Free Phantasos by Robert Barnard Page A

in.”
    Lauren shrugged.
    By now, maybe because of all the stirring in the kitchen, Alley was wide-awake. When he strolled into the room, his sister was buttering some toast, and Benji was pouring a giant bowl of Honey Smacks. Benji looked up and said, “There’s the man of the hour. Can I fix you a bowl, too?”
    “Sure,” Alley said, “sounds good.”
    Lauren became paranoid, wondering how much—if any—of her conversation with Benji her little brother may have overheard. “Sleep good?”
    Alley sighed. “As good as you can sleep on the floor, I guess.” He poked some sleep dust from the corner of his eye. “I had a weird nightmare.”
    “About what?” Benji asked.
    “You know, as soon as I woke up, I forgot about it. So I guess it couldn’t have been too bad.”
    Benji poured some milk over Alley’s Honey Smacks, and the trio sat down at the kitchen table together.
    Alley said, “So, we gonna bike over to Planet X later?”
    Benji looked out the kitchen window at the menacing thunderheads forming far, far off on the horizon.
    “I don’t know,” Benji said. “It looks like it might start to storm.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
    Thirteen
     
    TODD WOKE UP LATE IN THE morning. By the time he rose from bed, the sun was already high overhead, its rays struggling to break through a cluster of dark, billowy clouds looming in the distance.
    He started his morning routine the same as any other day: a quick shower followed by a simple breakfast (scrambled eggs, coffee). He put out some food for his cat, Elvira. Today, he poured a little extra in her dish.
    The one break in routine was when he sat down at his kitchen table with a notebook and a pen. He scribbled out a note, tore the paper out, folded it in half, and placed it on the table. Then he repeated himself—again, he scribbled out a note, tore it from the metal spiral of the notebook, folded it neatly, and placed it on the table.
    He stood and glanced around his apartment, giving it a quick inventory. On a bookshelf near the rear of his living room was a photo of Shelly and him, taken at the Statue of Liberty several years earlier. Shelly was looking directly into the lens of the Polaroid camera, Todd was looking away and off to the side.
    What a beautiful picture that could have been, he thought.
    Todd knelt down, stroked Elvira’s back, then grabbed his keys from the counter and exited his apartment.
    Danny knew that Todd wasn’t coming into work that day. After the night before—long, mysterious phone calls in the office; flagrant intoxication; sobbing—the two both agreed that a day off was probably in Todd’s best interest.
    Todd walked outside, stood next to his Pontiac Fiero, and studied the horizon for a moment. The early morning sun was positively beautiful, bathing the drab parking lot of his apartment complex in lively shades of gold. It was breathtaking, even with the thunderheads inching closer in the distance.
    He started the drive up to North Grand Ridge, towards the Sunway Hotel on the edge of town. He clicked a button on the car radio and a tune by Van Halen started to play. A good omen, Todd figured.
    The drive up the I-3 was quiet and uneventful, so he passed the time by drumming his fingers on his steering wheel while the Fiero rattled along. He sang quietly to himself, cheerfully: She take me down, down, down, to the bottom… and then he hummed the rest of the lyrics that he didn’t know.
    Traffic was light. By sleeping in late, he’d dodged the early rush hour entirely. Up ahead, he saw a bright green highway sign approaching. Exit 27. If Todd remembered right, that was the exit that would take him to the Sunway. Not that it really mattered. Even if he was wrong, he could pull over somewhere and ask for directions. He wasn’t in a rush.
    He steered the Fiero to the right, merged into traffic, and caught his exit. His car slowed to a stop at a red