Page 45 of Sky Song
“Don’t panic, everything will be alright.”
“Yeah, I don’t believe you.”
She looked wildly around the lab. His only option to avoid detection was the emergency stairs located on the other side of the lab, opposite the “supply” room.
“Quick!” She pulled Lyle toward it. “Just… just hide in this staircase. It’s almost never used - we all take the elevators. Keep the hat on and don’t you dare go anywhere.” She closed the door in his face.
Jogging toward the bin with the protective clothing, she yanked out a coat just as Terrance came in.
“Hey, whassup! Have you seen the car news? They revealed a new racer design last night. It’s ridiculously goofy, but man, the hustle! Best in class, and I’m talking racers, not your middle of the road municipal rider.”
Cricket put on her protective gear with unsteady hands. It was going to be a long shift.
Chapter 8
Of course, he wasn’t in the staircase when the shift ended.
Cricked seethed as she marched home, tired and more than a little strung up.
Today, so many questions were raised and none of them were answered. What was behind the metal door? What secrets was Yanet keeping? Yanet was keeping secrets? What did Kim know? What happened to Kim? Had Igor died by accident? Was any of that even real, or was she driving herself crazy, influenced by the alien who had no business snooping around their lab and who should have long departed their cozy little planet?So why wouldn’t he?
Cricket was beginning to feel nostalgic for that restrictive tedium that she had only recently complained to Paloma about.
She briefly considered visiting with Paloma but decided against it. Paloma was no fool. Cricket wouldn't withstand her probing, and she didn’t want to risk slipping and telling her about Lyle.
She almost made it to the door when a figure rounded the building, waving at her.
“Crap,” she muttered.
“Evening, neighbor!” The figure approached, thin hair blowing rebellious in the wind instead of laying against his scalp in its customary submission to a severe combover.
“Good evening, Mr. Sulys. Out for an evening stroll?”
“Well, yes, you might say that I am.”
“Good, good. Such great weather. Don’t let me keep you.” She took a step past him.
“Emma, are you just coming home from work?”
“Yes, it’s been a long day.” Hint hint hint. Not again with his bizarre questions about hunting bezods.
“And you took Rosemary Street as usual?”
As usual?She’d paid little attention to Mr. Sulys over the years they shared the wall, yet he, it appeared, was much better versed in her habits.
She turned to him slowly. “Yeeaas,” she stretched the word out, prompting him to elaborate.
“Was it very busy? Lots of foot traffic?” His questions might be off the wall but there was no denying that he looked genuinely distraught.
“No more than usual.” Cricket frowned. “Mr. Sulys, is everything okay?”
His face screwed up as if in pain and he looked right and left. “I might as well make a confession, Emma. I’ve lost something very important to me. I’m trying to see if you by chance found it.”
Eyebrows rising, Cricket looked at the curtained windows behind Ms. Sulys’ back. One of the windows was cracked open, and the curtains hung still.
Oh, no. “Mr. Sulys, what you’ve lost, can it move on its own?”
He got flustered, and his ruddy cheeks reddened more, the color spreading to his forehead and chin. “It can,” he admitted sheepishly.
