by John Saul
Someone somewhere else, coming into the computer by modem.
There were all kinds of explanations for the message, two or three ways it could have gotten there. But why? And who?
Who would do such a thing? Who would be so cruel as to pretend to be Adam?
Surely no one could think this was funny!
Her hands still trembling, she reached out and shut off the computer. The words on the screen faded away.
Should she turn it back on, and try to finish what she’d been doing?
She hesitated, but then remembered how the machine had already crashed twice.
Don’t touch it, she told herself. Just leave it until tomorrow.
Ignoring everything else that still needed to be done in her office, she picked up her purse, switched off the lights, and left, locking the door behind her. A few minutes later she was in her car, driving home. But the words on the computer still haunted her.
She remembered something that had happened months ago, last spring. She’d been working in her office, typing up a report, and the word processing program had suddenly crashed.
She’d been about to reboot it, when suddenly some words had appeared on her screen:
HI, MOM. IT’S ME. ITS ADAM!
That time, it really had been. He’d hacked into her computer from his room, just as a joke.
At the time, she’d thought it was funny.
But now Adam was dead, and it had happened again.
And whoever had done it had used exactìy the same words Adam had used months ago.
17
Josh watched Amy run away from the swimming pool and disappear into the women’s shower room, wishing he could run after her. As the experiment had gone on, his eyes had remained glued to Amy, instead of focusing on the computer monitor, for as soon as he’d seen the dangling knotted rope and the diving board, he’d understood exactly what she was going through.
How could Dr. Engersol have done it to her? Didn’t he know how frightened she was of heights?
And then Josh understood. It was exactly the point of the experiment—to see how Amy would react when she had to choose between two things that terrified her.
But it was mean. Even meaner than what had been done to the cat this morning. In fact, when Amy had left the classroom, Josh hadn’t really understood what she was so mad about. After all, the cat hadn’t been in any pain. Dr. Engersol had told them so, hadn’t he?
But Dr. Engersol had told Amy she wouldn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to, either. And then he’d not only scared her to death, but humiliated her in front of all her friends, too.
Maybe he could catch up with her outside the gym, when she came out of the locker room. He moved away from the group gathered around the computer monitor, but Dr. Engersol, as if understanding what he was going to do, stopped him.
“Let Hildie take care of Amy, Josh,” he said. “She’ll be all right—she just needs a few minutes to calm down.”
“But she’s crying—”Josh objected.
“Yes, she is,” Engersol agreed, his voice carrying no more emotion than if he’d been commenting on one of the graphs displayed on the monitor. “It was a perfectly predictable response to the experiment. I’d be surprised if she wasn’t. In fact, if you’ll take a look at this, you can see exactly when the crying response began.”
Josh hesitated, torn by his urge to go after his friend and tell her everything was going to be all right, that nobody was going to call her chicken, and his equally strong desire to join the rest of his class around the monitor and see exactly what Amy had gone through. Only when Hildie Kramer started toward the locker room did he make up his mind. Amy liked Hildie, and the housemother would know what to say to her better than he would. His mind still half on Amy, he slipped in next to Jeff Aldrich and gazed raptly at the screen while Dr. Engersol explained what the graphs meant.
“You can see it all right here,” the Academy’s director told them. “Here her respirations became irregular, and these peaks represent constrictions of her throat. And here’s her heartbeat, increasing and growing slightly irregular, too, when she first understood the choice she had to make.” His fingers tapped rapidly at the keyboard, and the display on the monitor changed. “I want you to pay close attention to this. These are her brain waves, and though they don’t look much different from those of the cat this morning, I think we’ll find a lot of differences when we analyze them. The cat, you see, was responding much more to instinctive behavior and conditioned response, while Amy was trying to make an intellectual decision.”
Engersol’s analysis of what had happened inside Amy’s brain went on, and the graphic displays on the monitor kept changing. Soon Josh was caught up along with the rest of his classmates in the digitized display of the myriad processes that Amy’s body, as well as her mind, had gone through during the few short minutes the experiment had lasted.
“For the rest of the week,” Engersol finished half an hour later, “we’ll continue working with this data, and by Friday we should have a pretty good understanding of just exactly what parts of Amy’s brain came into play during the experiment, and what processes they went through.”
“But what about Amy?” Josh asked when Engersol was finally finished. “What about how she feels?”
Engersol’s eyes fixed on Josh, and there was an emptiness in them that sent a chill down the boy’s spine. “I’m sure she’s just fine,” he said. “After all, we didn’t hurt her, did we?”
As the rest of the class started out of the pool area, still buzzing amongst themselves about the results of the experiment, Josh stayed where he was, staring at the display on the computer monitor.
It was nothing but a series of zigzag lines crossing and recrossing each other, showing what had happened inside Amy’s brain.
But it didn’t show anything about what had happened to Amy herself, Josh thought. Hadn’t anyone else seen the look on her face? Hadn’t they seen how scared she was, not only of the rope and the diving board, but of looking like a chicken in front of her friends?
Hadn’t anyone else cared?
With a last glance at the equipment that had so terrified his friend, he turned away, another icy chill running through him as he once more imagined how Amy must have felt when she’d sat alone in the chair, with all the cameras and people watching her.
Like the cat, he thought. She must have felt like the cat in the cage.
Suddenly wanting to be away from the pool, he hurried across the concrete decking and almost ran through the men’s showers and locker room. As he burst out of the gym door into the afternoon sunlight, he looked around, half expecting Amy to be waiting for him.
All he saw was the usual peaceful scene of the college campus, with a few people wandering across the lawns or sitting under the trees, talking or studying.
Amy was nowhere to be seen.
Chet Aldrich pulled into the garage at exactly five o’clock, surprised to see Jeanette’s car already there. Usually she didn’t leave the campus until five-thirty, and by the time she got home, he’d already gone through the unvarying twenty minutes of aerobics he was using in a so far highly effective effort to stave off the creeping processes of age. He’d begun the exercises a year ago, was pleased with the results, and the workout even allowed him to convince himself that the 400 calories in the single glass of wine he permitted himself each evening had already been burned up before he even consumed them.
Today, the first day both of them had been back at work since Adam’s funeral, he’d been looking forward to getting back into the ritual of the afternoon. But when he saw Jeanette’s car parked in the garage, he knew instantly that it was not to be. He parked his own car next to hers and let himself in through the back door that led directly to the kitchen.
“Jeanette? Honey, I’m home!”
There was no answer. Chefs growing trepidation that something had happened at work that day heightened as he moved through the dining room into the living r
oom at the front of the house.
Jeanette was sitting on the sofa, her coat still on, her purse on her lap. Her eyes seemed to be focused on the television set, but as soon as he saw her, he knew she wasn’t watching anything that might have been on the screen, even had it been turned on. Rather, her whole expression was that of someone who had just received some kind of terrible shock.
“Jeanette?” he repeated, going to sit next to her on the sofa. “Honey, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Jeanette, her lips tight, turned to face him. “Nothing, probably. Just someone’s idea of a bad joke. In fact, I suppose I should be over it by now, but I can’t seem to forget it.”
Chefs brow furrowed. “Joke? What kind of joke?”
Choosing her words carefully, not wanting to lend the incident more importance than it deserved, Jeanette told him what had happened. When she finally repeated the message that had appeared on the screen, he groaned softly.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “What would make anyone do something like that?”
“I don’t know,” Jeanette sighed. Pulling herself together, she rose from the sofa and went to the sideboard in the dining room, where she poured herself a shot of brandy. “It wouldn’t have been so bad, except that Adam did exactly the same thing last spring. He hacked into my computer at work, and all of a sudden a message popped up on the screen. Almost exactly the same words. ‘Hi, Mom. It’s me. It’s Adam!’ ” She chuckled, a hollow sound that she quickly cut short. “I gave him a talking-to, but in a way, I thought it was pretty funny, you know? But today …” Her voice trailed off as she remembered once more the shock that had gone through her when she’d read the words on the screen. “I just can’t believe anyone would do something like that, even as a joke.”
“And it’s not hard to figure out who did it, either, is it?” Chet asked. Angry now, he was already back on his feet, his hand in his pocket as he fished for his car keys.
Jeanette stared at him blankly.
“Don’t you see?” Chet asked. “It was Jeff! It had to be!”
“Jeff?” Jeanette repeated. “Chet, why would Jeff do something like that? He knows how hard it’s been for me the last week—”
“He did it because he could,” Chet replied, his voice heavy. “I can tell you exactly what happened. Adam told him what he’d done, and Jeff didn’t forget. He doesn’t forget anything, remember? He’s a genius! So today he’s got some time on his hands, and what does he do? He decides to play a joke on his mother, and it never occurs to him how it might affect you. Well, I think I’m just going to go over to the Academy and have a little talk with him. If he thinks he’s going to get off scot-free, he’s about to find out he’s wrong.”
Jeanette was barely listening. It couldn’t have been Jeff—not her own son, and not so soon after his own brother’s death! It was impossible! It had to be someone else. “I’m going with you,” she told him. “If it was him, I should be the one to confront him, not you.” She set her drink on the coffee table and followed Chet back out to the garage.
A few minutes later they pulled up in front of the Academy and hurried inside, going directly to Hildie Kramer’s office. Hildie, who was talking to one of the campus security officers, fell silent as she saw the Aldriches, then smiled at the uniformed man. “Just keep an eye out, all right? And if you see anything, let me know.” The guard grunted a reply, left the office, and Hildie turned her full attention to Chet and Jeanette Aldrich. Her welcoming smile faded as she saw the anger in Chet’s eyes and the look of anxiety on Jeanette’s pale face.
“Jeanette? Chet? What is it? What’s happened?”
While Chet stood silently, his jaw clenched to contain his anger, Jeanette told Hildie what had happened. “Chet thinks Jeff might have done it,” she finished. “We’d like to talk to him about it.”
“As well you should,” Hildie declared. “I can’t imagine anyone doing such a thing!” She started out of the office, then hesitated, turning back. “Wait a minute. What time did you say this happened?”
“Around four. A little after, but not more than fifteen minutes.”
“Well, then it couldn’t have been Jeff,” Hildie told them. “He was at the swimming pool from three-thirty until almost five. All the children in Dr. Engersol’s seminar were there.”
Jeanette felt a wave of relief wash over her.
“I’d still like to talk to him,” Chet said. He was still angry. “Knowing Jeff, he could have set up a program that would go off at a certain time, when he knew he’d be somewhere else”
Hildie’s eyes clouded. “Oh, I hardly think he’d—” She broke off abruptly as her eyes went to the window. “Speak of the devil,” she said, moving once more to her office door. A second or two later, the front door of the Academy opened. “Jeff?” Hildie said. “Could you come in here for a minute, please?” Brad Hinshaw, who was with Jeff, started to follow his friend into the room, but Hildie stopped him. “If you’ll just wait out there, Brad, this shouldn’t take too long.” She closed the door, then turned to face Jeff, who was looking up at his father perplexedly.
“Are you mad at me, Dad?”
“Yes, I am,” Chet replied. “And I suspect you know exactly why!”
Jeff, startled by his father’s words, took half a step backward, then turned to his mother. “What’s he mad about? What did I do?”
Jeanette gazed down at her son, searching his face for any sign of guilt. But she saw none. His brown eyes were fixed worriedly on her, and he edged closer to her, as if for protection from his father. That simple movement told her all she needed to know, for had it been he who had played the prank on her, he certainly wouldn’t have looked to her for protection. To Hildie Kramer, perhaps, but certainly not to the butt of the joke. The tension draining out of her body, Jeanette reached out and pulled him close. “You didn’t do anything,” she said. “We had to come and find out, but now I’m sure.”
Jeff pulled away from his mother. “What? What did you think I did?”
While Jeff listened silently, his father told him what had happened. “Are you sure you didn’t set it up some way?” he finished.
Jeff shook his head “It wasn’t me. Why would I do something like that? Besides, I was at the pool this afternoon. We were doing a neat experiment It was all about—”
Before he could finish, Hildie Kramer cut in. “I don’t think your parents are interested in hearing about the experiment right now, Jeff,” she said. “Now, why don’t you run along while your parents and I try to figure out what happened?”
Jeff hesitated, then started toward the door. His hand on the knob, he looked back at his father once more. “You’re not still mad at me, are you, Dad?”
Chet took a deep breath, then let it out. He, too, had been unable to see any sign of guilt in the boy. Like Jeanette, he was certain that had Jeff been responsible for the prank, it would have been obvious, no matter how hard the boy tried to deny it. For all his brilliance, Jeff had always been a terrible liar. “I’m not mad, son,” he told him. “It was just pretty upsetting, that’s all.”
Jeff left Hildie Kramer’s office and started up the stairs with Brad Hinshaw. Before they had reached the second floor landing, Josh MacCallum pulled the front door open and pounded up the stairs after them. “You guys know where Amy is?” he asked.
Jeff and Brad glanced at each other, then shrugged. “We haven’t seen her since she took off from the pool,” Brad said. He laughed, remembering Amy bursting into tears and running away. “She was so scared, I thought she’d wet her pants!”
Josh glared at the older boy. “So she was scared! So what? Haven’t you ever been scared?”
Brad backed away, holding up his hands in mock terror. “Jeez! What’s wrong with you? It’s not like it happened to you, is it?”
“Well, I can’t find her,” Josh told him. “I looked everywhere she usually goes, but she’s gone.”
“So what?” Jeff asked. “She’s probably scared to come back, ’caus
e she knows everyone’s going to laugh at her. At least Brad is,” he added, punching his friend on the arm. “Huh?”
“Yeah, I probably will,” Brad agreed. “Unless Josh threatens to beat me up.” His eyes twinkling, he surveyed Josh, who was at least four inches shorter than he was, and twenty pounds lighter. “How ’bout it, MacCallum—gonna pound me if I tease your girlfriend?”
Josh felt himself flushing. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said hotly. “And I don’t see why you guys think what happened to her is so funny, either!”
Now it was Jeff who was grinning. “You want to hear something really funny?” he asked. “Listen to what someone did to my mom!” As Josh and Brad listened, he recounted the story. When he was done, Josh stared at him, his eyes wide.
“That’s really weird,” he whispered. “Who’d do a thing like that?”
Jeff shot Brad a glance, then grinned at Josh. “It was Adam,” he said. “No one else could have done it!”
Brad Hinshaw gaped at his friend. “Come on,” he said. “Adam’s dead!”
Jeff’s grin faded away, to be replaced with a smile that was almost cruel. “The hell he is!” he declared. “Only stupid people die around here. Adam’s not stupid, and he never wanted to die. He just wanted to get away from all the bullshit!”
“But where did he go?” Josh demanded, his mind whirling.
Jeff’s grin returned. “Who said he left? He’s still here. You just can’t see him, that’s all.”
“Jeez,” Brad Hinshaw groaned. “If you ask me, you’re just as nuts as your brother was.” Turning his back on Jeff, he started down the hall toward his room. When he was gone, Jeff Aldrich turned back to Josh.
“I’ll bet that’s where Amy is, too,” he said, his eyes fixed on the younger boy. “I’ll bet she went with Adam.”
Josh gazed at Jeff for a moment, trying to decide if he was serious, then ran down the hall toward Amy’s room. He knocked at the closed door, calling out her name.
“Amy?” he called. “Amy, it’s me! It’s Josh. Can I come in?”
