voice and spoke as though taking her into his confidence. “To be honest, I think they used powdered eggs, but I could be wrong. Not everybody can scramble eggs like your old man.”
He tugged at the makeshift belt he had created with a lamp cord and pulled her jeans from her legs. “I’m sorry we don’t have hot water.” He suddenly looked up. “We may not have any water. Hold on.”
He went to the bathroom and pulled out his lighter. In the flickering light, he reached for the hot water knob out of habit and twisted it. The pipes rattled and a slow trickle streamed out. He quickly plugged the tub then stepped back out to the bed.
Patricia had lain back and curled into a fetal position, her eyes closed and her breathing fast and rhythmic.
Trevor leaned against the bathroom door and watched her sleep. “It’s okay kiddo. We can scrub you down after you get some rest.” He pulled the covers from under her and draped them lightly over her tiny frame.
He watched her as she slept. He couldn’t help but wonder what she might be dreaming. Was it of a time before the world tried to kill itself? Could it be her last horrific night with her parents? Did she dream of a day when she could be normal again?
Or was it the sleep of the dead, no dreams, no nightmares, only darkness. No mental images to give one either hope or fear. Trevor checked the trickling water once more then kicked his shoes off.
He held them to the side and winced. “Maybe we both need that bath.”
He peeled off his clothes then slipped into the bed next to her. Even at a distance, he could feel the heat coming from her tiny body. He stared at her with a pain in his chest. Was she sick? Or was this normal for her kind? He couldn’t be certain either way, and he froze when she slid next to him and wrapped a scrawny arm around his chest.
Trevor pulled her closer and closed his eyes. “It’s okay, Peanut. I got enough dreams for the both of us.”
Chapter 15
Hatcher sat at his desk, a pen tapping against his thigh as he stared at the monitors. “I know I’m missing it. I can feel it.”
“Ahem.” He spun and saw Candy standing in the doorway. “We need to talk.”
“What’s wrong now?”
“You.” She pushed her way in and scraped the spare chair across the floor to face him. “You have got to get out of this worrisome funk.”
“I’m sorry, Candy.” He leaned forward in his chair and dropped the pen to the desk. “I can’t help it. It’s like a nagging itch in the back of my brain that I can’t scratch. I know I’m missing something.”
Candy leaned forward, her voice softening with concern. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed. People are picking up on your attitude and it’s making folks antsy. Some are actually worried that you know something you aren’t telling them about.”
Hatcher groaned and shook his head slowly. “No, it’s not like that.”
“I know what you’re saying. I get it. I’m just telling you that your incessant worrying is causing others to question the safety of this place.”
Hatcher raised a brow. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Candy stood up and looked down at him. “Even if we found some kind of nuclear blast bunker, you’d still find something to fret over.”
“Well, yeah. Like, why wasn’t somebody else already using it.”
“No, you’d worry about somebody poisoning the air supply or cutting off the water or…” She threw her hands in the air. “You need to accept that you can’t account for every possible little thing that could happen.”
He gave her a smirk of a smile. “That’s sort of my job.”
“No, Hatcher. Your JOB is to help direct us so that we can try to form a community here. That was the big plan. The dream. To start rebuilding.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. “There
