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When she got closer her heart skipped and she began to run. She backed away from it and set out for the next island. Jenny could see individual motes in it twinkle and drift slightly. The problem was that here the baking soda stayed in the air, a glowing orange cloud suspended-by nothing. A few years ago Zach had photographed baking soda thrown in the air under colored lights. Glancing back frequently, she walked to the next lamp. Just your imagination, she told herself-but it was hard to make it sound convincing. Standing rigid, Jenny strained her eyes in the darkness. The light from the pink floodlamp dimmed for a moment-as if something had passed in front of it. Just as she thought it, she heard a faint clanking noise. Jenny looked on both sides of the freestanding wall. Vandalism, the police said, but Zach insisted it was art. Zach had gone into deserted houses in Zuma Beach and painted and photographed them. Silver dots and swathes decorated the wall.
FORBIDDEN GAME LJ SMITH WINDOWS
This one was shining on a wall, a single wall standing alone, its windows broken out. She headed toward the next floodlamp, a white one maybe forty feet away. It gave the disquieting impression that it had been waiting there forever. Waiting for the photographer, Jenny thought. Just now the coyote-shape standing alone with pink light blazing on it was unnerving.
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The print had been weird and high tech, like all Zach's photos, but Jenny had always liked it. And the scene it illuminated was exactly like a print Zach had made-a cardboard silhouette of a neon-pink coyote in the grass. He got them from the drama department when colored spotlights burned out. When she reached the floodlamp, she saw it had a pink filter just like the ones Zach used. She could practically skate over it in her flats. The black velvet ground was perfectly smooth, without the slightest wrinkle. It took courage to step away from the security of the door, and once she did she kept her eyes fixed on the island of light ahead. She couldn't leave without looking for him.Īfter a moment's hesitation she headed for the nearest floodlamp, a neon pink one. She could walk right out again.īut if this was Zach's nightmare, he must be in here somewhere. Jenny pivoted, trying to get her bearings-and drew in her breath sharply. They formed little islands of brightness here and there, some white, some colored, fading out into the distance. The only landmarks in the limitless, featureless darkness were lamps-tungsten floodlamps like the ones Zach used. Same kind of dreams? Was this Zach's real nightmare? It reminded her of a dream she'd once had, where the ground stretched on endlessly, but the sky was close and solid overhead. It was awful, this sense of infinity all around, pulling at her. The ground was a velvety black dropcloth that went on forever in all directions. It was black with glowing white splotches. The sky seemed very low, more like a ceiling. The door closed behind her, but Jenny scarcely noticed. It was like being suspended among the stars. What choice have you got? her mind asked simply. For some reason this black-and-white door made her chilled flesh creep. The way out, Jenny thought as she went over to it, but something inside her wasn't so sure. This backdrop, though, had a door painted on it, too. Very strange and futuristic Zach loved that kind of stuff. The result had looked a little like the Milky Way-white splashes on infinite space. Zach had done a lot of photos by painting paper like that black and throwing handfuls of white flour at it.
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The backdrop was a sheet of seamless paper from a roll maybe six feet wide. Jenny looked at the corner of the studio where Zach took pictures. She had no idea what she was supposed to do next, and it was after three in the morning and she was tired.
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All the other doors-the large one for cars and the regular one to the house-were simply missing, their spaces filled in with blank walls. Julian hadn't let it happen.īut now she was stuck in a garage without a door. She was lying on the cold floor of her cousin's garage, chilled and stiff but bee-less. Wake up, she thought, but she didn't want to. Floating in gray dimness, she heard a clock strike three.