The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [121]
While Marty and Jay drank hot coffee—Travis envied them that—Otero had called several of the colleges until he found one that still had contact information on file for Professor Sparkman. It turned out Sparkman had a sister in Salt Lake City. Otero had called her, and while she hadn't talked to her brother in years, she had agreed to have her name on the report.
That was good. Sparkman's sister was a real person, with a real home and an address. The police would have to take this case seriously now. They would look for Sparkman, and the others who were missing.
Then again, official investigations could be lengthy, and Travis wasn't sure he had time to wait for the police. He had to find Sparkman. Duratek was behind the disappearances in the city. If Travis found the missing people, he would find Duratek. And, he believed, the gate.
“We've got to start speaking to people,” Travis said. “People like us, on the street. We have to see if anyone saw Professor Sparkman before he disappeared.”
Jay glared up at him. “For crying out loud, you can't be serious. We went to the police like you wanted. Now it's up to them to do their job. We're done with this.”
Travis only shook his head, and Jay grumbled about crazy people all the way to the recycle center.
They traded in the cans and bottles, getting over forty dollars in return. To celebrate, they went to a convenience store and indulged in coffee and microwave burritos, then went back to the warehouses off Kalamath where they had been camping out. They had rigged a kind of shelter from loading pallets and a tarp Marty had bought at a thrift store, and once Travis got the fire going, it was almost luxurious, especially when they broke out the chocolate bars they had bought with their new money.
The next morning they woke after dawn, and as they ate powdered donuts out of cellophane packets, Marty suggested they should get an early start talking to people about Sparkman.
Jay let out a groan. “Not you, too, Marty. What's up with you two morons? I could care less about old Sparky.”
“That's not true, Jay,” Marty said quietly. “He's a human being. You have to care.”
“The hell I do.” Jay waved a powdered-sugar-covered hand. “I don't give a damn about anyone.”
Marty gazed at him a long moment, then stood. “Come on, Travis. I think we should leave Jay alone.”
“Cut that crap out,” Jay said, jumping to his feet. “You guys aren't ditching me. If anyone is going to ditch anyone, I'm going to ditch you. Only I'm not. So shut up about all this leaving junk and let's get going.”
Marty knelt to roll up his and Jay's sleeping bags, but not before Travis noticed a smile on his lips. Travis smiled himself despite the sourness in his stomach. Maybe Jay wasn't the leader of the duo after all.
They walked over to Civic Center Park first, got coffee from the same street vendor as before, and spent most of the day talking to anyone who would let three dirty, unshaven men approach them. However, no one they spoke to had seen Sparkman the day he disappeared. As far as Travis could tell, the three of them were the last people to see the professor.
Finally, the sun was sliding down toward the mountains, and Travis's stomach was growling again. Jay wanted to head to the shelter to see if they could get a handout for dinner and save some of their precious cash. Reluctantly, Travis agreed. However, as they walked through the row of columns at the park's entrance, a man ambled up to them. He was old and stooped, his gray hair and beard stained yellow, his dirty fingers poking out of worn gloves.
“Are you three the ones asking all them questions about some homeless guy in a wheelchair who disappeared?” the old man said.
Travis gave Marty and Jay a startled glance, then looked back at the old man. He reminded Travis a little of Ezekiel Frost, the half-mad old mountain man in Castle City who had died at the hands of the sorcerer. Only that had been over a century ago.
“How