Pile of Bones (26 page)

“What do you mean?”

Ingrid walked over to the bed. She’d spent six months watching nurses insert and remove IV lines. That didn’t mean much, but it was all that she had.

“Close the door,” she said.

Shelby stared at her. “What’s going on?”

“Just do it. We don’t have a lot of time.”

It was exactly what Felix had said. Maybe that was why Shelby listened to her. Ingrid reached into her purse and drew out a wad of cotton balls. She slipped some cotton beneath the IV, then tore off the tape and removed the line as carefully as she could. The machine next to the bed started to squeal, but she reached over and unplugged it.

“Have you done this before?” Carl asked.

Andrew groaned slightly. She held the cotton to his bleeding hand. “We’ve been found,” she said. “The spado is here.”

Shelby’s eyes widened. “The nurse. I thought there was something off about him.”

“We need to leave.” She touched Andrew’s forehead. “Sweetheart, I know you’re tired, but you have to wake up for us. Okay?”

Andrew muttered something. He was still half-asleep.

“Get him dressed,” she said to Carl. “I’m going to create a distraction.”

“What kind of—”

“Just be quick. Get him outside. Our car is parked nearby.” She handed Shelby her spare set of keys. “It’s a gray sedan with a car seat in the back. Press this button on the fob, and the lights will flash.”

She led Neil out of the room and back down the hallway.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, towing him along, “we’re playing a game, and Mummy needs your help.”

“Is it a game in space?”

“Yes. We’re in space—”

“And we have to freeze the pigs before they steal our precious eggs!”

“That’s right.” She pointed to the triage desk. “See where that lady is standing? When we get there, I need you to scream as loud as you can, just like Monster.”

“But people are sleeping and trying to get better.”

She kissed him on the forehead. “I know, sweet. But they can’t hear you in the waiting room. Are you ready? Scream like Monster, and don’t stop until we get outside.”

He looked dubious for a moment. “You want the birds to speak with one voice?”

“Yes. I want them to speak as loud as they possibly can.”

They reached the counter. Neil began to wail. His high, keening voice cut through the waiting room like a siren. Paul got out of his seat and ran toward them.

“I think he has an ear infection,” Ingrid said to the nurse.

“He looked fine when you brought him in.”

“He’s been screaming like this off and on the whole night. Can you at least take his temperature? He feels hot.”

The nurse sighed. Then she approached Neil, who screamed and ran in the opposite direction, throwing stuffies at her.

He’s definitely mine,
Ingrid thought.

While the nurse was chasing Neil around the room, Ingrid saw Carl and Shelby emerge from the hallway. They’d wrapped Andrew in a blanket and were leading him slowly forward. He appeared to be sleepwalking. Paul managed to get a grip on Neil, who was squirming and howling like a mad puppy. Ingrid ran behind the triage desk.

“Ma’am!” The nurse was on her in a moment. “What are you doing?”

“Paging a doctor. You obviously can’t deal with this.”

“Do not touch that phone.”

“I’m dialing—”

She looked up, just as Andrew was stumbling through the doors. They slid closed behind him. Ingrid put down the phone.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Just come out from behind the desk,” the nurse said. “If your son will cooperate, we can take his temperature.”

She turned to Neil. “Honey, do you want to use this machine?”

He stopped screaming. “What does it do?”

“It looks in your ear and tells us how you’re feeling.”

“You said—”

“Come over here. It’s really neat.”

Neil insisted on having his temperature taken six times and then asked for a peppermint, but eventually they got him out of the waiting room.

“What the hell just happened in there?” Paul asked.

“Heck. Say heck.”

“Ingrid.”

“Where did you park?”

“Right over—” His eyes narrowed. “What the—is someone in our car?”

“My friends are staying with us tonight. I’ll explain when we get home.”

“Are you losing it?”

“I don’t even know how to answer that question anymore.”

“We spoke with one voice,” Neil said, beaming.

S
HE WAS IN A BUBBLE, SURROUNDED BY EXPANDING
stars. Pigs were everywhere—she’d never seen this many before, green and hungry, like deranged marbles. They’d eaten the catapults, and now they were noticing her for the first time. Spitting splinters, they began to move in a wave toward her bubble. It was too thin. If she breathed or moved, the stars and the pigs would rush in. Where was Ice? He should have appeared by now, a fan of electric blue tail feathers exploding from the void. But none of the birds were here. Didn’t they care about their eggs? How could they give up on her so easily? She heard a buzz. The pigs were building something with the splinters. They had tools, and schematics, and boxes of TNT. All she had was the bubble, and it was about to break.

She looked at the stars again, cold and resplendent, like seed pearls on a black cushion. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Explosive decompression would kill her before the pigs did.

It was hard to judge distances, but somewhere, a red light was flashing. Was it a vortex? Were they coming?

“I’m here!” she screamed. “Don’t let them—”

The bubble burst.

Ingrid opened her eyes. The alarm was flashing. Neil had crawled onto the bed and was patting her shoulder lightly.

“Mummy. Everyone is awake. Uncle Paul is making so much toast.”

She kissed his forehead. “All right. I’ll be there in a minute.”

His pajamas were the color of orange sherbet. “There are people here.”

“Yes, love. Mummy invited some friends to stay with us.”

“For how long?”

That was a good question. Her instinct was to keep everyone close, but being together didn’t exactly make them stronger. Now they were just a more noticeable target. But when she’d seen the expression on Mardian’s face—that cold amusement—all she could do was gather them all to her, like doomed plushies.

And now my son is probably going to need therapy.

“They’re going to leave today,” she said. “It was just a sleepover party.”

“They can stay. I have a lot to teach them.”

“I’m sure you do.” Ingrid threw on a robe and took his hand. “When you said that Uncle Paul was making toast, did you mean French toast, or regular toast?”

“I do not speak French, Mummy. I speak in words.”

“Is he cooking the toast in a pan?”

“It smells like Christmas.”

They walked down the hallway and into the living room. She smelled coffee and vanilla extract. Paul had already gone through a loaf of bread and was defrosting more. The eggshells on the counter looked like a pile of bones. He looked up.

“Morning.”

She’d always been the sarcastic one, but there was a world of subtext in that greeting. He continued to crack eggs, while his crooked smile announced:
This is FUBAR, big sis, and we’re going to talk about it after breakfast.

Carl was watching an episode of
Dinosaur Train
. Beside him, Andrew concentrated on dividing his French toast into symmetrical bites. His knife and fork scraped lightly against the plate, while Buddy sang: “T-Rex…I’m a Tyrannosaurus….” Shelby sat on the ground, putting together one of Neil’s human body puzzles. He ran over and knelt down beside her.

“Very good! Now he needs skin.”

Shelby looked up. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay?”

“Five hours in a row. That’s something, at least.”

“Thanks for letting us stay here. My apartment is usually freezing around this time, but your place is—you know—” She grinned. “French toasty.”

“Stop talking,” Carl said.

“Go back to your cartoon.”

“It’s educational. I’m learning about alternative families.”

Shelby returned to the puzzle. She frowned, examining the pieces.

“Try that one,” Neil said, pointing to an ear.

Ingrid looked at Shelby for a moment. Awkward and beautiful. She was listening carefully to what Neil was saying. He could tell that he’d gained an audience, so he was pontificating about the small intestine. How long had it been since someone was actually interested in her? What was the appropriate response? Her mind was assembling a list of reasons not to pursue this. Damn logic. Damn her cute morning hair.

“Hey.” Paul stood in the entrance to the kitchen. “Here’s a plate for you.”

Ingrid walked over to him. “Thank you.”

“There’s coffee, too.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Uh-huh.”

She poured butter pecan creamer into her coffee, then sat down at the table.

“Have you already eaten?”

“Neil and I had some oatmeal.”

“You could have woken me up. I would have helped.”

“It’s fine.”

“I really am going to explain this.”

“It’s no big thing. You were worried about your friend. You got all mama bear and decided to have a team sleepover.” He flipped the bread in the pan. “It’s actually nice to meet some of your friends. I was worried that you spent all of your time alone and dehydrated on the top floor of the library.”

“There are water fountains. I’m not wasting away.”

“I know. You just work so hard. I’m glad that you’ve got people.”

He smiled, and Ingrid wanted to stab herself with the fork. She was a monstrous liar. She imagined her good-natured brother at work, listening to the radio while he waited for a giant tray of muffins to bake. He was alone in the semidarkness of the store, already beginning to sweat from the heat of the industrial oven. In that silent, flour-dusted world, he paused often to think about his family. How many personalized cakes had he intentionally ruined, just so that he could bring them home, emblazoned with
King Neil
in blue icing? Now, on his day off, he fed all of her friends without complaint. He was so much like their father. She could almost see him in the kitchen beside Paul, cracking eggs and singing:
I’m a lumberjack, and I’m okay
—

Ingrid drank her coffee. She could barely remember a time when it had been pleasant, something occasionally indulged in after a meal with friends. Now it was the bitter libation that kept her conscious and sent her running to the bathroom every few hours. It baffled her when people wanted to “go out” for coffee. Why go out? She had an enormous stockpile from Bulk Barn in the cupboard next to the fridge.

“Mummy!” Neil ran up to her. “Are you finished eating?”

“I just started, doll.”

“Do you want to see something?”

“By ‘something,’ do you mean a computer game?”

“A something does not have to be a game.”

“But in this case, it is, right?”

He took her hand. “You will love it.”

“I think you’re overreaching.”

“Mummy!”

Carl got up from the couch. “What’s this game about?”

Seeing his opportunity, Neil instantly changed sides. “It is a game about pigs who build things! Come see!”

“You really don’t have to,” Ingrid said.

“It’s no problem. I think I’ve absorbed enough
Dinosaur Train
for one morning.”

“You’re very kind.” She turned to Neil. “Only five minutes, okay, bub? Then you have to release our guest from captivity.”

He grabbed Carl’s hand, leading him down the hallway.

“I can start on the dishes,” Ingrid said.

Paul waved her off. “There’s a machine for that. Go hang out with your friends. We’ve still got a half hour before he needs to get ready for day care.”

“He’s always late. I’m sure they talk about us.”

“Is there some academic term for worrying too much about what other people think?”

“Grad student.”

“I’m sure he’s not missing much. Five minutes lost in the magic carpet. As long as his hair’s combed and he doesn’t have glitter glue on his face, I call that a win.”

When Paul had first offered to move in, she was skeptical. He’d never been particularly good with kids. He didn’t seem to grasp how his schedule was going to change simply by getting caught in Neil’s orbit. In the end, though, it was Paul who turned out to be a natural at this. He cut away crusts and arranged vegetables into mock battles. When Neil resisted sleep with every fiber of his being, it was Paul who would hold him like a trembling sack of potatoes, rocking gently in the middle of the hallway. Even now, when he was deep in thought, he swayed on the balls of his feet without realizing it. The Dance of Nod, they’d called it.
Paul’s transition to parenthood was seamless, while Ingrid still felt as if she were merging into that lane, completely blind.

At first, it was awkward when people mistook Paul for her husband. He was six years her junior, and women would give her a sly look, as if to say,
Nice work
. Explaining their family grew tedious, and people were always asking questions.
Do your parents help out? Does he ever get to see his dad?
Neil would get frustrated by this line of inquiry.
This is mine Mummy and this is mine Uncle Paul,
he’d say, with an edge to his voice. People were usually charmed by that and dropped the matter.

Ingrid took her plate into the living room. Shelby had finished the puzzle.
Dinosaur Train
was over, but neither of the guests was bold enough to start another program, so they just stared politely at the blank screen. She could faintly hear the sounds of the pig game. Neil could play it for hours, and she worried about how it might be affecting his concentration. He could cycle through menus so quickly now. She’d woken up the other day to find him surfing YouTube.

Andrew stared into his coffee cup. He was distracted by his own thoughts, and Ingrid watched the cup tilt slightly, until he caught it with his other hand. She sat down next to him. The steam from their mugs twined in the air, like honeysuckle.

“How do you feel?”

He didn’t raise his eyes from the mug. “My lungs are sore. Whatever they gave me at the hospital must have quite the half-life, because I still feel out of ambit. Other than that, I’m okay. No permanent damage.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I can’t believe I fell into the lake.”

Don’t say freak accident.
“Well—it could have happened to anyone.”

“But I don’t like the water.”

“It was the wine,” Shelby said quickly.

“I had wine?”

“A little.”

“But I don’t drink.”

She was trying to keep her expression neutral. “We were winding down—you know, from all the marking. Carl convinced you to have some. You know how persuasive he can be.”

“That’s true.” He turned the mug in his hands. “I wish I could remember.”

“It’s probably for the best that you can’t.”

“I hate that I caused everyone so much trouble.”

Ingrid tried to put a hand on his knee. He flinched. Unsure of what to do, she let her fingertips hover in empty space. It was the same way she used to pet her childhood cat, who was afraid of hands. You had to let her come to you.

“It was no trouble,” she said. “We’re just glad that you’re all right.”

“I had the strangest dream last night.”

“Oh?” There was an odd note in Shelby’s voice. “What was it about?”

He frowned. “I can only remember bits and pieces. There was this little boat, made of shells and seaweed. I think there was a castle, too. And something mechanical. I could hear it clicking against the floor. I think it was following me.”

“Those hospital drugs will give you the sketchiest dreams.”

“I suppose.” He got up. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” Ingrid said. “It’s down the hall, first door on the right.”

“Thank you.” He walked slowly out of the living room. His steps were uneven, as if a part of him were still asleep.

“Oh God.” Shelby rubbed her temples. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Ingrid said quietly. She cast a glance toward the kitchen. Paul was loading the dishwasher and didn’t seem to be listening. “The mind has ways of protecting itself, just like the park. Even if he remembers a bit more, it won’t make sense. All you can do is distract him from whatever pieces of knowledge are left.”

“I’m a terrible liar.”

“I don’t believe that. Only the best liars can play this game.”

Shelby glanced at Paul for a second. Then her eyes widened. “He—”

“Only the best,” she repeated. “That’s the price you pay. If you’re going to have two lives, one of them stays in the dark.”

“We were so close to being a company,” Shelby murmured.

“He may find his way back. You don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“But what are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

“You cope. You manage his confusion. Ultimately, he trusts you. He won’t let go of that unless you give him a reason.”

Her voice lowered to a whisper. “It’s just so fucking—”

Someone screamed.

It wasn’t Neil, but Ingrid still leapt up. She was the first one down the hallway. Carl emerged from the office, looking confused. Neil was right behind him, holding a red Angry Bird in front of him like a talisman. It must have been Andrew. Ingrid took a breath, then knocked gently on the bathroom door.

“Is everything okay?”

There was no response.

“Andrew?” Carl stepped forward. “I’m coming in, all right?”

He opened the door. Andrew was sitting on the rim of the claw-foot tub. He had his arms wrapped around his chest and was breathing heavily. The tap was still running. Carl turned it off, then drew a step closer to Andrew.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“There was something in the tub.” He didn’t look up. His bare feet matched the white of the hexagonal tiles.

“What kind of something?”

“I don’t know. I only saw it for a second.”

“Was it a house centipede?” Shelby asked from the doorway. “I’ve got a whole system that involves a jar and a piece of cardboard, if you want me to get rid of it.”

“Not an insect,” Andrew said. “A girl.”

Carl sat next to him on the rim of the tub. “You mean—a doll, or something?”

“No. It looked like a girl. With seaweed in her hair.”

Ingrid’s blood went cold.

She’d heard of lares being seen beyond the park, but those were just stories. Only humans could cross over. Even if some small part of Roldan was still alive in Andrew, how would he recognize a lar? He’d never seen one. They were only rustles and whispers to an auditor.