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“Are you done?”
Still gasping, Toby gathers the energy to barely nod. Masky looks at the body in the floor: a thirty-something man, with surface cuts in the body and a deep one in the throat.
“Hard fight, huh?”, he says, softly kicking the body.
There’s no malice in his tone, but Toby feels the need to defend himself.
“He was stronger than he looks.”
Masky nods, uninterested, and says something that sounds like I see. It’s obvious he wants to leave, the signs of exhaustion are getting more noticeable: from the dark eye bags to the distraction. He never gets distracted, that’s how Toby realized the severity of the matter.
With a last look at the man, Masky walks to the kitchen and starts checking the shelves. As tired as he is, there’s always energy to steal, Toby thinks, amused.
“Are you just going to stand there? Don’t think I’ll share with you if I find anything good.”
They stay for a while like that, snooping around and filling a random bag with what they could. There was a lot of candy —probably for the kids that the Operator took away— and junk food, like instant noodles; also, fruit and veggies, though they didn’t take many of those.
Toby opens a bag of chips and sits on the floor, stuffing a handful into his mouth. The salad flavor is good, but what makes him happy is actually having food. They’ve been feeding off disgusting or expired things for weeks. Maybe that’s why Masky, who is quietly drinking water, doesn’t comment on his lack of eating manners.
“You’re just drinking that?” Toby asks, his mouth full.
“What?”
He doesn’t care much about the answer, but hurries to swallow anyway.
“I said—”
“Wait.”
Silence. Toby stops eating to hear. Nothing. They stand still for a few more seconds… Toby feels the temptation to keep on eating, but he sees Masky walking towards the stairs and follows him, throwing away the bag of chips.
They are halfway up the stairs when Masky stops and turns around to look at him.
“Do you hear that?”
A faint noise. Maybe voices. Someone who escaped? Toby recalls the instructions: a man, a woman and an older woman. No, they are dead. Or are they? Is it possible that one of them managed to survive? What if they called the cops?
“They are dead,” Masky assures, like he can read the panic on his face. “Let’s go up and finish this.”
It isn’t hard to identify where the sound comes from, because there are only three doors: a bathroom, a room with a double bed and another room with three single beds —where they found the two women. The bathroom is empty. After a quick checkup, Masky confirms that the bodies are in the same place, so they move on to the big room.
At first sight, nothing. Not on the bed nor between the curtains. Then they notice a TV where several cowboys are reciting dramatic dialogue and pointing guns at each other.
Realization comes to both, but with different effects.
“We lost time with this,” Masky complains, ready to go.
“It’s a TV!” Toby shouts, getting closer to the screen. “When was the last time you saw one?”
“Doesn’t matter. We must go before—”
However, Toby goes to the left side of the bed and takes off his goggles. How could he waste an opportunity like this? Masky stands in front of the door, not knowing what to do. It seems that throwing threats (or even punches) won’t work this time —even if he had the energy to do so. And the idea of ditching him is appealing, but they most likely will end up catching him, too, since Toby can’t shut his mouth.
So he says
“Cowboys movies are fucking boring.”
And takes a seat on the right side, barely leaning against the bed. Which is soft. Like, really soft. But not too much. Just the right amount of softness. The total opposite of a wooden floor covered with a blanket. He almost ends up lying down completely, lost in the softness, until Toby speaks.
“Would you prefer a romance one, Your Majesty? I’m sure they must be airing The Notebook in some channel.”
“Forget it.”
Yeah, he’s exhausted.
After finding the TV remote, Toby quickly switches channels. He’s more interested in being able to watch a movie than in enjoying it. Some interest him, but only for about six seconds. Finding the perfect movie is hard when you have… What? Ten minutes?
Finally, he decides on a period film. The colors are vibrant and the people are too dressed up. To not mention the way they talk: how pretentious! However, something catches his attention. Maybe it’s the lively atmosphere, the strong reactions, the beautiful places.
Masky must be bored, he thinks after a while, unable to stop looking at the screen. The heroine is confessing her feelings! What’s gonna be the love’s interest reaction, after believing for so long that she hated him? His mouth opens after the expectation and…
A soft snore. Right by his side.
His brain takes a few seconds to process what he just heard. Not caring anymore about the movie, he spins his gaze slowly. Behold! —like one of the characters said— Masky sleeping!
Toby has seen him sleep before. A couple of times: when he passes out or when they don’t have any other choice but to share a bed. In such occasions, he looked uncomfortable, like he was forced to sleep. Now, his breathing is slow and calm, his face against the pillow, his body fully relaxed.
Not one thought about bothering him.
He tries to do mental math. If they arrived at two… Or was it at half past two? Let’s say a quarter past two, and they were perhaps ten minutes looking around the house, so they came in at twenty-five past two. It took them half an hour to get rid of the victims, then they got food, plus the time watching TV… Ten past three? That surely must be right.
Oh, fuck it.
Five minutes should do the trick. Happy with his brilliant conclusion, he searches for the remote control.
“One more thing,” he murmurs to himself, getting closer to Masky. Carefully, he removes his mask and puts it aside. “Perfect, now he won’t choke or something.”
The movie ended, but Toby doesn’t care anymore. He turns off the TV and moves to lie on his side, resting his head against the pillow. There’s something more interesting to watch.
After a while, their breathing is in sync, which makes Toby joyous for some reason. Struck by that emotion, lost in his fantasies and the peaceful ambience, he doesn’t notice when his eyes start to close. Of course, he ends up falling asleep.
It could’ve been avoided, really. Not even with common sense, but by Masky, who woke up a bit later, confused because of the warmth and silence and Toby’s presence, and still chose to keep sleeping.
Five more minutes, he thought naively at dawn, when only the most intimate wishes prevail, and drew closer to Toby.