Chapter 14 Haisley
HAISLEY
Sabotaging the wifi accomplished nothing.
As far as Haisley could tell, all it did was gather them all together even more for chit-chat and socialization.
She waited for the sniping and arguing to start, now that they had less streaming entertainment and more forced proximity, but no one did.
Instead, they lingered longer in the dining room than ever, eating their jovial chef’s apparently-amazing food, half-killing her with the tantalizing smells and general jealousy.
Her half-witted plan to secretly stay seemed dumber and dumber the longer it went on, and she was deeply relieved when they finally went to bed and she could creep out and see what they’d done to her kitchen.
Aside from rearranging things and putting the towels in the wrong order, they seemed like good guests and solid people, however much Haisley wanted to dislike them.
Their chef really was amazing, and Haisley helped herself to their leftovers; they’d never know it was her, they’d just assume it was one of their own, and perhaps it would start some infighting when no one fessed up to it.
As she ate the rest of the cold pork eggrolls from the fridge (just the right amount of spice, and perfectly fried—they were delicious even cold!), she pondered her next move.
She didn’t want to inconvenience herself too much, or cause any actual pain, just push their limits until they left.
The hot water heater seemed like a likely next target.
She could simply lower the temperature, day by day.
Cool showers (if not outright cold) would dampen their enthusiasm for the snow and cold outside.
Haisley had basically settled on this tactic and was washing her hands, trying to decide how much to lower it the first time, when she heard a noise at the kitchen door.
She shut off the water automatically, then dove for the floor without bothering to dry her hands. The island would protect her from immediate view, but if the unwanted guest was going for a late night snack from the fridge, she’d have to find better shelter.
She waited, leaning on her wet hands, listening to the quiet footsteps that followed the creak of the kitchen door.
Were they sneaking? Why would they be going around so silently?
Haisley strained to hear which direction they were coming from, and tried to crawl as soundlessly as she could the opposite way around the island to get out.
The only light on in the room was the under-counter light by the bread mixer; it was the only light that Haisley wanted when she got up very early in the morning to make bread.
The interloper didn’t turn another on, padding for the refrigerator in the near-dark.
One wet hand slipped beneath Haisley and she nearly face-planted, giving a hiss that no human ears could possibly have heard.
The footsteps stopped.
Haisley held herself still, not daring to breathe, until the footsteps slowly resumed towards the fridge.
She hadn’t quite made it around the corner of the island, willing the person not to look her way, and she was not quite surprised when a shy voice said, “There you are!” It was the voice she’d been calling Whisper.
Haisley sat up, knowing that hiding or running was useless now, and turned to meet her fate.
The white-haired woman was not old at all.
She was tall, and painfully thin, which was particularly obvious because she was wearing nothing at all over her pale limbs.
Her silvery hair was very elaborately braided back but teasing free around her face.
Smallish, firm breasts said she wasn’t an adolescent, and the direct stare that she gave Haisley with dark eyes suggested she wasn’t entirely neurotypical.
“I couldn’t hear you,” the woman said accusingly, furrowing her brow. “And of course, I wouldn’t know you would be here. Isn’t it funny that you can hear something here, but not their something there?”
Haisley had to laugh, because it was so deeply absurd, and she was both relieved and terrified to be found out. “I’m sorry—” she started to say.
“I’m Gizelle,” the woman said, darting forward with a hand outstretched.
But when Haisley rose to her feet to shake it, Gizelle seemed to reconsider, and she shrank back with her hand behind her. “Not yet,” she said. “Maybe later. It’s still hard.”
Haisley blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her and failing. “I’m…Haisley?” Her voice rose at the end uncertainly.
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure, but not positive,” Haisley confessed. It all felt very surreal. The woman’s nudity, at least, was beginning to feel less jarring, as if it was perfectly natural for her to wander around naked at night.
“I’m very sure I’m Gizelle,” the woman said confidently. “Neal named me.”
“Neal is…?” Haisley hadn’t heard the name. Was he the chef?
“Neal left. But he came back.”
Haisley hadn’t heard anyone leave; she was pretty sure that the roads hadn’t been cleared yet.
“Speaking of leaving—”
“You weren’t supposed to be here.”
That was the crux of her problem. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I had nowhere to go, and my car wouldn’t start.”
Gizelle looked blankly at her, like she didn’t understand the problem. “Start to what?”
“Start…to drive?”
“I’d like to learn to drive, but even Breck says I’d be a hazard. Do you ever wonder if you’ll never be good at normal things?”
Haisley had a deep stab of sympathy and all of her fear vanished completely. “Oh, do I ever. But you can find ways to cope. For me, it’s making lists and leaving notes. Once I figure out how to do something, I want to remember it again, and share it.”
“You’re the one who left the notes!” Gizelle sang happily. “I read them all! All the ones I could find. Some of them were hidden. Some of them were secret.”
“Not very secret,” Haisley protested.
“Not like you,” Gizelle agreed.
Haisley was completely confused again. “Are you going to keep me a secret?”
“Should you be?”
Haisley hesitated. She didn't particularly love staying hidden, but she still wasn’t sure what the reaction of the others would be if they found her. This woman seemed by turns very simple and very sharp, but she didn’t appear to be a threat. Haisley could not assume the same of the others.
“I should be,” she said reluctantly.
“I’m very good at secrets,” Gizelle promised, bouncing a little on her toes like an excited child.
There was a sudden CRASH from out in the great room, followed by some muffled cursing, and Haisley jerked her head towards the door in alarm.
There was a clatter behind her, and then she turned back to find that there was a long-legged antelope standing between her and the fridge, all four legs spread out like it was ready to leap away at any moment.
Gizelle was nowhere to be seen.
There were heavy footsteps still approaching the kitchen door, with muttered swearing about not being able to find lightswitches in the dark. Haisley looked away for one adrenaline-charged moment before glancing back to see Gizelle sheepishly tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
Haisley blinked. Had she hallucinated the antelope? There wasn’t room in the kitchen to hide one.
“Wrench is coming,” the young woman warned sternly. “You should go.”
“There was…”
“Shhhh…”
Gizelle flapped her firmly towards the door to the dining room, and Haisley dazedly went.
Behind her, she heard Wrench (that really was his name!) come into the kitchen and turn on the lights. “Gizelle! What are you doing lurking in here without the lights on? You scared the sh—pants off me! Why aren’t you wearing clothes?”
“There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here!” Gizelle protested, and Haisley, pressed up outside the dining room door, held her breath. Was she going to betray her after all?
“That don’t mean we need to be trottin’ around nude,” Wrench protested. “I’m here to get eggrolls for Lydia and nothin’ more.”
But Haisley had eaten all the eggrolls, and she put her hand up over her mouth to keep a squeak from escaping.
Wrench poked around in the fridge, swore, seemed to catch himself, and then exclaimed, “Where’d that gal even get to?”
He rattled around a while and then left, turning the light off after him.
Haisley remained behind, trying—and failing—to make sense of what she’d seen.
Maybe isolation had broken her brain.
It wasn’t a great brain to begin with, Haisley thought ruefully, and she’d gone and stressed it to a point of absurdity. After a moment of considering, she went to the furnace room and turned the water heater down twenty-five degrees. These people needed to be out of here sooner rather than later.