Into the Light

Chapter 13

Chapter: 13

"If men were born free, they would, so long as they remained free, form no conception of good and evil."

Baruch Spinoza

Blake awakes to a clear dawn cleansed of clouds and for the first time in years he doesn't crave cookies. A head-rush washes over him as he stands and a headache throbs his temples. The room is still, no movement, and the lack of low-level street noise is disconcerting to Blake as he finds his boxer shorts on the gray granite floor. At the window wall, he watches a falcon circle the top of the building where a nest had been perched. He expects a beautiful naked woman to slip out of the bathroom at any moment but there is nothing but a pressure of silence.

Amesha is no where to be found. She left nothing in the sterile room. Blake searches for evidence that the place has been lived in and there is nothing. No TV. No clothes in the closet. Nothing.

"Fuck this. I'm out," he says

Blake gets dressed as fast as he can finally get his shoes on as he hops to the door. A knock at the door projects like a drum shot in the barren room.

"Amesha, good," he says and peeps through the peephole.

Standing there, stretched wide, a muscular bellhop in a dark blue uniform from the thirties. Blake can see the art-deco gold embroidery event through the narrow portal.

"Little Orphan Annie?" Blake says and tugs the door open.

"Can I help you?" Blake asks. The pretense of annoyance is unconvincing.

"The better question is can I help you? It's nearly check out time for limited occupancy. Seven AM. I can take your bags down to the lobby if you wish, but I can give you some more time," he says and blinks hard, twice.

"Bags?"

"Oh. I get it. Sorry. The desk will be expecting you. Have a great day sir."

The man leaves with a smile and a wink. Blake shuts the door.

"I'm screwed. Can't afford this. No, I'm not paying. Bail."

They do not even know who I am anyway he thinks.

Blake finds a side stairwell. Standing straight, he expands his chest and descends. His toes tap the metal lip guards on the steps and he get off at the second floor. A maid pushing a laundry cart goes by and Blake follows her to the freight elevator. After opening a few doors in the bowels of the unknown hotel, he finds the way to the loading dock. Two aluminum accordion doors are open and two delivery trucks are lined up outside under columns of honey sunshine.

He jumps off the side of the dock and the smells of the nearby dumpster fling at him. Blake runs down the access road to the street where the familiar sounds of Manhattan filter through him. He's never been so happy to hear the blaring of car horns and the distance roll of an ambulance's siren. Blake tags a cab with a few frantic waves.

Blake barely has enough to pay for the ride but gets by with a dime. He jumps the stairs, rips open the door and slides through the vestibule. At the landing to his floor, he can hear the scratch and swish of Ms. Braque with her broom. The distance scent of gin lets him know he's home. Ms. Braque sees Blake and stops her sweeping.

"Hello honey. Late evening?"

"Yes. How are you today?"

"Better than yesterday. Thank you for asking. Back to work. See you later Blake."

"Bye, see you later."

The door opens without squealing. He smiles as he knows he has a few personal days remaining and will call in to work with an excuse. The door shuts and he slips off his shoes as he passes by the kitchenette.