Novella: Chapter Five - Behind the Door

She sat on the bed, listening for the morning birds to tell her the time, knowing only that she had eaten dinner and slept, so now it should be the next day. There were no windows in her bedroom, only pictures of city girls posing in front of gray buildings stretching down long sidewalks or sitting at tables, sipping from giant mugs. One girl sat on a bed with her legs crossed, wearing bright pink shoes and a pink dress, and holding her index finger against her lips. None of them had brown hair.

There were no mirrors, and she was glad. She kept her hair behind her shoulders out of sight. She’d looked for her old dress, but it had vanished from the bathroom counter, along with her boots. Her second dress, too, was missing from the crate.

So she pulled on the new shoes and practiced walking until she could put her feet in front of each other without wobbling. Then she opened the door to venture down the hallway, but the bedrooms showed nothing except darkness beneath the doors.

“It’s better for sleeping,” Mrs. Alcott had explained. “Even a small amount of light in a room interferes with your ability to make melatonin and keeps you from a deep, restorative sleep.”

Katie’s sleep hadn’t been deep or restorative, though the bed was the softest place she’d ever laid, and the air was chilled like a mild winter. It could have been the most luxurious night of her life had not visions of Neil’s stony silence during dinner plagued her thoughts.

Why didn’t he want her here?

She wondered how she could win him, then shoved the idea away. Neil was like a Blackwell, viewing her through a biased lens that likely would never change. She was here to go to school and go to school she would. She’d done nothing to apologize for, so whatever he was feeling, he’d just have to work through on his own.

Still, she slowed as true growls floated in from the living room and a voice she didn’t recognize said, “As the youngest male lion in the pride, an attempt at a takeover is especially dangerous for young Amari. If his father is driven away by the younger male, the first thing the new dominant lion will do is kill him, along with the other cubs.”

There hadn’t been a window the day before, but Katie stopped as a creature that looked a little like a mountain lion moved behind a large rectangle in the wall. She stepped back on impulse, then watched as the animal disappeared and reappeared, suddenly swimming through a river, like someone was flipping through photographs. Only they moved—and the unknown man’s voice continued to narrate.

“But the lion attempting to take over the pride is not the only danger threatening Amari. To escape across the river, he must avoid another enemy—the crocodile.”

The moving photos continued to change, and Katie coaxed her breathing back into calm even though the next animal looked like an alligator. Whatever it was, it wasn’t real. But it looked real.

She crept into the living room, feeling her heart fall as she noted all seats were empty except for Neil’s. At the right of the room, a counter separated the carpet from the tile, standing like a short wall that guarded the kitchen. No one was in there, either.

Neil glanced toward her, then picked up a black rectangle. The creatures disappeared into darkness. The other voice disappeared too, leaving silence to stretch between them.

“Are your parents still asleep?” Katie asked.

Neil’s eyes fell to his fingers as he picked at a loose thread on his pants. He took three breaths before he spoke one word in a deep tone. “Gone.”

Katie’s chin jutted forward. “When are they coming back?”

Neil shrugged. He stood and ambled past the counter to a white, upright refrigerator like the one Katie used to seal off the salted pork, but when he opened the door a puff of cold air wafted toward her. He pulled out a square black container and put it into a smaller box, hitting a button that hurt her ears with a beep. The box's window lit up and the container began a slow spin.

Katie gripped the door frame, but Neil didn’t seem mad today.

“Why can’t you talk?” she asked.

He glared at her, yanked open the box, and pulled out the container. She almost expected him to toss it out the front door, but he plopped it in front of her and pulled back the clear paper on top.

The smell of bacon and eggs hit her nose. She stared at the rising steam as he dug into a drawer and sent a fork skidding across the counter toward her.

She caught it at the counter’s edge. “Thanks.”

She didn’t hate it now—the smell of bacon—though it oddly made her heart ache. She sat on one of the stools, piercing the scrambled egg.

Neil leaned an arm on the counter and watched her.

She brought the egg to her mouth, chewed, caught the wince. The taste was similar, but it was like chewing rubber.

“Hurts,” Neil said.

“What does?” she asked.

His head tipped, though he kept his eyes on her.

“Oh. To talk?”

He nodded.

“Do you know why?”

He shook his head.

She snapped the bacon into a small piece and tasted it gingerly. It, at least, was crispy. “Well, maybe that’s because you don’t use it enough. Like muscles. The more you use them, the less they hurt when you do. I mean... within reason.”

His eyes dropped and dulled.

She ate another mouthful of eggs. Wondered if Mrs. Alcott's assessment of her son’s mental capacity was heavily blinded by motherly love. “Thanks for breakfast.”

His eyes flickered back to her face and the corners of his mouth twitched and fell again to their stoic stance. She tried to think of yes or no questions.

“Do you go to the college too?”

His eyebrows dipped, and she couldn’t tell if he was offended or confused, but he shook his head no.

“Are you... older than twenty?”

He gave a short nod, then held up two fingers.

“Twenty-two?”

Another nod.

“Do you have siblings?”

His head jerked backward, the eyebrows drawing deeper, and she amended. “Brothers or sisters?”

He blinked and shook his head.

“Are you leaving the house today too?”

His shoulders shrank and the dopey look returned. But he shook his head, slower now.

She wasn’t sure when she was supposed to leave for the school or where it should be. But hunger had awakened, and she focused on finishing up the food offered. Neil leaned back onto his forearm, content with silently staring.

She wished Clark was here.

“How’d the food get hot so fast?” she blurted before blushing, realizing he couldn’t answer.

But he pointed to the smaller box.

“Well, I know that. We have one of those at home,” she said. “It belonged to my great-grandmother. We keep our bread in it.”

He tilted his head.

 She shrugged. “Nothing happens when you hit the buttons at home. Your house is nothing but buttons.”

He scanned the house, then walked to the door, glancing backward toward her. When she looked up, he disappeared, then peeked back in. After he disappeared a second time, she followed him down the hallway. He led her up a flight of stairs to another open room that had doorways on each wall, one to the hallway and three to what looked to be bedrooms.

Rows of shelves held tiny structures, some created to look like miniature cars, some scraggly bushes that created landscapes. He picked up one of the boats, holding it an inch from her nose. She scanned the structure, the tiny men that were glued to the bow.

She replaced confusion with a weak smile, wishing she’d finished her breakfast. “Did you make this?”

He nodded, then flung it back onto the shelf, spinning toward a castle that sat half-finished on a small table. Again glanced toward her, and again she followed.

Near the structure sat a sheet of pieces all held captive in their molds. The castle was unfinished, though several pieces had been freed and painted. But four sailors had been moved from the ship into the castle, two near a table in the courtyard and two on the wall staring straight ahead over the pair on the ground.

“Um... ” Katie faltered.

Neil sighed. Took one on the men from the wall, moved him to the drawbridge, and then spun the wheel until the board lifted to cover the gateway.

“I don’t know what—” Katie began.

He seized her wrist, almost yanked her to another scene, now a landscape with moss instead of bushes where large cats stalked brown and black animals that looked like striped deer. His demeanor changed, as he allowed her a glance, then moved to a different model in rapid succession. Never lingering over any except the castle, never moving any pieces. The rest of the sailors stayed put on their ship.

He flashed her a smile before his face returned to its neutral mask. He spun and headed down the stairs.

She followed slowly. “Where did your parents go?”

She should have waited to ask until he reached the bottom because all she caught of the reply was the back of his shoulders as he shrugged.

“Are they coming back today?”

Another shrug. He turned at the bottom into a door she hadn’t noticed before. He punched in a code next to it. The door opened without his aid and an acidic smell hit her, giving her an instant headache. They stepped onto a tile floor and her eyes fell on a rectangle hole, filled with clear water. Lights like globes hung from the ceiling. Clear chairs, longer at the bottom than the top, rimmed the room. At the far corner, water flowed down a pile of rocks into the rectangle like a spring.

“Is this where your water comes from?” she asked.

One side of his face scrunched but he shook his head, then set his palms together, one hand flat fingered, the other cupped. The cupped hand straightened, then his fingers curved over down toward the pool. He sat down like it was a dock, pulling off his shoes and letting his feet into the water.

“Do you swim in that?” she asked.

He nodded and grinned, then pointed to her.

She shook her head. “No... not now.”

She wondered if it was deep enough to cover her head. She searched for fish, but there didn’t seem to be plants or creatures in it. “Is it just for swimming? We don’t swim much where I come from.”

His body sagged, eyes already falling away from her face to the water.

“The only water is at the river,” Katie said. “And it’s not good water. Sometimes it’s safe, and there’s lots of fish. Then we go in. But sometimes the fish die because something washes down from the city. If you get in the water and your legs are scratched, you can get infected. And... if you drink it, you’ll die. So we don’t... swim much.”

The story had gotten his attention, and his eyes pierced hers in direct contact until it was finished. He eyed his water again, blinking, but then shrugged.

“I know there’s no poison in here, probably, but... ” She cut herself off, wishing she hadn’t brought any of it up. He didn’t need to know that she couldn’t swim. Not until she trusted him. She glanced at the concrete walls, feeling choked by the stifling air.

“Do you want to go on a walk?” she asked.

He cocked his head like he didn’t understand. He nodded slowly and pushed himself to his feet, walking to a machine near the wall. He reached over the white bars to press a button and the black path began to move beneath.

She stared. “What is that?”

He stared back, then jumped onto the black strip, falling into a quick walk as his path moved behind him and swept beneath the machine. He took three strides that went nowhere, then stood until the machine carried him to the edge where he jumped off. He pointed toward her, then it.

“No, I mean a real walk,” she stammered, “outside. You could show me your village... city.”

“Can’t,” he said.

“What?”

“Go out.”

She eyed him, then strode down the hallway, past the couch, feeling her breath pick up as though dispelling the foul air but still unable to get the kind of breath that outside air could afford. She heard the door shut behind her, the beep, his steps catching up.

She quickened her pace, swinging around the entryway and nearly hit the front door with her body. Grabbed the curved handle and yanked. A bolt caught the door from inside, only allowing the slightest rattle. She swallowed, feeling her throat begin to close. Fighting for air, she glanced for a number pad like he’d used, but there was nothing. She snapped like Mrs. Alcott had to open the drawers, but the door gave no response.

She used the last of her stored breath to ask, “What’s the code?”

Silence behind her.

She yanked on the door again, looking for a button, a turning lock, even a latch. But the handle was little more than a curved bar attached to the wood.

A decorative steel square sat at the bottom and made her think of the door that Allison’s dog came through. She pushed it with her foot, then tried to peel the top away but it held fast.

“Neil!” she choked. “Open the door.”

 She turned. He watched her from the hall entrance with his hands tucked under his armpits.

Back door. There was a back door. She bolted past him, shoving one side of his chest, though he hadn’t actually blocked her way. Darted to the back door, to find the same mocking handle. She shook it but it didn’t even rattle as she turned her eyes back toward the man.

“Neil, please. I need... I don’t know how... The door.”

Neil had only pivoted in place, still staring at her from across the room. His eyes had widened, one nostril flared like he, too, struggled to breathe.

She fought for calm, seeing her panic reflected in his eyes.

“How do you open the door?” she asked.

His eyes fell from her, searching the couch, the lamp that sat on the table beside it, then the air itself as his gaze traveled away from her. He swallowed. “You don’t.”

She yanked on the door, shouting, “Open this door!”

He took a step back, surprise flickering before his eyebrows began to quake. He glanced toward the corner of the ceiling again.

“Calm down. You’re going to scare it.” Clark’s voice broke through the onslaught of panicked thoughts. Only Clark had been talking about a skunk they had come across in the woods, not a fully-grown man.

Katie’s eyes followed Neil’s attention, finding only another black circle in the ceiling the size of half an orange where the ceiling met two solid walls. Walls she couldn’t break through.

She thought of her bedroom, the darkness last night because it, too, lacked windows. Even the room with the swimming pond—the closest she’d seen to nature—was surrounded by walls.

Her mind prowled the layout of the house, a rough box shape, its maze of doors and hallways, cataloging each room she had seen. Rooms filled with furniture outlined with blue lights, globes lighting the rooms from the ceiling, soft yellow light spilling from lamps. No rays from the sun anywhere. No openings anywhere, except the two doors.

She stared at the man who only stared back, watching his broad shoulders hunch and his hands creep into his pockets.

A shrill sound pierced the silence. She jumped, but his only reaction was a complete fall of his gaze to the floor. A second shriek, and he walked to the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. He picked up a curved white thing, connected by a spiraling tail to its base. Sucked in a second breath, then said in the polished tone he’d used the day before, “Hello?”

She heard another voice, sharp consonants of “ts, ds,” and a “c” but the voice was muffled, like the day after the dance when Mr. Blackwell had berated Clark in an upstairs room while she stood on the sidewalk, realizing she should come back later. Only now, there was nowhere to go.

“How?” Neil asked.

He blinked at the answer.

Katie bolted for the bathroom, the only room in the house that had a lock, the only room where only one person was allowed. She jabbed it, heard its lock slide into place, and paced toward the shower where the water came from somewhere besides the rectangle pool.

“You can’t let them know you’re afraid,” Clark’s voice came again, this time talking about his own relatives.

She gripped her hair, pacing four lengths one way then the other.

The door rattled.

She grabbed the loose lid from the back of the toilet, hefting it, realizing even as she did that Neil was so tall, she’d only manage to smash his face if he did manage to get in. And then what? She’d still be locked in the house until his parents returned. He could easily hold her down, pick her up, move her anywhere he wanted.

She spied the shadow of his two feet appearing, first one than the other, under the crack of the door. She tightened her grip, tensing, waiting.

But the feet only rose and fell like a cat kneading the carpet. His voice was still deep, but it rasped around the edges again as he said, “Come out.”

“No!”

Silence. The feet didn’t move.

“Come out,” he tried again.

“Not until your parents are back.”

The shadows shifted, first one than the other.

“We... can... watch... the lions.”

Her eyebrows drew lower with each halting word, the first three spoken slowly, the last two as one.

She said nothing.

He panted. Rasped, “Please.”

Her arms trembled beneath the weight of the toilet lid.

“Don’t scare it,” Clark said again.

She lowered her arms, eased the lid back onto its place.

Neil growled. She froze.

One of the shadows disappeared. A loud crack rattled the door.

She screamed, stumbling backward until her back hit the glass shower.

“Neil, if you come in here, I will bash your head in!”

The shrill noise returned, summoning Neil away like a dog to a dinner bell.

She pressed her ear against the door, but he was too far to hear any words at all. In a few moments, a calmer voice floated down the hallway. Lions began to roar.