Infinite(68)
“If she’s still alive, you’ll probably find her sheltered under the train tracks west of my church. That’s where she usually hangs out. But I wouldn’t count on her being able to help you, Dylan. Eve doesn’t live where the rest of us do. She spends most of her time in other worlds.”
CHAPTER 27
The streetlight near the railroad tracks had been shot out, leaving the tunnel ahead of me pitch black. I parked near a fence that guarded a vacant lot overgrown with weeds. Using my phone for light, I walked down the middle of the road. Spiderwebs of cracks ran through the pavement, and loose gravel crunched under my feet. Where the asphalt had chipped away completely, I saw layers of red cobblestone. Above me, dense trees leaned over the railway bridge. Retaining walls supported the overpass on both sides, and ribbons of ivy and green mold ran along the concrete.
Inside the tunnel, brown water dripped from the low ceiling. The I beams were connected by round archways, where the white paint had mostly flaked away. I wasn’t alone here. The night people were with me, and I was conscious of being watched by a dozen sets of eyes. The smell of weed hung in the air, thick enough to make my head spin. I saw a lineup of old blankets, sleeping bags, and pole tents crowded against the walls. The broken glass of a tequila bottle glinted in my light. A feral cat sniffed among the debris for food and rats. Someone near me talked to himself incessantly, stringing together random words that made no sense. I heard the splatter of someone urinating against the wall.
I stopped near a kid no older than twenty, who skipped rope with nervous energy in one of the archways. The snap of the rope echoed in the tunnel. I waited until he missed a step and then approached him. I dug out a ten-dollar bill from my wallet as an incentive.
“I’m looking for Eve Brier. Have you seen her around here?”
His jaw pumped as he chewed tobacco. I could smell it on his breath. He spun the jump rope in his hand like he was Will Rogers with a lariat. “Who wants to know?”
“I’m a friend of Roscoe’s. Roscoe Tate from the church.”
“Yeah, everybody knows Roscoe. What you want with Eve?”
“I need to talk to her.”
He snorted out a laugh. “Talk, huh? Lotta people like to talk to Eve. Best wear a sleeve when you talkin’.”
“I swear. Just talk. Do you know where she is?”
“Yeah, sure. Couple blocks up. Alley behind the cemetery. She takes her little rides up there.”
“Her rides?”
“That what she calls ’em. Seems like some crazy trips. When she goes away, she gone.”
I pushed the ten-dollar bill into his hand. He took off his baseball cap, put the cash on his head, and slapped the hat back on. Then he started skipping rope again.
On the other side of the overpass, most of the houses had barred windows. I passed a couple of late-night bars and some empty storefronts. Two blocks down, I found the cemetery, which was protected from grave robbers by concrete walls topped with barbed wire. A narrow alley ran adjacent to the cemetery wall, and I walked into the darkness, kicking garbage out of my way. In a small yard of mud and grass behind one of the buildings, I saw a woman slumped on a blanket.
I shined my light on her face.
It was Eve Brier, but this was a very different Eve than the one I knew. She wore a soiled gray sweatshirt and no pants, only frayed purple underwear. Her long legs were riddled with bruises. She had one sleeve pushed up, displaying the track marks of numerous injections. The long, elegant nails I remembered on her fingers were chewed down, her cuticles bitten and bloody. She lay on her side, her body wrapped in the blanket. Her almond-shaped eyes were closed. I didn’t know if this was sleep or unconsciousness. I knelt next to her and gently brushed the long hair from her face. She had no elegant highlights, just brown hair that matched the mud.
“Eve,” I called softly, getting no reaction.
My hand stroked her shoulder. “Eve?”
She moaned, a guttural protest through her closed mouth. Her limbs twitched as she stirred. Her eyes blinked open, failed to register her surroundings, and sank closed again. I patted her cheek.
“Eve, wake up.”
This time, she did. She opened her golden eyes as she rolled onto her back. When she focused on my face, her eyes widened in shock. Inhaling, she let out a primal scream and skittered away from me. I came off my knees and followed, but she beat at me with her fists, her throat wailing without forming words. She bumped into the brick wall behind her, and her hands flew at me as if trying to wave off a cloud of bees. I had to wrap her up tightly in my arms to stop her.
“Eve, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
She wouldn’t stop screaming. I was afraid the people in the houses nearby would call the police. I put my hand over her mouth, trying to quash the noise, but she bit down hard on my palm, drawing blood. When I drew my hand back in pain, she wailed again. One word.
“Dylan!”
She knew who I was. She’d seen me before.
“Don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me! Dylan!”
I grabbed her shoulders, with blood dripping down my wrist, and pushed her against the wall.
“Eve,” I hissed urgently. “Eve, listen to me.”
“Don’t hurt me, please!”
“Eve. Try to focus. I’m Dylan, but I’m not him.”