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Naples, Fla.
Gordon Drive lay open before her. Not even the tail lights
of a single car for as long as she could see. Kimberley
leaned back, pressed her foot down and felt the Jag purr
beneath, sending a thrilling buzz up her groin, as she
passed huge mansions shaded by dark shadows of trees, from
Sabre Lane to 10th Avenue.
She loved
driving at night nearly as much as the martial arts class
waiting at the end. Just getting out of the house was heaven
after listening to Jason scrambling up and down the stairs,
slamming, banging, doing whatever he could to get on her
nerves. Why he did it? She never could figure that out. To
show her that he didn’t care for her having a life where he
wasn’t the central figure, perhaps. The only thing she knew
was that he seemed to stop the minute her good mood changed
for real, as if that was all that he had been after all
along. Maybe that’s why he did it? To shut her up.
Truth was
she wanted out. He may have sensed that. And although he
wouldn’t stop her when she took that final leap, he wouldn’t
be overly happy about it either. She did bring some
indispensable qualities to their relationship. But it didn’t
matter. By now they had enough to last their whole life,
anyway – even if they turned out to live as long as some of
the most persistent residents in the whole of Florida. They
could quit, live comfortably ever after, never needing any
more than they already had. But that was just the thing. He
wanted more. Always had. And for a while, she had too. Both
wanting more, and wanting to please him. She was past that
now. Past worrying about what he wanted, what he needed. He
would have to start acting like a big boy, find someone else
if it turned out that he couldn’t live without someone to
bully.
The fight
tonight had started with old Herb calling to ask if it was
okay with her to move the martial arts class from 6 pm to
9.30. No problem at all, she’d told him. Jason had thrown a
fit when he heard. “What about dinner then?” he whined,
making it all her fault. “Call him back and tell him you
won’t be there,” and then, “We’ll go someplace nice if you
do,” knowing what a sucker she was for a chance at a great
meal. What he didn’t realize was they couldn’t afford to let
Herb down. Not just yet. Not when they were this close.
She passed
the busy restaurants around 12th Avenue,
regretted for a moment that she hadn’t agreed to skip class
to go to dinner after all, then took a left on Fifth and
turned toward Gulf Shore. Slowing down, she rolled down the
window, letting in the soft sea breeze. Having made the
decision was such a relief. One more, then she was out,
moving back up north, settling into a life in the real
world.
It wasn’t
until she reached old Mrs. Miller’s at the corner of Central
that it started to bother her. She couldn’t remember having
seen a single moving car since… well, since leaving the
house really. Hadn’t seen any people about since Tommy
Bahamas. Surely someone else should be out at this hour.
Even in a neighborhood like this. She glanced at the clock
on the dashboard. 8:52. Odd. Not the busiest place at this
hour, probably not at any hour, but someone should be
out.
At the
corner of 4th and Gulf she stopped at a four-way
intersection. A shadow moved up ahead and she thought
Finally, only to realize that it wasn’t a car at all.
Just a pelican or something flying overhead, casting a long
shadow across the hood of the car.
So where was
everybody?
She put her
head out, strained to hear any traffic, any voices, planes
overhead. Something.
Nothing. Not
even Mr. Craneby’s old dog barking.
The rearview
showed nothing either, so she turned the ignition off, let
the engine die, again straining to hear something. Anything.
Still
nothing.
There was
this episode on The Twilight Zone once where a thing
like this happened. Or rather, a space ship and everyone in
it disappeared. Not an entire town. But that was fiction
were anything can happen, this was Naples, for God’s sake.
Undisputedly the land of the Golden Oldies, and not always
moving like high speed internet, but this was just
ridiculous. An entire population consisting mainly of old
people couldn’t just vanish. Not that it did. Consist mainly
of. There was plenty of young people around. That’s why she
and Jason moved down here in the first place. She had been a
bit reluctant at first, told him that she was too young to
go live in a retirement home. But in the end Jason had
persuaded her. Told her that she was silly, that not even in
Naples was everyone plain old. “Besides,” he had said with a
wink, “it’s the oldies we want, right?”
The scheme
wasn’t really a scheme at all. He had told her that too. And
for a long time she chose to believe him. When she found out
just how much of a scheme it was, she was just as hooked as
him on the easy money, the leisurely lifestyle, the cars,
the clothes, the jewelry, the no-worries. She didn’t want
anything to change. Not that much.
And of
course, when she found out that what she brought to the
table; knowledge of the new techniques that the old folks
seemed to shun like the plague, it was easy for Jason to
lure her in, tell her that she actually helped them,
that it was only right that they got rewarded for
what they did. And it was true. These people didn’t
have anyone to leave their money to. Perhaps a yappy
old dog that would die soon enough, or a home for abandoned
cats. Much better to let Kimberley and Jason take care of
their earthly possessions; people who where happy to help
and equally happy about what they were given, appreciating
every cent of it.
Kimberley
leaned back, let her hand rest on the handle, sniffed
cautiously. Could there be something in the air? Something
that had killed everybody? One of those killer-viruses
perhaps? Images of dead bodies and faces covered with masks
flashed through her mind. She blinked, willing them away. No
need to go there. This was creepy enough without the horror
flick clichés.
The car door
creaked as she pushed it open. She’d ask Derek down at the
garage to take a look at that hinge when she went in for gas
next time. For a second she felt a bit woozy, as if there
really was something in the air, and as if that something
was placing its chilled hands around her neck, slowly but
surely choking her. Then she
drew a deep breath, shook her head and got out.
The silence
was eerie.
Seriously,
where was everyone?
Then a
screen door screeched open and a voice called out.
“Yo-ho?”
Kimberley
turned around to see Mrs. Miller standing on her porch a
block back.
“There you
are, my dear,” Mrs. Miller said, her voice high pitched and
worn. “The iced tea is just ready, waiting for you.”
“Uh-huh,”
Kimberley said. So sad to see how fast the old people went
at times. One day you could talk to them, keep up a
conversation about anything, and the next they couldn’t tell
you from their niece, their aunt or their own kids. She took
a few steps closer, not wanting to stand in the middle of
the street shouting, trying to explaining to Mrs. Miller
that they didn’t know each other well enough for Mrs. Miller
to call her “my dear”, let alone invite her in for iced tea
and a chat.
“I just
stopped because there’s something wrong with my car,” she
said. She didn’t want to bring up the whole
everyone-is-gone-theory, because clearly she had been wrong
about that. She looked up the street once again and then
down, before crossing it.
Mrs. Miller
was a friend of old Herb’s. Kimberley suspected that they
were more than friends, really, but she hadn’t been around
Herb long enough to be sure. They always researched their
prospective “clients” thoroughly.
Kimberley had come up with the term “client”. It had
such a professional ring to it. Once they had mapped out and
taken in their client’s life – their friends, relatives,
schedules – they had the upper hand, and only then did they
make their move. That way they made sure that no one in the
client’s circles of friends and acquaintances knew them.
Foolproof every time. That was one of the huge advantages
with scouting old people. Their social life was usually kind
of limited; a nod to the neighbors, a game of chess or
bridge on Wednesday nights with the closest pals, the odd
dinner out at a local restaurant. Not that they didn’t get
out, but they didn’t roam around a lot, befriending people
from all over town. Some of
them never even went farther than the street or the block
they lived on. And another good thing with old people, it
wasn’t just Kimberley’s and Jason’s clients who tended to
die pretty quickly, everyone
they knew seemed to
die pretty quickly too.
Once she
realized how easy it was she never looked back.
She took a
step up on the curb, talked loud and clear.
“Hi, Mrs.
Miller. So nice of you to invite me but I really have to be
on my way.”
She needed
to be there no later than 9.15, and it was surely past 9 by
now.
“That’s all
right,” Mrs. Miller said. “I won’t take up much of your
time. If I could just get your opinion on something?” Her
chuckle didn’t go with her sweet smile. Then she pointed at
Kimberley’s car, waved it off almost. “Just leave it there
and come sit down for a minute.”
“But –“
Kimberley started.
“Leave it!”
Mrs.
Miller’s voice was suddenly harsh, but when Kimberley turned
to look at her again she was still smiling that sweet smile.
Maybe the harshness was all in Kimberley’s mind, an echo
from the earlier rumblings with Jason. Still, she really did
have to go.
“Do you know
what time it is?”
“Well, sure
my dear,” Mrs. Miller said, chuckling again. Maybe it was
some sort of tic. “It’s a quarter to nine. Plenty of time
for you to come in.”
“Okay.”
Kimberley could have sworn it had been 8:52 minutes ago, but
then she had made the same
mistake earlier, mistaken a three for a five. “Just a few
minutes, though.” She smiled, realizing that getting to know
Mrs. Miller wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe they could make
this final one a double whammy. Something to talk to Jason
about when she got back. Tell him that maybe it was time to
move on. Kimberley was starting to get bored with the house
they were in now anyway. Maybe that’s what had caused her to
get into all these fights lately. The house was too big for
the two of them, not at all cozy, and seizing Mrs. Miller’s
house up, she could picture herself here. Not happily ever
after, but happy enough until something else came up.
The porch
steps creaked beneath her. It was one of those old houses
you see so seldom these days. A rarity for sure, the green
façade glinting in the light from the lamp post by the curb,
the white trim so pristine they seemed to have been
repainted only days ago.
Kimberley
reached out her hand, let Mrs. Miller take it, surprised by
how cold the old woman’s skin was in her hand.
“This is so
nice of you, inviting me like this.”
“Why, of
course, my dear. It’s genuine Earl Grey tea. From England.”
Up close
Mrs. Miller’s blue eyes looked a bit milky. As if she had
been using them for too long, the shimmer gone out of them.
“I’m
Kimberley,” Kimberley said, “Kimberley Anders –”
“No need to
tell me that, child,” Mrs. Miller chuckled. “Herb’s told me
all about you.”
“He has?”
Kimberley frowned. They hadn’t known him for that long.
Two-three weeks at the most. “I’m sorry, I don’t know that
much about you.”
“We should
change that then.” Then the chuckle again. “I’m sure we’ll
get along just fine.”
Kimberley
nodded, returned the smile. Jason would go ballistics over
this. Jump up and down with joy, clap his hands. No client
had ever come to them this easy. Kimberley all but purred
like the Jag herself, the thought of some good old fashioned
celebration sex causing the same thrill to zigzag up her
groin.
The glass of
iced tea chilled her hands and she took a sip. It was sweet
and lemony. Just the way she liked it.
“Thanks,”
she said. “This is really good. Just –“
“The way you
like it. I know. That’s why I made it.”
That eerie
feeling was back, but just as Kimberley was going to say so,
a car sped past, honking at the seemingly abandoned car in
the middle of the street.
“Oh, my,”
she said. “I better go move that car.”
“Don’t
worry, dear. Not that many cars drive past here anyway. That
could be the only one in the hour to come.” Mrs. Miller
chuckled, slapping her hands down on her knees. “Isn’t that
just typical. One car in an hour, and that’s just when
you’re here.”
Kimberley
took another sip, nodding.
“Always like
that, huh? Murphy’s law.”
“What is
that, hon?”
“Murphy’s –”
Kimberley started, then cut herself short. “Never mind.” She
glanced at the watch on Mrs. Miller’s arm. Five past now.
She really should be going. “Did you want to ask me about
something?”
“All in good
time,” Mrs. Miller said. “You finish your tea and then we’ll
talk.”
Another car
drove past, but this time the honking was a lot more
friendly and when Kimberley lifted her head to look, she
thought she recognized old Herb’s Caddy, a sleek, maroon
colored beauty that Jason couldn’t wait to get his hands on.
But the man driving the car raised his hand as the car idled
past, waving at them, and he didn’t look at all like Herb,
although the thin mustache reminded Kimberley of someone.
Clark Gable perhaps. Or was it Cary Grant? She never could
keep the two apart.
“Would you
mind stepping inside for just a minute?” Mrs. Miller said.
“There’s something I’m dying to get your opinion on.”
“Well,
sure,” Kimberley said, glancing again at the watch on Mrs.
Miller’s arm.
“You have
time, dear. Don’t you worry about that. You young people,
always worrying about the time.”
Kimberley
felt the smile spreading on her face, her shoulders drooping
as she relaxed. It really was stupid. If anyone should worry
about time it was Mrs. Miller. Time was really running out
on her.
“You’re
right,” she said, reaching across the table, finding Mrs.
Miller’s hand and squeezing it. Through the years Kimberley
had picked up a thing or two on how the oldies liked to be
treated, and so far the hand-squeezing had proven to be a
hit each and every time. Went straight to their hearts and
their bank accounts. “Let’s go take a look.”
Mrs. Miller
pulled open the screen door, let Kimberley go in before she
followed. The insides of the house smelled much like it
always did in homes like these, stale and sweet, as if the
owner had already started to decompose although she still
moved around with relative ease. Kimberley stopped, waiting
for Mrs. Miller to show her the way, then turning around,
her head spun and she had to steady herself against the
wall.
“Oh dear,”
Mrs. Miller said. “That was quick.”
Mrs.
Miller’s cold hand moved up against Kimberley’s bare arm, a
tight grip closing around it.
“You come
here, dear,” Mrs. Miller said, pushing open the closest
door.
Inside the
room, the piercing light stung Kimberley’s eyes. Where was
she exactly? She didn’t feel unsteady anymore, but
definitely dizzy. This looked like a dentist’s office,
white, pristine, and gleaming stainless steel
everywhere she looked.
“Good,” a
voice said from behind. “Just take a seat and I’ll be right
with you.”
Kimberley
turned to see a youngish woman in a nurse’s white uniform,
fiddling with some instruments on a tray, the clinking
hacking at her mind like icicles.
“Here she
is,” Mrs. Miller said. “No trouble at all.” She chuckled
again. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”
The
dizziness had turned into nausea now and Kimberley took her
seat, grateful to sit down and lean back. She just needed to
close her eyes for a bit and she’d be fine.
“There you
go,” the nurse said. “Just relax and this will be over in no
time.”
“What – ”
Kimberley started. The chair seemed to be closing on her,
arms, legs and waist in a tight grip. She tried to wriggle,
but got nowhere.
“This is a
nice one you got here,” the nurse said. “Plump enough
without being overweight. Healthy I would say.” She placed a
machine of some sort beside Kimberley, for a moment blocking
Kimberley’s view of Mrs. Miller.
“I know,”
Mrs. Miller said, her voice spilling over with pride as she
peeked out from the other side of the machine. “Herb’s been
telling me nothing but good things about her.”
Kimberley
tried to open her mouth, tried to inform Mrs. Miller that
she shouldn’t listen so much to old Herb, that he had a
tendency to exaggerate things.
“You better
hurry up,” Mrs. Miller said, obviously to the nurse because
whatever happened Kimberley knew that she couldn’t hurry up
even if she wanted to. “Herb just drove past and he’s
already done.”
“Oh, swell,”
the nurse said. “Who did he get then?”
“That boy
who planned to move in with him. This one’s boyfriend.” From
the corner of her eyes Kimberley saw Mrs. Miller motion
toward her. “The two of you aren’t married, are you, dear?”
Then, when Kimberley didn’t answer, “No,” she said, shaking
her head dismissively, “so few are these days.”
It took
Kimberley a while to process what she’d just heard. Herb
– driving past. So, the maroon car was Herb’s? But the
man had looked nothing like him, except for the mustache.
That’s where she knew the mustache from she realized now.
If anything it had looked like a much younger version of
Herb.
The nurse
held up a syringe, inspecting it against the light, then
bent down to insert it into Kimberley’s arm.
A much
younger version of Herb? The thought came screeching
back as the needle pierced through her skin. What was this?
Vampires?
“No, dear,”
Mrs. Miller said. “We don’t like to call ourselves that.
That’s such an old-fashioned concept. We’re much more high
tech these days. Less of a mess, I always say. Besides,” she
said, pulling out her dentures, a line of drool glistening
against her chin, “these just doesn’t work as they used to.”
The nurse
pushed a button and the machine in between them came to life
with a whirr, buzzing, sucking and pumping what Kimberley
realized was blood. Her blood. Floating through the clear
plastic tube now connected to Mrs. Miller.
“This will
only take a few minutes,” the nurse said.
“Oh, swell,”
Mrs. Miller said. “I wouldn’t want to be late for my dinner
date.”
Then she
chuckled.
It was
really starting to get on Kimberley’s nerves. |
