The Revelations by Erik Hoel (some good books to read TXT) 📗

angel. Just like an angel. People would always tell me, you know, people would always say—‘She’s gonna be an actress. She’s gonna be in movies.’ People would really say that! Strangers would come up and say that! So, of course that’s what I thought. That’s what everyone thought! Oh honey, I only wanted what was going to be the easiest thing for you. That’s why I took you to all those, those damn hotels. So that you could have opportunities and a career of your own. But you, well, you’re stubborn! Like your grandmother! You had to take the harder path. But you did it. I mean you really did it. And now, I tell everyone that you’re a scientist now. That you grew up to be a scientist, when they knew you as a little girl. And they say—‘Imagine that.’ That’s what they say. Imagine that. That’s exactly what they say. You flummoxed them all, sweetheart. You flummoxed them all. And me too! And you know I’m so proud of you. I’m so immensely proud of you my heart just breaks with it. But I’m never going to understand what you do. But I know now it’s important.” Her laugh is tinny and faraway over the phone. “At least I know it’s important.”

Carmen finds herself crying. She wipes at her eyes, surprised at this reminder of the tender-raw narrative of her life, the origins of it all. How different it had been then, how far she has come, how real her life was outside of the recent events. Not that it had been so much harder and the choices so much more devastating than any other life, but rather it had been full of hardship and choices in the way that all lives, all lives all over are, and because like every personal past of someone who has moved away and become a different person it had condensed into an almost solid structure from time passing, a beautiful but heartbreaking piece of art she sometimes forgets she possesses, a Rembrandt in the basement.

It’s time. Outside it is gray and hot, the clouds are low, trapping the heat in, a lid to the city. During the walk to the CNS she texts Kierk again, this time just a bunch of question marks. He still hasn’t answered. It’s been two days now since they’ve communicated. Thirty missed calls. A gazil-lion text messages. Would Kierk have walked back from her apartment to his own? Undoubtedly. Or maybe he had taken the subway . . . And there was something terrible on the news that she had missed. No. Impossible. But after this many missed phone calls it seemed completely possible. His body, that thing that was now so full of life to her, could right now be a mangled doll somewhere under the city in the dark, lost. Or the person that had left that dummy outside her window had found him, gotten him, and with an ice pick stirred apart that delicate brain of his. She is gripped with worry for him. But maybe that’s not what’s going on at all, maybe he’s totally fine, maybe he’s consciously not answering her calls, and he’s decided something she didn’t see coming, some part of him was an emotional cipher and had taken over and he was making decisions using some formal system unknown to her. Or what if he had missed the first few phone calls and messages and then found them all, and decided she was too unstable or crazy or obsessive and now wasn’t responding at all, didn’t know how to nor did he want to deal with a girl who called him dozens of times. What if she’d ruined everything? Carmen is confronted with the fact that in the grand scheme of things she doesn’t know that much about Kierk. He had talked about his mother, but what about his father? He’d never even mentioned one . . . She knew that he had left his PhD prior to its completion, some kind of fight with his mentor, but whose fault had it been? And what of his past relationships? He’d never mentioned any, despite all the discussions they’ve had. Had he ever been in love? She’s just realizing now that she doesn’t know any of this. Had he just wanted to fuck her? Maybe he’d gotten everything he wanted from her already. She’d been so stupid not to see it! She’d misinterpreted everything. All his interest in her had just been him wanting to check off some sort of conquest box. Who the fuck was Kierk at all? Maybe he was just like everybody else . . . And then the cycle started again at her worry about his safety, and she’s back to certainty that some outside malevolent force is at work.

Carmen increases her pace to the CNS, occasionally breaking into a jog as she rounds corners or crosses streets. Hypotheses float through her mind: that somehow SAAR knew what was going on, knew about her, knew about Kierk . . . had found Kierk alone after he had left yesterday . . .

Entering the CNS she finds no security guard at the little vestibule. After ringing the bell and waiting for a minute she leans over and swipes her own card in. She presses the elevator button but it doesn’t light up—probably the power outages had affected it and it needed to be reset or something. So she takes the stairs, which she’s never done from the ground floor before. Oddly not all the stairwells in the building go all the way up—this one ends at the fourth floor and so she has to wander the floor, which she’s never been on, looking for another stairwell. The lights are all dim. Sometimes she gets halfway down a dark hallway before a motion detector illuminates the section. She wonders if Skylar is in here yet. In fact, Carmen realizes she stupidly hadn’t specified where Skylar should