The Nightworld - Jack Blaine [21]
I take a shower while Tank does his guard-dog act on the bathroom rug. Then I head downstairs to see if there’s anything more from the Holzers’ I might need to take with me. The Subaru is loaded with the supplies Dad stocked up on, so I doubt I will need to add much in terms of food, but better to be prepared. One thing I know I want to take is the three sets of thermal underwear I found in Charlie’s room—part of his snowboarding ensemble, I guess. They’ll come in handy in these new, chillier temperatures.
In Mr. Holzer’s office I risk turning on the overhead light, since there’s only one window in the room and it’s facing the backyard. I make sure the curtains are fully closed first and then flip the wall switch. The ceiling light blazes. My eyes are so accustomed to dim lighting now that the bright light makes them blink furiously, and water. Once I’ve adjusted, I go through Mr. Holzer’s desk drawers. There are some more batteries that will fit the flashlight, but that’s all that seems useful. The desk calendar, one of those big ones that people lay flat on their desks, has handwritten notes in some of the date squares. June 7 has Charlie last day—that was the last day of school. June 14 has roses/anniversary. There are no more notes in the days, but there is something scrawled in the margin of the calendar.
not weather?
meet Bob Detroit
underground/geothermal
I stare at the words for a while, trying to figure them out. In my head I hear Dad saying, “It’s not a cloud.” Charlie’s text—I dig my phone out of my pocket and look at it again.
We r leaving soon. My stepdad knows some guy and he thinks we’ll b safer in
Safer in Detroit? I wonder. Who’s the guy? Is it this Bob? And what does underground mean? Was Mr. Holzer involved in some sort of underground movement? Geothermal is some sort of heating method, I think—we learned about it in class. What’s in Detroit? I look at the calendar pages prior to June, but there’s no reference to anything having to do with Detroit, or with anyone named Bob.
I power on Mr. Holzer’s computer, and the monitor lights up. His desktop wallpaper is a picture of him and Mrs. Bradley and Charlie from when they went to the Grand Canyon last year. Just seeing Charlie’s face makes me feel better for a minute, but it fades quickly. I don’t know where he is, or if I’ll ever see him again. For all I know, Charlie could be dead, one of the many casualties of the violence that’s raging in places out there.
I’m tempted to log in to Facebook, but I know for sure that’s a way to get traced, so I don’t. I nose around in Mr. Holzer’s computer files, but there doesn’t seem to be anything that relevant. When I look at his email contacts I come up with a Robert Langley, who could be Bob, so I paste his email into Google and I get a hit. Robert Langley, CEO of Geothermal Systems, Detroit, Michigan. It’s some company that installs heating systems in buildings. I start to enter the website into my phone for later, but then I realize I don’t know how long my phone is going to keep working. There’s a little notebook on the desk—one of those free things banks give to their account holders. Its pages are all blank. I find a pen in the drawer and write down the company name and address, along with the guy’s name. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s the only lead I have on Charlie.
Tank, who’s been lying at my feet, erupts into snarling barks and launches himself out of the room. I run after him and find him leaping against the front door. I don’t want to yell at him, partially because I don’t want whatever’s out there to know I’m in here, so I just let