Monochrome (20 page)

She felt tears in her eyes. “No. I get it. I feel so selfish. I understand why you should get rid of the memories. I pretend it’s okay, but I don’t want you to. I want you to remember me. I want you to care about me, and to think about me, like I care and think about you. I’m the one who should be sorry.” She brushed a tear away, annoyed at her vulnerability.

He grabbed her hand again, a sad satisfaction in his voice. “Well, you’re not the only selfish one. I’m glad you’re upset I tried to forget you.”

He ran a rough thumb along her hand delicately, making her skin tingle. “Even if I know that it doesn’t mean you will be with me. Even though I know you’re going to be with your family, just like you promised.”

Abigail didn’t say anything. She just squeezed his hand back and brushed away the few tears managing to break free. They walked that way, hands linked, in quiet longing for so many things they dare not voice, until a chill stung the air.

*

The silver light was fading. Abigail was becoming worried they’d not discussed sleeping arrangements. She cleared her throat.

“What is it?” Ishmael asked.

She rubbed the cold from her arms. “I was wondering where we planned on stopping for the night.”

He bit his lip. “Well, we’re a little over halfway through Monochrome and, very shortly, we’ll be coming up on a medium-sized town, Stoneton. It’s a fair prospect.”

Abigail felt relief wash over her, until she noticed Ishmael was distressed. “What? Is it a bad place?”

He took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, a clear sign he was nervous. “Not in the way you think. Actually, it’s one of the nicer, less crime-ridden towns in Monochrome, which is precisely the problem.”

Abigail didn’t understand how that was a problem and said so.

Ishmael scratched his beard. “A Hotel, even one room, will be very expensive here, but the only other option is staying outside and Eric and Geoff might be trailing us. Also, as I suggested before, it’s a very bad idea to sleep outside if you have another choice. It’s cold, dangerous and Nightmares reign.”

She shivered from his tone and the approaching cold. “What choice do we have? We’ll stay there.”

He continued walking, but kept pace with her to continue talking. “The cheapest place is halfway through town, in the bar district. The district can be a little unsafe at night, a lot of drunks wandering around. But, if we stick together and stay to our rooms, we should be fine.”

Abigail kicked a rock in front of her. “How cheap is it?”

Ishmael frowned. “One room usually runs you a yellow memory.”

She cringed. The prospect of giving a yellow memory frightened her.

He breathed out brokenly. “Yeah. I think I only have a handful of those left.” He put his hands in his pockets and watched his feet. “We could stay in the same room and split it—two purples—but I can’t promise that will go well either, not after this morning.”

She knew what he meant. They shouldn’t be alone together in such close quarters again. She loved Jason. She was strong-willed. But she raised her eyes to Ishmael and felt the rushing sensation of weighty attraction. If she were alone with him…

“Two crappy decisions, huh?” she intoned.

Ishmael lit a cigarette. “Yep.” He took a drag. “And I won’t promise you I’ll be good. Sorry. I might be able to help it, but I won’t. Especially since I don’t think you want me to, not a hundred percent, anyway.”

She frowned at his nerve, but didn’t argue. “Two rooms then.” He flinched, maybe because of the payment he dreaded, but also because her answer was another rejection.

She nudged him with her elbow. “Because you’re right. I’m not hundred percent sure I’d stop myself. I love Jason. I do. But I…You’re great.”

He made a face saying he disagreed, and smoked his cigarette in grumpy silence. She didn’t want it to be like this.

She peered at him from under her eyelids. “You know, I never thought I’d care about someone in the same way I do for Jason. I was pretty sure most men weren’t worth a month of my time before I met him. He’s always been so patient, kind, funny, and smart. I just didn’t figure there was anyone else out there half as wonderful as he is. I know, now, there are at least a couple good men out there. At least one more than I thought.”

She paused. “I’ve asked myself, trying to reason away the tension here, if we met in Reality, would I feel the same? And, even though it makes me sound like an awful wife to admit it, I think so. You’re someone I’ve never met before. We have a lot in common. I’m in love with my husband, but I’m not in denial. You’re a good, smart, interesting man, Ishmael, regardless of the mistakes you’ve made.”

His reaction was immediate. His dimples deepened and his step lightened. “Thanks. I do understand, you know? I’m just…”

She shoved him. “Pouting?”

He stuck out his lips in a fake pout.

She laughed. “Well, stop.”

Ishmael was still troubled as they walked towards Stoneton, and when she saw the city lights, she became even more nervous about giving her memory. She didn’t want him to give up one of his remaining yellow memories, but she also knew staying in a room with him was not an option.

Her heart dropped to her stomach because she knew there was only one fair solution. She must pay for both of them. Decision in her step, she trudged next to him in silence, figuring out a way to mislead a man who made her want to be self-sacrificial.

Full night was still a half hour from coming upon the city when they reached the bar district of Stoneton. This was the largest place they’d been in yet. They’d already passed through two seedier districts. Ishmael likened them to red-light districts in Reality.

They pushed through the calls of sad, desperate women and Roamers in the streets. Ishmael said one of Monochrome’s main prisons was in Stoneton at the edge of the city, and Stoneton also housed one of only three power plants in Monochrome. According to him, the bar district was in the middle of the city.

Stoneton reminded her of a less populated version of New York. The streets were much more crowded here than in the previous small towns and outposts, and it wore the pungent trash-sewage, urine smell permeating New York. There were old-fashioned, black-iron street lamps in this place, a difference from the smaller towns they visited.

The smaller, less wealthy towns, Ishmael explained, ran on cheap light—candles, fireplaces,
etc.
The buildings in the city ran on electricity because the owners were wealthier, due to the large population of desperate people selling memories in exchange for their products, Hotels, and supplies. The streetlights flickered and buzzed ominously, but they worked.

The walkways, instead of paved dirt, were brick. The buildings were mostly brick instead of the blue wood of the towns. Stoneton reminded her of pictures of old New England cities in the pioneer days. Like the other cities they’d been in, the people of Stoneton moved along with less energy and bustle then she was used to seeing in Reality. Most people were stuck inside themselves, moving languidly towards their destination for the night—a bar or a Hotel, most likely.

Some people moved in weird, jerky motions, mumbling to themselves. Others stumbled drunkenly about or pushed past people. Abigail guessed those few were on something, but it street drugs were beyond her knowledge. She held firm to the foam and yeast of endless dark beer and the medicinal tang of whiskey. Those were the liquid drugs of her choice, and she raised her nose to the air, sniffing out her poison. The bars in Stoneton, Ishmael explained, never closed and allowed patrons to stay as long as they bought drinks, which made it an unsafe place to amble. Some drunks were not as congenial as she.

When Abigail pictured the bar district in her head, it resembled the college bar districts she was used to—loud laughter, flirting, scantily dressed women, booze-brave men and live bands. She should’ve known better. Stoneton’s bar district was only similar in window appeal. Painted signs advertised beer and hard alcohol from their windows and displayed specials on standing signs placed on the walkways. Advertisements read, “Two pitchers for a pink! Best deal in town!”

Through the windows, Abigail noticed smoke swirling in clouds above the patrons’ heads. Wafts of yeasty-smelling air drifted into the streets from open bar doors. But the similarities stopped there. The air was not filled with ruckus laughter and music, but with a quiet, uncertain din.

People were rarely gathered in groups of friends and there was no laughter. Mostly, lone patrons sat, staring into their glasses or talking with one other person, reservedly. Desperate people eyed them from the corners of their eyes, calculating.

More uncomfortable still was the lack of music. To her, music was feeling personified. The low hums of a dissonant song spoke to her of shared depression and longing. The harsh screams of a metal front man her solace. Of course this place contained no music. People here were too far gone to enjoy relating. Instead they chose to drink into oblivion, the comfort of numb. She couldn’t blame them, drunken numb was her favorite place to live.

Ishmael grabbed her by the crook of her arm, steering her quickly through the bar district. She was ill at ease with his touch, but not because she didn’t like it, which made her more uncomfortable. She pulled her arm from his grasp. He didn’t say anything, but she noticed him frown for a moment.

He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and paused to light it. “The Inn is a block up.”

“Good. This district gives me the creeps.”

The discomfort apparent in his face said he agreed. “It should. We’re being watched; more than usual. I don’t like it.”

She peered around her. “What do you mean? Who?”

Ishmael frowned. “Don’t look around. I’ve noticed a few people staring at us. Usually people keep to themselves around here. It’s weird to have people stare after you for no reason, and so openly. It makes me nervous. It means someone is up to something.” She shivered.

He took a drag and motioned with his head. “It’s the red building up the street there.” Ishmael was looking towards a three-story, well-kept building with lit-up windows. It appeared much more welcoming than any of the other places they’d encountered.

“Good. You’re freaking me out,” she mumbled.

Smoke billowed from his mouth as he apologized. “Sorry. Just a head’s up. You
did
tell me to keep you in the loop.”

Abigail glanced behind Ishmael. He was right. A close group outside of the bar to their left was watching them intently, pretending to be deep in conversation.

“Do you think Geoff and Eric know these people?” she asked him.

She heard the shrug in his voice. “Eric knows a lot of people. I don’t know about the three guys, but the girl in that group, Corky, is a Guide. A dirty one. She was Terence’s guide, but he didn’t have time to get to know her, thankfully.”

Abigail didn’t get a good look at the girl, and Ishmael was walking too quickly towards their destination for her to get a good look now.

“Keep walking, Abby. We should get rooms close together. Just in case.”

She didn’t say anything. She just quickened her pace and grabbed Ishmael’s coat sleeve. Suddenly, she thought of a decent way to distract him, to pay his room fee without notice, but she wasn’t eager to go through with it.

When they made it to the Hotel Abigail tugged Ishmael’s sleeve and whispered in his ear, “Don’t freak out, but I saw a couple of men who seemed very familiar down the alley, that way, behind the Hotel.”

His eyes grew anxious and hard. “Eric and Geoff.” She felt a guilty twinge in her stomach, but knew she was doing the right thing, so she nodded in the affirmative.

He motioned to the door of the Hotel. “Go inside. I’m going to check it out.”

She nodded and didn’t pretend to be frightened when she said, “Be careful.” She might be making up having seen Eric and Geoff, but it was clear there were other people to be cautious of in this town. He shooed her towards the Hotel and crept towards the alley.

Abigail moved quickly. She made her way to the front reception desk, which was polished to a blue shine. The old-fashioned electric lamps around the lobby highlighted gold wallpaper. Ishmael was right; this place was much nicer than anywhere else they’d been.

The clerk was a pretty brunette woman, probably in her late thirties. She wore a black skirt, grey jacket and black heels. She raised her eyes at Abigail. “How can I help you?”

Abigail checked behind her to make sure Ishmael wasn’t close. “I need two rooms next to each other.”

The woman checked a book in front of her. “We have two single bedrooms on the third floor. Adjoining. Will that do?”

“Yeah, fine.”

The woman scribbled something on the pad. “The rooms have a shared bathroom between the two of them. Is that alright?”

Abigail waved her hand. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

The woman noticed her agitation but just shrugged. “I’ll get the keys.” Abigail thought the woman moved more slowly because of her obvious rush.

She called the woman back. “Can we handle the payment now, please? Then we’ll get the rest settled.”

The woman frowned at her, confused, but didn’t argue. “Of course, if you prefer.”

Abigail nodded curtly. “How much?”

The woman didn’t rush her answer. “It’s a yellow memory or three moons per room, depending on how you wish to pay.”

Abigail cringed. “Memories.”

The woman tapped a red-painted nail on the counter. “Two yellows, then. Unless you’re waiting for someone?”

“No, I’m paying.”

She shut her eyes and yellow-tinged memories instantly flitted across her vision. All the memories were ones she treasured. Her heart ached as she realized she needed to choose two, and soon. She felt her breath stop in her throat as she concentrated on her first yellow memory and held out her hand. The clerk brought out a yellow, glowing jar from under the counter and watched the memory the strange, green-eyed, young-eyed woman decided upon:

Abigail made to leave her best friend, Steven’s, house after a very confusing New Year’s party. She and Steven had been friends since the fourth grade, but tonight it grew a little less friendly and a lot more uncomfortable. He stared at her all night, but kept avoiding her during the party. She didn’t understand what she did to upset him. She decided, before she went home, to confront him about it. Steven was never evasive with her before, but here he was showing her out the door and shutting it without saying goodbye.