Categories > Original > Fantasy > Tradewinds 06 - "Falling"
VII
A short while later, Shades finally regained consciousness to the sound of voices cutting through the pain in his head.
“…That’s a really lovely spread, dear,” some woman’s voice remarked.
“I don’t know…” some man’s voice commented.
“No way!” the voice of a boy Shades was sure couldn’t be older than nine or ten piped up. “I want a bunk bed!”
“You can’t have a bunk bed,” the voice of what must surely be the boy’s father told him flatly. “You’ll fall off.”
There was just something about the way Daddy dead-panned that last that Shades barely stifled a laugh at. The abrupt movement made his head start throbbing again, his smirk wiped off with a wince. It was only as he worried about blowing his cover that it occurred to him that there must not have been anyone about when he woke up before. Place was likely closed.
“Will not!” the son protested. “Come on, Dad! Steve has a bunk bed!”
“That’s for Steve’s parents to decide,” Mommy told him. “Now, let’s see if they have one with a lighter frame…”
Though irritated by how easily the boy was brushed off in the decision-making process for his own bed, Shades still allowed himself a silent sigh. For a moment he was afraid the two were actually interested in buying his hiding place. He had gotten his full night’s sleep, or as close to it as he was going to get; as soon as these folks left the room, it would be time to slip out of here.
But as the parents ambled into the next room, discussing their son’s new bed, and Shades prepared to make his move, the boy looked underneath this one.
He and Shades stared at each other for a long moment, eye to mirrorized lenses.
Busted…
“Mom! Dad! Look!” the boy blurted out as he jumped back to his feet. “There’s a guy under the bed! And he’s got silly-looking sunglasses!”
Silly-looking! Shades nearly muttered, then his mind switched gears in a frantic effort to explain himself this time (I’m screwed, I’m screwed, I’m screwed…), but not coming up with much of anything.
“Kyle, honey,” Mommy began in a chiding, yet calm and reassuring— in a word, motherly— voice, “there’s no one under the bed. Just as there’s nothing under your bed at home.”
Shades held his breath, hoping that would be the end of it, but the boy, whose name was apparently Kyle, persisted.
“But he’s there! I saw him! He’s even got a whip, too!”
Shit! How’m I gonna explain that? (Don’t let Security get you!)— Shades had taken DJ’s words to heart. So he had braced himself for a confrontation with the guards, not a grade-school kid.
“Nonsense,” Daddy told him, in a voice that made Shades picture him putting his foot down. “There is no one under that bed.”
And from that tone, Shades was afraid that Daddy was going to look under the bed, just to prove he was right.
“But Dad! He’s real! See for yourself!”
Shades braced himself to knock the bed over and bolt; if he made a big enough commotion, maybe no one would catch his face…
“Kyle, I’m not going to make a fool of myself crawling around on the floor.” Then, to his wife, “Come on, dear, let’s go see what else they have.”
End of discussion, to which Shades sighed, then hoped he hadn’t made too much noise.
“But Dad…”
“No buts. Let’s go…”
And so the conversation went.
Even after they left, Shades held still for a while, fearing that there was still one more awkward twist left to this skit; he had seen too many comedies to believe it could end this easily. In spite of the suspense, his mind kept turning back to his bad dreams. To his dream-friends’ predicaments. The only thing he could think of was how real his dreams had seemed years ago.
It had been years since he had had dreams like that…
A short while later, Shades finally regained consciousness to the sound of voices cutting through the pain in his head.
“…That’s a really lovely spread, dear,” some woman’s voice remarked.
“I don’t know…” some man’s voice commented.
“No way!” the voice of a boy Shades was sure couldn’t be older than nine or ten piped up. “I want a bunk bed!”
“You can’t have a bunk bed,” the voice of what must surely be the boy’s father told him flatly. “You’ll fall off.”
There was just something about the way Daddy dead-panned that last that Shades barely stifled a laugh at. The abrupt movement made his head start throbbing again, his smirk wiped off with a wince. It was only as he worried about blowing his cover that it occurred to him that there must not have been anyone about when he woke up before. Place was likely closed.
“Will not!” the son protested. “Come on, Dad! Steve has a bunk bed!”
“That’s for Steve’s parents to decide,” Mommy told him. “Now, let’s see if they have one with a lighter frame…”
Though irritated by how easily the boy was brushed off in the decision-making process for his own bed, Shades still allowed himself a silent sigh. For a moment he was afraid the two were actually interested in buying his hiding place. He had gotten his full night’s sleep, or as close to it as he was going to get; as soon as these folks left the room, it would be time to slip out of here.
But as the parents ambled into the next room, discussing their son’s new bed, and Shades prepared to make his move, the boy looked underneath this one.
He and Shades stared at each other for a long moment, eye to mirrorized lenses.
Busted…
“Mom! Dad! Look!” the boy blurted out as he jumped back to his feet. “There’s a guy under the bed! And he’s got silly-looking sunglasses!”
Silly-looking! Shades nearly muttered, then his mind switched gears in a frantic effort to explain himself this time (I’m screwed, I’m screwed, I’m screwed…), but not coming up with much of anything.
“Kyle, honey,” Mommy began in a chiding, yet calm and reassuring— in a word, motherly— voice, “there’s no one under the bed. Just as there’s nothing under your bed at home.”
Shades held his breath, hoping that would be the end of it, but the boy, whose name was apparently Kyle, persisted.
“But he’s there! I saw him! He’s even got a whip, too!”
Shit! How’m I gonna explain that? (Don’t let Security get you!)— Shades had taken DJ’s words to heart. So he had braced himself for a confrontation with the guards, not a grade-school kid.
“Nonsense,” Daddy told him, in a voice that made Shades picture him putting his foot down. “There is no one under that bed.”
And from that tone, Shades was afraid that Daddy was going to look under the bed, just to prove he was right.
“But Dad! He’s real! See for yourself!”
Shades braced himself to knock the bed over and bolt; if he made a big enough commotion, maybe no one would catch his face…
“Kyle, I’m not going to make a fool of myself crawling around on the floor.” Then, to his wife, “Come on, dear, let’s go see what else they have.”
End of discussion, to which Shades sighed, then hoped he hadn’t made too much noise.
“But Dad…”
“No buts. Let’s go…”
And so the conversation went.
Even after they left, Shades held still for a while, fearing that there was still one more awkward twist left to this skit; he had seen too many comedies to believe it could end this easily. In spite of the suspense, his mind kept turning back to his bad dreams. To his dream-friends’ predicaments. The only thing he could think of was how real his dreams had seemed years ago.
It had been years since he had had dreams like that…
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