I wouldn’t say I’m a coward, and he was shorter than me, but the sound of that scientist’s voice made me want to run.

There he stood, leaning against the door frame, with a white mug in his hand. I stared at him, I think we all did actually. Myra looked infuriated.
He looked back at me. Calm. Suspiciously calm. Then he looked at the floor for a moment, like he was thinking.

“Myra,” he said. He looked up. “You want to come talk to me for a minute?”

He nodded back to the room behind him. With her teeth clenched and jaw eschew, she walked past him, quick harsh strides. He followed her in.
The door slammed behind them. It left us in the hallway. Dark. Rain beating on the windows.

“I’m going to go dry off,” Donny mumbled. She started walking towards the stairwell. I murmured an assent and followed her till the parlor.

I looked back once. The door was shut. And I couldn’t hear any of the voices within.

Dried off and with some fresh clothes on, I ventured upstairs to find Donny. I wanted to ask her about what was going on. It seemed she knew something even if she was a little ditsy. Though a part of me just wanted to get in my car and leave.
Maybe I would. But I convinced myself to see Donny first.

The stairwell was dark and drafty, but the hallways on the second floor were warm and well-lit. I heard a blow dryer click off. Then Donny strode out, in fresh clothes and with a bundle of wet clothes in her arm. Her hair was in a crazy, fizzy mess.
She spotted me as she opened the door to her room.

“What, you weren’t going to spy through the keyhole? Because someone should,” she said. I walked over to her. She opened the door and flung her clothes in the room.

“You didn’t want to?” I returned. I stuck my hands in my pockets. Fidgeting.

“No,” she answered. I watched her walk over to the closet and pull out some hangers to dry her wet clothes on.

“Why not?” I asked.

She threw the hangers on the bed with a heavy sigh. She looked up at me.

“You really want to know what’s going on down there?” she asked. “Cause I’m just an intern, and I don’t.”

I bit my lip. This meant she probably didn’t know a thing.

“Yes,” I answered. “I do. Because I’m not an intern. I work on a settlement. If something really bad is happening down here I won’t know about for weeks and it’s making me nervous.”

“Well, sorry, I can’t help you. You could ask Mr. Creep Scientist though.” She shrugged her shoulders and hang a jacket up on a hanger.
I probably won’t do that, I thought. I turned round and walked back down the hall. I decided I should probably get myself out of the whole situation. I’d stop by the kitchen and grab some lunch. Then I’d be out.

But as I came down the stairs I hear the scientist talking on the phone. I slowed my pace, silencing the loud creaking.

“There’s been a containment breech. We’ve got three dead crows.”

One thought on “The Moor, Part IX

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