He’d been sitting there on his little rectangle of foam, staring directly at her. As motionless as the bricks behind him.
Corduroy.
Even when Pebble passed by, his gaze never faltered. He didn’t glance at the boy, didn’t give any sign that he’d even noticed, in fact. He simply sat with his legs crossed and, in the brief second she’s seen him, it felt as if his eye had shot a dark sliver into the core of Ocean’s soul. Her blood chilled, causing a shiver to tingle her spine.
She tried to remember if she’d gasped. It felt like she had, but she couldn’t clearly remember doing it. If she did, then he’d know that she was faking it, that she was really awake and had caught him staring at her.
But had he really been doing that? Her eyes had only fallen across him for a fraction of a second before panic demanded that she snap them shut, after all, maybe it was just a coincidence. He could have been looking around the room and she might have noticed him at the exact second his gaze turned in her direction. Really, why would he just sit there watching her sleep? It didn’t make any sense. Then again, nothing that man did seemed to make sense. There was something about him that was so different from everyone else that it made her feel exposed and vulnerable, almost as if he could see right through her clothes.
No, she thought, it has to be nothing more than bad timing and I’m getting myself all worked up again for no reason. It was no different than imagining the sounds of Pebble’s search were actually the burnt man creeping toward her. Imagination and fear were getting the best of her, that was all. Still, she had to be sure.
She opened her eyes much more slowly than she had the first time, wanting to ensure that she was peering through the smallest slit possible. Just in case.
And there he was; in the exact same position, he hadn’t moved an inch. Staring across the room… at her. Unblinking, motionless.
Ocean struggled to keep her breathing in check. She wanted to take deep gulps of air to match the rhythm of her galloping heart, knowing if she gave in it would be obvious that she wasn’t sleeping. He’d see the rapid rise and fall of the sheet covering her, and he’d know. And what would happen then? Would he be content to continue watching her silently or would…
Corduroy extended an arm and pointed the gnarled flesh of his index finger in her direction.
He knows… he knows I’m not asleep…
He curled it slowly, beckoning her to rise from her bed and go to him. There was no smile on his face, no expression what-so-ever. Just that blank, cold gaze that made Ocean feel like a frightened animal, cowering in the corner.
When she didn’t immediately respond, he repeated the motion. This time, his movements were more jerky, impatient.
He glanced toward the kitchen as Levi’s giggle echoed through the chamber. There seemed to be something desperate about his actions now. As if there were some pressure building up inside him, seeping through his burnt pores, filling the room with a cloud of ominous foreboding. Scowling, Corduroy repeated the gesture a third time.
Ocean flopped over onto her side so that she was facing the wall again and closed her eyes tightly. Maybe if she continued pretending that she was asleep, he’d begin to think that he was mistaken. Maybe he’d believe that—
She heard him stand and her pulse quivered in her neck. A slight tremor began jiggling the muscles in her calves and it felt as though the temperature had suddenly dropped twenty degrees.
She heard the crackle of the fire, and Gauge’s laughter in response to something Levi had just said. None of it offered any type of warmth as she listened to the shuffle and scrape of his footsteps against the brick floor. Footsteps that were drawing closer with each passing second.
Go away, just go away, I’m sleeping, I’m really sleeping, you think I’m sleeping, right?
She imagined she could feel his shadow fall across her, its weight pressing down like a load of rocks on top of her. At the same time, a tightness gripped her bladder, making it feel as if it had been days since she’d last relieved herself.
Ocean could hear him breathing now, that distinctive rasp and gurgle of air passing through his deformed throat.
Go away! She wanted to scream, to cry out for Gauge so loudly that her voice would echo down every tunnel for miles around. Her throat was as tight as if it were being pinched by an invisible hand… besides, what would she say? Corduroy hadn’t actually done anything, after all. The man could always claim that he was simply coming over to wake her up, and maybe that was all there really was to it. Maybe he was just trying to get her to rise and shine, as Levi always said.
But, if that were the case, why had he silently motioned to her with his finger? Why did he seem nervous and on edge, as if he were up to something? Why was he hovering behind her right now, breathing harshly, but otherwise not making a sound? Not even moving.
She could picture him squatting just behind her back, close enough that she could smell the sour bite of body odor.
Then, her eyes still squeezed shut, she felt a hand grab her forearm so roughly it was like a metal band had just cinched around her muscles.
Corduroy jerked Ocean to her feet and spun her around roughly, pulling her tightly to his body, his lips parting, warm breath tickling her ear. At that moment, all doubt vanished… Ocean knew that something wasn’t right.
The scream that tried to work its way through her throat was shoved back down as one burnt hand clamped over her mouth.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Now, Steel told me it would take a few days to get me a piece. Maybe even as long as a week. He also told me to keep cool, lay low, not to do anything stupid like running out to the corner pawn shop and pickin’ up a nine for a couple hundred less than I was payin’ him.
“What I’m getting you,” he told me, “is clean. Un-fucking-traceable. They can run all the ballistics they want and never get so much as a squeak out of that database of theirs. And, if you follow my instructions to the T, they’ll never have a barrel to match ‘em to either.”
So I tried to do just that. I went to work, pecked away at the keyboard in my little cubicle until it felt like my fingertips had been bludgeoned into stubby little nubs. I tried to make like it was just any other day, but the entire time, I had this weird feeling down in the pit of my stomach. Almost like the Chinese I’d picked up for lunch wasn’t quite up to health codes and I was comin’ down with a bad case of the Hong Kong Dog. Only I knew it wasn’t that, ‘cause there wasn’t any cramps or rumbling or any of the usual stuff. Not so much as even a gurgle down in the ‘ole G.I tract.
By the time I got home, man, that feeling had mutated into some gnarly shit. It still had that diarrhea piquancy to it, but, at the same time, it also felt like someone had released a jar full of moths down my throat and my stomach was the light drawing them in, if ya dig where I’m comin’ from. So I packed the bong good and tight, ya know? I mean, I had to practically cave my head in just to get the water gurglin’, dude. But once I finally released the carb, that shit shot down my throat like liquid silk. No coughin’ or anything… And let me tell ya, that Steel can get his grubby-grubs on some primo herb, man. Smoothest shit I ever had the pleasure of burnin’.
Anyhow, weed usually has this medicinal effect on me, see, and I—
No, you fuckin’ smart ass, for your information, I don’t have glaucoma. Nothin’ wrong with these peepers, believe you me. I see everything. Including how you’re tryin’ to shake me up with all these dumb-ass questions. You’re tryin’ to see if there’s any pennies left in the ‘ole piggy bank. But if ya don’t hear that rattle, it doesn’t mean that my inner child’s done run off to the candy store, man. Maybe it means that pig has had so much change shoved down his gullet that everything’s packed too tight to even so much as clink. Ever think abut that, mother fucker? No, of course you didn’t. Why am I not surprised?