ORIGINAL FICTION: "Climbers" (Chapter Sixteen)

Ray looked up at the apartment and couldn't help but notice- the windows were shut and the blinds were drawn. Maybe not such a good sign. Leave the windows down anyway. Ray reached through the open back window, opened the cooler and brought out the plaster cast still wrapped in the towel. They made their way around their car, down the stone walk and up the stairs alongside the garage. Ray noticed that the back bottom floor was storage for farm equipment. No charcoal grills or lawn chairs, no kiddie pools and no bicycles. This was not suburbia. The entire second floor was one good sized apartment. If Mister Vaan lived alone, he had plenty of room. At the top of the stairs, they hesitated for only a moment. If he was in there, he must have heard them coming up the stairs. Ray reached out and knocked as politely as he could on the screen door. The moment of truth was at hand.
Seconds passed. Maybe he wasn't home. Gone out. Busy, back soon. Ray was about to turn and leave when he heard the unmistakable sound of a deadbolt being opened. Then another. Maybe this wasn't such a nice town after all. He turned back toward the door in time to see it swing open. Standing behind the screen door was one Steve Vaan, exile on Wayland Street.
If first impressions are important, nobody seemed to be making one. Vaan was the most nondescript sort of guy either of them had ever seen. Maybe in his late thirties- maybe in his early forties. Tough to tell. Tall, somewhat thin with black hair. The only impression he made wasn't him, exactly. It was his choice of attire. Pajamas with cowboys and horses all over them. If second impressions were important, this guy was hilarious. He unlocked the screen door for them.
"Just got up, come on in. You must be Ray."
"Yeah. This is my wife, Barbara."
"Hi."
"Hi."
Inside the apartment the blinds were all drawn, keeping it was quite dark. Vaan went around opening the shades that didn't face the street. Light began to flood the apartment. Ray had been right. It was big. A family of four could live up here comfortably. A single person could get lost. Ray looked around the front room they were in and saw how the problem of an oversized apartment had been solved: This guy was living in just this one room. Everything he needed was right here. He had made it a one-room studio apartment with tremendous storage in back. Not that he seemed to have anything to store, if this room was any indication. Comfortable, functional, but sparse.
"Please, sit down. I've got coffee brewing and I'll just be a minute."
The Meadows sat on the only two chairs in the room. Barbara was on the easy chair in front of a small portable TV and Ray ended up, as he always seemed to, in front of the computer on one of those kneeling chairs with no back. It was a weird sensation, but he had tried one before. At least he didn't topple right over. In a few short minutes, Mister Vaan reappeared in a black T-shirt, jeans and sneakers. How ever long he had lived out here had not yet affected his clothing. He looked not the least bit countrified. Ray smiled at the black T-shirt. Did Vaan know about his nick-name?
"So, Ray- Seen any good climbers lately?"
Ray was caught as off-guard as he had thought this guy would have been. Obviously, Gilbert Lawrence was further out of the loop than he had suspected. No paranoia here, except what Ray brought with him.
"To tell you the truth, Mister Vaan, I haven't seen one in about a month. I think."
"Please- call me Steve. 'Mister Vaan' sounds like my father."
"Ok, Steve. The last one I saw I'm not sure I saw. May have dreamt it."
"Yeah, that happens. I just write those off the next morning."
Barbara didn't want this to be two guys talking. She wasn't along just for the ride and a great lunch.
"I understand you've even seen them out here?"
"Oh, yeah. I guess they're not really tied to human population centers.