Warm asphalts beneath me.
White dotted lines passing by.
Step by step.
Mile by mile.
Hour by hour.
The air different somehow. I breathe slow. Shallow. Never seems to be enough. I take another deep breath, and keep walking.
My teeth hurt. They pulse. They are driving me forward. Pulling from inside. Pulling from the root, inside the gum, inside the bone. Dragged by my jaw, onward. I know the direction. Not the way.
Keep walking.
Where am I going again? I try to remember. I try to recall the end goal. The thoughts don’t seem to stick. They slide off.
I know it is urgent. That is the important. Don’t spend time on dead thoughts. Focus on getting there. Just keep going. One foot in front of the other.
The sun seems to be setting. It looms low. White, violent. It cuts sideways into my eyes. Painful rays, attacking.
Last I looked, the sun was in my back. I must’ve walked a while. For how long?
Doesn’t matter.
Keep walking.
I focus on the asphalt beneath me. The white dotted lines passing by.
The road starts to tilt upwards. Guardrails rise at the edges, like ribs. Beyond that, a drop. Keep your feet on the road. Stay focused.
The highway, black and wide. Six lanes, at least. Cars of every color pass by. Evening sun shines on moving chrome, liquid light stabbing through the air. Hitting everything. Shield your eyes.
People in cars passing by. Some are waving and pointing. Shouting. Their mouths gaping and yawning, like fish. They don’t want me here.
Well too bad. If I could, I would go faster. They want to drag me down.
Maybe if I rode in one of the cars. Would I get there faster?
No, I can’t afford those thoughts. Starting another project. I’m loosing time. Walking is fine. I’m moving forward.
Wait. I remember. I did ride in a car. My car. Not long ago. Hours? Or a day? Days probably. It stopped. Gas? Motor? Wouldn’t let me go further.
I left it behind, it held me back.
Move on.
Keep walking.
My teeth again. They are vibrating, pounding. Responding to something. Slowly changing, forming. A sensation almost not there.
I grind them. I gnash. It itch and hurt. It is fine. I know it has meaning.
A car pulls up. Ahead, on the verge of the road. A man steps out of his car. Eyeing me and waving.
”Hey” he shouts. ”Hey mister! Are you okay”
I keep walking.
His mouth keeps moving, shouting. His arms flaps around. I am not catching everything.
He points, behind me.
I turn.
A trail of red.
Left, right.
Left.
Right.
Dark red, glistening like thick tar in the white sun.
I look down.
It is from me.
My shoes have come apart. Toes peeking through. My bare soles drag along the asphalt. I am bleeding.
I pass the shouting man.
The car by his side. Quiet, door still open.
He moves towards me.
”Hey mister. Can I help.”
I keep moving. He steps up and grabs my arm.
”I think you are hurt. Let me take you to a hospital.”
I look into his eyes. They look concerned. They look empathic.
”No” I mumble. His grip doesn’t move.
”Please. You are bleeding. Seriously, let me…”
I pull free. Stare him down. Those concerned eyeballs. I feel like tearing them straight out of their sockets.
He coils back. Rubs his hands together. Terrified now. He raise his hands, shielding himself. Backing slowly.
Soon he is just a black dot behind me. He keeps watching. His body sagging in defeat. Finally he gets back into his car and drives off.
Soon I can’t see him anymore.
Keep walking.
The hotel was obscene in its precision, all details tweaked to perfection. As I stepped into the lobby, the space opened up around me, a vast atrium stretching ten, maybe twelve floors above. Glass elevators silently gliding past suspended balconies.
The floor beneath me a cool, off-white marble, while high above, thick curtains hung like stage drapes, catching the fading evening light from outside. Floating in the air, the trace of a homely scent, like aged wood and green tea.
As soon as I set foot inside the premises, a young man in razor-sharp suit and hair Tom Cruise would kill for swooped in and enveloped me in a heartfelt chat.
He spoke to me like his long-lost friend as he guided me through the lobby, glancing at his tablet, and leaving me at the elevators with my room card and warm wishes.
I stood in the elevator, slowly swaying to a soft ambient pulse, feeling a bit anxious around all this abundant luxury, when I remembered the slip Mercer had handed me. The note with the payout figure, still resting in my pocket. I was a man of means now. I could afford to treat myself. Besides, I was pretty sure, the bill would land with Eidolon.
I drifted through winding corridors, my footsteps swallowed by soft carpets and acoustic silence. I passed several doors, before I finally ended up before the number given to me and Val. I was about to knock, when the door suddenly flew open.
”Julian! Finally! Come here. What is this?”
She grabbed my arm and dragged me through a spacious hotel suite. Elegant but cozy. It felt alive with light wood, heavy curtains and rough fabrics in shades of brown and wine-red.
I took in the rooms as it whirled past me, before ending up in the bedroom, as Val stopped and gasped, pointing hysterically to a point at the bedroom wall, just next to the enormous bed.
”What the fuck is that?”
I got my arm back and massaged it slightly, leaning into her with a kiss.
”You don’t know how glad I am to see you, baby”
”I’m serious Julian. What the fuck”
I sighed and hunched down to take a closer look.
Val gave in, wrapped her arms around me standing behind, kissing me on the top of the head.
”I’m sorry I snapped, I’m happy you’re here. But please tell me I’m not crazy. Is that a camera or something?”
Embedded in the wall was a small glassy orb, protruding like half a sphere, the size of a large marble. Though I tried not to dwell on it, the size and quality of the object made the resemblance of an eyeball difficult to ignore.
Its surface appeared rubbery, almost organic, the inside semi-transparent and filled with a milky, shifting substance, adding layers of depths that seemed to resist focus. As I moved my head sideways shades of blood red and fire orange swirled deep inside it.
It sat in a shallow groove, and the rim surrounding it looked faintly moist. The wallpaper beneath had started to darken, thin streaks of dampness slowly bleeding down from the object.
I reached out a hand to touch it, but Val grabbed my wrist.
”Don’t” she said.
”I really don’t know,” I said finally, ”I’ve never seen anything like it. Could it be some fancy scent dispenser or high-tech security sensor or something. I’ve never stayed in one of these places before.”
”It is not a fucking scent dispenser” Val said, laughing, but she didn’t sound amused. ”Do you think it is Eidolon?”
”I don’t think it’s Eidolon” I concluded after some consideration. ”This is way too obvious. Val you work with next-gen tech, you know the level of sophistication available in modern spyware. Eidolon have connections, if they wanted to observe us, there are a thousand more effective ways.”
”Alright, alright. Quiet.” She said, a smile growing. “Don’t feed my paranoia, please.”
”If you want” I said “I could go down to the smooth-talker in the lobby. Have them send someone to look at it.”
”No, don’t go down there. They’re weird too. I tried to go out earlier, after I arrived, to buy a swimsuit for their spa. But they insisted I return to my room. Said they’d provide me with anything I needed. I feel trapped Julian, this whole thing freaks me out.”
”Really? They wouldn’t let you leave,” I said, ”What did you do?”
”Well, I went back here, and ten minutes later they knocked, with three pieces of swimwear, each one three times my budget. Then I found that thing.” she pointed to the wall, ”and suddenly my priorities changed.”
”So we can’t go out and eat?” I asked?
”I don’t know, I don’t feel like pushing it.”
”How do you feel about the camera then?” I asked.
Val giggled. She seemed to have lightened up. I noticed an open champagne bottle on the nightstand, next to an empty glass. She must’ve raided the mini bar.
”I’m just glad you are here” she said, sinking down to the floor next to me, laying her head against my shoulder.
”So, you feel better?” I asked, ”or is it liquid courage.”
”Fuck you,” she laughed, then stood up and dragged a chair from the corner of the room. She positioned it in front the globe. It was completely hidden.
”Out of sight, out of mind,” she said. ”I’m a strong woman. I can fight my own battles. I don’t need no man.”
”So you don’t need a man, huh” I said and stood up, looking her over.
She pulled off her top and threw herself in bed.
”Nuh-uh. Can you convince me otherwise.”
I started unbuckling my pants.
”You know what,” she said ”if they are watching, let them watch. Call room service. Order up some more champagne, and tell them to bring a douche and some lube. Let’s give them a show.”
Valerie stretched out on the bed, arms above her head, her body shivering. She gave me a dangerous smile, eyes glassy and twinkling. She was moving in slow motion, as if she was weightless.
”Alright,” I said ”if that is what get’s you going. Just remember,” I threw myself at her ”you asked for it.”
The sun has set now. I walk in the dark.
No mind. I know the direction.
As long as the distance shrinks. The rest is irrelevant.
Cars kept honking. Waving. No more confrontations though. But I felt the tension building. Someone will call the police sooner or later.
I veer off the highway, slip into quieter paths. Fewer eyes. Less attention. I tear some cloth from my shirt and wrap my feet. The bleeding signals something. Best keep low.
No one is honking now. No shouting.
Though, one thing stays with me.
Before I left the highway, I noticed a white van passing. Not hollering and pointing. But observing. It slowed down as it passed, deliberately. Intense eyes. A bright piercing gaze penetrating me.
A driver and a front passenger. Arguing, discussing me. Then the van dropped out of sight.
But I remember it. Clean, white, a rough smudge of brown paint on one side.
I don’t know why it stayed with me. But it did. I remember the van. I remember the gaze of the driver. Long after they were gone.
Now I walk through quiet side streets. Through a sleepy town. Dim porch lights. Motionless flags.
And I see it again. That same van, here. Driving by, slowly.
I pay it no mind. It is of no importance.
Keep walking.
I try to stay focused. Push the thoughts out. Off my mind. But they push themself back onto me.
The face of a woman. Blonde. I can see her laughing. Lips, red. Teeth, big behind the lips. A nose, slightly crooked. Eyes a bit to wide.
My eyes are wet. The woman is clutching three children, two boys and a small girl. My Family. Ella. The kids.
I should call them. I miss them. They must miss me. They must be terribly scared. They had been talking to that entity, government or the likes. Eidolon. We both had.
Were it them in the van?
No. That’s not their style.
I must call Ella. How could I leave. How many days has it been?
What am I doing? How long have I been gone? When did I eat last? My mouth is too dry.
I need to stop, now. I need to call!
Where is my phone. My pockets are empty. It is left behind.
The car.
Why did I abandon it.
No, keep moving forward. I need to keep the momentum.
Keep walking.
Step by step.
Mile by mile.
Hour by hour.
Then. I stop.
A van runs up in front of me. Forcing me to halt. The door slides open. In the darkness inside, I see a figure there. He pulls me inside.
His face stern and serious, piercing gaze. I recognize that face. I have seen him.
They force me into a seat. The door closes and we pull off.
The van drives away. Clean, white, a rough smudge of brown paint on one side.
Val is laughing, splashing her hands, flinging warm bath water and clouds of scented foam my way. I laugh and drain the last of the champagne.
I crack open another beer, and slide my feet across the tub, gently tracing her body beneath the surface.
The oversized bathtub is filled to the brim with steaming water, constantly spilling over onto tiled floor of the hotel bathroom. Val has dropped enough bath bombs, foam, oils and herbs into the water to qualify as human tea at this point.
The water runs down the ceramic tiles, soaking a spread of emptied champagne bottles, beer cans, plates of half-eaten iberico and gruyere, open cans of kalamata olives, jars of marmalades and all kinds of imported spreads.
A table stands within reach, weighed down with entrecôte, potato gratin, lobster and a giant plate of glistening ice, covered with picked clean oyster shells.
Flickering candles burn on every available surface, covering wet porcelain and naked skin in a soft, golden glow.
We splurged. Fully.
We pushed room service to the limit, ordering every food and drink we could name. Testing how much a resourceful bellhop could conjure up at 2 a.m.
Turns out, a lot.
More sex toys. Novelty hats. A 12-string acoustic guitar. A deck of antique tarot cards.
When they brought us a live rabbit, we realized we’d crossed a line. We apologized and asked them to take it back.
”Not a problem,” the man said” ”Let us know if you need anything else.”
I felt childish. But it made me happy. Really happy.
It was the first time in a while I felt hopeful. Not caught up in the dread and paranoia of Eidolon.
Val had shed all of her earlier tension. She was radiant, beaming, tipsy and unfiltered.
She was elevated. We felt alive.
At one point, while she was in the bathroom, singing Type O Negative through the open door. I moved the chair.
The orb was still there.
I could have sworn it looked bigger. A warm pulsing red inside as I observed it, immediately cooling back into a colorless stillness as I slid the chair in front of it again.
Out of sight.
Out of mind.
Good policy.