Bad Glass

I stared at the board for a long time, waiting for a pattern to emerge, waiting for some type of connective thread to surface and tie it all together. But there was no thread. There was no pattern. The categories remained disparate, unconnected things—except for visitors and disappearances, which could have been flip sides of the same coin.

And miscellaneous? It seemed like these people, these experts, were stumbling around in the dark here. They had no idea what was going on, and their categories did nothing to illuminate the situation.

The hotel room—that frightening tableau, now burned into my memory—remained just as strange, just as alien.

I walked over and tapped the board. “In this … in this miscellaneous category, have you heard anything … like …” I groped for words, trying to figure out how to explain the body in the ceiling. “Has anybody seen somebody melted—a human body, just kind of merged with a ceiling or a wall? Limbs and body parts disappearing into solid objects?”

Danny shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. Not that I know of.”

“Is that what you saw yesterday?” Taylor asked. I turned and found a concerned look on her face. Not just concerned, but startled, going pale. “You saw a body? In a floor?”

“Well, I …” I shook my head. Pinned beneath that intense stare, I felt flustered. I felt a blush rising up beneath my collar. “No, not really. I’m just …” I composed myself a bit. “I’m not sure what I saw.” I shook my head, trying to dismiss her concern, trying to escape the sharp look in her eyes. “Just forget it.”

They both continued to stare at me, Danny curious and Taylor … well, there was something strange— something hungry—about Taylor’s expression.

“So what have you figured out?” I asked, trying to redirect the conversation. “After one, no, two months on the job, what have your experts deduced?”

Danny shrugged. “Nothing much. The doctors and scientists say there’s some type of chemical imbalance in the population here. Neurotransmitters. In the brain. They don’t know what’s causing it. They’ve been giving antidepressants to anybody who wants them, to boost serotonin and dopamine levels. It seems to help. Some.”

“Help with what?”

“With everything.” He nodded toward the list on the board: visitors, disappearances, sounds, creatures, mental, and miscellaneous.

“But it isn’t all mental, is it? There’s genuine physical phenomenon here.” I gestured toward his computer screen, where the mayor’s video file—09–07-pressconf.mpeg—remained highlighted. “Are you saying that a liberal dose of Prozac would have stopped the mayor from disappearing? That something physical— and impossible—was caused by errant brain chemicals?”

“All we know is that people on the drugs are involved in fewer unexplained incidents. The correlation is there, small but statistically significant. And believe me, that’s killing our scientists. It’s something they just don’t want to hear.” Danny double clicked his mouse and restarted the press conference video. “So yeah, maybe if the mayor had been on Prozac, it would have been different. Or maybe it wasn’t the mayor. Maybe if everyone else in the room had been on Prozac …”

Danny trailed off. On his screen, the mayor once again popped out of existence.

“At least it doesn’t follow you out,” he said, his voice hushed, suddenly sedate. “Once you’re outside the perimeter, the neurotransmitter levels even back out. The weirdness stops. Things return to normal.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed. “Welcome to Spokane.”

“We’ve got to go,” Taylor said. She gestured toward the door with a little sideways motion of her head. “The captain should be back any time now.”

Danny got up from his seat and gave Taylor a kiss on the cheek. “Day after tomorrow?” he asked.

Taylor smiled. At his touch, all the gloom and concern dropped away from her face. “It’s a date.”

“They’re trying the hospital again tomorrow morning. They’ve got grappling hooks this time. Just like Batman.” Danny turned and gave me another appraising look. He clasped me by the shoulder and shook my hand, once again flashing that perfect smile. “You might want to check it out, Dean. Probably some good photos in it for you.”

I nodded.

Taylor led me back through the building—down the stairwell and across the lobby. She exchanged good-byes with the guards at the door and headed east on Sprague, back into the web of downtown buildings. We both stayed silent for a couple of minutes, walking at a comfortable pace.

Finally, Taylor broke the silence. “Danny’s commanding officer—the captain—would shit a brick if he knew about our little arrangement. He’s got an issue with civilians in the city. Wants to crack down and force us all out. He certainly wouldn’t like to see us walking the halls of military headquarters. That said, he’s not above breaking rules if it suits him. He’s got some type of deal with Mama Cass—lets her food shipments get through in exchange for a free lunch every day.” She raised her wristwatch. “Noon to one. Predictable as clockwork.”

“Are you and Danny an item?” The question just bubbled out, a flash of fire from deep in my gut. A surprised look appeared on Taylor’s face, and I felt an overwhelming need to fill the ensuing silence. “It’s none of my business, I’m sure. It’s just … you seemed really happy together. I was just wondering.”

Suddenly, a loud gale of laughter wracked Taylor’s body, the force bending her nearly double. “For a photographer, you’re not very observant,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’m not his type. Really. The way he was looking at you … I think you’re more to his taste.”

“What?” Then, after a moment: “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Taylor once again started down Sprague. After a couple of steps, she cast a glance back over her shoulder. The laughter was still there, lingering in the corners of her smile. “He’s a good guy, a good friend. If you’re looking for a date, you could really do a lot worse.”

I blushed, feeling stupid, then hurried to catch up.

When we got back to the house, Amanda and Mac were in the kitchen making grilled cheese sandwiches. Amanda was tending to the Coleman stove while Mac leaned in over her shoulder. His arms were wrapped around her waist, and she was laughing, squirming in his grasp as he nuzzled at her neck, rasping his whiskers against her pale flesh. As soon as she saw me enter, a look crossed over her face: a momentary darkness, like a cloud across the sun.

Those animals. Those dogs. Those things. After last night, it was something we shared. A bond.

“Hungry?” she asked, momentarily breaking free from Mac’s grip. She gave his hands a playful little slap.

“God, yes,” I groaned. The smell of bread frying in butter and the sharp tang of cheese had already started my mouth watering. I was running on empty. I’d slept through breakfast, and Taylor’s soldier friends had stolen my PowerBar.

“And Taylor?” Amanda asked. “How about you?”

Taylor shook her head. “I had a big breakfast,” she said, brushing past me and sitting down next to Charlie.

As far as I could tell, Charlie hadn’t moved a muscle in our absence. He was still sitting at the kitchen table, still perched in front of his computer. The only thing that had changed was the addition of a half-finished sandwich resting at his elbow. Taylor handed him the USB drive, and he grunted a distracted thanks.

“I was thinking I could show Dean the park,” Amanda said. “Maybe later today.” She slid a sandwich from the skillet to an empty plate, then walked it over to the table. I took a seat next to Taylor.

As she handed me the plate, Amanda gave me a slight nod, and for a brief moment, her face became pinched, her eyes suddenly imploring. It was a fleeting expression, and when she straightened back up, the look was gone, hidden beneath a smile. “You’d like the park,” she continued. “People see things there … animals, sometimes. You might get some good photographs.”

I nodded, getting her message loud and clear. When I glanced back over to the stove, I found Mac watching me with a confused look on his face. He’d seen something between the two of us, no doubt the wrong thing.