Cold Tomorrow

[19]

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Late at night, I wake to voices, crawling through the halls. They are dull and whispery, wrapping their invisible bodies around corners, seeping through the smallest of gaps in the doors, the floors. Alert, I slip out of bed. My young feet lead me downstairs, following the source of the sound.

At the base of the stairs, the sound clarifies. I recognise two distinct voices. My father's gentle, warm rasp. And something smoother, something sweeter, more melodious – a stranger's. I follow the noise they make to the kitchen where I peek around the corner, draped in dark. Seated at the dining table, lit by a solitary light hanging directly above them, they speak.

"...swear not to tell anyone. I am trusting you with this, Michael." This is the stranger, dressed in a black shirt and pants.

"I know better than anyone...what it's like..." My father, usually so bright, seems darkened by the night. He clears his throat. "You can trust me. But changing...that doesn't just happen. No one simply wakes up and decides to swap sides – it takes time, it takes thought. You learn to hate what you don't belong to. I know I did. So the question is, can I trust you?"

The stranger doesn't miss a beat. "You know there's nothing I can say that will satisfy you."

It's silent for three loud heartbeats.

When the stranger speaks again, its soft – so soft that I have to strain my young ears to hear. "Listen, Michael. There's something going on amongst the Anarkks. They're planning something – something huge."

"Like what?" my father replies, cautious, suspicious. Since I was born, he had told me one thing over and over again, continuously: Never trust an Anarkk. Now those words circle in my ears.

"I can't say. But I think it best if you leave this place. Don't make a fuss – just get your family, your things and get out. Move as far away as possible. And quickly."

"What's going on over there, Patrick?"

The chair scrapes against the floor as Patrick stands up. He grabs his leather messenger bag, hanging it over one shoulder. My father stands with him. "I'm afraid our friendship only gets you this far," he says. He claps my father's shoulder. "Good luck, my friend."

Patrick walks to the doorway I've been spying through. Instinctively, I pull back around the corner, my young mind understanding that I can't let myself be seen. My father doesn't move from the table.

Patrick turns back. "Oh, and one last thing. Don't trust Thomas."

"Thomas?"

"Your lovely new neighbour. He makes a pretty convincing human, don't you think?"

Then Patrick rounds the corner. At the front door, which opens on a dark, windy night, Patrick looks over his shoulder. Effortlessly, he locates my small form in the dark and winks. Then he's gone.

-:-:-:-:-

"They're handing out business cards now?" Caden asks from the driver's seat. He holds the card with his left hand and the wheel with his right.

"It seems like it," I reply from the back seat. "It's like they don't even care who finds out."

From the passenger seat, Sarah reaches across and takes it from his hand. "Let me see." Her eyes scan the logo on the front before she flips it over and frowns at the number on the back. "This could have ended up in anyone's hands and they know it."