Only No Sun: Part IV

David came back in through the ringing door. His hands clenched into painful fists. Hesitation.

“The found her. They fished her out of a river. Why did she go? Who would do something like this?”

“Fate. You cannot outrun fate,” said the pharmacist from his seat.

David slumped down into his chair.

“Harold, what was that whole Apache speech? “No one will have to die?” You sounded crazy.”

“Crazy am I? If I told you what I know…you wouldn’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll show you. I’ll show you crazy. Follow me.”

 

He went down to the cellar door and down a step.

David looked toward the front entrance. He got up and went to where the pharmacist stood. Together they went down, fading into the shadowed basement.

A subterranean mess of tubes and vials all of them intertwining and curling, liquids traveling along. Surgical knifes and springs and gears.

The form, an outline of a woman, on the sheet-covered table.

“Here is my greatest work,” said the pharmacist.

He pulled the cloth back.

David looked in horror, he screamed, and then black.

 

A woman in a green dress walked the sidewalk of the plaza cupping an oily plate of pizza. She finished the crust, throwing the soggy trash in the barrel. She opened the jingling door.

“Hi, Harold.”

“Morning, Beth. How’s your mother doing?”

“Fine. She got home from the hospital yesterday,” she said, rifling through the newspaper rack. Beth stopped.”

“Did you hear about that man who died in the middle of the street last week?”

“Yeah, I only know someone died. What happened to him?”

“The police said he had been drinking all day down at the Mad Raven and around noon he ran right out into the middle of the street, right into traffic. Everyone was beeping and yelling at him and he just dropped. The paper said cerebral failure but they always say something like that when they can’t explain the cause of death.”

“That’s too bad.”

“You know about that woman they found in the lake, right?”

“Yeah, the one whose body went missing from the morgue a week ago. Why do you ask?

“They think the man who died was her killer.”

“Could be. Anyway, enough about murder. What was it you needed?”

“My house is being remodeled, kitchen and bathroom. I was wondering if I could rent a room.”

“Of course. Hold on,” turning to shout up the stairs, “Honey, can you grab me the key to Room 13?”

 

Shuffling. Light and dainty footsteps.

“I don’t believe you two have met. Beth, this is Jennifer. Jennifer, Beth.”

“Harold, I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

“She lived away from me for 23 years, with her mother. 23 years lost between us. It took 23 years. And now we get to start anew. But enough about that, allow me to show you to your room.”

“Sure. Lead the way.”

“Go on up, I’ll meet you.”

 

She went up, passing Jen on the landing. A metallic glint caught Beth’s eye. She paused and then continued up.

Jennifer stood at the landing still, smiling.

“Ah, Jenny, my dear!” the pharmacist said, streching his arms out to hug her.

 

She remained frozen in place.

“How could I have forgotten!” said the pharmacist, reaching into his back pocket. He came out with a golden clock winder.

He moved Jennifer’s hair aside and felt for the metal square on the back of her neck.

 

Thirteen turns.

She twitched to life.

THE END…