Human Spines

Going on a Walk-II

Emmeline

        He isn't speaking English. He isn't speaking quietly. He's turning in circles, his hands dug into his hair, his eyes bulging out of his head. He looks like he's about to puke. As soon as he noticed the bus was gone, he ran outside, looking for it by turning in circles and speaking this strange sort of French.

        "Dumaine. Dumaine! It's okay! I can ask Amistifer or Osinsius to get your things back. It's going to be okay!" I'm shouting over what I'm fairly sure is Creole. I didn't know he could actually speak another language.

        "I'm calling Lochlan right now to see if he can help. Oh, I left all my books on my seat. Oh, I left my entire bag!" Hans is holding a phone to his ear.

        "Dumaine, I'll get your accordion back to you, but for the moment, please calm down. I still have my bag so we can change clothes and buy food. Come on, let's go back inside." I'm pretending to be very calm. So very calm. I'm pretending until I can figure out how to express my knowledge of what I believed truly happened, properly.

        There must be a reason the Demons broke down right here, because Demons don't just break down. The Goistaculk Demons must have a plan for us just like Dindolcon. There's no sign of the vehicle anywhere, like it just disappeared, along with all the passengers. They dropped us off here, today, without any of Dumaine's or Hans's things. Why?

        I lead them back inside, avoiding the picture of me posted above the cashier. I'm pretending to be calm about that too. I actually want to curl into a ball and cry about it but I won't because I feel like this is one huge trap. Like something set this all up and we're about to be forced to become the first slaves of the Opaque.

        We pile into the tiny men's room, and Dumaine doesn't even protest my being here this time. I feel like I've broken him. He's walking as if there is a chord connecting his accordion to himself and every step he takes away from it is pulling his spine further out of his body. His breathing is deep and shaky, and his eyes are no longer wide. They move like their tears have been replaced by sand. They don't focus on anything, as if everything is invisible to him, but he is bare and exposed. I am so sorry, Dumaine.

        "Lochlan, are you there? I don't know how telephones work so—" I swipe the device from Hans, holding it to my own face.

        "Lochlan, the bus was powered by Demons. They dropped us at a gas station in Denver and left us. Hans's stuff and Dumaine's accordion are still on it. We need them back, quickly. Holy heck, you might be the one who set up this trap. Goodbye, Lochlan." I hang up the phone, knowing I was talking too quickly for him to understand anyway. But I feel like something's coming, like I need to hurry up, like it's about to explode.

        Come on, come on, come on. I dunk my head under the running water, trying to wash away the blood. There's a ticking in my head, like a countdown to a bomb about to blow. I look back into the mirror and see the Demons I haven't been paying attention to, all vibrating, ticking, tocking, shaking in time with the rhythm in my head. They freeze only when I look directly at them.

        Dumaine is washing his face, and I'm hurriedly digging around in my bag, flinging things out. Sock, shirt, scissors, pants, honey, handwarmers, sock. I shove the clothes at him and begin to search for my own as he shuffles to the only stall. Gosh, can't those Demons just stay still for a second?!

        "Here." I toss my wallet at Hans. "Go pay for a bunch of food and a map or something." I don't pay attention to his answer as he leaves.