Chapter 6 - The Party

Things continue to go off the rails is Zoe's world

The Party

After that first night, the nightmare only came once more. This time, it wasn't so terrifying. Zoe recognized it as a dream almost immediately, something she had rarely done before.

Once again, the scars on her arms and legs came alive, this time with a cold, itchy feeling. She ran down the alley, but the pursuer was far behind. The crowd around her on the street ignored her, even when she passed the vendor's stall. She looked at the man's wares, and saw that he sold souvenirs of the old trolley car line. Just above the maps of the rails, a hand lettered sign said, in uneven calligraphy, "Tickets: $10."

"Tickets?" she asked the vendor, an older man with a shock of white hair and a reassuringly normal, wrinkled face. "Tickets for what?"

"For the street car, of course. Should be along here any minute, if you want to ride."

"The street cars haven't run for decades. Do you mean a tour of the old trolley route or something?"

"Oh, no. The streetcar runs just fine, and on time more often than not. Stops here five times a day."

Zoe had no purse with her in the dream, but was unsurprised to find a bill in her pocket. "I'll take one, then," she said. She handed the ten dollar bill to the old man, who smiled and snapped it smooth in a practiced motion.

"There you go, young lady. You have a good time, now." He handed her a scarlet ticket, ornately printed in gold. Permit One: All Destinations. She hadn't been examining the ticket for long when a streetcar rolled to a stop in front of her. It road a set of rails she had somehow not seen before.

"I don't care what Marie says, lucid dreaming is not a great experience. Dream logic on the outside, awake logic on the inside. I'll be lucky if I don't walk off a cliff or something."

She entered the trolley, which was driven by a man who could have been the vendor's twin. He took her ticket, notched it with a star-shaped punch, and handed it back. "For transfers, you know," he said with a smile.

"Sure. Because I would dream a trolley dream where I have to switch to the light rail or a bus or something. If you're listening, brain, i don't like you very much right now." Zoe took a seat in the middle of the car, and it pulled out smoothly. No one else got on or off. In fact, no one seemed to be on the trolley with her at all, besides the driver. None the less, she kept hearing the sounds of other riders behind her. A muffled conversation, a bouncing ball, a crying child. Whenever she turned her head to find the source of the sound, there was nothing there, and the next sound would be behind her once again.

They left the strange office building, and moved onto streets she knew. The passed the arena where the Wild played hockey, and headed west toward Minneapolis. They didn't stop anywhere along the way, and before she knew it they were rounding a gentle curve onto University Avenue.

The trolley began to slow as they approached the intersection of University and Snelling. Cars passed by without incident, as though streetcars made stops on University every day. Despite the fact that he sat in front of her, the voice of the conductor startled Zoe as it came from the space behind her right ear.

"This is your stop, miss. Better get off."

"But I don't know where I'm going," Zoe protested. "I don't have anything that needs doing here."

"This is your stop, miss. Better get off."

"Look here, you, this ticket says I'm paid up for every stop. What if I want to see where else the trolley goes before I get off?"

The conductor looked at her in the big mirror mounted above his seat, but his voice continued to emanate from the space behind her. "You don't want to be on this trolley when we get to the next stop, miss." The voice was calm, but there was a look of malice in the driver's reflected eyes.

Chilled by the change in the old man's demeanor, Zoe relented. As she descended the trolley's steps, she stopped to look the conductor in the eyes. "Fine, then. When will you be back to pick me up?"

"You won't need it."

As soon as her feet touched the sidewalk, the trolley began to move, its cheerful, brassy bell warning pedestrians to get out of the way.

"Great. Now what?" The intersection where she'd been dropped off didn't offer much in the way of clues. This part of University was mostly shops, and she didn't come here often. South of the University, Snelling was flanked by a dime-a-dozen shopping center on one side. Diagonally across from her sat the Spruce Tree Center. Its outside was covered in blue green tiles, a bathroom gone out of control. Directly across Snelling from her was a drug store, and she was standing outside a book shop. "Used and Rare Books" claimed the sign in the window. Perhaps she was supposed to find something in there.

She pulled the shop door, but it didn't budge. "What? I can't even go in? Why the hell am I here?" she shouted. The traffic droned by, unconcerned. Even the few pedestrians seemed unmoved by her outburst, and strode by as though she were not there.

Since she didn't seem to be waking up any time soon, Zoe decided to wander. Selecting at random, she moved north on Snelling Avenue. It felt good to break out of the mold the dream seemed to be setting for her. The trolley had brought her down University, and she'd be damned if she stayed on it like a good little girl.

As she left the large avenue behind, the shops became smaller and less carefully maintained. She passed a hairdresser's and a pawn shop. Across the road she saw a halal market and a run-down Taco Bell. She wondered idly if these were real places she had seen while on this street but never bothered to consciously acknowledge. She tried a couple more doors as she wandered, but they, too were locked. It seemed they were only barred to her; at the pawn shop she pulled at the door immediately after a short woman swathed in colorful scarves had exited, but the door stuck fast.

Four blocks from University, she saw a shop that stood out from the others. It was immaculately clean, and the details of all the signs and exterior paint were in perfect shape. The storefront was painted a combination of vibrant red, pale green, and gold. The sign above the front door modestly announced "EAST-WEST IMPORTS."

The difference between this shop and its neighbors convinced Zoe this was her intended destination. The trouble was, she had no idea why. What would she need from a store like that, even in a dream?

She walked the remaining quarter block to the next street, and waited for the light to change. She kept her eyes on the strangely beautiful store the entire time. As the crossing light guarding pedestrians headed north began to blink its warning, a man came out of the store. He was Asian, but dressed in clothes Zoe would be tempted to call almost aggressively American. Or rather, they would have been when Zoe's father was her age. Pleated kakhi pants, a red polo shirt, and brown canvas shoes with white soles made him look like something out of an old movie. The shirt was partly covered by an unzipped gray windbreaker with a tabless collar. Just before she headed across the street, he turned and made eye contact with her. She froze, one foot in the air above the street.

It was him. The mysterious young man who'd saved her.

* * *

Zoe snapped awake instantly. Instead of the fear that had assaulted her the night of the first nightmare, she woke with a feeling of urgent excitement. She was out of bed, putting her pants and socks back on before she had time to think. She knew where he was! She could ask him why he'd saved her, why he'd left her there afterward.

As she sucked in her stomach to button her still too-tight jeans, thought caught up with enthusiasm. Of course she didn't know where the man was; it was only a dream. She'd never believed in omens, prophecies, or fortune telling. Some maniac with a knife and too many spooky books wasn't about to change that.

She checked the clock. It was 6:58pm, nearly time to get up, anyway. She'd been napping to recover some energy before their friends came over for game night. Zoe hadn't attended many of the group's gatherings since the attacks, and she and Cheryl hadn't hosted at all.

Zoe twitched her curtain aside, and reached for the string that would raise her blinds. She looked out over the river and watched the sunset bathe the opposite bank in red light. She would rather be able to see the sun go down, but even these indirect sunsets could be really beautiful this time of year.

Still yawning, she joined Cheryl in the kitchen to get snacks ready. As she begin cutting carrots into sticks for dipping, they made small talk.

"I almost had that nightmare again this afternoon."

"Almost? How do you almost have a nightmare?" Cheryl asked.

"It started off the same, but the thing that was chasing me was farther away. The people were normal, too. Then I rode a trolley car, of all things, to a street where I found my rescuer coming out of a shop." Zoe shook her head. "It was so real that when I woke up I was ready to grab the car and go find him."

"You mean the Mysterious Ninja, or the hunky policeman?"

"I was unconscious, so I'll take it on faith that the policeman was hunky. Or ever a man. But it was the sword guy." Zoe deposited her carrot sticks on the party tray and moved on to stringing celery.

"He came back by while you were sleeping once, too. Trust me, he was hunky. If you like that straight laced, hard-bodied, earnest look." Cheryl dropped chunks of pineapple into their punch bowl and turned to look at Zoe. "Maybe we should check his name on the police report and find him."

"I can't believe you, Cher! I'm not going to start stalking my first responder."

"Who says he's for you?"

"The fact that no matter how many tight backsides and broad shoulders you ogle, you only seem to manage to go out with women? I'm starting to wonder if you're only visually bisexual. Bivisual? Bifocal!" Zoe stuck her tongue out at Cheryl as she delivered the pun. She waited for the usual rant.

Cheryl didn't disappoint. "Ugh, don't get me started. The only guys that seem to ask me out are at the gym. Where I'm not exactly thinking of romance in the first place. Because stinky and sweating is exactly the state I want either of us to be in when I meet that special someone." Zoe smiled to herself at the oft-repeated lament. "And the ones that do want to hit on me seem to do it because they live their whole life in the gym, so why not? More power to them, but when we email or IM they don't seem to have anything else to talk about. Maybe I should hang out in the library, find a guy who likes to read."

"Reading is good," Zoe said. "The library is new, though. Last time I thought it was an animal loving zoo-goer."

"How did this end up being about my dating habits, anyway? My point is, you haven't been meeting anyone new lately, either."

Zoe watched in silence for a minute as Cheryl finished up the sangria. "I think I've had enough of strangers for a while longer, yet." Zoe's voice was quiet and flat. "Sharing a Starbucks with them is one thing, being alone with one..." Zoe trailed off, then looked up to find Cheryl staring at her in embarrassed horror. "No, Cher, don't. I don't want you to treat me like I'm made of glass."

"But I should have known better."

"Bullshit. How many friends have you had survive a kidnapping and attempted ritual murder?"

"Well, none."

"Exactly. So why should you--"

Zoe's next point was interrupted by the sound of the door knocker. Zoe answered the door to find Franklin and Paul bearing a case of one of their expensive imported beers and a stack of games. She helped them into the house, and hugged them tight once they sat down their burdens.

"Hey there, Miss Hermit," said Franklin. "I was starting to wonder if we'd have to invade to get to see you again. Thanks for having us over."

Zoe answered from Paul's overtight embrace. "Oof. Well, at least I wasn't using you as a chauffeur service, right? Paul, honey, that's a little tight. I missed you, too."

"Sorry," said the big man. "I'm just happy to see you again, too."

"No guests tonight, Franklin?" Cheryl asked. "Maybe you're slipping."

"As if," Franklin said. "I just decided it would be a better idea to keep this first gathering in the family, so to speak." He grinned mischievously. "I could call a couple of ladies to join us, if you are worried about the turnout."

"No, that's okay. I'm not sure most of your friends could follow the rules of our games, anyway." Cher's tone was light, but Zoe thought the observation was a bit pointed. Giving Franklin a hard time about his confirmed bachelor status was a group pastime, but Cheryl seemed genuinely annoyed.

"Well," said Franklin. "They'd have been shown up by the two of you, anyway. No reason to hurt their feelings." He started putting bottles in the fridge, setting them down just a little too hard.

Zoe jumped and lashed out with her left hand as a touch on her shoulder interrupted her observation of the unfolding scene. Her hand ached as the edge of her palm slammed into Paul's forearm, drawn up automatically in defense. There was a pop as static electricity arced between them. She stared wide-eyed up at him.

"Sorry, Zo, I was just going to ask what game you wanted to set out first." Paul's voice was always quiet, but when he felt he'd done something wrong, it dropped even further.

"It's okay, Big Guy. Just don't sneak up on me like that for a while, okay?" Paul was very self-conscious about his tall, broad frame. He'd adopted a light touch and step because of it, rendering him near-silent when not speaking. "Maybe one of the card games? I'm not in the mood for anything that takes four hours, and no one else is drunk enough to put up with me picking poker. Oh my god, Paul, you're bleeding!"

"Wow, yeah. I guess your nails got me or something. It's not too bad." Paul clapped a hand over his forearm and stepped nimbly around her and headed toward their bathroom. "Do you have any Band-Aids?"

Zoe was already checking her nails. She'd been experimenting with growing them out longer since she wasn't typing papers all the time. She'd given them a new coat of maroon paint yesterday. The nails of her left hand were still pristine. The paint was unchipped and the nails were still straight and even. "Um.. sure, Paul. I'll get the kit."

* * *

All told, ten people came to the party. Mary and Kate had each brought a date. Zoe had met them before, but they weren't part of her core support group. They spent most of their time fawning over (and in the case of Kate and her date, making out with) the girls. They had forgettable, Dimestore American names, identical haircuts, and identical mall-chic styles. Zoe forgot their names for the second time within minutes of being introduced.

She was too busy wondering about her run-in with Paul. She'd found no blood under her nails, but there had been a spot on the side of her hand where she'd felt the impact. Her skin was unmarked, so it had to be Paul's but how had she hurt him? She resolved to talk with him about it between games; if he had developed a skin condition or something, he should have it looked at.

They'd just finished playing Fluxx, a card game full of pop-culture references and complex, changing rules. Mary was great at it, and generally won with a complicated multi-turn strategy unless shut down early. She'd trounced them once again through a combination of attacking cards, extra turns and a last-minute change of victory conditions. While Franklin and Cheryl offered her congratulations, and Paul made light-hearted promises of vengeance, Zoe got up from the table.

She was feeling extremely wired that night, despite a long walk that afternoon. Even two glasses of wine had failed to mellow her out for more than a few minutes. To top it all off, her scars were itching. Her arms she could discretely scratch, but she wasn't reaching into her bra with the guys at the party. The design above her heart, still surprisingly distinct, was driving her nuts. She wandered over to the couch, scratching furiously at her arms. She climbed onto the cushions with her knees, and rested her bright pink forearms on the cool upholstery of the back.

She frequently perched on the couch that way, much to her mother's dismay. Just like at her mother's house, the couch sat under the largest window in the living room, and her backward position gave her an excellent view of their small balcony and the river. What she saw on the balcony drove the irritating itch from her mind. Light from the apartment room cast a pattern of highlights and shadows over the gray form of another gargoyle. This one was perched on the corner of her balcony railing, its back to the window and its wings folded tight.

"Sonofabitch! This is going to far!" she said.

"What's wrong, Z?" asked Cheryl.

Zoe turned to face her friends. "The super, or landlord, or whoever is decorating this place with gargoyles put one on our balcony!"

"Gargoyles? Let me see!" said Paul. He quickly crossed the small apartment and perched on the sofa next to Zoe. Cheryl was a few steps behind him.

"See, right there on the corn--" Zoe trailed off as she turned to face an empty railing. "It was right there, on the outside corner, there on my left, I swear."

"Maybe it was a cat or something. Probably heard you shout, got spooked, and jumped to the next balcony or climbed the bricks while your back was turned," said Paul.

Cheryl stuck her head between the two of them, one hand on the small of Zoe's back to steady herself. "He's probably right, hon. For one thing they would probably have come through the apartment to get to the railing, if they were doing work out there."

"But," said Zoe, "I know what a cat looks like. It had wings."

"Shadows? I mean, we only have the lights in the dining nook on. It's pretty dark out there," Cheryl said as Zoe rotated in place and sank onto the couch. "You've been pretty annoyed since you saw the gargoyles the other day. Some gray shape was out there, and your mind jumped to the most annoying conclusion."

"Yeah, it's not like that never happens, right?" Paul dismissive, joking tone set Zoe's teeth on edge. She saw Cheryl grit her teeth and shake her head sharply at the big man.

"I suppose it's happened a time or two," Zoe said. She fixed a grin on her face and reached out a hand for Cheryl to pull her off the couch. She didn't like the idea of not trusting her eyes.

"Besides, I think the super learned his lesson," Cheryl continued. "You mustn't have been the only one that didn't like it. I never even got to see them before he took them back down. Not so much as a granite chip or creepy pair of wings left, now."

Zoe stared at Cheryl for a moment, then went back to her spot at the table. The men wanted to start a long settlement-building game, but Zoe wasn't paying enough attention to raise an objection.

Zoe had seen the gargoyles above the building's entrance that afternoon.