The Garrison Project

Chapter 2

Molly's body was hunched over the page and surrounded it as an army would lay siege to a fortress. She marked out the final lines and pathways with her marker, and her eyes continuously swept the sheet, hunting for a hidden sign. They were like searchlights probing for movement or weakness in the mysterious labyrinth in front of her.

"Didn't you go to school today? Are you sick?"

The suddenness of Kevin's presence made Molly jump in her seat. She hadn't heard him come in. The desk lamp projected her ghostly reflection on the window. When had night fallen? Autumn had brought shorter days, but the last time she had looked out, the Victorian spire on the building across the street had been shining in the sun.

Her image showed a woman with pale, drawn skin. Hair rose from her scalp like wild grass in the wind. She ran a hand through it, but it was poor replacement for the lack of brushing or washing. When the worst strands were patted down, she pushed back the glasses from the tip of her nose. She still wasn't entirely presentable, but it would have to do.

Molly frowned at the pajama pants and camisole she'd been wearing since last night. Please don't ask me why I'm not dressed yet, she willed, getting up to kiss Kevin hello. "No, not sick."

To draw questions away from herself, she asked him about his day and feigned interest as she got him to share the mundane details of work and office politics. All the while, the Garrisons and their every step trudged through her mind, as though the floorplan of that accursed house was mapped there.

When Kevin had finished his stories and his grumbles, when his jacket was off and his tie was slung across the back of the sofa, he approached her and took each of her arms in his hands. "What's up with you?"

The question was perfectly ordinary, but his tone was brimming with concern. His unwanted pity left Molly with a sickening feeling, as though he had just called her an imbecile or a child. She pulled away, and tried to ignore the implications and latch onto the base meaning of the question.

"Kevin, you'll never believe what I found." Molly went to the folder and picked up her work. The feel of the leather folio in her hands, brought back all of the excitement she'd been feeling and rekindled her enthusiasm. She forgot the look in Kevin's eyes and her deep wish that he'd go back out and leave her alone. Molly adjusted the graph paper and the clear acetate sheets to show off her discovery. A nervous tingling of exhaustion and euphoria filled her, starting from her fingertips and spreading through her body.

"While I was rewatching the episodes this morning, I noticed something strange in the seventh one—you know, when they're working on the kitchen. So I started plotting out the family's movements—using a different color for each person. Red for Mary, blue for Charlie, green for—well, you get the picture. That doesn't really matter. What matters is this: look." She handed him the leather folder displaying the page labeled, "Day 29, ground floor."

On the translucent plastic, an odd series of swirls with branching tangents mapped the paths of each of the family members. Most of the activity was centered on the kitchen, in mad scribbles of blue and red snaking around one another.

"I have no idea what I'm looking at," Kevin said.

"Watch the dining room. I happened to notice it, just after Charlie hurts his hand. I had to guess a bit at his exact steps, because while he's running for the first aid kit the footage is a mess." Molly follows the blue line out of the kitchen with her finger to demonstrate. "But then, while Mary is talking to him, he turns—he turns, Kevin." Molly's excitement is so great, she is nearly screaming and she's so close to her chart she has to brush her hair off of the page for him to see it.