The Hand on the Wall(36)

“We’re going to go upstairs,” Vi said. The message was clear—Janelle and Vi needed some more time to talk.

“We’ll be in the pool,” David said. “Don’t leave without us. No phones.”

Nate, David, and Stevie continued on to the pool area, which encompassed most of the ground floor of the building. The pool was accessed by a beautiful old wooden door, with the original POOL written on it in gold paint. The room was tiled in a vibrant aqua with white. There were additional decorative smiles with bas-relief faces in them—gods or goddesses or assorted Romans or Greeks peering out like silent lifeguards. The room had a magnificent glass roof that curved down, the top of which already had a white cap of snow. Snow nestled in the crook of every square of glass. There was a mosaic of Neptune at the bottom of the pool. He stared up at them through the water.

“In here,” David said, his voice booming as it bounced off the tiles.

Their hiding place was the supply closet, stacked with blue towels, hampers, jugs of chemicals, and safety equipment. There was a small nest on the side—David’s sleeping bag, with a pile of towels serving as a pillow. There was a bag of food and remains—sandwich wrappers, Doritos, packaged cupcakes, and what seemed to be several containers from the dining hall.

“How long have you been here?” Nate asked.

“Only since last night. Welcome. Get comfy. The towels are very plush. I recommend them.”

Stevie and Nate found space on the floor away from the sleeping bag. She grabbed a few towels to sit on.

“All good?” David asked. “Okay.”

He switched off the lights.

“Seriously?” Nate said.

“In case they search the building or look in the window.”

David crossed the room, his feet bumping into Stevie’s leg as he passed.

“So,” he said. “How’s everybody been?”

“I hate this,” Nate said.

“Nothing new there. How’s the book?”

“I’m leaving,” Nate replied.

“Nate . . . ,” Stevie said.

“There has to be somewhere else. A trash room or something.”

“Nothing this nice,” David replied. “Sit. We have to play this out. I’ll be good. Promise.”

Silence.

“So how are you, Stevie?” David said.

“It’s been busy,” she replied.

Nate sighed loudly.

“Why don’t you tell me more about what you’ve been doing?” Stevie said. “That seems more interesting.”

“Well,” he said. “After I got beat up, my friend drove me to Harrisburg. I slept in our neighbor’s shed. Got into the house. Took what I needed. Got back. Crawled up through the woods like a goddamned mountain man, slept in the pool room, and then got you guys. And now, here we are.”

“What about those tablets and stuff?” Nate said.

“I’ve been picking those up for a while. An operation like this requires advance preparation. Ideally, I wanted some more time, but I heard about the accident last night and about the storm that was coming—seemed like things were about to go really wrong here. So I had to improvise.”

“You didn’t improvise that speech back there,” she said. “How long were you working on that?”

“Day or two. Got a bunch of it from The West Wing. That was the only show I was never allowed to watch when I was a kid, so it’s my favorite. I wonder who my dad will have as VP if he gets into the White House? I’m rooting for a cloud of bats. What about you, Stevie? You know him better than I do.”

“Anywhere,” Nate said. “A boiler room? Something connected with sewage?”

After about a half hour, Vi and Janelle rejoined them. Whatever they had been doing upstairs, it had not resulted in things being worked out. They came into the tiny pool room, Janelle taking a seat next to Stevie and Vi pressing in by Nate. Janelle insisted on turning on the light, which almost blinded Stevie.

“Good to have you back,” David said, holding up his hand to his eyes.

“Here,” Janelle said, passing out snack bars and small foil packets.

“What’s this?” Nate said. “Tinfoil?”

“Mylar blankets,” she replied. “The kind they give people after marathons.”

“Why do you have Mylar blankets?” Nate asked.

“I wasn’t coming up a mountain without proper safety gear,” she replied. “Besides, they’re cheap and about as big as a pack of tissues. They’re for when the power and heat go out in here, which they probably will.”

Janelle’s powers of anticipation were almost beyond comprehension.

“I have more questions,” she said. “Like how did getting yourself beaten up help? Doesn’t that make your dad want to find you?”

“That’s what would happen in your family, probably,” David said. “My family is different. My dad expects the worst of me, so that’s what I gave him. I ran off, got into a fight, put it online to make sure he saw that I was a loose cannon, and vanished, into what I am sure he assumed was a cloud of vape smoke on a pile of beanbags somewhere. I wanted to make myself a little radioactive so he wouldn’t seek me out, at least for a few days.”