Free All Around Atlantis by Deborah Eisenberg

and ceremonial, on their pineapple. One of them hacked off a chunk of it with a long, shining knife, and held it out toward Suky. She paused. A troubling warmth floated off her. She shook her head, as though something had been denied, rather than offered to her. “Suky—” Rob said. She glanced at him, then turned away.
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    Tatters of shine lay on the center of the lake; the boat would have passed through them long before, and in the electric glare that was town, the tourists would just be tucking into steaks, ordering fancy mixed drinks, turning on the televisions in their hotel rooms…But from town, this hotel, the whole village, in fact, would be invisible. Even from Rob’s window, the shacks scattered just outside showed only as indeterminate patches of depthless black. Were soldiers, their rifles cocked, squatting there against barricaded doors? Hi, my name is Bob , Rob saw. He blew out his candle, but night covered the story that was unfolding below for no other witnesses.
    He stretched out on his bed. The darkness around him rustled and whispered, and a satiny gleam from the moon and stars began to collect on his body. In country like this there were probably animals, all kinds of animals, jungly things. Not lions or elephants, of course, but snakes, certainly, and even monkeys, perhaps—the kind that screamed at night—and small nocturnal creatures that looked like big cats or rats and frolicked through ruins of huts where people had recently lived. Just born, they would sleep for a few days in shaded hollows, and then one night unlid their jewel-like eyes.
    And when they opened their tiny new mouths, when their new little natures ordained that this one or that one stretch the hinges of its sleek new jaws, what pleasures of discovery there would be! The flickering tongue, the high-pitched howl, the needle-pointed teeth, whatever marvelous instrument it was, discovered anew by each new being, that was the special gift of its species. Yes. Rob’s heart pounded as though he’d run to keep an appointment.
    When the knock came, he waited for one luxurious moment; the gleam slid off him as he stood.
    â€œMick wants water,” Suky said from the doorway.
    Rob cleared his throat. “How is Mick?” he asked. “Puking,” she said. “As usual.”
    â€œSit down,” he said, breathless. “I’ve got that other bottle around here somewhere.” Again, a long shudder ascended his spine.
    Suky rested, propped up on one elbow, while Rob pretended to search. When he could stand it no longer, he retrieved the bottle and a stack of styrofoam cups from their corner. “Here,” he said.
    Suky reached for the bottle, but he held it back. “Careful, careful,” he said, experimentally. “It’s all I’ve got left.”
    She looked at him sharply, before her face became opaque.
    When she held out her hand again slowly, he relinquished the bottle.
    Trembling, he disengaged two cups from the stack. Suky poured some water into each; the sound was deafening. “Cheers,” he thought he heard her say, and their cups scraped together.
    He struggled to restrain his uncoiling mind as he traced Suky’s collarbone with his finger and blinked back the veil of terror that kept gathering across his eyes. Darkness was reaching out like creepers, unfolding into thick, oily petals, and distant sounds were becoming audible; Rob’s thoughts were pattering here and there in darkness. “What’s going on?” he whispered against Suky’s throat, but her eyes narrowed, gleamed, dilated—already she was gliding off. Those distant cries—something waking now to the fragrance of blood? Levering the straps down from Suky’s shoulders, Rob strained to hear, and waited.

Someone to Talk To

 
    â€œAre you going to be all right, Aaron?” Caroline said.
    Shapiro saw himself, as if in a dream, standing on a dark shore.