Page 14 of Creature
Frowning, he pulled away from the curb andwent in search of a place to eat. Not in this neighborhood,though—it was far too rich for his blood.
He ended up at a turquoise-and-yellow dineradvertising all-day breakfasts and special hamburgers. Not manycustomers at this time of day. He bought a newspaper from the boxoutside, then sat in a Naugahyde booth and perused it while eatinghotcakes and sausage. He’d never had much interest in currentevents; they’d seemed irrelevant to his life, even after he movedto LA. But he figured he ought to have some idea what was going onin the world. Swan might expect him to know things. So Harry readthe headlines and scanned the articles before moving to theclassified ads.
There were a lot of Help Wanted listings.Good-paying jobs he was qualified for, like working on the docks orin a warehouse. Maybe if he applied for some of them, his bad luckfrom California wouldn’t dog him. He could forget about the Bureauand start fresh. Yeah, he’d have to pay back the cash Townsend hadfronted him, and he’d have to hand in the car, but with a decentsalary he could manage well enough. The Bureau could find someoneelse to go after Swan.
But then what about John? The good mealsuddenly tasted like cardboard, and Harry pushed his plateaway.
What happened to John was none of Harry’sdamn business. John was just a prop, like Harry’s fancy new suit—away to get into Swan’s good graces. It’s not like John was aperson.
Right?
Growling softly at himself, Harry shook thenewspaper. He would find an apartment, finish this fucking thingfor the Bureau, and then make a real life for himself. John mightnot be any of his business, but it sickened Harry to think thatSwan might right now be making more creatures like him. Creatureswith ugly scars and big, scared eyes.
***
The place was half of a duplex, a modestyellow one-story with lace curtains and a tiny shared front porch.It stood on a quiet street in the southeast part of town, between astucco apartment building and a laundromat. Having seen the ad inthe newspaper, Harry had called from a pay phone in the diner, sothe landlady was ready for him when he rang the bell. She was asquat, gray-haired woman with a sweet smile. “Mr. Lowe? I’m Mrs.Reynolds. Come in, come in.”
There wasn’t much to see: a living room withbuilt-in bookshelves, a kitchen and bathroom—both small—and abedroom. Although not fancy, the furnishings looked comfortable,and the entire place was spotless. Not only was the place nicer byfar than the March Hotel, but it was cozier and in better repairthan the dilapidated old farmhouse where Harry had grown up.
“Well, what do you think?”asked Mrs. Reynolds. While he inspected, she’d waited for him inthe kitchen.
“It’s great.”
“I’ve recently rented theother unit as well, to a very nice young man. He’s quiet. You’llhardly know he’s there.” She tilted her head slightly. “It’s justyou?”
Cue some of the Bureau’s cover story. “No,my cousin will be living here too. He’s been sick. I’m taking careof him.”
Shetsked. “What a shame! But how kindof you to look out for family. If he’s convalescing, you won’t benoisy, right?”
“Not at all,ma’am.”
“Good. I expect quiet,cleanliness, and prompt rental payments.”
Harry didn’t plan to be here long enough topay more than a month’s rent, but he nodded. “Of course. Forty-fivedollars, right?”
“Yes, with lights and heatincluded.”
He paid her, signed some papers, andlistened patiently to her descriptions of when to put out the trashand where he should buy groceries and household goods. She alsotried to angle for information from him, but Harry stuck to hisbare-bones tale. He and his cousin had come to Portland on theadvice of a doctor. The cousin had a little money, enough to paytheir way for now. If the cousin regained his health, Harry plannedto look for a permanent job nearby. Although Mrs. Reynolds seemeddisappointed not to gather any juicier details, she eventuallyhanded over the keys and wished Harry a good evening.
After she left, Harry collapsed into anarmchair in the living room. His life suddenly felt toocomplicated, his burdens too heavy. But after a moment ofself-pity, he shook his head. “At least you ain’t in Missouri,Lowe. And you ain’t being evicted from the March.”
He’d already paid for the Portland motel, sohe decided to stay the night there. He needed to pick up a fewthings for the house anyway—some linens, food, a few cleaningsupplies. And some clothing for John. After a last look around hisnew home, he headed for the car.
***
As it turned out, Mrs. Reynolds had given anexcellent shopping recommendation. Located just a couple of milesaway, the store had everything Harry needed. He filled his cartwith groceries, sheets and towels, and a few shirts and trousersthat he hoped would fit John. When he passed an aisle with booksand magazines, Harry impulsively grabbed a few paperbacks. Nothingabout monsters, though.
He had to swing by the new house to dropeverything off, and by the time he pulled into the parking lot atthe Totem Pole, he felt exhausted. He knew he should be thinkingabout ways to meet Swan but couldn’t concentrate on anything exceptwanting a long soak in the bathtub.
When he stepped inside theroom, John looked solemnly at him from the bed.Frankensteinlay on the mattressbeside him. “That is what I am?” John asked in a tinyvoice.
Harry couldn’t face him now. Just couldn’t.Without saying anything, he marched into the bathroom and slammedthe door.
The house in Missouri had only a singlebathroom, which the whole family shared. When he was little, he andhis brothers used to bathe together, and the huge clawfoot had beenplenty big enough for all of them. The motel tub was much smaller,but at least he had it to himself. He filled it as deep as possiblewith the hottest water he could stand. Then he leaned his head backagainst the porcelain, closed his eyes, and tried to think ofnothing at all.
Wrinkled, warm, and pleasantlymelty-feeling, he eventually emerged from the bathroom with a towelwrapped around his waist. Although Harry had been in the tubforever, it looked as if John hadn’t moved a muscle. Harry gave hima weary smile and dug through his suitcase for something to wear tobed.
“It’s not my name,” Johnwhispered.
