A Perfect Machine(20)

Come on, Henry, she’s here. She’s walking away right now. Wake up. Wake up.

Henry stirred again, still partially asleep, but beginning to come around. One of his feet involuntarily kicked out, crashing against the bottom of the dumpster.

Twenty feet away, just as she was nearing the edge of the sidewalk, Faye jumped at the sound, turned around sharply, wide-eyed. She saw nothing but deep shadows, though something like dread crawled up inside her and nestled in.

She turned around slowly again, carried on walking. Reached the sidewalk.

Then she heard a voice like cracking rocks. It said her name.

She froze.

Nothing in that moment could have made her turn around again.

“Faye,” the voice said again. So much pain, like it physically hurt the speaker to form the word.

Her heart thudded in her chest; her legs felt like jelly. The sidewalk upon which she stood suddenly felt like a sponge. Blood pumped in her ears – so much so that she wasn’t sure she heard the next words from the voice correctly at all.

“It’s me,” it said.

The gloom was still thick, and the snow still falling hard enough that the few figures she spotted in the storm looked like nothing more than silhouettes from where she stood. She thought briefly of calling out to them, but something made her stop. Something connected to the dread that’d made its home in her belly. Something warmer this time, though. The voice now somehow familiar. Her mind raced to make the connection.

“It’s me,” the voice came again. Then: “Please, come… here.”

The voice sounded inhuman, and she knew it was insanity to respond to it, to turn around and look – to even entertain the idea of heading in its direction.

But wasn’t it someone she knew? Wasn’t it–

“Henry,” the jumble of rocks in the shadows croaked. “Henry…”

The connection made – as crazy and impossible as it was – she somehow felt a tiny bit settled. The first thought to come to her was: I knew you weren’t dead. I knew it.

Snowflakes melting onto her flushed cheeks, she turned around slowly, then stared down at her feet, marveling as they brought her toward the source of the voice. The dumpster. The shadows. Perhaps death. Somehow it didn’t matter. On some deep level, she was powerless to stop it.

Snow crunched under her feet, she slipped on some ice, righted herself. Tottered uncertainly to a stop about five feet away from the darkness near the bin. Breath coming quickly, puffing into the crisp early morning air, she whispered, “Henry?”

The darkness shifted, something caught the dim sunlight briefly and gleamed.

“I don’t think,” Henry growled, “you should see me … like this.”

Speech was becoming a little easier for Henry, and the words came a bit more naturally from his mouth now. He was slowly learning how to use his new body.

“I went to check on you,” Faye said, “but you–”

“–were dead. I know,” Henry finished for her.

“You were so… hot. Burning up.”

Henry said nothing. He moved slightly again, and Faye caught sight of something steel. Metallic. Fear knotted her guts. “What are you holding, Henry? What’s in your hand?”

She took a step back. Two more before he answered.

“Nothing. Nothing.”

Milo floated a few feet away, just watching, fascinated, curious how this would turn out. Feeling terrible for Henry. Anxious for Faye.

“Listen, I … something has happened to me, Faye. Don’t know what to do. Where to go.”

“What’s wrong with your voice?” Faye couldn’t respond to the content of the question. “It’s… wrong.”

“Sun will be up soon. Need to get somewhere darker. Away from people. Can you help me?”

“Tell me what happened, Henry. Let me see you, and we can try to figure out what to–”

Just then, a car drove by, its headlights illuminating the edges of the shadow in which Henry hid. She saw one of his legs, part of his torso, and the fingers of one hand.

Her jaw dropped, her eyes bugged, and a hand shot up to her mouth. But she stayed where she was, even though every fiber of her being was barking at her to run, get the fuck out of there right now.

The headlights whipped past the dumpster as fast as they’d lit it up. Henry pulled his leg in closer to his body, unsure of how much Faye had seen, knowing that at this point even a few inches was enough to have caused her reaction.

“I’m changing,” Henry said. “Into something else.”

Faye stared, slowly brought the hand down from her mouth, consciously lifted her jaw till she heard her teeth click together.

More people were moving around inside the hospital now. Outside, too. More cars, more buses.

“What do you need me to do?” Faye heard herself say, not entirely sure why she was still anywhere near this spot. She should’ve rocketed out of there as soon as she’d heard that voice – and certainly the moment she’d seen… whatever it was she’d seen. This was not Henry Kyllo. It might claim to be him, might even sound a little like him under all the growling gravel, but it couldn’t be. It’s impossible.

And yet.

“I just need to hide till I can figure out what’s going on. I didn’t know where else to turn. My only real friend was Milo, and he’s dead.”