Infinite Risk (6 page)

“This was the best day of my life,” he whispered.

I said that once too. Because of him. Lights appeared in the snowy night, bus brakes screeching as it slowed. It was hard to let go of him. Kian stepped away and climbed aboard, and each step felt like a thousand miles. He pressed his face against the window and waved for much longer than made sense. But then, I could've turned and walked off. The sidewalk was slick with new snow by the time I raced back to the Baltimore. Passing through the grimy gray lobby always made me feel dirty by association. So far, I hadn't seen the clerk wear more than a stained undershirt and tan trousers; the only way the place could be more disreputable was if they had Plexiglas on top of the counter.

I meant to pass through quickly, but the guy stopped me with a phlegmy throat clearing. “You're the one who called about the woman in ten.” It wasn't a question.

“So?”

“Better mind your business.” That sounded like a threat, and I wouldn't get a refund if he kicked me out.

“Okay.”

If he planned to say more, I didn't wait for it. I ran up the stairs to the second floor and locked myself behind the chain, like
that
was secure. The pleasure I'd gotten from hanging out with Kian chilled like the lonely swirls of snow frosting my window. My reality was bleak; the best I could hope for was to return to my time, but I didn't even know if this device worked that way. By leaving my world, I might've erased it and replaced it with this reality.

I sighed. The weather made me want to buy a mask and cape, then go loom broodingly—or brood loomingly—atop a tall building. The note the Harbinger had left was still on my pressboard table. Reading it again cheered me a little. Since he was right, and Cup Noodles were delicious, I had some for dinner, along with an apple and a slug of milk.
I should buy a multivitamin. Can time travelers get scurvy?

After waiting an hour, I texted,
Did you get home okay?

No problems.
Kian responded fast enough that I wondered if he was holding his phone, thinking about me.

Probably I should let it go for now, but my room was so quiet, hard not to think about the woman next door who died alone. So I sent,
today was fun,
just to keep the conversation open. My phone was silent long enough that I felt like a dipshit staring at it.

Kian:
You wearing your shirt tomorrow?

Me:
Definitely. We should clean our closets and go back there. I bet she has some cool stuff buried.

Kian:
I'm up for it.

Me:
We could go Saturday, before the movie.

I stared at the screen, wondering if that was too much. Maybe he'd think it was weird that I wanted to glom on to him constantly. Normal people should have other stuff to do, family activities, but Kian must be lonely too. And I'd go crazy if I hung around the Baltimore all weekend. Damn, just the prospect of Sunday made me want to crawl back in the tub.

K. Meet you at the Broad Street stop? Not that we couldn't plan this at school.

Laughing, I sent,
See you tomorrow.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. The full speech from
Macbeth
popped into my head, so I murmured it aloud.

Shakespeare was wrong. Life was far more than a shadow, and it signified everything.

 

WINTER'S WRATH

Friday I went with Kian to Psychedelic Records. He'd scraped together the other half of the cash somehow, which was good, as I couldn't have paid for the rest.
I need to quit being so impulsive.
He also had an extra twenty for the record he'd wanted. The guy behind the counter smirked at us.

“Pleasure doing business. Remember, if someone realizes your IDs aren't kosher, you never heard of me.”

“Got it,” I said.

He bagged Kian's album and offered the colorful plastic sack. “Thanks for your patronage. Stop by again.”

The owner followed us to the door and flipped the sign to
CLOSED
as we stepped out. There were only a couple of other businesses still open on this street. The weather was colder than it had been, more snow piling up in the streets. It would probably affect the buses until the plows went around. From what I'd noticed, Cross Point didn't have enough equipment, nowhere near as efficient as Boston. Shivering, I grabbed Kian's arm.

“We have twenty minutes until the next bus, assuming it's not late. Let's not wait here.”

I slipped and slid across the street, weirdly deserted for six on a Friday night. But the better parts of Cross Point lay farther from the town center, subdivisions and malls built away from evidence of industrial failure. The flickering lights from the convenience store offered a welcome oasis, and I sighed as the warm air rushed over me.

The girl behind the counter spared us a glance but not a smile; she was watching a small black-and-white TV. I paid for a packet of sweet rolls and two cups of bitter coffee. I added nondairy creamer and packets of sugar to mine until it turned caramel instead of sludge brown. There were three plastic stools near the far window and a narrow counter where you could set Cup Noodles or a beverage, so we went over there to wait.

“It's kind of amazing,” Kian said, stirring his coffee.

“What?” I split the cinnamon rolls down the middle and slid his half toward him.

“This should be awful.” He glanced around at the dingy store with a half shrug. “With someone else, it probably would be. But anything
we
do seems like an adventure.”

“It's all about the company,” I agreed.

Sipping the coffee, I decided it was just below adequate with all my additions. More important, it was hot and it warmed me up from the inside out. I nursed it, suspecting the clerk might ask us to leave if we weren't eating or drinking items purchased in the store. For the same reason, I pecked at the sweet bun in tiny bird nibbles. It didn't taste as delicious as I remembered from childhood, gummy more than yummy.

Maybe it's stale.

“Do you think the buses will be on schedule tomorrow?” he asked.

“I hope so. Otherwise my weekend will suck.”

He paused, studying me intently. “Mine too.”

Since I didn't want him to fall for me all the way, I nudged him. “Are those headlights?”

Peering through the slanting snow, the shine resolved into a bus shape, still about a block away. He nodded, and I raced out of the store, determined not to miss it. The snow in the street was above my ankles, and my fabric sneakers were sodden. I made it to the bus stop with Kian right behind me a few seconds before the bus groaned to a stop, sliding as it did.

Probably because of the awful weather, there was nobody else on board. The driver said, “You're lucky, kids. The CTA ordered us back to base, so this is the last run of the night.”

Kian's eyes widened. “But I need a transfer to get home.”

“Sorry. Your family will have to pick you up.”

The bus started with a jerk, and the floor was slippery. I'd have fallen if Kian hadn't grabbed me. We tumbled together into the nearest seats. He didn't immediately let go and since the bus wasn't that warm, I couldn't object. I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to ignore the fact that my feet were freezing.

“This sucks,” he murmured.

“You can't get a ride?” I already had an idea of the answer, but Nine didn't.

“Probably not. My uncle is away this weekend for work and my aunt … well, she won't go out in this weather.” He didn't say
for me
, but I sensed the unspoken addendum.

Before I could think better of the offer, I said, “You can stay at my place if you want.”

He glanced at me, eyes wide. “Are you sure? Won't your parents mind?”

“My mom is … gone,” I said. “And my dad doesn't pay much attention. He's not around tonight anyway.”

That was surely pathetic enough to discourage questions. A flash of sympathy glimmered in Kian's green eyes. Then he said, “That's my situation in reverse. My dad's dead and my mom has … issues.” A polite way to describe her drug habit. “But I'm with my aunt and uncle. How come…” He trailed off, likely unable to figure out how to frame the question.

“We don't stay in one place long enough for anyone to notice,” I said softly, expanding on my
fourteen schools in two years
story.

This might be a bad idea, if feeling sorry for me made him want to save me. I wasn't sure if his white-knight complex had emerged yet. But it was my fault we'd come out tonight to get his ID, and I couldn't let him sleep in the bus station. My room might be shitty, but it was better than that. Probably.

“If you're sure it's cool, I'd appreciate it. I'll text my aunt.” From his expression, that was more of a courtesy than necessary for permission.

And sure enough, five minutes after he sent the message, he got back
OK,
and that was it. No questions about his friend or the family he'd be staying with. I had the feeling he could text
Moving to Siberia,
and the response would be the same. Though I'd never met this woman, I already didn't like her. Even if she hated Kian's dad, that wasn't
his
fault.

With the bus creeping through the snow, it took half an hour longer than usual to get to my stop. The snow was coming down even harder, nearly blinding me as the wind whipped it sideways, catching the light from the streetlamps so it looked like a white stream. Kian grabbed my hand, probably so he didn't lose me. A few cars parked on the street had six inches on them, and if it wasn't for the fact that the whole city was caught in this, I'd think Wedderburn had something to do with it.

Maybe he does.

Kian was a catalyst he hoped to acquire. So Raoul must be watching and reporting. By hanging out with Kian, I'd certainly expose myself if Wedderburn focused on the future at all. The snowstorm seemed like a reflection of ire more than a planned attack, though. So that meant he was pissed that Kian had stopped inching toward extremis.

It's working. I'm changing things.

So despite the shitty weather, I was smiling when I led Kian into the Baltimore. For once, luck was on my side, and the front desk clerk was in the toilet or something, so I didn't have to face his leers or gross remarks when I went up to my room. Kian was trying not to look horrified, I could tell, but he kept glancing over his shoulder like something terrible was chasing us.

I unlocked the door and gestured. “Home, sweet home.”

Through his eyes, this must be one of the lower levels of hell, though I'd gotten used to the awfulness of it. I showered on a towel, not wanting to put my bare feet in the tub, and the only good thing that could be said about the sheets was there were no bedbugs, though they certainly didn't believe in discarding stained linens here. I went inside first, seeing his hesitation.

“If you're uncomfortable, you can call for a ride,” I said.

“No, sorry. I was just wondering if this would be okay. I mean, there's no privacy.”

I smirked. “If you were expecting your own room, I have to disappoint you. But the radiator works pretty well. Usually.”

“It's fine,” he said.

Shrugging out of my damp jacket, I tinkered with said radiator until a blast of hot air caught me in the face. Then I hung up my coat by the door and stripped out of my shoes and socks, arraying them by the heater to dry. My hoodie was damp too, so I hung that up as well. Kian just watched me, mouth half open.

“You should dry your stuff too. Otherwise it'll be awful in the morning.”

“Right.” He followed my lead until he was barefoot.

The plain gray T-shirt he had on was better than the polyester stuff he usually wore, and it made me think I was influencing him subconsciously. When you liked someone, you wanted to fit in with them better.
A good sign,
I thought.

“Are you hungry? I have ramen.”

By the way his eyes lit up, you'd think I had offered filet mignon. “That would be great.”

So I boiled the water in my kettle and filled the cups to the line. We waited three minutes, then added the season packets. I'd done this a lot alone since my kitchenette didn't lend itself to fancy cooking, nor did my budget, but it was a little better with Kian perched on the other side of the bed mixing his noodles with complete concentration.

We slurped them down in unison, and he looked into his cup, wistful, when they were gone. Thanks to the Harbinger, I couldn't offer seconds, but … “Want something to drink? I have apples and yogurt too.”

“I can't eat all your food.”

“It's okay. I can buy more.”

“If you're sure.”

By recent standards, we had a feast. I made cups of hot tea, lightly laced with milk, and we had those, along with the apples and yogurt. If we ate the granola too, that would be pretty much it, except for the makings of a few PB&Js.
That'll be breakfast.

“Better?” I asked.

“Much.”

The black tea perked me up considerably in conjunction with the bad coffee, so I wasn't remotely tired. Plus, it wasn't even nine. Without asking his opinion, I switched on the TV. “Don't expect much, I only get four channels.”

On one of them, an old movie was about to start, one I'd never heard of called
The African Queen
. The picture was shitty, but Kian seemed excited. “You'll love this.”

I almost said,
Will I?
like a smart-ass and then recalled that I was supposed to be a classic-film buff. “I've wanted to catch it; this must be my lucky night.”

For some reason, that pulled his attention from the screen and he flushed. “I think that's my line.”