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The rec room door was cracked open. A faint, warm light and the sound of someone humming slipped into the corridor outside. Mac paused as he passed it. He considered for a moment, sniffed the air and gently pushed the door open enough to see inside.
The air was slightly hazy and smelled of spray deodorant masking something else. The only source of light was a lamp between the sofa and the shelf of board games. The orange glow illuminated a single figure slumped on the sofa, almost completely still apart from gentle, steady breathing.
Mac slipped inside and walked towards the man, keeping quietly in the shadows. Although, if the smell was anything to go by, he wasn’t in much danger of being noticed. As he got closer, the figure sharpened and Mac smiled. It was Windows, eyes mostly closed and one hand turning over a small metal dog, presumably a token from the discarded game of Monopoly on the floor in front of him.
Mac leaned over him, one hand braced on the back of the sofa and whispered, “Hello, Windows.”
The man in question opened his eyes and dragged them upwards to look at Mac. He smiled. It was wide and his teeth were very straight. Mac grinned back and they both were still.
After a few minutes, Windows’ brow furrowed and he frowned. He tried to speak but couldn’t seem to quite find the right words. “Mac. I… I, uh. I know I had, Mac, I had them like five minutes ago. An hour? Three hours? I had them, but not now.”
Mac nodded patiently and moved his hand from the back of the sofa to Windows’ shoulder. “Take your time.”
“I’ve lost my glasses.” Windows said with sudden clarity. “And I can’t move.”
“Did you get high with Palmer again?”
“And Fuchs, and the other guy. Uh, ginger, wears orange, got a weird thing with... It's Bennings, that's it. We were, uh, celebrating. Some research breakthrough or something, I don’t know.”
“Where have they gone?”
“They fucked off ages ago,” Windows dragged the fourth word out and lifted a hand to make a sweeping gesture. His lucidity was returning. "Bennings left to ‘see if Clark wanted anything to drink’ according to Palmer. But he also winked and elbowed me so I don’t even fucking know what that means. Then Fuchs said he was going to bed. Then I was winning at Monopoly so Palmer quit and said he was going to sleep. I’d like to sleep. But I can’t fucking move.”
"What'd you do?"
"Drank a bunch. Palmer gave me something."
"Something?"
"Dunno what it was. A pill, dissolved on my tongue, tasted like chalk. He said it would make me feel really nice but tomorrow I won't remember shit."
"That right?"
"That's right."
"You should know better than taking whatever Palmer gives you." Mac chided, shaking his head.
"I should know better…" Windows murmured, eyes transfixed on Mac.
"Are you just echoing me?"
"I'm just echoing you."
Mac chuckled and used his free hand to grab Windows’ wrist. He counted down from five and on one, hauled Windows to his feet, letting him collapse forwards against Mac’s chest. “Come on, I’ll take you to your bunk.”
“My glasses…” Windows murmured. Mac shushed him.
“We’ll look for those tomorrow. You can stand not looking cool for the night.”
“I don't wear them 'cause they look cool. Well, I do a bit. But they’re prescription. I’m short sighted, can’t see shit further than a few feet without ‘em.”
“We’ll look tomorrow and for now I’ll make sure you don’t walk into a door.”
Windows giggled and managed to balance mostly on his own. As they left the rec room, Mac not bothering to turn off the light and preparing himself for a lecture from Garry, Windows started humming again.
“You’re talkative like this.” Mac observed as they passed the kitchen. Nauls had left his stereo on and it was softly playing something upbeat. Windows joined in as they passed, singing quietly “Oh, oh here she comes, watch out boy she’ll chew you up. Oh, oh here she comes, she’s a maneater…”
“And musical,” Mac added, irritatedly. Windows was not in tune. “Maybe you should’ve gone to one of those music stations to work rather than fucking up our comms out here.”
Windows leaned in and whispered, “Wanna know a secret?”
Mac stiffened at the feeling of Windows’ breath hot against his ear but nodded.
“You know when we were trying to contact the supply ship so you could go and pick up all the science machinery and shit? And how it took me five tries to connect with them?” He paused and waited for Mac to nod before continuing. “I actually managed it first try, but I lost the connection on purpose and pretended to try a few more times before I actually reached them.”
Mac cackled loudly (and immediately stopped to hear if he’d woken anyone up) and shoved Windows through the open door into his room. Fuchs was missing and consequently Mac didn’t feel too bad about overestimating how much Windows had sobered up and sending him directly into the small set of shelves and knocking over several notebooks filled with some biological bullshit.
“Windows, you bastard.” He said and followed into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Windows grinned from where he had propped himself up against the bookcase. “Don’t tell me you're secretly good at your job.”
“I fucking am. Best applicant for the job, I just lose signals on purpose and say a whole bunch of jargon fast enough that people lose interest and just blame me for being shit at my job. Low expectations, low pressure.”
Mac considered this, or more accurately considered Windows. He tilted his head to one side as he watched Windows walk, although stumble was probably a better verb, and slump down onto his bed. As Windows took his boots off and kicked them under the bed, Mac licked his lips and something in his demeanor changed.
To any sober person, the room would have seemed suddenly colder, the shadows darker. They might have noticed Mac was suddenly more alert, more aware, moving more smoothly and more like a mountain lion or some other hunter than a human. He moved forwards to lean over Windows.
“Hello, Windows.” He whispered. It was a mirror of what had happened in the rec room but his voice was smoother, warmer and softer. Something hot and writhing swirled underneath each word and wriggled it's way into Windows' head.
Windows moved his eyes up more easily than before. “Hey, Mac.”
“Can you do me a favour, Windows?”
“If you ask nicely.”
“Please, Windows? Can you help me?” Mac said, voice mockingly pitiable. He lifted Windows’ face with one finger under his chin, tilted it so they were just a few inches apart. “Pretty please? It’ll be easy, just stay very, very still while I do it.”
Windows swallowed nervously and hesitated. Mac pouted and leaned in ever-so-slightly closer. “Come on, Windows. It’ll just sting for a moment then it’ll feel so, so nice. Please, pretty please? I’m very hungry, you just need to say yes."
"Yeah, Mac, sure. I'll help you."
Mac sighed with relief, like a marathon runner drinking a glass of cold water at the end of the race. He sat down next to Windows and pulled the collar of his shirt and sweater down to reveal his neck with one hand, and then settled it on his left shoulder to hold them down. The other came to rest of the side of Windows' face and gently pushed it back to stretch the skin of his neck taunt.
Windows opened his mouth to ask Mac what he was doing, put the only sound that came out was a sharp gasp as he felt Mac's lips press against his neck. Two sharp points poked into the skin and pushed through. For a moment he felt blood begin to trickle down from the punctures and wondered, far less urgently than he should have, when Mac's teeth got so sharp. He got hold of a second thought (Why was Mac biting him?) but it was pushed away by the feeling of the teeth leaving him and Mac moving away for a moment.
Mac pressed his mouth back into Windows' neck and had begun to drink. Windows could feel the blood leaking into Mac's mouth and he had been right, it did feel so, so nice. He moaned softly and Mac laughed.
Windows let his eyes drift shut and slumped back. As his back hit the bed, head following, he lay supine and still. Mac followed his descent, moving to brace his knees on either side of Windows' hips and lowering himself so their chests were pressed together and he could press his mouth harder against Window's neck.
As he drank, Windows lay limp, breathing slowly and letting himself revel in the feeling of Mac's mouth on his neck, of the blood leaving his body and the complete silence of the room around them.
Between the moment Mac bit down on his neck and the moment he drew back, wiping his mouth on his sleeves, Windows felt like hours could have passed. But Fuchs wasn't back and it wasn't light outside.
Windows made a soft keening sound when Mac pulled away, as if he was upset by the loss. Mac stood up and smiled down at Windows. The man on the bed was almost completely asleep. Palmer and his drug habit really did come in handy, even if he didn't know it.
He pushed Windows over onto the middle of the bed, shuffled his head onto the pillow and pulled the blankets up over him. He showed no signs of effort when moving the limp body of his meal, his victim, his colleague, his friend his Windows.
"Sleep well, Windows. I'll see you tomorrow." Mac said and with a smile that flashed sharp canines -wet, red and glimmering - and quietly closed the door.
"You know, I had the weirdest dream." Windows said at breakfast. "After Palmer left the rec room, all I remember is the dream."
Mac froze, mug of coffee halfway to his mouth. Fuchs asked, "What was it about?" and Windows tilted his head to one side and frowned.
"I can't remember half of it. I was alone in an icy wasteland for hours, just wandering around. Then Mac appeared out of nowhere but he had the teeth and eyes of, like, a mountain lion. And then I was in the kennels with the dogs and they all started biting me and Mac was staring through the door watching me and his whole head was a mountain lion, like one of those gods in the pyramids and blood was pouring from his mouth."
"My dogs would never do that." Clark muttered.
"Yeah, and I don't have the head of a mountain lion, do I? It's just a dream." Mac said. His tone was light but he started at Windows with sharp, cold eyes.
"You know, I knew a woman who said that if you had a dream with a cat in it that meant it was a prophecy. And a mountain lion is basically a cat." Palmer said as he wandered into the room.
Windows grimaced at him and said, "Fuck off, Palmer."
"Just sayin', radio man. Might want to watch for the dogs. Or Mac." Palmer replied, waving his newly acquired cup of coffee and spilling it over the table and Windows' shirt.