Dragon House by John Shors Read Free Book Online Page B

tables, and bed frames dominated the layout.
    The porter showed them how to work the shower, radio, telephone, and television. Iris tipped him and he left. Noah walked to the window, peering out. Iris hadn’t showered in more than twenty-four hours and could hardly wait to freshen up. “Can I take the first shower?” she asked, feeling awkward about sharing a room with him, but not having much of a choice, as the hotel was completely booked. She’d made her reservation long before she knew he was coming with her, and she didn’t want to send him to another hotel.
    Noah nodded, relieved when she left him alone. He heard her turn on the water, and steam soon seeped beneath the bathroom door to merge with the room’s murky air. Sitting on the edge of one of the two twin beds, he thought about how he’d once loved her. He had dreamed about her, imagined what she might look like naked. Now she was naked and not ten feet from him, and he didn’t care. Nothing within him stirred. Not his curiosity. Not his ambitions. Not even a sexual urge.
    He strode to the bathroom door, knocking on it softly. “I’m going to get a drink. Want to join me?”
    “Thanks, but I’m ready for bed.”
    “Well, good night, then. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”
    “Good night, Noah.”
    He took the extra key, closed the door behind him, ensured that it was locked, and awkwardly made his way down a nearby stairwell, wondering if the hotel had a bar. He hoped it did, for he didn’t want to venture out into the chaos of unknown streets—too many memories would be sparked to life by such places, memories even harder to face at night, when the earth’s darkness mingled with his own.
    Back in the room, Iris finished her shower, put on a T-shirt and underwear, and climbed into the bed farthest from the door. Though her muscles felt inordinately tired, her mind raced. In Chicago, the sun had been up for just a few hours, and her body felt the conflicting pull of differing time zones. She lay awake, her eyes open, looking out the window into a country that had shattered and saved her father. She tried to slow her thoughts, the rapid beating of her heart. She tried to feel him, as he promised her she would.
    But no matter how much Iris longed to sense his presence, to bring him into her, she felt alone and afraid. The city’s noises and scents were so foreign, so troubling. She began to panic, wishing that she hadn’t come, that her father had never started his center. He was dead, and perhaps his dream should have died with him.
    Iris beseeched her father to find her, not to leave her alone once again. But his presence never entered the room, and she didn’t fall asleep until Noah finally returned, until dawn filled the air with its sweet, welcome light.

THREE
    Hell and Handbags
    U nder the bridge, dawn came slowly, as if teasing of warm and pleasant tidings. Muted light seeped through the tin shanties on either side of the space directly under the bridge. The light was unnoticed at first, simply one more intrusion into a world not of Mai and Minh’s control. The trucks rumbling above, the giant cockroaches scavenging for food, the stench of urine in the early-morning air were such intrusions—realities impossible to govern or flee.
    Minh woke first, as usual. He kept still, not wanting to bother Mai, who lay next to him. The two friends were on their sides, curled with their knees drawn up—a pair of twins still in the womb. Around them, a circular basket rose three feet high. The basket, made of tightly woven bamboo and waterproofed with sealant, was a traditional fishing boat that had one day floated down the river. Mai and Minh had swum out and retrieved it. When no one claimed it, they’d started sleeping in it, bringing pieces of discarded carpet from the city above to make their bed more comfortable.
    For more than a year, Mai and Minh had slept in the basket. It comforted them the way a home comforts others. It had walls. It