Shelter by Susan Palwick Page A

gestured for the pen. WE CAN GO DOWNSTAIRS, TO MY APT. NO BUGS THERE.
        Roberta shook her head emphatically no, pointed to the kitchen faucet, made swimming motions with her arms. Too much H2O. Sorry, can't write: need pain meds and coffee now. She crumpled up the piece of notebook paper and tossed it, along with the pen, in the trash. She was already tired of this conversation. She turned away, toward the counter. There they were. The ibuprofen and the vitamins. Ahhhhh. With a nearly full pot of cold coffee next to them.
        A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, heart pounding. Mereith was behind her, gently pushing Roberta to one side and gesturing to the table. Sit down, that meant. Sit down and let me help you.
        Fuck it. I can get my own analgesics. Roberta glared and tried to move around Meredith, but the other woman, much more mobile than Roberta, had already deftly unscrewed the top of the ibuprofen bottle—which would have taken Roberta five minutes at least, in her current state—and shaken out two tablets. When she put them on the kitchen table, Roberta shook her head and held up four fingers. Meredith's eyebrows rose, but she shrugged and complied before washing out a mug sitting in the sink—anyone else would simply have rinsed it, but this was Meredith the clean freak—filling it with coffee, and sticking it in the microwave. When the cordless buzzed, two long, one short, Meredith plucked it from the top of the refrigerator and handed it to Roberta. Here we go, Roberta thought, and dry-swallowed the meds before answering the phone.
        "Hello, Sergei."
        "Good morning, Roberta! How are you today?"
        She could hardly tell him, even if he sounded as if he were on drugs himself "I'm okay, Sergei."
        "No water damage?"
        "Not up here."
        "How's your sick friend?"
        "She's fine," Roberta said. "She's still asleep." Change the subject, change the subject. What aren't you saying, Sergei? Have you been running voiceprints? Are you working with Preston? Are you about to tell me you ordered gene therapy for me, and where I go to get it? Change the subject. "Do we know how badly the shelter got hit?"
        "It's okay." Sergei couldn't have sounded more cheerful if he were telling her that he'd just discovered a CV vaccine. "Some flooding, but nobody's hurt. The people there were worried about you. I told them you were okay too."
        "Oh," Roberta said, too annoyed to say thank you. Sergei was the last person she wanted as her spokesperson. "So how am I getting to work? Do I have to stand in the corner all day, or have you decided to let me go outside?"
        "No, I don't think going outside would be a good idea. The streets are still too messy. Take the day off, Roberta. The clients at the shelter will be all right. All the live-in staff are there, and Annie said they have a lot of empty beds at the moment. They don't need extra staff."
        Roberta's heart constricted. Every bed had been full the last time she was there, two days ago. Shit. "Who's missing? Who got caught out in the storm?"
        "I don't know. Look, please try not to worry about it. I couldn't find any reports at all about those people you asked about, Leon and Camilla and Mason, so we have to assume that they're all right. There's nothing you could do for them anyway, not until it's easier to get around."
        "Is that supposed to make me feel better? I'm going to call Aniliese and find out what's going on. I'll call you back." She hung up and speed-dialed the shelter number, grateful when Annie answered. "Aniliese, it's me. Sergei said you have empty beds. Who's not there?"
        "Of the regulars? Roberta, I'm sure they're okay. They probably found other places to go. The cops haven't called in any ID chips yet."
        "Yeah, well, street people aren't exactly their first priority, are they? Who's missing?"
        Aniliese sighed. "Patty and Don.