Amber Poe, continued.
Jul. 21st, 2004 12:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crowsTrent was silent for a while behind me while I rinsed the remainder of the dishes. I finished, turned, and leaned against the sink. Sliding his eyes away from me, he pursed his lips.
“Hmm.” Further silence. I didn’t give him the benefit of leading him toward the answer I was looking for. “So… ah… where do you need to go?”
At last. The million dollar question. I withdrew my slip of paper from the pocket of my jeans and handed it top him. His lips fluttered slightly as he looked it over, half-forming the words as his mind took them in.
“Yea, yea, I know where that is.” He replied, looking at me over the note as it exchanged hands again. “Why do you need to go there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
Growing increasingly anxious over whatever object or information awaited me beyond that third set of directions, I hurried through all of the preparations I could think to make, given my minimal resources. It had not formerly occurred to Trent that I would need to alter my appearance as much as possible to avoid further detection by those who had sent the give men the night before, whoever they were. Obliging me, he brought out the cosmetics and a pair of sharp scissors. My hair went, and I caked the makeup on. I came out darker-tressed and fairer skinned than I’d gone in. My host provided me with some clothing also leftover from this ex-girlfriend he was unwilling to talk about. My new image was polished off with a leather jacket of his, and we set off.
I turned my directions over to him (my handwriting matched them, interestingly enough). It was a long drive, spent in silence beneath the slight, faded sound of Mr. Sahen’s radio. I stared, almost unblinking, out my window… not willing to miss a second encase something out there were to rouse my memory. Nothing was familiar. All these sights whirred by, weaving themselves into a surreal fabric of streets and buildings; traffic. This was the body of this… community that I did not know. These streets and electrical lines were the capillaries and nerves of the city. These people, out there oblivious to my strange, personal plight, were its blood-cells. I looked out; staring hard at each face I could lock my eyes on. Each was empty. It was strange to me that I should look no different than any of them; they all had families, homes, secrets, dreams, darknesses that I could only imagine. I had nothing but the smooth, hollow canvas of a mind capable of thought, but lacking the conscious experiences that should have ordered it.
“You alright?”
After so many minutes of speechlessness, Trent’s voice startled me a little. “Yea, why?”
He shrugged. Then, “We’re almost there.”
I noticed then that the directions I’d given remained folded in Trent’s sun visor where he’d tucked them when we left. “You sure this is the right place?”
He glanced at me a split second, raising a brow, seeming almost taken aback that I should express a moment’s doubt. His voice, however, was as casual as ever when he replied. “Yea; this is right down by the University, and the lab.”
“The lab?”
“Where my father works. I’ve been helping him with some projects lately. Grunt work, mostly, but it helps with some of my classes, anyhow. Hours, and all.” He rambled absently as I stared at a body, manila folder of a building that we were passing. That, I felt sure, was the laboratory that Trent had mentioned. Abruptly, it swung out of my field of vision as we pulled into a parking lot on the left.
“Who… is your father, Trent?”
He negotiated a parking spot and killed the engine. Then, key still in hand, he gave me a long, hard look.
“Greg Sahen’s his name.”
I knew better than to push the issue further, and stepped out. Without turning, I heard Trent’s door close behind me.
My hands and feet were tingling. I turned slowly until I had the manila building in my sights. It had no windows. Recanting on an earlier resolution, I pressed
“Is that the lab?”
“Yes.” He corroborated. Suspicion, of some kind, still lingered in Trent’s voice.
“Rather a dire place, isn’t it?” I turned the rest of the way around to gauge his face for a reaction.
“I guess.”
“You work there?”
“Sometimes.”
“Ahh. I think I’d go stark raving mad, shut up in a place like that.” I passed off the conversation as nonchalantly as I could manage, casting a disdainful look back at the lab. Irrationally, I felt that building to be, somehow, my enemy.
“You know…” Trent began thoughtfully, “Most people would say you’re already stark raving mad.”
“Hmm.” Further silence. I didn’t give him the benefit of leading him toward the answer I was looking for. “So… ah… where do you need to go?”
At last. The million dollar question. I withdrew my slip of paper from the pocket of my jeans and handed it top him. His lips fluttered slightly as he looked it over, half-forming the words as his mind took them in.
“Yea, yea, I know where that is.” He replied, looking at me over the note as it exchanged hands again. “Why do you need to go there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
Growing increasingly anxious over whatever object or information awaited me beyond that third set of directions, I hurried through all of the preparations I could think to make, given my minimal resources. It had not formerly occurred to Trent that I would need to alter my appearance as much as possible to avoid further detection by those who had sent the give men the night before, whoever they were. Obliging me, he brought out the cosmetics and a pair of sharp scissors. My hair went, and I caked the makeup on. I came out darker-tressed and fairer skinned than I’d gone in. My host provided me with some clothing also leftover from this ex-girlfriend he was unwilling to talk about. My new image was polished off with a leather jacket of his, and we set off.
I turned my directions over to him (my handwriting matched them, interestingly enough). It was a long drive, spent in silence beneath the slight, faded sound of Mr. Sahen’s radio. I stared, almost unblinking, out my window… not willing to miss a second encase something out there were to rouse my memory. Nothing was familiar. All these sights whirred by, weaving themselves into a surreal fabric of streets and buildings; traffic. This was the body of this… community that I did not know. These streets and electrical lines were the capillaries and nerves of the city. These people, out there oblivious to my strange, personal plight, were its blood-cells. I looked out; staring hard at each face I could lock my eyes on. Each was empty. It was strange to me that I should look no different than any of them; they all had families, homes, secrets, dreams, darknesses that I could only imagine. I had nothing but the smooth, hollow canvas of a mind capable of thought, but lacking the conscious experiences that should have ordered it.
“You alright?”
After so many minutes of speechlessness, Trent’s voice startled me a little. “Yea, why?”
He shrugged. Then, “We’re almost there.”
I noticed then that the directions I’d given remained folded in Trent’s sun visor where he’d tucked them when we left. “You sure this is the right place?”
He glanced at me a split second, raising a brow, seeming almost taken aback that I should express a moment’s doubt. His voice, however, was as casual as ever when he replied. “Yea; this is right down by the University, and the lab.”
“The lab?”
“Where my father works. I’ve been helping him with some projects lately. Grunt work, mostly, but it helps with some of my classes, anyhow. Hours, and all.” He rambled absently as I stared at a body, manila folder of a building that we were passing. That, I felt sure, was the laboratory that Trent had mentioned. Abruptly, it swung out of my field of vision as we pulled into a parking lot on the left.
“Who… is your father, Trent?”
He negotiated a parking spot and killed the engine. Then, key still in hand, he gave me a long, hard look.
“Greg Sahen’s his name.”
I knew better than to push the issue further, and stepped out. Without turning, I heard Trent’s door close behind me.
My hands and feet were tingling. I turned slowly until I had the manila building in my sights. It had no windows. Recanting on an earlier resolution, I pressed
“Is that the lab?”
“Yes.” He corroborated. Suspicion, of some kind, still lingered in Trent’s voice.
“Rather a dire place, isn’t it?” I turned the rest of the way around to gauge his face for a reaction.
“I guess.”
“You work there?”
“Sometimes.”
“Ahh. I think I’d go stark raving mad, shut up in a place like that.” I passed off the conversation as nonchalantly as I could manage, casting a disdainful look back at the lab. Irrationally, I felt that building to be, somehow, my enemy.
“You know…” Trent began thoughtfully, “Most people would say you’re already stark raving mad.”