The Fly House (The UtopYA Collection) by Misty Provencher Page B
Authors: Misty Provencher
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knocker above her cupid's bow, would be the magic bullet to make Steven lose his mind.
Even with that prospect, Maeve avoided the chamber room and Steven, both of which were looming and freakish parts of the Archive. She locked her suite door when she was inside or when she ventured out and she toted a heavy metal flashlight she'd found. She had to twist the end like a pepper mill to light the thing, but it was handy for bashing chamber bugs, or Steven, if either need arose.
So far, she'd only run into Steven twice. Once, when she had surfaced for food and he was already rooting in the pantry, and once when a hallway had led her unexpectedly into the chamber room. Although the chambers kept any scent of the dead contained, the idea of it plugged Maeve's nostrils whenever she walked in the room. Steven had found the cranks for the lights, so she saw him across the open space, hovering over one of the caskets. It gave her the willies to see him there, doing what he'd probably done to her.
She stayed back from him, but called across the room, "You shouldn't stare at people while they're...asleep."
Startled by her voice, his chair shrieked as he jumped to his feet.
"I'm trying to figure out how to save them," he said. "I don't know why you and I were able to wake up, but I think it has a lot to do with the chamber bugs. They're in a bunch of these chambers. That's what kills them. But some of the chambers don't have any bugs. At least, not yet."
That made her feel like a douche. He was trying to save some people. All Maeve was doing was rifling the cache of supplies and making a nest for herself in one of the rooms. She made her way over to him, standing in the glow of the chamber he was parked beside.
"This might sound really shitty," she said, "but maybe they shouldn't wake up."
He stared at her then and by the misty light of the chamber window, she could see the dark circles around his eyes, as if his eyes were tree stumps and independent rings were forming around them for each night he didn't sleep. He had the start of jowls. His hair was greasy. But the sadness that registered in his eyes from what she said left her throat feeling a little sticky and clogged with words of explanation.
"What do you mean?" he asked. She cleared her throat.
"Well, for starters, the food supply sucks," she said. "You saw it. We can go for a while if it's just the two of us, but if we end up with even twenty people, all the food is going to be gone in a couple weeks. I don't know how long we'll be able to go before we have to pry the outer doors open and take our chances."
"You're being dramatic. There's enough food for us to get by."
"Not when you figure it in proportion to all the caskets in here."
"Chambers," he said. "And these are human beings. I'm not going to just let them die, if I can help it."
"That's the point, Steven. You can't help it. If you open up the boxes, they croak. If you leave them shut, the bugs get in and kill them. But if you figure out some way of waking up all these people," she whisked a hand around the room, meant to cover the entire warehouse of chambers, "we're all going to starve."
He slopped down onto his chair as if she'd shot him.
"They deserve to live too," he said, staring at the chamber in front of him. Maeve peeked into the window of the box. She grunted, the sympathy dissolving away.
"You mean the pretty ones deserve it, Steve-O?"
"I just like to watch over them."
"I know," Maeve shivered. She'd been one of the girls he'd watched, after all. "You really are some kind of a perv, aren't you."
She said it gently, with understanding rather than malice, which made it all the more embarrassing, since they both knew it was true. Even in the dark of the room, the chambers illuminated the tint of humiliation in his cheeks. Maeve left through the door where she'd entered by mistake and detoured through Supply to
Even with that prospect, Maeve avoided the chamber room and Steven, both of which were looming and freakish parts of the Archive. She locked her suite door when she was inside or when she ventured out and she toted a heavy metal flashlight she'd found. She had to twist the end like a pepper mill to light the thing, but it was handy for bashing chamber bugs, or Steven, if either need arose.
So far, she'd only run into Steven twice. Once, when she had surfaced for food and he was already rooting in the pantry, and once when a hallway had led her unexpectedly into the chamber room. Although the chambers kept any scent of the dead contained, the idea of it plugged Maeve's nostrils whenever she walked in the room. Steven had found the cranks for the lights, so she saw him across the open space, hovering over one of the caskets. It gave her the willies to see him there, doing what he'd probably done to her.
She stayed back from him, but called across the room, "You shouldn't stare at people while they're...asleep."
Startled by her voice, his chair shrieked as he jumped to his feet.
"I'm trying to figure out how to save them," he said. "I don't know why you and I were able to wake up, but I think it has a lot to do with the chamber bugs. They're in a bunch of these chambers. That's what kills them. But some of the chambers don't have any bugs. At least, not yet."
That made her feel like a douche. He was trying to save some people. All Maeve was doing was rifling the cache of supplies and making a nest for herself in one of the rooms. She made her way over to him, standing in the glow of the chamber he was parked beside.
"This might sound really shitty," she said, "but maybe they shouldn't wake up."
He stared at her then and by the misty light of the chamber window, she could see the dark circles around his eyes, as if his eyes were tree stumps and independent rings were forming around them for each night he didn't sleep. He had the start of jowls. His hair was greasy. But the sadness that registered in his eyes from what she said left her throat feeling a little sticky and clogged with words of explanation.
"What do you mean?" he asked. She cleared her throat.
"Well, for starters, the food supply sucks," she said. "You saw it. We can go for a while if it's just the two of us, but if we end up with even twenty people, all the food is going to be gone in a couple weeks. I don't know how long we'll be able to go before we have to pry the outer doors open and take our chances."
"You're being dramatic. There's enough food for us to get by."
"Not when you figure it in proportion to all the caskets in here."
"Chambers," he said. "And these are human beings. I'm not going to just let them die, if I can help it."
"That's the point, Steven. You can't help it. If you open up the boxes, they croak. If you leave them shut, the bugs get in and kill them. But if you figure out some way of waking up all these people," she whisked a hand around the room, meant to cover the entire warehouse of chambers, "we're all going to starve."
He slopped down onto his chair as if she'd shot him.
"They deserve to live too," he said, staring at the chamber in front of him. Maeve peeked into the window of the box. She grunted, the sympathy dissolving away.
"You mean the pretty ones deserve it, Steve-O?"
"I just like to watch over them."
"I know," Maeve shivered. She'd been one of the girls he'd watched, after all. "You really are some kind of a perv, aren't you."
She said it gently, with understanding rather than malice, which made it all the more embarrassing, since they both knew it was true. Even in the dark of the room, the chambers illuminated the tint of humiliation in his cheeks. Maeve left through the door where she'd entered by mistake and detoured through Supply to
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