Crescent (41 page)

Gerald’s PDA flashed on and off where it sat on the floor. Leaving the window, he retrieved the device. The small display told him that Marisa had left him a message during the course of the night. He looked to the bed where the lump remained motionless. The sleeping girl was a stranger to him—even after the hours they had spent getting to know each other. A sigh passed over Gerald’s lips and he let the towel drop to the floor. Stepping from the mound of cotton dampness, he slipped into his jeans and a tee shirt that reeked of tobacco and alcohol. Gerald took the PDA and went out onto the back porch of his New Memphis home. There, he slumped into a lawn chair and looked the device in his palm. The PDA’s LCD read 4:18 a.m. Marisa’s call had come in at 3:34. As he pressed play, her face materialized from a wash of pixels and static.

“Gerry,” she said and took a breath. “You’re busy right now. Alex said she saw you with somebody at the Depot and that you left with them…” She laughed. It was a small, short, and unsteady sound. “I know what you’re thinking.
So.
Yeah. I’m on the pills tonight. That’s not what this about. I’m not calling for…that. You have to listen to me, Gerry.” She glanced around. It was dark wherever she was. Gerald had trouble discerning her features. “There is something in me…inside my mind. I’m remembering things that never happened. Things I…think never happened. Things that now I’m wondering if they did happen.” She looked off camera and then turned back to lean in. The camera lens was unforgiving. Marisa looked like shit. Her hair was a mess; her eyes were sunken and bloodshot. Gerald filled with both anger and sadness. “I’m not crazy. Gerald. Something followed us here. Something from that place…the place I don’t remember. It all has to do with Crescent. I don’t know what. Jesus.” She popped a pill and followed it with a wash of dark liquid. She waggled the pill bottle in front of the camera. “Maybe Kendall’s gas blast did scramble my circuits…maybe I’m only remembering hallucinations from the poison…maybe it’s the
carthine
. But I don’t think the memory of the gas is real. Kendall never managed to gas the station—he ran out of time.” She laughed. “Time,” she repeated and popped another pill. “But, Gerry, I hear a name in the static when I listen close.” She smiled and looked sad. “No. This isn’t a ploy to get us together. Just…I want to know if you’re…
 
experiencing anything. I’ll even settle for an email. Please, don’t ignore me.”

Playback ended. Gerald dropped the cigarette to the patio and watched the smoke trail off into the night. The wind gusted and he wrapped his arms around himself.

“I don’t need this shit…” he said.

Gerald was not experiencing anything out of the ordinary on New Memphis. There were no voices whispering in the static. Nothing moved in the corner of his vision. Hell, his few occasional blackouts were self-induced. His index finger hovered above the callback icon for several instants. He looked back toward his bedroom. The desire to crawl back into bed with his new friend had waned completely. He retracted his finger and slid the PDA into the front pocket of his jeans. He didn’t want to call Marisa back either. He didn’t want to have the conversation she was getting at.

Gerald remembered everything that had happened before they came to New Memphis—from his arrival on Crescent to watching the space hulk disappear before his eyes. He scarcely could believe the memories. Probably, Gerald wouldn’t have believed them at all if it weren’t for the scars and the accompanying nightmares. He didn’t want to have that conversation with Marisa. He didn’t want to see her. Every time he looked at her, he saw that place.

The place where two worlds that had no business being acquainted had
met,
and the door to hell had shuddered open.

He didn’t want to go back there.

Not for love. Not for hate. Not for anything in the world.