Cages and Those Who Hold the Keys

4

“Where is it?”

Opening my eyes, I saw the digital clock on my bedside table.

4:42 a.m.

The voice from my dream was fading. I sighed, rolled onto my back, and started to drift off once more when a hand I could have sat in clamped around my neck and began to squeeze.

“Where is it?”

I opened my eyes and saw two bulky shadows leaning over my bed. One of them pressed down, increasing its grip around my neck. The pressure was enough to hurt me but not completely cut off my breathing.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” said this shadow, “and then we’re going to hurt you.”

I struggled against the grip but it did no good. “Where’s what?” I managed to get out.

“The map you stole from Road Mama’s apartment.”

Road Mama? Okay, I was still dreaming. Cool. Not quite so scared shitless now. “In the back pocket of my jeans. On the chair over in the corner.” “You shouldn’t have stolen it, you know.” Strange, how your conscience works on you. All day long I’d felt bad about taking that damned thing. One of the dream-shadows moved away from the bed. I heard some rustling, then: “Got it.”

The pressure was released from around my neck as the second shadow let go to remove something from its pocket. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” It leaned down once again, and I felt a short sting in my right arm, and then everything got warm and shiny and I rode the high back down into sleep.

* * *

When the alarm went off, I stumbled out of bed, dry-mouthed, groggy, arms and legs feeling like rubber, and grabbed my jeans from the chair in the corner.

The map was gone.

For several seconds, I was afraid to breathe.

Then I got angry, grabbing a baseball bat from the closet and stomping through the apartment in only my underwear, kicking open doors, ripping aside the shower curtain, shouting curses and promises of broken kneecaps.

Then I noticed that the deadbolt and security chain were still in place.

I made another macho-man sweep of the apartment, at one point opening the refrigerator door to make sure no one was hiding in there (yes, I know…), and finally deciding that I just wanted to get the hell out.

Check the other pocket, you idiot.

Back in the bedroom, I grabbed my jeans and checked all the pockets.

No map.

So if it wasn’t a dream, how in hell did they get in? (And, for that matter, how did they leave?)

Just to make certain, I checked the front door—locked; I checked all the windows—locked; the sliding glass doors that opened onto the patio in back—locked; the

refrigerator again—I needed to buy groceries.

I stood in the middle of the kitchen, tapping the business end of the bat against the side of my leg and shaking.

Maybe it was a dream, I thought. Sure, a dream brought on by an overly-scrupulous conscience. Maybe you took the map out of your pocket and put it somewhere else and that’s why it isn’t in your jeans.

I went to the front door and stood there, facing the inside of the apartment. I hadn’t done all that much when I got home last night, so it would be easy to retrace my steps. Front door. Bathroom. Kitchen. Living room. Bedroom. Still no star-spackled map. I retraced my steps again. Nothing.

I tried it once more, this time checking between and under the couch cushions, then under the couch itself, then under the coffee table, under the bed, under the dresser, and—just for good measure—inside the refrigerator once again, where I discovered that no groceries had magically appeared, nor had the map.

“It fell out of your pocket before you got home,” I said aloud, hoping the sound of my own voice would calm me. “Yeah…it fell out of your pocket somewhere along the line after you left Miss Driscoll’s apartment. That’s all there is to it.”

I felt completely silly now.

I continued to feel silly all the way through coffee, my shower, and getting dressed. Driving to the Sparta, the feeling of silliness gave way to mild gaiety, and by the time I walked into the restaurant and located Barb’s table, I was dangerously close to whimsical.

That all came to a crashing halt when I sat down and Barb spoke.