“Be careful,” I warn.
We lift him, delicately, terrified that he might break and fall into dust.
This is it; this is how he dies.
It’s shocking how quickly death comes. You’re fine and then you’re not.
The road is wider here, with a stretch of low, modern buildings on one side. I scan the signs, casting around for somewhere we can go. Somewhere out of Its glare.
An Indian restaurant…
A garage…
And then I find exactly what we need.
THIRTY
SLEEPY HOLLOW CO.
SOFAS, BEDS AND CARPETS
I don’t remember how we got into the shop. I don’t know if I carried Chiu or if he walked or if Farah carried us both. All I know is that if we hadn’t got inside when we did, we wouldn’t have made it.
I wake in the cavernous interior. Silver heating ducts and electrical conduits snake around the ceiling above me; rows of beds extend in every direction, giving way to a lake of sofas in the middle distance and, a little further off, a coastline of fake offices and what might be fake kitchens. There’s an alarm clock on the bedside table next to my head, its fake time stuck for ever at 7:59. The shelves next to Chiu are stacked with perfectly folded towels and empty picture frames.
The memory of being outside feels like a fever dream. If I’d lain down, if I’d told myself I was just going to close my eyes for a second… Just a second…
That’s how it would have ended. Nobody remembers themselves falling asleep.
Farah stirs on the bed next to me and then Chiu. They sit up like space travellers waking from a century in deep freeze. For a long time, none of us know what to say. We sit in incredulous silence.
At last, Chiu asks, “What happened?”
“You sat down and refused to move,” Farah says, offering Chiu a crooked smile.
Chiu shakes his head. “I was so tired.”
“It’s OK,” Farah says. “I was too.”
“Why weren’t you affected?” Chiu says, looking at me.
“I was,” I say. “It’s something I’ve felt before though.”
Chiu gets up, moves tentatively towards the door. I can see him deliberating with himself. The open sky broods outside. “It’s getting late,” he remarks. “It’s at least, um … quarter-past dark grey. We must have slept most of the day.”
“Then we’ll stay here,” I say. “Leave first thing.”
The others agree readily. None of us is in a rush to go outside again. Chiu smiles and he fishes for something in his jeans pocket. He pulls out a small, battered box. “Hey! Who’s up for a game of Uno?”
*
We play Uno and gradually our fear recedes. Uno is our sacrament, the secret we keep from God. The brightly coloured cards go back and forth and we sit cross-legged on a giant king-size bed that Farah has taken as her own. We might be kids on a sleepover.
I win and keep winning, but nobody wants to stop playing so we go again and again as the whispers of the ordinary world flicker around us. Chiu is the first to call it a night. He drops his cards mid-hand and declares that he’s exhausted. He rolls off Farah’s bed and crawls heavily to the next one along and falls instantly asleep, face first.
“I’m done as well,” Farah says.
We clear the cards and I move to the next bed along. Farah flops extravagantly on to her back and pulls the large, white-and-purple duvet around her. “My bed is my best friend,” she sighs. “It gives me warm blanket hugs.”
“G’night,” I murmur.
I lie on my back and stare once again at the twisting silver pipes above my head. Sleep reaches out for me hungrily. I roll on to my side and my thoughts start to fall apart.
There’s a sound and a movement and suddenly I’m aware of Farah lying next to me. The warmth and weight of her presses against my back and I can feel the slight pressure of her knees against the back of my thighs. She puts her arm around me and presses her forehead against my neck.
“Is this OK?” she says.
“Um … yeah … of course.”
My chest feels as if somebody is kicking over oil drums inside it and my stomach twists and turns. I’m scared that she can feel how tense I am. I don’t want her to think I don’t want her here.
“Thank you,” Farah says quietly.
“For what?”
“For saving us.”
