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by Sarah L. Edwards
Science Fiction, 23 pages.
Originally Published in Hub Magazine, 2007
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It squeaked, which didn’t surprise her. Nor was she shocked by the water-stained ceiling, the musty odor that teased her nose, or the menacing shadows cast by a single naked light bulb. At least it has electricity, she thought. Some of the seedy places she’d patronized lately hadn’t, although perhaps the cheery candle flames had been more inviting than the feeble bulb overhead.
“Hello?” she called into the silence. “Hello, is anyone here? I’d like to book a room for the night.”
“Why, of course you do, bless your heart.” The scratchy female voice came from around the far corner. “We been busy, but I think there might be one left.” A large, graying woman in a cotton print dress bustled into the lobby and over to a large desk, where she opened a book. Glancing in it, she said, “Yes, ma’am, still a room left. What floor you like?”
“First.”
“Hmm, we got the room with water, that’s six dollars, or t’other room what’s three dollars.”
“The one with water, please.” A shower was too much to hope for, but it was worth twice the cost to avoid the community lav. Or did they still have lavs outdoors? She couldn’t remember.
The woman fumbled, clanking, in a drawer, and pulled a key with a tag trailing behind. She squinted in the gloom, then grinned. “Room two, sure as I’m born. Here you go, miss.”
The young woman handed over six bills, scrupulously folded.
“Now just sign right here.” The old woman pointed to blank line in the book.
The young woman slowly wrote her name, each letter an effort. Rose Delaney. Showy, perhaps, but it would do. This old woman wouldn’t care.
“Now, just get your things and I’ll show you right to your room.”
“This is all I have,” said Rose, hefting her bag. The woman eyed it for a minute, then shrugged and turned down a dim hallway. Rose followed wearily. They stopped at the last room on the right, and the woman opened the door.
“You have a nice stay, miss,” she said. “You be wantin’ another night, you just let me know, else checkout is at noon. There’s a diner across the way what’s open still, if you’re hungry. Or the bar down the street, if that be your fancy.” The woman gave her a piercing glance.
“I think I’m just going to bed.”
“That’s right, deary. Just tuck in and have you a good sleep,” the woman said, then turned and clumped back down the hall.
Rose stepped into the room and shut the door. Tossing her bag on the bed, she looked around the corner and gasped.
“A bathtub!” Rose tried the tap and water came rushing out. Warm water, even. She stuck the plug in the drain and walked back to the bed, where she dumped out the contents of her bag.
Let’s see. Vitas, hairbush. Log book. Scanning equipment. She picked up two gray pieces of folded vinyl, attached by a cord, and laid them aside. After that came three fountain pens. She twisted the cap of one of them and snorted. Disposable camouflaged reverse lapses with timing delay. Just what I need – a gimmick from some department whiz kid playing spy. And only one can of tag left. She shook a metal can, which sloshed faintly. Almost empty, too. She sighed. Then she turned a small, black disc over her hand, fingering various dials on it. State-of-the-art multi-directional lapsing device. Thank goodness. She glanced at her lap and fingered the pale cotton of her dress. Good thing they gave me the wrinkle-free stuff - won’t be wearing anything else for while.
The last item was a small cardboard box which opened to reveal a shiny chrome-plated harmonica. Rose lifted it to her lips and played a few notes. The creases in her forehead smoothed; her deep red eyebrows relaxed. After a few minutes of playing she stripped and climbed into the tub, half-full of tepid water.
Afterwards, she sat on the bed jotting notes as they came to her using one of the lapse pens, which she’d discovered actually had ink.
It had been a profitable day, really. She’d found three possible Talenteds, and had tagged each of them. At first glace, she thought the boy was the most promising of the bunch. He was probably saved from autism only by the grace of God, but that irregularity left his mind open to all sorts of possibilities. A navigator, even. Unlikely, but there was no shame in hoping. Getting time lopped off the contract for a special find would make up for this haphazard scouting mission. Rose smiled. It had been worth it to stick to the mission rather than tag herself and get hauled home for a lecture from Devil Dan about wasting bureau resources.
Satisfied, Rose closed her notebook and prepared for sleep. Just four more days, and t -- [End of Preview.]