Eileen's hatchback was still in the parking lot. The reporters had gone, and she idly wondered who'd gotten rid of them.
She followed Henry's truck to the motor inn. He'd gotten two rooms around the back of the inn, at the end of the row. They parked outside their rooms, and stacked their boxes inside. Eileen insisted on helping unload things, despite Henry's protests.
"OK then," Eileen said, putting down the last of her boxes. "Let's get something to eat. Don't know about you, but I'm starving."
"Sounds good," Henry said. He stood up and stretched.
He's taller than I thought, she thought. He slouches a little when he's not carrying a weapon.
Henry held out something to her.
"A second key for my room. Just in case."
Eileen took the key and placed it on the TV. "Thanks. I'll get one for you, too."
"What do you want for dinner?"
She started unpacking her toiletries. "Well, that Italian place down the road does a great lasagna."
"Their garlic bows are pretty good, too."
Eileen laughed. "Didn't have you pegged as a garlic-bow type."
Henry's face fell. She put down the bottle of shampoo in her hand.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything."
"Actually, I love them."
"Me too. I can't cook at all, so I get them a couple of times a week. At least," she said, I used to."
"I can't cook either. Wish I could have...I would have had something to eat while I was stuck in my room. At the end, all I was left with was some old wine and a bottle of chocolate milk, and I had to give that to Jasper."
Weird, she thought, to hear him talk about himself. He didn't seem like a talker. But she'd been pretty wrong about him so far.
"We should get cleaned up before we starve," she said.
"I showered at the hospital this morning, so I'm OK," Henry said. "Anyway, I haven't got any cleaner clothes."
Eileen found herself walking over to Henry, right up to him. He stepped back, startled, as she took a deep whiff.
"You smell just fine," she smiled. "But I'm a mess. We can keep talking while I shower."
She ignored Henry's obvious discomfort and took her things into the bathroom, and after a minute the shower went on.
"What else do you like to eat?" she yelled over the shower noise.
"What do you mean?"
"Mmph."
"Sorry."
"You know. What types of food do you get when you go out to eat?"
"I don't eat out much, except when I'm out working."
"Frozen meals, then?"
"Yeah, and cans and pasta."
"Me too. French bread pizza can be a wonderful thing."
"With garlic."
"Definitely with garlic."
"To answer your question, uh...pizza, Chinese, the usual, I guess."
"Not very adventurous?"
"Not a lot of options."
She smiled. "Yeah."
"Ashfield's not known for its international cuisine."
She burst out laughing as she finished rinsing her hair. "No kidding. Ever tried sushi?"
"Yeah. I didn't like the fish."
"I know this great place that does sushi and tempura. I'll take you there tomorrow might. Lots of non-fish stuff. Best I've ever had." She stuck her hand out of the door. "Hand me those clothes on the end of the bed, will you?"
An hour later, Eileen sat on the bed in Henry's room, cross-legged, with a big plate of lasagna, stuffing herself. Man, she was hungry. She hadn't had a proper meal since all hell broke loose, and the hospital food hadn't been very satisfying.
Hence, the Italian food. Nothing else soothed a wounded soul like lots and lots and lots of really yummy, tomato-y pasta.
But if she thought she was hungry, it was nothing compared to how starved Henry must have been. He'd already finished off an entire order of ravioli, a side salad, and half of the garlic bows, and was sitting on the floor, plowing through some of Luigi's best tomato-and-basil tortellini like it was going out of style.
Then again, he hadn't eaten properly in days, so no wonder he was hungry. Still, who'd have thought that a slim guy like him could put that much food away?
She watched him eat out of the corner of her eye. He impaled one piece at a time on his fork, and chewed each one deliberately. It wasn't that he was shoveling it in...he was just eating steadily with no sign of stopping any time soon. He paid no attention to the flickering TV in front of them. Spear...chew...spear...chew...spear...chew...the rhythm was soothing.
Eileen put her plate down and plopped down on the bed facing Henry.
"Willing to spare one of those?" she smiled. She wiggled her plastic fork at him.
Henry speared three tortellini on his fork and slowly rolled them around in the sauce and cheese. Suddenly, he leaned toward her and lifted the fork to her mouth. Surprised, she opened her mouth, and he delicately pushed the tortellini past her lips. She closed her mouth, and he pulled out the fork.
He speared a few more for himself, and they chewed together in silence.
"More than one?" she smiled.
Under his hair, his eyes smiled back. "It's more decadent to have several at once."
"We could use a little decadence," she ventured.
He said nothing.
"Want some of my lasagna?" she asked. For the first time that day, he grinned. She handed him the dish...and he froze.
"What?" She followed his gaze to the TV, where the nightly news was showing...
"That's us!" The footage showed the two of them moving through the crowd of reporters outside South Ashfield Heights that afternoon. Henry had his arm around her shoulders, and was fending off microphones with his other arm as they moved steadily forward.
He reached across her to turn up the sound.
"...Townshend and Eileen Galvin, two survivors of the horror that engulfed this quiet local apartment building yesterday." The scene shifted to show the program's top local reporter, standing in front of their former home.
"Details are sketchy, but it seems that the strange happenings may have been connected with the Sullivan murders from years ago. The police aren't talking, and neither Miss Galvin nor Mr. Townshend has spoken to the press since their release from the hospital earlier today. Rumor has it, though, that the superintendent of the building, Frank Sunderland, has not been seen since last night. Coincidentally, Frank Sunderland is the father of James Sunderland, who himself disappeared with his wife years ago."
Henry turned away from the TV, but Eileen was transfixed.
"Strange events, Susan."
"Very strange, Jack. We'll keep you updated as the story evolves."
"Thanks, Susan. In other news, the man arrested for urinating off of a pole two days ago is due in court tomorrow..."
Eileen turned off the TV.
That night, Eileen slept the sleep of the tired and well-fed.
After a while, she dreamt of strange things...things that floated and crawled and ran, that cried and moaned and slurped and came after her and surrounded her and crawled up her legs and all she could do was swat at them with her nightstick and whack them with the cast on her arm, because she was alone and he was gone...gone...Henry was gone...
Then, she heard footsteps. Henry! No, not Henry...the monsters parted. Walter! He had a large knife in his hand, and his eyes had a predatory look. He was coming for her. Henry, where are you?...Henry! Come back!...Henry!
One of the creatures had grabbed her and was shaking her so hard that she thought her neck would snap in two. She kicked and swung her nightstick at it. It was futile. There was no escape. Henry was gone. Might as well go down fighting...
It was calling her name. How did it know her name?
"Eileen! Eileen..."
Then, she was in a dark room, and it wasn't a creature shaking her. It was a person.
Her eyes focused on the face in front of her. It was Henry. He was in a T-shirt and boxers, and was sitting on the edge of her bed, shaking her shoulders lightly. Her arms and legs were flailing around.
"Eileen...come on...wake up..."
"Henry? What..."
He breathed a sigh of relief.
"You're in the motel, in your room. You were having a bad dream."
Then she remembered.
"There were monsters...all around me. They were going to kill me. I was alone. I couldn't find you anywhere."
Henry sat back, frowning. He stood quickly and walked away from her, his hands clenching and unclenching.
"What is it?"
"I'm sorry," he said flatly.
"It's OK," she replied.
"No, it's not." He turned back to her, and she saw that his teeth were clenched as well. A muscle twitched in his jaw. "You nearly died in your room. You were too hurt to defend yourself. I shouldn't have left you alone in there. I should have stayed with you."
"If you had, we'd both be dead," she replied firmly. "You needed to go back to your room, and you never left me alone before making sure I was safe. I was fine. The dream is my own problem."
He sat on the edge of the bed, head down, and she reached for his hands.
"I was fine, really. You made sure of that. Right up to the end."
He raised his head, and she smiled at him. He took a breath.
"You're really OK?"
"Yes," she said.
"If it's alright with you," he said, "I'd like to keep an eye on you to make sure."
"You don't need to. Walter's gone, and dreams can't hurt me."
"Please," he said. "I'll leave if you want. But I want to make sure. For myself."
She was taken aback by this, and nodded. He went to the door and checked its lock, then moved stacks of boxes in front of it. Then, he took something from the chest of drawers in the room, and walked to the bathroom. She heard water running.
He came back to her, and handed her a glass of water. She drank it gratefully.
"Do you need anything?" he asked.
"No, I'm fine, really," she said.
He nodded, and went to pull a blanket from the closet. He wrapped himself in it, and settled into the chair in the corner of the room. He sat in the dark.
"I have a question," she said.
"What?"
"How did you know I was having a nightmare?"
He laughed softly. "You were yelling loud enough to wake the whole place up."
Eileen felt his eyes upon her as she closed her eyes. As she slipped back into sleep, she wondered that that didn't feel uncomfortable at all.