The Fold: A Novel by Peter Clines

warning of someone who’s fallen.”
    “Twice,” said Bob. He pointed at the trailer in front of them. “Neil’s isthere, but he’s got a wife and kids up in Oregon, so he’s not really ‘living’ here.” His fingers slid along the row. “That one’s me, right behind him. Olaf next to him. Jamie and Sasha have the two on the end, so they can have a bit of privacy.”
    “Oh,” said Mike. “I didn’t realize they were a couple.”
    “They’re not, sorry. Well, Sasha is. Not with Jamie, though. Jamie’s just…well she’s a bit…abrasive, y’know? Sasha’s on the end, Jamie’s on the…” He paused and shook his head. “Damn, no. Jamie’s on the end, Sasha’s on the left.”
    “And one of these is mine?”
    Bob nodded. “We had the cleaning crew freshen up the one next to Olaf for you. Congratulations, you’re a buffer.”
    “Lucky me.”
    “It won’t be that bad unless he’s listening to opera.”
    “He’s an opera fan?”
    “Opera and running, but I’d swear he just does the opera to be annoying.” The redhead unlocked the trailer. “You’re going to be here awhile, I guess?”
    Mike shrugged. “A few weeks, in theory. Maybe a month or two. I guess we’ll see.”
    Bob tossed him the keys. “Magnus wouldn’t spring for a hotel?”
    “I think he wanted me close to everything.”
    Inside was gray. Gray carpet holding up gray walls decorated with gray cabinets. Dull bungee cords held a folding cot shut in the far corner. In the nearer one, a gray office phone sat on the floor. The only spot of contrast was an oversized black roach trap halfway along the wall. “You’ve just got the basics,” Bob explained. “If you want a mini fridge or some more furniture, we can probably scavenge something up for you. And there’s a few thrift shops up on Clairemont Mesa and a Target on Balboa.”
    “I think it’s bigger than my old apartment, too.”
    “It’s not bad, really, for a free place. Olaf has no life, the rest of the guys are pretty quiet, and I’m gone a lot on weekends.”
    “Miniature war games?”
    “Complete geek, yes,” said Bob with a grin. Honest smiles were hard to come by, Mike realized. “Who told you?”
    In Mike’s mind, a few red ants slipped into the colony of black ants.“There’s some paint under the fingernails of your right hand, but you’re left-handed,” he said. “That tells me you were painting something while you held it. Two different color paints, both shades of red, implies fine detail work of some sort. I already knew someone here played Warhammer games from the license plates on the Mini out front, so it wasn’t much of a leap.”
    “No, of course not, Mr. Holmes,” said Bob. “You want help with your bags and stuff?”
    “I wouldn’t turn it down, thanks.”
    “Do you play 40K?” Bob asked as they stepped back out on the deck.
    Mike shook his head. “Some of my students do. I looked through a couple of the books, so I could assure parents the afterschool gaming group wasn’t some kind of cult or fight club. And it’s fun to watch tanks driving over the scale model of the town.”
    The redhead laughed and guided them across the Astroturf and toward the side of the building. “The door’s a pain to open from this side,” he explained. “The path leads right up to the lobby entrance and the parking lot.”
    “What’s that?”
    Bob followed his eyes. Just past the spare trailer on the end was a small wooden cross. A few stone tiles were arranged in front of it.
    “The dog?”
    “You heard?”
    “Arthur said it died instantly.”
    “Yeah,” the redhead said with a nod. “Faster, if that’s possible. We just wanted to do something, make sure he got remembered.”
    “You always this attached to lab animals?”
    “Laika was just a lab animal, if you think about it,” said Bob. “People write whole books about her, and she only went into a loose orbit on Sputnik 2. Tramp went through the fabric of reality and came out the