chapter 14
After borrowing a car from one of Heather’s co-workers, Uri followed Heather’s directions to her sister’s apartment.
“I’m surprised you can drive.”
“Well, um…Mr. Ford was one of my targets. And it’s been a necessity since then, to blend in on occasion.” He tried to be modest, but the truth of the matter was that he loved driving. In his opinion, automobiles were the most fun human invention by far. "I had a car of my own, but I had a difficult time maintaining it between assignments."
"What kind of car did you have?" She looked at him with doubt in her eyes, which made him chuckle softly. He supposed it was odd to imagine an angel with a car, but humans didn't understand the pull of their toys in the immortal world. Some of them were just fascinating. The ability of humans, simple creatures really, to come up with some of the items they'd managed to create, was beyond Uri's imagination. Granted, most of the inventions were born of greed, or laziness, but some of them were pretty cool.
"A Dodge Charger. I liked the speed; it was nice."
She shuddered. “I hate driving. I’ll do it, if I have to. But I hate it.”
Uri chuckled. “I’m surprised, Heather. You seem fearless.”
“Yeah, well…I have a hard time with driving. That’s all.” She didn’t say much else, besides give directions, the rest of the drive. Chastened, Uri realized the accident that had taken half her family was the cause for her reticence. As well as she seemed to cope with her loss, signs of grief were still there.
When they pulled up to the apartment complex that Heather’s sister lived in, Uri suppressed his disdain. He did not like the idea of Heather visiting this place regularly. There were beggars on the street outside of the complex, and inside the complex, odors of urine, vomit, and refuse permeated his suddenly over-stimulated olfactory senses.
He watched as she used a key to enter a first floor dwelling and call out, “Hey Tiffany! I brought a visitor!” She entered the apartment confidently; he followed warily.
He could hear something as soon as he walked in the door. His surroundings revealed a level of filth he hadn’t seen since the Middle Ages.
Heather disappeared around a corner, and exclaimed, “Tiffany! What are you doing?”
He followed, and found an emaciated version of Heather, standing on the countertops in the kitchen, clinging to cupboard doors, trying to reach the ceiling with what looked like a wet sweat shirt.
She looked at Heather indignantly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m cleaning my ceiling.” She reached up again, and scrubbed the ceiling, raining down wet popcorn particles on her head.
Uri saw they were twins, even though Tiffany looked nothing like Heather. She was skeletal, and her skin was covered in plague-like pustules. Many of her teeth were missing, or rotten, and he could see pieces of her scalp. Shuddering, he thought again of the plague-like conditions of the Middle Ages, here in this twenty-first century apartment.
Shaking his head, he went out to the car, and returned with the oversized blanket that Heather had thought to bring. This wouldn’t be hard. She couldn't weigh more than a hundred pounds, even though she was as tall as Heather.
As he approached Tiffany with the blanket, she noticed him for the first time.
“What’s he think he’s doing?”
“Tiffany, this is my friend Uri. He’s going to help us.”
Uri threw the blanket over Tiffany, trapping her arms in the folds and wrapping his arms around her. He lifted her over his shoulder, as she kicked and screamed obscenities. He turned, threw a wink at Heather, and walked out the front of the apartment.
He opened the door to the back seat and tossed her in.
Heather came out, locking the door behind her.
“That was easy,” she remarked, as she got into the passenger side of the car.
“Nope, you get in the back with her. I’m a good driver but not if someone’s trying to strangle me.”
She rolled her eyes and got in with her sister.
Uri got into the driver’s seat and turned to watch as Heather perched on top of Tiffany so she couldn’t move, although she was still screaming. Satisfied that she wouldn’t try to claw his eyes out on the freeway, he turned and started the car.
Heather gave directions to get to the rehab facility, in between reassurances to her sister.
“Tiffany, you want to get clean. Remember the tattoo parlor? You can’t do the tattoo parlor, if you’re spending all of your money on drugs.”
“F*ck you, Heather! Take me back home!” She let out a litany of curses that made Uri blush.
“I love you, Tiffany. Please remember that. I’m doing this because you asked me to.”
More curses streamed from under the blanket.
“Uri, take this next exit. Tiff, remember when we were kids and we would go to Barton Springs in Austin? The water was so cold, we would dare each other to just jump in. Do you remember?”
Words Uri had never heard were coming from under Heather in the backseat, and Uri was convinced that some sort of demonic possession had taken place. Heather was unfazed.
“When we jumped in, the first submersion was a shock, right? But eventually, we would get used to it, and then we had a great time. Remember?”
Finally, the blanket had gotten a little subdued. It simply uttered, “F*ck you, Bitch.”
“That’s what this will be like, only not so bad. They hook you up to an IV, full of sedatives, and you sleep through the detox stage. It’s not so bad. You’re the one who told me about this place, remember?” The soothing tone of Heather's voice carried to the front seat, and as Tiffany slowly calmed down, Uri felt himself soothed as well.
Seeing Tiffany's living conditions had upset him, and the sound of Heather's placating voice calmed his thoughts. His thoughts of the Middle Ages were replaced with memories of the twins' childhood, frolicking in some spring water as children. As the blanket grew silent, so did Uri's subconscious, taken over by images of a carefree childhood. When they'd finally arrived, Uri found himself centered again, having surrendered to a feeling of tranquility matched only by deep meditation.
Pulling into the parking lot of the rehab facility, which looked an awful lot like an old school building, Uri said quietly, “Is she okay, now?”
“I’m not sure. Tiff?” Heather called softly to the blanket. “Can I get up now? Are you going to run?” There was no answer and no movement.
Heather looked at Uri with panic in her eyes. He reached for her hand, squeezing it. “It’s okay. Hang on, I’ll come open the door.”
Getting out and opening the back door, he helped Heather out of the car. When he pulled the blanket off Tiffany, she was asleep.
“Well, that makes this unbelievably easy.” Uri scooped her up in his arms, wondering if she even weighed a hundred pounds. She was the same height as Heather, around five foot nine or so, but she was so skinny…
Once inside, Uri deposited Tiffany in a waiting wheelchair, and they spent the next thirty minutes or so filling out paperwork. Eventually, a young, friendly looking woman, dressed in khaki pants and a polo shirt with the facility's insignia came out to talk to Heather.
“I’m Tracy, you must be the sister.” She extended her hand to shake with Heather.
“Yes, I’m Heather, and this is my friend, Uri.” Uri felt a sense of something foreign when she introduced him as her friend. Many of his targets had regarded him as a friend, but with Heather, it was different. It pleased him immensely that she would consider him a friend, and the pleasure confounded him. Why should he care? But he did.
“Well, since she’s asleep, she can’t sign the necessary processing paperwork, so we’ll have to wait until she wakes up to begin the detoxing process. Until then, we will keep her in a secure room, so she isn’t hurt. Are you alright with that?”
“Yes. I’m just glad to finally have her here.”
“Does she have someplace to go when she leaves?”
“She can stay with me as long as she stays clean. That’s always been the deal.”
“Okay, then. We’ll be in touch. It was a pleasure to meet you, Heather. And Uri.” She shook each one of their hands before turning and wheeling an unconscious Tiffany down a hallway and into a room out of sight.
Turning with Heather to go, Uri reached out a hand, and placed it on the small of her back, rubbing slightly.
He watched as Heather brushed a tear from her eye, and realized that he felt sorry for Tiffany, who had been locked up to detoxify from the drugs that she herself had put into her system.
He wondered if he’d spent too much time around the humans. They seemed to be rubbing off on him.