A Perfect Machine(29)

* * *



Downstairs in the dumpster, Milo’s sense of something being incredibly wrong suddenly kicked him in the chest. And it wasn’t only that Faye should have come for Henry hours ago.

Whatever it was, he felt it coming. Soon.

It began snowing heavily again.



* * *



Faye made note of how many people they passed as they walked the four flights down the stairs. Exactly one: a young guy taking his dog for a walk. That was it. But even one was too much. Too risky. She thought briefly of trying to get Henry to the elevator, then realized he probably weighed too much for that. His weight, plus hers and Steve’s would easily tip the scale, and the last thing they needed was for the elevator to break down, or worse, for the line to snap entirely. No way to get out of that one.

No, it would have to be the stairs.

When they reached the rear entrance, she turned to Steve, said, “Wait here. I’ll go get him. You be my eyes for this stretch of hallway. If we can get him to the stairwell, we should be OK.”

Steve nodded, again with that weird look on his face.

Something in Faye’s gut flipped over, settled strangely, and she wondered again why he’d bothered to come back.

Faye walked out the doors, looked both ways, crunched her way through the fresh snow toward the dumpster. Once beside it, she whispered, “Henry, it’s Faye. I’m going to take you inside now. Don’t say anything, just stand up as best you can without being seen. I’ll toss a blanket on you, then you’ll need to climb out. As quietly as you can.”

She heard shuffling sounds inside, one semi-loud crash as Henry’s elbow or knee connected with the side of the bin. She looked around quickly again. No one in sight. She craned her neck back – no one hanging out on balconies. Too cold and snowy for that. She thanked the universe this hadn’t all fallen at her doorstep in the middle of summer.

She looked back to the dumpster, saw the tip of Henry’s great metal cranium peek out from the top, and whispered, “Down! Lower!”

Henry’s head dipped a bit. She flung the blanket up and over the lip of the bin; it settled on his head, then draped him entirely. Or at least as far down as it could go before coming to rest on garbage bags and old coffee tables.

“Climb out,” Faye said. “Do it as quickly and quietly as you can, Henry.”

She stepped back, kept an eye out for any movement. She glanced back toward the building, imagining for a crazy moment that Steve would be gone, having panicked. She wouldn’t put it past him to have just fucked off somewhere at the very moment she needed him. But he was still there. Nervously shuffling from foot to foot, sure, but he stood right where she left him. He moved his head side to side as she watched. When he noticed her looking, he gave her a thumbs up. She returned it, feeling ludicrous.

Henry hoisted himself up surprisingly gracefully. He knocked once more against the dumpster as he pulled himself up with his massive arms, but it was even quieter than the first time. His right foot settled on the edge of the bin, then he was over, landing – once again – more gracefully than she’d ever have thought possible.

He crouched low, stayed as small as he could, and didn’t move a muscle until he heard her say, “I’m going to put my hand on your head and just position you in the direction of the doors. When I say ‘go,’ move forward as quickly as you can, got it?”

A slight nod from beneath the blanket.

She put her hand on his head, angled it slightly, as close to the center of the doors as she could, said, “Go,” then they were both moving – she, as casually as possible; he, crouched, blind, and shuffling.

The doors seemed a mile away now, and the snow crunching underfoot sounded like it was amplified through enormous speakers aimed right at her face. Her head swiveled back and forth, eyes peeled for any sign of movement. Nothing, not even the young guy walking his dog.

Faye reached the doors, opened them both as wide as she could, moved out of the way, whispered down to Henry, “Doorway.” In response, he made himself smaller yet.

She moved ahead of him once he was through, got to the second set of doors, used her key on them, said again, “Doorway,” and held them as wide as possible.

Both sets of doors cleared, she looked again toward Steve, who was more nervous than ever, but still stood his ground.

If Faye had been thinking clearly, she would have been even more distraught than she already was. She had forgotten about the lobby security camera.

I’ll deal with that later. Can’t worry about it now.

“We good?” Faye said to Steve. “Nothing, no one?”

“Not a soul, not a sound,” Steve said, walked in time with Faye as they headed down the short hallway toward the stairwell.

Holy Jesus, we’re almost there, Faye thought, her heart hammering, palms sweating madly.

Milo drifted in behind them, followed them into the stairwell. Henry’s dead shadow.

Faye eased the door shut behind them. They were in the stairwell now. Four flights and one more hallway to safety.

Safety. Christ, don’t even think the word.

“Grab a coupla corners of the blanket and lift them, Steve. Make sure he doesn’t trip up the stairs.”

“Got it.”

Up they went. One floor, two, nearly three.

Then the door to the stairwell opened on the ground floor. Faye, Steve, and Henry all froze. Heard someone talking in pet voice.