Game of Cages

I looked at my face in the mirror. “Shit,” I said. “He hit me pretty hard, didn’t he?”

“I guess so,” Wrestler said. “But it’s no excuse for that kind of language.”

“Sorry.”

“You can take a shower in your room. Take the clothes—heck, you can keep them. They don’t fit me anymore.” He led me back into the living room.

The woman returned with a receipt on a little black tray. I signed it and kept my copy. The place cost less than I had expected but more than I wanted to give up.

Wrestler handed us keys. “Your room is upstairs on the right. Breakfast is served until eleven. Checkout’s eleven, too. If you need anything, just ask Nadia or me.”

“Thanks.”

He left. Catherine suggested I get a shower first, then come back down to meet her. I accepted.

The room was pretty, with floral prints on the bedcovers and little wooden picture frames on the night table. The lampshades were edged with lace and the floor covered by a throw rug woven out of rags. Nadia and Pro Wrestler took pride in this place, but I would never feel comfortable here.

My shower was quick and hot. Pro Wrestler’s clothes were a little too roomy, but the pants had a belt, so I was fine with it. There was even a cotton sweater in the stack. I wouldn’t have to put on my muddy flannel jacket again. After I rubbed the pitch off them, I transferred my wallet, keys, and ghost knife to the new clothes. Unfortunately, in all the excitement I’d lost my toothbrush.

When I returned to the living room, Catherine was sitting by the fire, a little plate with a half-eaten bagel beside her. “All yours,” I said.

“Ray,” she said. “Give me your key.”

Was she kicking me out in the street? “Why?”

“Because I’m going to take a shower and change. I can’t do that knowing you have a key.”

I nodded and gave her the key. She took it carefully so our fingers wouldn’t touch.

“Thank you. Don’t come upstairs.”

I took her spot by the fire. It felt nice to sit. I’d been up for nearly twenty-four hours, and the last few had been way too exciting.

The next thing I knew, someone was gently pushing my shoulder to wake me. I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep.

“Hey there, son,” he said. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to talk to you about last night.”

I sat up straight and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “How long have I been out?”

“I’m told it’s been about three hours.” I rubbed at my eyes again and got a good look at him.

He was wearing a wool cap and a red plaid hunter’s jacket. He was small, a little older than Pro Wrestler, and he had a genial face that seemed used to smiling.

“Are you a cop?”

“No,” he said and laughed a little. “Washaway is too small to have a police force, and the county sheriff has his hands full, apparently. My name is Steve Cardinal. I’m part of the neighborhood watch around here.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Not idle gossip,” he said, holding his hands up. “If there’s a criminal loose in town, we have an email list we need to notify so what happened to you won’t happen to anyone else. I’m not an officer of the court, just a citizen, but anything you tell us could be helpful.”

What the hell. I told him the story Catherine and I had cooked up: We came upon a big BMW by the side of the road. When we slowed to ask if they needed help, they pointed guns at us and ordered us out of the car. One of them slugged me.

While the two men were arguing in a foreign language, Catherine and I ran for it. They didn’t shoot at us or anything. We ran through a big iron gate, hoping to find a house. Instead, we saw another BMW and more men. We couldn’t go back, so we went cross-country.

We followed a trail to a tree farm. No one answered at the house, so we went to the road and walked into town.

It sounded fishy to me, but I told it straight, my voice flat from exhaustion. Cardinal asked what the men looked like, but he didn’t ask any cop questions, like Did anyone see you? or What time was that?

Then he asked me why we were hiding along the side of the road when cars passed. I guessed we’d been seen sooner than I’d thought. I told him that we were afraid the guys in the BMWs would come back. In fact, one of the first cars we hid from was a BMW headed toward town.

He didn’t like that, but he forced himself to smile. I gave him a description of the car. He said he’d ask folks to keep their eyes open.

I wanted to ask about the fire, but curiosity is dangerous. Instead, I told him I was glad and let my eyelids sag. He took the hint.

On his way to the door, I heard Nadia speak to him in a low, urgent tone. I couldn’t make out what she said, but he did his best to reassure her before he left.

Nadia had a note for me from Catherine. She was going to sleep until at least eleven, and I shouldn’t bother her until then. The clock said it was only 10:45, which meant there would still be breakfast. I piled three scones and a mealy apple onto a tiny plate and carried a full coffee back to my chair by the fire.