Read Online Death of the Body (Crossing Death) by Rick Chiantaretto - Free Book Online
Authors: Rick Chiantaretto
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in the thousands since at least that many could fit in the parliament building.
The fact that I wasn’t going to be able to avoid contact with humans wasn’t enough to make me change my plans, just enough to make me edit them a bit. I turned down the stone walkway and circled around to the south end of the building, facing the meager side of town. I doubted that human pride would allow them to stay in cramped quarters unless they had no other choice. This meant fewer humans to encounter. It would make for a little longer trip in the dark, but I wouldn’t have to cross as many of the marble hallways once inside of the building.
I shouldn’t have been surprised to see children once I got to the south side of town. I expected the orphans to be housed in the school where Ralph, Hailey, and I had lived since we were six. There was a large communal space there for teaching as well as joint dormitories. The surprise came when I discovered the children were crowded into three tiny, connected lofts that we had used for those who didn’t require many resources—singles who could take care of themselves, couples with no young children, or those who couldn’t prove useful to our society, like those with disabilities or the elderly who had not learned a trade that would be taught to the younger generation. I couldn’t help but do the math: sixty or so children in three lofts meant there were twenty or more per loft. I was glad no one was around to see the disgusted look on my face.
My father’s office was on the southeast side of the building. In order to get there—or at least to remember how to get there—I would have to enter the southwestern doors. When my father brought me a few years ago, we entered through the main lobby on the north. There was a large central hallway that connected to the southern wing where we turned east. I had to find that juncture again if I was going to have any luck.
The pace I set was a compromise between speed and stealth. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. I spied an empty hallway through the large glass doors. I tugged on one of them and crossed through into a sea of marble. Large, brightly lit chandeliers hung from the intricately designed and inlaid ceiling. The light reflected throughout the long white corridor, but instead of looking sterile and stark, the hallways glimmered with warmth.
I heard low murmurs like distant echoes, but the voices blended and I couldn’t make out what was being said. I wasn’t sure how far away the voices were from me, but the hallway I was standing in was deserted.
Evenly spaced potted trees reached toward the ceiling, lining the hallway, alternating with evenly spaced mirrors stretching from floor to ceiling. Everything in this building was ornate, from the gold crown molding to the masonry of the pots. The trees were perfectly trimmed into towering cones of leaf (some species of tree preferred to be trimmed as it made them feel more proper). I was always easily distracted when I was allowed in this building (and I was only allowed when I was accompanied by my father). There was so much to look at: the doorknobs, the framing, the swirls in the marble floor. It was all perfect.
Tonight, the only thing I examined was my reflection in the mirror. My hair was sloppy, my eyes were dark and hard, and my clothes were too big for my frame. No wonder the woman from the orphanage mistakenly confused me for one of her children. There was a bulge in my shirt pocket. I remembered the acorn I’d promised to plant in this town for Mother Tree. That was one more thing I’d have to do before leaving for the ruins tonight.
The entire survey took less than a second before I moved again. I passed a few closed doors without considering whether they were locked or if people were inside. I counted myself lucky none of them stood open, filled with humans who might see me, ask questions, or become angry. Worse, they could discover that I wasn’t one
The fact that I wasn’t going to be able to avoid contact with humans wasn’t enough to make me change my plans, just enough to make me edit them a bit. I turned down the stone walkway and circled around to the south end of the building, facing the meager side of town. I doubted that human pride would allow them to stay in cramped quarters unless they had no other choice. This meant fewer humans to encounter. It would make for a little longer trip in the dark, but I wouldn’t have to cross as many of the marble hallways once inside of the building.
I shouldn’t have been surprised to see children once I got to the south side of town. I expected the orphans to be housed in the school where Ralph, Hailey, and I had lived since we were six. There was a large communal space there for teaching as well as joint dormitories. The surprise came when I discovered the children were crowded into three tiny, connected lofts that we had used for those who didn’t require many resources—singles who could take care of themselves, couples with no young children, or those who couldn’t prove useful to our society, like those with disabilities or the elderly who had not learned a trade that would be taught to the younger generation. I couldn’t help but do the math: sixty or so children in three lofts meant there were twenty or more per loft. I was glad no one was around to see the disgusted look on my face.
My father’s office was on the southeast side of the building. In order to get there—or at least to remember how to get there—I would have to enter the southwestern doors. When my father brought me a few years ago, we entered through the main lobby on the north. There was a large central hallway that connected to the southern wing where we turned east. I had to find that juncture again if I was going to have any luck.
The pace I set was a compromise between speed and stealth. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. I spied an empty hallway through the large glass doors. I tugged on one of them and crossed through into a sea of marble. Large, brightly lit chandeliers hung from the intricately designed and inlaid ceiling. The light reflected throughout the long white corridor, but instead of looking sterile and stark, the hallways glimmered with warmth.
I heard low murmurs like distant echoes, but the voices blended and I couldn’t make out what was being said. I wasn’t sure how far away the voices were from me, but the hallway I was standing in was deserted.
Evenly spaced potted trees reached toward the ceiling, lining the hallway, alternating with evenly spaced mirrors stretching from floor to ceiling. Everything in this building was ornate, from the gold crown molding to the masonry of the pots. The trees were perfectly trimmed into towering cones of leaf (some species of tree preferred to be trimmed as it made them feel more proper). I was always easily distracted when I was allowed in this building (and I was only allowed when I was accompanied by my father). There was so much to look at: the doorknobs, the framing, the swirls in the marble floor. It was all perfect.
Tonight, the only thing I examined was my reflection in the mirror. My hair was sloppy, my eyes were dark and hard, and my clothes were too big for my frame. No wonder the woman from the orphanage mistakenly confused me for one of her children. There was a bulge in my shirt pocket. I remembered the acorn I’d promised to plant in this town for Mother Tree. That was one more thing I’d have to do before leaving for the ruins tonight.
The entire survey took less than a second before I moved again. I passed a few closed doors without considering whether they were locked or if people were inside. I counted myself lucky none of them stood open, filled with humans who might see me, ask questions, or become angry. Worse, they could discover that I wasn’t one
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