As this particular series is rather longish, I'll provide links to previous installments.
The Room at Midnight .1
--------------------------
Mars cast his plate into the plastic garbage can with more force than was absolutely necessary. Something was making him more prickly than usual, though Chris now had the sensation he knew generally what it could be.
But, as the walked out of the warm, expansive library silently together, Christopher tried to assure himself what he had seen may have been under the power of suggestion.
The night air was cool and crisp when they stepped out. Mars began outfitting himself with leather gloves and a sedately checked scarf, seemingly preoccupied with his task, but with a rather unusual ulceric expression. As Chris stuffed his bare hands into his parka, he asked, slightly more warily than before,
"Mars, is there something wrong?" Mars glanced up at him, eyes steady as he twitched the wrists of his gloves into place. But where he might have delivered a sharp quip, he allowed it to slide.
"No, dear, nothing at all. Come along, I'll give you a ride home." Christopher's car was nearly as old as he was, a Toyota, and in which the heating rarely worked in the winter, and the windows only rolled up eighty percent of the time. It was common for him to bum rides to and from school and work during the winter. "Sure." He responded with his customary cheeriness, but he felt that it rang out strained and slightly flat. Their trip to the parking lot was, as before, silent, strained. Mars seemed to be distracted by something, not brooding over some internal matter as was often the case; his eyes were focused directly ahead of him, and he seemed to be intent on ignoring something.
This, ultimately, made Christopher rather uncomfortable, and rather more afraid than hurt. Whatever it was was making his friend jittery.
Mars fumbled the keys and dropped them with a sharp hiss as he pulled them from his pants pocket, and hesitated upon retrieving them, staring at the frozen asphalt.
"Mars?" Christopher asked unsteadily into the bright night around them; the moon, shinging pale and ghostly through the thin layer of clouds, lit the parking lot far more efectively than the antique security lamps.
He looked down involuntarily, to see where the keys had fallen, and why Mars hadn't picked them up.
They had fallen apparently rather closer to the undercarriage of the car than Chris had originally anticipated; they shone dully in the light, barely visible in the shadow of them and the car.
Fingers were pulling the keys under the car.
This time, Christopher couldn't help an involuntary gasp, night wind sucking into his lungs painfully. Just as abruptly, the fingers, issuing just from the edge of the door, dissappeared.
He glanced, slightly frantic, at Mars, in an attempt to verify that Mars had seen the same thing.
Mars' face was grim. He crouched swiftly, and swept up the keys with a gentle metallic clinging from the pavement before Chris could even exclaim at him not to do it. He wasn't sure if it was clumisness from the cold that had made Mars' hands numb, or if he was truly unnerved when he fumbled the key into the lock. The sound of the car unlocking was muted and prosaic.
Silently, he motioned that Chris should enter through the driver's side, and climbed in quickly afterward, shutting the door after him and then relocking the car. Only then did he slip the key into the ignition. The car sounded weak when it turned over, but warm air automatically rushed from the vents when it did. The dashboard lit up welcomingly for an instant before growing dark. The dome light never did.
"Mars---." Chris began, but Mars only shook his head and gestured wordlessly that Christopher should buckle his seatbelt as he shifted gear and backed from his space, using his mirrors.
--------------------------
The Room at Midnight .2
Mars cast his plate into the plastic garbage can with more force than was absolutely necessary. Something was making him more prickly than usual, though Chris now had the sensation he knew generally what it could be.
But, as the walked out of the warm, expansive library silently together, Christopher tried to assure himself what he had seen may have been under the power of suggestion.
The night air was cool and crisp when they stepped out. Mars began outfitting himself with leather gloves and a sedately checked scarf, seemingly preoccupied with his task, but with a rather unusual ulceric expression. As Chris stuffed his bare hands into his parka, he asked, slightly more warily than before,
"Mars, is there something wrong?" Mars glanced up at him, eyes steady as he twitched the wrists of his gloves into place. But where he might have delivered a sharp quip, he allowed it to slide.
"No, dear, nothing at all. Come along, I'll give you a ride home." Christopher's car was nearly as old as he was, a Toyota, and in which the heating rarely worked in the winter, and the windows only rolled up eighty percent of the time. It was common for him to bum rides to and from school and work during the winter. "Sure." He responded with his customary cheeriness, but he felt that it rang out strained and slightly flat. Their trip to the parking lot was, as before, silent, strained. Mars seemed to be distracted by something, not brooding over some internal matter as was often the case; his eyes were focused directly ahead of him, and he seemed to be intent on ignoring something.
This, ultimately, made Christopher rather uncomfortable, and rather more afraid than hurt. Whatever it was was making his friend jittery.
Mars fumbled the keys and dropped them with a sharp hiss as he pulled them from his pants pocket, and hesitated upon retrieving them, staring at the frozen asphalt.
"Mars?" Christopher asked unsteadily into the bright night around them; the moon, shinging pale and ghostly through the thin layer of clouds, lit the parking lot far more efectively than the antique security lamps.
He looked down involuntarily, to see where the keys had fallen, and why Mars hadn't picked them up.
They had fallen apparently rather closer to the undercarriage of the car than Chris had originally anticipated; they shone dully in the light, barely visible in the shadow of them and the car.
Fingers were pulling the keys under the car.
This time, Christopher couldn't help an involuntary gasp, night wind sucking into his lungs painfully. Just as abruptly, the fingers, issuing just from the edge of the door, dissappeared.
He glanced, slightly frantic, at Mars, in an attempt to verify that Mars had seen the same thing.
Mars' face was grim. He crouched swiftly, and swept up the keys with a gentle metallic clinging from the pavement before Chris could even exclaim at him not to do it. He wasn't sure if it was clumisness from the cold that had made Mars' hands numb, or if he was truly unnerved when he fumbled the key into the lock. The sound of the car unlocking was muted and prosaic.
Silently, he motioned that Chris should enter through the driver's side, and climbed in quickly afterward, shutting the door after him and then relocking the car. Only then did he slip the key into the ignition. The car sounded weak when it turned over, but warm air automatically rushed from the vents when it did. The dashboard lit up welcomingly for an instant before growing dark. The dome light never did.
"Mars---." Chris began, but Mars only shook his head and gestured wordlessly that Christopher should buckle his seatbelt as he shifted gear and backed from his space, using his mirrors.
No comments:
Post a Comment