toweling her hair dry and turning from one side to another, examining herself in the mirror. Okay, so she wasn’t fat. But she felt fat. Then again, she’d just stuffed her face, so of course she felt fat.
“Forget it, get moving,” she muttered.
2.
In the morning light, the grounds around the Café Taquina looked like a war zone, Tess thought. Stuff littered the ground—handbags, shoes, cans, bottles, loose change, jackets, sweaters, plates, and glasses. No corpses: the dead had been removed.
Half a dozen cop cars were parked inside the area that had been cordoned off last night. She also saw a van from the science department at the University of Quito and another from the local forensics lab. Journalists, many of them from neighboring towns, and camera crews congregated just beyond the forbidden area. A few stray cats and dogs skulked about.
“Amigos,” someone shouted behind them, and Tess and Ian both turned around.
Diego Garcia strode toward them, a handsome, energetic young man with a bounce to his walk, a quick smile, and dark eyes like those of a child, wide, curious, vibrant. He threw his arms around them both, hugging them hello. “They’re about to run the plates on cars left here last night. If you give me the keys, I’ll have the cars moved out of here before that happens.”
Tess and Ian turned their keys over to Diego, he excused himself and went over to one of the other cops, and returned a few minutes later. He handed them each an ID badge. “Clip these to your jackets. You’re now experts from the University of Quito.”
They put on the badges and followed Diego around the yellow crime tape toward the steps to the café’s rear deck. Choppers kept circling, Diego’s radio crackled with voices, a crisp wind blew across the empty parking lot.
As they neared the steps, Diego said, “Engineers are conducting tests to find out if the deck is safe to walk on. Until we know for sure, we can’t go any farther than the top step. But you’ll be able to get plenty of photos from there.”
Tess didn’t have to climb to the top step to see the ruin—overturned tables and chairs, a blanket of shattered glass, silverware, shoes, jackets, scraps of papers and napkins fluttering across the debris. Midway across the deck, everything simply dropped away into nothingness. Floor gone, railing gone, roof gone, wooden planks gone, heaters, lights, tables, chairs, everything gone. It looked just as Illary had described it, as if a mammoth eraser had rubbed it all away. But instead of the blackness, the erased area was now a blinding white that reflected sunlight like a mirror, like smooth glass, like the surface of a still lake. It flowed erratically downhill, as if some weaving drunk had splashed luminous white paint from side to side as he stumbled around. Here and there stood a lonely pine tree or a bush or a flower bed that hadn’t been swallowed up.
“Jesus,” Ian whispered, and started taking videos of the area.
Tess snapped several dozen photos. “Why hasn’t this part of the deck just crumbled away?” she asked. “How can it still be standing? It’s not connected to anything.”
“That’s what the engineers are trying to determine,” Diego said. “But they can’t get too close to the erased area. Watch.”
Diego moved to the outside of the railing, onto a strip of trampled grass, scooped up a handful of pebbles and tossed them out into the glistening whiteness where the hill had once stood. As the pebbles hit the bright surface, it crackled and popped, then the pebbles disappeared. “Where’d those stones go? Huh?” Diego moved quickly back to the steps.
“The same place Javier went,” Ian said.
“And where’s that, Ian?” Diego asked.
“I don’t know. But when the blackness swallowed his legs, he said they were gone, that he couldn’t feel them.”
“But what the fuck does that mean?” Diego’s voice turned hoarse, scared, and he rocked toward Ian, almost in
“Forget it, get moving,” she muttered.
2.
In the morning light, the grounds around the Café Taquina looked like a war zone, Tess thought. Stuff littered the ground—handbags, shoes, cans, bottles, loose change, jackets, sweaters, plates, and glasses. No corpses: the dead had been removed.
Half a dozen cop cars were parked inside the area that had been cordoned off last night. She also saw a van from the science department at the University of Quito and another from the local forensics lab. Journalists, many of them from neighboring towns, and camera crews congregated just beyond the forbidden area. A few stray cats and dogs skulked about.
“Amigos,” someone shouted behind them, and Tess and Ian both turned around.
Diego Garcia strode toward them, a handsome, energetic young man with a bounce to his walk, a quick smile, and dark eyes like those of a child, wide, curious, vibrant. He threw his arms around them both, hugging them hello. “They’re about to run the plates on cars left here last night. If you give me the keys, I’ll have the cars moved out of here before that happens.”
Tess and Ian turned their keys over to Diego, he excused himself and went over to one of the other cops, and returned a few minutes later. He handed them each an ID badge. “Clip these to your jackets. You’re now experts from the University of Quito.”
They put on the badges and followed Diego around the yellow crime tape toward the steps to the café’s rear deck. Choppers kept circling, Diego’s radio crackled with voices, a crisp wind blew across the empty parking lot.
As they neared the steps, Diego said, “Engineers are conducting tests to find out if the deck is safe to walk on. Until we know for sure, we can’t go any farther than the top step. But you’ll be able to get plenty of photos from there.”
Tess didn’t have to climb to the top step to see the ruin—overturned tables and chairs, a blanket of shattered glass, silverware, shoes, jackets, scraps of papers and napkins fluttering across the debris. Midway across the deck, everything simply dropped away into nothingness. Floor gone, railing gone, roof gone, wooden planks gone, heaters, lights, tables, chairs, everything gone. It looked just as Illary had described it, as if a mammoth eraser had rubbed it all away. But instead of the blackness, the erased area was now a blinding white that reflected sunlight like a mirror, like smooth glass, like the surface of a still lake. It flowed erratically downhill, as if some weaving drunk had splashed luminous white paint from side to side as he stumbled around. Here and there stood a lonely pine tree or a bush or a flower bed that hadn’t been swallowed up.
“Jesus,” Ian whispered, and started taking videos of the area.
Tess snapped several dozen photos. “Why hasn’t this part of the deck just crumbled away?” she asked. “How can it still be standing? It’s not connected to anything.”
“That’s what the engineers are trying to determine,” Diego said. “But they can’t get too close to the erased area. Watch.”
Diego moved to the outside of the railing, onto a strip of trampled grass, scooped up a handful of pebbles and tossed them out into the glistening whiteness where the hill had once stood. As the pebbles hit the bright surface, it crackled and popped, then the pebbles disappeared. “Where’d those stones go? Huh?” Diego moved quickly back to the steps.
“The same place Javier went,” Ian said.
“And where’s that, Ian?” Diego asked.
“I don’t know. But when the blackness swallowed his legs, he said they were gone, that he couldn’t feel them.”
“But what the fuck does that mean?” Diego’s voice turned hoarse, scared, and he rocked toward Ian, almost in
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