“Dunno. Probably.”
“He’s got a newspaper in there, too.”
“He’s been asking for newspapers a lot lately. I guess the doc caved. He’s read every book under the sun, doesn’t get to watch television, I don’t see any harm in him reading the paper,” Warren said.
“And the doc gave it to him?”
“Yeah, the doc.”
“Not you?”
“I wouldn’t go in there. That would be crazy.”
—Charter Observation Team – 309
9
I was in bed, when the incessant pounding at the door began.
At first, just a light tap.
Polite.
Noninvasive.
I imagine the knocking started well before the sound worked through my alcohol-fueled slumber and the pillow over my head. By the time I heard the racket, the knocker had established a rhythm they felt comfortable continuing for a while.
About three weeks prior, I took a cue from Elfrieda Leech and taped aluminum foil over my bedroom windows, yet somehow the sunlight still managed to find a way around the edges with enough ferocity to cut at my eyes. I managed a squint before closing my eyes again.
“Open the door, Jack!”
The added dynamic of words containing my name brought my needle closer to awake than asleep, and I tried to place the voice.
Male. Familiar, yet not.
Eyes still shut, I crawled off the bed, planted my feet on the floor, and sat there a moment, my hands rubbing my face. I had a steady knock happening in my skull, too.
I stood and started across the room, nearly tumbling as I tangled in the bedspread on the floor. I must have kicked the down comforter off the bed last night or the night before or the night before that. Frankly, I was amazed I had even found my way to my bed. I took a liking to Auntie Jo’s chair, and when I found myself dozing there at three in the morning, it seemed pointless to make the trek all the way across the apartment to my room. The chair was closer to the bathroom, after all.
My brain bounced off the inside of my head with each step, so I took it slow, a shuffle more than steps. I paused at the kitchen, where I swallowed a handful of aspirin dry.
Clearly, whoever was out there was in for the long haul, and they would wait. If they didn’t, I didn’t really care.
I fumbled with the dead bolt, opened the door enough to see who was standing there.
Willy Trudeau.
A smile filled his face, and he managed to hold it, even though it morphed from authentic to forced the moment he saw me. “Hey, Jack.”
“Willy? What are you doing here?”
He handed me a note. “Your neighbor told me to give you this. She poked her head out about twenty minutes ago.”
Ms. Leech’s shopping list.
“What day is today?”
Willy pushed past me into the apartment, his nose crinkling. “Thursday. What the hell is that smell?”
