3. Need A Favor
Chapter three
Need A Favor
B rad’s senses were muffled, and his breathing halted, as though he were sliding through the dark moist belly of a snake. Claustrophobia sunk in as he endured squeezing pressure on all his sides. The dark was so omniscient that he couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. Splotches of dark green and deep blue flashed in sync with a whomp whomp whomp sound that increased in speed, until suddenly it all stopped, and oxygen flooded his lungs bringing tears to his eyes. He raised one arm and squinted against a blinding white light. Nausea rolled around his stomach bringing him to his knees.
“Stand up, Brad.” Spencer demanded. “The rows are coming.”
They were in an expanse of empty white. Far opposite them, pinpoints of red grew larger and larger, as though something was speeding closer. In seconds, white aisles stacked with tiny red boxes surrounded them. A soft ding echoed from somewhere above and one of the red boxes slid out. These were the automated inventory rows. Thousands upon thousands of biological samples sat inside the tiny red spaces.
Brad stood up straight trying to ensure the burrito from earlier did not make a reappearance. He clenched his teeth and swallowed an excess of saliva. He opened his mouth wide and reached his arm down his throat. On the side of his esophagus, just passed his tonsils, there was a tiny pocket. Brad used a finger to peel away the soft flesh and scoop out Elizabets’ Stapes bone. He looked at it one last time on the tip of his finger and deposited it inside the open red box. Upon receipt, it closed shut and the aisles swooped away leaving a gust of wind in their wake.
“Ugh. I’ll never get used to that.” Brad’s voice was heavy, and his knees shook. “It’s like falling down a mountain and losing a chunk of skin.”
Spencer scrunched his face up in disgust. “Do you have to be so descriptive all the time?”
“Do you have to be so robotic all the time?” Brad quipped.
Spencer only shook his head and was quiet for a moment. “We are fortunate, Brad.” He looked at Brad pointedly. “To have been chosen to collect data across the galaxy. The lives we’ve lived, the information we’ve been able to gather... It’s beyond any honor I could have ever imagined. Show a little gratitude.”
Brad scoffed. “Easy for you to say, Spencer . You’ve never had to be the one depositing the samples. All you have to do is boss me around.”
Spencer squinted his eyes. “Do you need a check-in with an assessor?”
It felt as though Brad’s blood drained from his body, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, leaving him lightheaded. “N-no. I’m fine. It’s just that they usually give us more time to recoup after a data collection, that’s all.” Brad nervously laughed. “You know how weak these bodies can be.” He gave Spencer a reassuring smile.
Spencer still seemed unsure but said. “Okay.”
A foot away, a waist-high podium rose from the smooth floor. Atop it was a black square, almost like a cell phone or small computer. Spencer strode towards it and tapped a few buttons which brought a large holographic screen to life. Spencer padded his fingers across the screen, his eyes scanning, taking in all the information held there. After a few minutes, he swiped his hand down, closing the screen. The podium returned to the floor as though it had never existed.
“The next data point has been assigned. Next Sunday, nightfall at Travers Cemetery for retrieval.” Spencer said.
“Aye, aye, cap.” Brad mock saluted. “Can we get out of here now, please?”
“You know that’s not how it works; they’ll send us when they’re ready.” Spencer replied with an exasperated voice.
Without warning the ground fell out beneath Brad. As though he were on a falling elevator and being swallowed up in darkness. He tried to stay conscious but failed.
“Bro.”
Brad’s head was foggy, his whole body stiff, and he was cold.
“Bro. Yo, man, wake up.”
Someone kicked him on his side, not enough to hurt, but enough to rouse him. Brad slowly raised his head and looked around. He was out front of the fraternity house, it was dark, and he was laying in the front yard. Grass blades tickled his nose and an ant crawled up one of his legs. He stood up fast and nearly collapsed back to the ground, but someone grabbed hold of his shoulders.
“Dude. One hell of a bender, yeah?”
Daniel kept him upright and actually looked worried for once, it took a lot to phase him. The last time he saw Daniel worried was when a sorority girl drank too much and wouldn’t wake up, he dropped her in front of the hospital and took off. No one ever talked about it again. Don’t ask, don’t tell.
“Um, yeah.” Brad cleared his throat and felt strength returning to his limbs. “Thanks, man.”
Daniel laughed a sound of relief. “We gotta look out for each other right, brother?”
Brad gave him a half smile. “Yeah, man.”
Daniel patted him on the back. “Come on, Bro. Some of the girls made cookies. Trying to buy their way into the next party.” He chuckled and shook his head.
Brad let Daniel guide him back into the frat house. He hated this place. The smell, the dark, the untidiness of it all. He missed his last life… wait. What was his last life again? He was having trouble remembering. He knew he had lived other lives, but now they were nothing more than impressions, and incomplete outlines.
He rubbed his palms on each side of his head trying to clear his headache away. He only needed to remember his next assignment, the rest would come back with time, it must. Next Sunday, Travers Cemetery. He couldn’t let Spencer catch on to any problems or he’d send an assessor. The thought sent chills down his spine. Those thin, too-long green limbs, and probing eyes. At least I don’t have one of those bodies.
Brad shook his head and tried to clear the image. Everything was all mixed up, fuzzy. Daniel was shoving a plate of cookies at him as if that would solve all of life's problems. Brad smiled and grabbed one.
“Thanks, man,” Brad said.
“No problem, brother.” Daniel slapped him on the back again. “You should get some sleep, man.” He said as he walked away.
Brad nodded and waited until Daniel went around the corner. There was no way Brad was going up to his room. He needed to walk, move his body, and clear his head. Something was definitely wrong, but what? Did something go wrong during the return?
Brad shoved the cookie in his mouth and crumbs sprinkled down his front. He wiped his hands on his jeans, brushed the crumbs off his chest, and headed back to the front door. He dug his hands in his pockets for his flip-phone to check the time. 10:40p.m. Perfect. Just enough time to catch the last show of the night.
Something about the smell of popcorn, sickly sweet treats, the sound of carbonated drinks filling up cups, and bright lights in the lobby, all of it combined brought on a sense of calm within Brad. The movie theater was the one place he could always go to escape. No expectations, a place where the world outside would fall away and the pictures on the screen could transport him to a different place entirely, and without all the side effects of data retrieval. Exactly what he needed.
He bought a ticket to the last show, not even bothering to see what was playing. He bought the biggest tub of popcorn and the largest soda. The ticket taker instructed him to the correct theater. The hallway was dimmer than the concessions area. The flat carpet had an ugly multi-colored pattern, probably to hide the stains better. Tiny lights illuminated the floor along each side of the hall. It was quiet. When he reached theater twelve, he grabbed the long silver handle and pulled the large door open while balancing his popcorn and drink with one arm. He nearly lost hold of his stuff but managed to keep his balance. As he entered, he switched one item to each hand and leaned his face into the tub to grab some popcorn with his mouth. The door was slowly closing behind him, but at the last moment, Brad heard a voice shout.
“Hold the door please!”
Brad turned around just in time to stop the door from closing with his foot, his mouth full of popcorn.
She was beautiful. His jaw dropped as she slid through the door, close enough to smell her floral shampoo and see the gold flecks in her brown eyes.
“Thanks.” She smiled, her voice smooth and kind, as the door shut behind them both.
Brad blushed and snapped his mouth shut which made him inhale a cluster of kernels. He coughed, spraying flecks of food on the ground.
“Are you okay?” She asked, panic in her voice as she patted him on the back.
Brad hacked and coughed and tried to nod, that yes, he was okay. But the coughing stopped and suddenly he was doubled over trying and failing to pull air into his chest.
She took his tub of popcorn and drink and set it on the ground. Then, she did the unthinkable. She wrapped her slender, warm arms around his torso, fingertips barely reaching his middle, and she heaved on his chest.
Brad coughed one last huge cough and sent the kernels flying. He thought he might die of embarrassment.
“Are you okay?” She asked again, concern and panic edging her voice now.
“Yeah. Yes. Thank you.” He tried not to look her in the eyes as he cleared his throat. Beam me up, Scotty! Now would be great timing.
She bent over to pick up his refreshments and Brad couldn’t help but notice how short her cut-off jeans were. One of her tank top straps slid down her shoulder as she stood up and handed Brad his things. Her long curly hair cascaded down her chest and her smile shone in the darkness.
“Have you seen this one before?” She asked.
Words failed him. Idiot, say something. He smiled dumbly and nodded, then paused to let her go up the aisle first. He realized a second too late that he had followed her down the same row. The theater was empty.
She stopped and turned to face him, head tilted, a question on her face.
“Um… are you waiting for someone?”
Bradley, you fucking creep.
“Um, no, sorry. I just, um, do you want to share my popcorn?” Idiot. “You know, as a way to say thank you.” He tried to give her his least creepy smile.
Relief flooded his whole body when she grinned and laughed and said. “Sure.”
She held out her hand to shake, and Brad set his cup in the holder so that he could return the gesture. He couldn’t help but notice the little spots of paint on her hands. An artist, interesting.
“I’m, Talia.” She stated. “Nice to meet you.”
“Brad.” He replied. “Thanks for saving my life.” He nervously laughed.
“Anytime.” She chuckled.
They sat next to each other in silence, sharing the tub of popcorn between them. Still, no one else came to the theater. Even when the lights dimmed even further to signal the start of the movie, it was only the two of them. Brad could feel the warmth of her next to him. Tingles ran up his side whenever her arm brushed his. And when she laughed, he thought for sure she would hear his heart beating out of his ribs despite the pounding volume of the movie. He tried to focus on the screen so as to not freak her out. But he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances. The shape of her nose, the curve of her jaw, the way the thin necklace around her neck rose and fell with each breath.
Before he knew it, the movie was over. The lights brightened. His mind began to race. How best to play it cool? Just ask for her number, you can do that. Use your words, Bradley. Brad tried to control his breathing as he leaned over to where he had his leather jacket draped over the seat next to him. He pulled his jacket on and gathered his trash, and when he turned back, she was gone.