V. H. King's Ink

Prompt: Imagine your protagonist finds a loved one acting completely out of character, for no explicable reason. Why is it?

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If you were going to house a rogue interdimensional portal-scanner, it was best to have your two most trustworthy spies on speed-dial.  It didn’t hurt to be married to one of said spies, either.  Kate closed her eyes as she waited.  The ringing switched from the triple blip-blip-blip to the long rolling tone—blip blrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr blip-bleep.  The call had gone through and rolled over to the extension.  Then there was the chirping, the arpeggio cheep-chap-cheep! as it routed through the third-party. 

Martine, please…

“Kate-o, what’s up?”

Just before she could curse Martine for never answering the phone.  Kate let out a breath she didn’t remember holding. 

“Uh—do you mind coming home early?”

Her voice sounds quiet in her ears—not at all the voice of someone who was about to come up with threats their spouse would find absolutely adorable.  That’s what Martine said—that her threats were so laughable that Martine had to take them to heart, for all the imagination that must have went into Kate making them.

“Will I…?”

The pause is half-coy, half-amused.  The day must not be too bad, at the office, and for that Kate is grateful.  She would hate to make a bad day worse. 

“Lilly’s being…weird.”

“Eating out of the sandbox weird or…?”

“I’m not sure I can fill in the blank on this one.”

Martine laughed, and the sound warmed Kate’s heart.  Like honey in iced tea.  Kate swallowed, trying not to overreact.  She had to tell herself she was overreacting so she would force herself to stay calm.  Because she had to be over-reacting.  Right?  It was just a scrambled message that wasn’t coming all the way through.  It didn’t mean any black-market portals were open.  Especially none nearby that could—

“You know it’s probably just something she ate, right?  It’s always because of something she ate.”

Kate can hear the smile in Martine’s voice.  See Martine’s eyes—the one violet, the other a seafoam sort of green.  She can feel the arm around her shoulders and the press of lips at her temple. 

“Yeah, I know, but—look.”

Kate turned on the camera and held her phone sideways.  Maybe not a good idea, if Martine’s office door was open.  Which it usually was, since people interrupted them anyway even when it was closed.  She could hear Martine shift, leaning closer to the screen.

Lilly was lying on her back, pointing at the ceiling.  Sometimes she did that when the fan was on.  Tracing the outline of the blades in slow motion.  Kate didn’t know how it didn’t make her dizzy, but Lilly promised it helped her calm down. 

“Elbow macaroni pirates request permission to land their spaceship.”

“Permission granted, upon receipt of the golden triangle of cheese.”

“There are only squares.”

“Triangles only.”

“We can pay twice the weight in squares.  We can pay in cubes, even, but—”

“Proceed to next starfield.  No landing space available unless triangle payments are received.”

“BUT THE SQUARES—”

Kate switched off the camera and put the phone to her ear again.  She stepped around the couch and into the hall.  On the other end of the line, Martine was shuffling papers and snapping at someone who had just poked their head in the door.  The door slammed, and then Martine asked,

“She’s been doing that for how long?”

“As soon as you left.”

“What?!  Kate, it’s been hours—I’ve got a triple shift and I don’t even know what time it is, but—”

“I know, I know—and it was fine at first.  But then her mouth stopped moving, and I…I got scared, Mart.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d been afraid of Lilly.  It probably wouldn’t be the last, either.  As long as Martine came home.  If not…

“When did her mouth stop moving?”

“Thirty minutes ago, maybe?  I tried just leaving a few messages with Sal, but—”

“He’s out until the eighth.” 

Martine’s voice had gotten that blustery yet brisk tone, the one that meant she meant business.  Sal was the one who knew enough to have earned three different advanced degrees in this kind of stuff, even though he claimed he didn’t have a high school diploma.  As unreliable as his schedule was, Kate could almost believe it just for his truancy. 

If Sal was out, that meant it was really up to them.  It was only up to them.  She forced herself to listen, knowing Martine’s instructions were important but for the life of her unable to really grasp them.

“If her mouth stopped moving, someone is trying to force that comm through.  She might be trying to backtrack and find a way to pull the plug, but usually she can do that in a few minutes.  I need you to find her.”

“Find—find her?  Find who?”

“Lilly’s not inside Lilly right now.  Put some lemon juice on her finger—the one she’s pointing with—sit her up with her back against the couch, and put a blank piece of paper in front of her.  Orange, green, or pink—but absolutely not white paper, okay?”

“I…okay?  But—”

“Every time she says a shape, color, or a food, write down the time.  Put an X if she says two or more in the same sentence, put a Y if she says all three.”

“Martine, I can’t do this, I need you or Sal—”

“I’m already on my way home, but you need to start tracking her now.”

“Okay, okay—I’ll do it.”

“Good.  I shouldn’t be more than twenty.”

ELBOW SQUARES

MACCARONI SHIPMENT

SUPPLIES, SUPPLIES, SUPPLIES

REQUEST FOR IMMEDIATE REQUEST FOR IMMEDIATE REQUEST FOR IMMEDIATE REQUEST

If that wasn’t an SOS, Kate didn’t know what was.  She dropped the phone on the couch and spent too long looking for the lemon juice.  It was in the door, it was always in the door because Lilly drank it straight, but her eyes refused to see the green bottle until the screeching started.

X for two things, Y for three.  What was she supposed to be counting?

It didn’t matter anymore, because Lilly wasn’t saying anything.  Lilly was gone.  Kate pressed her fingers to the hollow of her throat, as if it would help her swallow the knot there.  The screeching had happened before.  When Lilly couldn’t code a message, or scramble it back securely.  But usually it stopped, for goodness sake. 

Lilly’s not inside Lilly right now.

The words resurface and Kate’s stomach clenches.  Because if Lilly wasn’t there—then who was?  Kate glanced again at her phone, not daring to look into Lilly’s vacant eyes.  The screen was blank.  Not dark, like when it was in sleep mode or when the battery died.  No, it was blank as in a dull grey square.  A thin strip of LED light from one side leaked out, as if the screen or casing had gotten cracked somewhere. 

Kate shoved the phone aside and went to the kitchen.  She could use the clock on the microwave or the stove—but would she hear Lilly?  Once the screeching stopped, if Lilly started speaking again and it wasn’t at the top of her lungs—

The microwave display was grey. Blank. 

The oven light was on.  

A shadow moved inside.