Somewhere far away, the strains of Sibelius, like he’s still at Gennaro’s. “Should I ... take a break?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Nomi says evenly.
But for some reason, he needs it spelled out. “You have to say it.”
She looks directly into his eyes. “Simon, stop now. Take a break. It’s done.”
“Okay.” When he blinks, the room shifts, returns, shifts. His thoughts are spinning, and there are images of beef carcasses on the backs of his eyelids. Or are they bloody corpses? “I think ... I think I really need a cigarette.”
“Come on,” Nomi says, voice quiet. “Let’s get your cigarettes. They’re probably in your coat.”
She walks toward the roof pylon near the storage-room door. Simon tries to follow. He manages to take four or five steps before his headache rocks him, and pain starts spreading like a slow fire throughout his entire body as he tips, collapses down, everything happening in slow motion, and then he’s lying flat.
“Simon?” Nomi says.
“Simon!” another voice shrieks, and it’s a voice he recognizes. He recognizes the girl, too, as she bolts from the storage room like a streak of burning coral, dives onto him and hugs him around the neck. “Simon,don’t die!”
“I’m not dying,” he says weakly, “I’m just resting on the floor.”
But she’s strangling him a little in her enthusiasm, and the high pitch of her squeals feels a bit like having iron spikes driven into his brain, so dying isn’t out of the question.
“Brittany?” Nomi drops to her knees beside him, her eyes wide with amazement.
“I played dead, just like we worked out!” Brittany crows. She’s bloody, covered in gore; her yellow tee is half-dyed red. But she looks jubilant, the gap of her missing teeth prominent as she turns to Nomi. “I played dead. Simon put this blood on me, it’s ground beef. It’s kinda nasty, and he had to use some of his own blood? But we tricked them pretty good.”
“Brittany?Oh mygod.” Nomi seems to be in shock. “Oh my god, let me look at you—Brittany, holy shit ...” She’s holding the girl at arm’s length, hugging her tight, holding her out again.
“Did you see Simon go crazy? He’s like a robot,” Brittany whispers. “Like the Terminator or something.”
“What the hell—when did you seeThe Terminator?” Nomi whispers back, but now she’s glancing between the kid and him. “No injuries. Nothing except the damage to her mouth.”
“You mean my teeth? Those fell out a couple days ago—Mom says that’s what they do, ’cause they’re for babies.” Brittany’s grinning to high heaven. The migraine auras are leaving Simon’s vision, but forthe moment he can still see that the girl is the color of bubblegum, or those pink-and-yellow candies that Sofia Rosa likes. “I’m not a baby anymore. I’m a kid.”
“She’s a good kid,” Simon murmurs, looking up at the high ceiling. “The best kid.”
“Youhave more injuries than she does,” Nomi points out.
He’s becoming aware of that.
“Let me look at you,” Nomi says, but this time, she’s talking to him. Her cold fingers touch the skin below his collarbones, fold up the wet fabric at his waist, and she hisses. “That’s ... Oh Jesus. I mean, it’s shallow, but it’s not a cat scratch.”
“Time to go to the hospital,” Brittany intones solemnly.
“No hospitals,” Simon says, almost at the exact same time Nomi does.
But now Nomi is leaning over him again. “Simon, can you hear that? I can hear sirens.”
He can hear them, too—the “brrp brrp” of police cars in the far distance, the tones clashing and mixing somehow. The sounds don’t bring a welling sense of relief, the way they clearly do for Nomi. It takes him a second to remember why, but then it comes back. His fake papers ... his old identity ... the things he did as Simon Gutmunsson ... the things he’s done now ...
“The best idea would be to not get arrested,” he whispers. Then he takes hold of Nomi’s arm. “Help me up.”
“What?” She looks taken aback that he would even suggest it.
“I can’t be here when the police arrive,” he reminds her. “Help me up.”
“You can’t justleave!” Her hands are raised and fluttering, even as he rolls onto his side, pushes himself toward upright. “Simon, you’ve beenstabbed, you’re bleeding all over the place—”
“Nomi,” he says earnestly. “Think about it.” It takes her a minute, because she’s in shock, but he can see in her eyes when she gets it. “Ican go out the way you and everyone else came in, right? I’ll just walk outside and keep walking.”
