Page 2 of Creature
“No, no.” His treacheroustongue had decided to work again. “Don’t leave me here. My name isJohn.”
Nobody returned, and the darkness remained.John dragged himself to his corner, curled into a tight ball, andsobbed without tears.
Chapter Two
Harry Lowe nursed his coffee and wondered ifhe could get a fourth refill. When he’d arrived, the diner wasnearly empty, so nobody had minded him occupying a booth. But nowthe breakfast crowd was beginning to fill the place, and thewaitress—exhausted as she worked through the final hours of hershift—was casting him impatient glares.
The next time she neared, Harry pasted onhis most charming grin and held up the mug. “Just one more for theroad? Please?”
Her scowl didn’t lift, but she pouredanyway. She didn’t leave room in the cup for his generous additionsof cream and sugar, so he scalded his tongue as he drank the leveldown. Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, and then her patience wouldend and he’d have to leave. But he’d enjoy the diner’s life andactivity while he could. And then… well, he’d face that when hecame to it. In the meantime, the jukebox was playing Perry Como’slatest hit.
Staring out the window at the slow parade oftraffic, Harry caught movement at the corner of his eye and turnedhis head, expecting to find the waitress standing there. Instead, aman loomed over him, fedora in hand and suit buttons straining.
“Morning,” the mansaid.
Realizing his mouth was agape, Harryattempted to pull himself together. “Ch-chief Townsend?”
Instead of answering, Townsend smiled,tossed his hat onto the empty seat, and sat down beside it. Harrywouldn’t have thought Townsend’s bulk would fit, yet he lookedcomfortable, as if the booth had been intended for him allalong.
Before Harry could stammer out anyquestions, the waitress appeared. “You ordering?” she asked,narrow-eyed.
“Of course, sweetheart.Ham, two eggs over easy, toast, side of bacon—I want that lightlydone, now—and coffee.” Townsend thrust his chin toward Harry. “Howabout you, boy?”
“I, uh—”
“It’s mytreat.”
Harry had eaten a hamburger when he firstarrived at the diner, but that had been some time ago, and hewasn’t sure when or how he’d find his next meal. So he nodded.“Oatmeal with milk, please,” he told the waitress. “And orangejuice.” That would keep his belly full for a while.
The waitress’s frown lifted slightly.Perhaps she was pleased with the unexpectedly large order and hopedfor a good tip. Townsend looked as if he carried a lot more moneythan Harry did.
“So,” Townsend boomed,“how have you been, my boy? It’s been six months since yourinterview, hasn’t it?”
Actually, it had been six and a half, butHarry didn’t argue. “I’m fine.”
“Have you kept yourselffit? I know you might not have much incentive for it without theBureau in your sights, but….” Townsend shrugged.
Harry’s anger, never buried too deep, roseat once. “Are you here to rub it in that you wouldn’t hire me?”
Townsend’s smile didn’t fade. “Not at all,not at all. I just hoped we’d have a little chat.”
That was a lie. Harry was certain thatnothing Townsend did was unplanned or inconsequential, and the twoof them had nothing to chat about. But Harry was getting a freebreakfast out of it, not to mention an excuse to stay longer in thediner, so he decided to hear Townsend out. It wasn’t as if Harryhad spent much time in conversation lately.
The waitress brought an empty mug forTownsend and an OJ for Harry. She poured Townsend’s coffee and gaveHarry a refill before hurrying away. Townsend, sipping his coffeeblack, watched Harry add sugar and cream. “You like it rich andsweet, huh?”
Harry felt his cheeks heat. “Less bitterthis way.”
“Sure. The world is bitterenough already.” Townsend took out a pack of cigarettes, shook onefree, and set the package on the table without offering one toHarry. He lit the cigarette with a gold lighter, then tilted hishead back to exhale a cloud of smoke.
The morning sun already shone brightlythrough the windows, because in Los Angeles the sun was always out,even if it had to fight the smog. One of the things Harry had hatedabout working the graveyard shift was that the sun made it too hardto sleep during the day. Of course, that wasn’t an issue for himanymore.
“What have you been doingwith yourself, my boy?” Townsend flicked his cigarette against thedirty glass ashtray.
“Nothing.Working.”
“Let’s see now. You hadsome kind of a job at the train station, didn’t you?”
“I’m a janitor.”Wasa janitor. Now hewas unemployed, broke, and about to be homeless. He’d beensearching for something else—anything else—ever since he gotcanned, but although he’d had a few good leads, nothing had pannedout. One guy had hired him to pump gas, but when Harry turned upfor his first day of work, the man had sent him away. Decided hedidn’t need anyone after all, he said.
