Shadows

by John Saul

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I came down and fixed a cup of coffee. Then I turned on the TV. There—There was a movie on. One of those things where Barbara Stanwyck kills everyone she marries. And then—then—” She broke off, the lump in her throat rising once more.

  “It’s all right. Just tell me what happened.”

  Jeanette turned to stare at Chet, her eyes wide. “Adam,” she whispered. “He was on the television set.”

  Chet gazed at her blankly. “Adam?”

  “On the television,” Jeanette repeated. “The movie just stopped, and there he was.”

  Chet shook his head. “Honey, you know that’s not possible. You must have just dozed off and started dreaming—”

  “No” Jeanette said, her voice sharp. “Damn it, it wasn’t a dream. Here! Look for yourself!” She reached down and snatched the remote control off the floor, then pressed the power button. There was a soft click from the TV set, and the screen began to brighten. Suddenly an image formed, rolled up the screen, then steadied.

  An image of Barbara Stanwyck, in black and white, her expression hard as she glared with hatred at the man whose arms were wrapped around her. An instant later Barbara kissed the object of her wrath.

  Jeanette stared at the screen. “Oh, God, Chet,” she said quietly. “Do you think maybe I really am going nuts?”

  “What I think,” Chet said as he stood up, “is that you’re damned near the end of your rope, that you need a good night’s sleep but aren’t going to get one, and that I’d better make myself a cup of coffee so I can stay awake and convince you that you’re a sane, if tired, lady. Be right back.” He started for the door, but before he was even halfway there he heard a strangled sound from Jeanette. Turning back, he found her staring at the television, her eyes wide.

  His own eyes shifted to the set.

  And he saw Adam.

  Saw him, and heard him.

  From the television’s speakers his son’s voice filled the room.

  “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. I guess what must have happened was I scared Mom, and she shut off the set. But maybe you’re both there now. If you are, and want to talk to me, turn on the computer.”

  “This is nuts,” Chet Aldrich said, his voice barely audible as he sank back onto the sofa. “What the hell is going on?”

  “It’s him,” Jeanette breathed. “Oh, God, Chet, it’s Adam!”

  “It’s not Adam at all,” Chet said, his shock at seeing the image on the television screen giving way to rage. “It’s another goddamn stunt that Jeff’s pulling, but this time I’ve got him!” Picking up the remote control from the coffee table, he switched on the video recorder and began taping what was on the television.

  “Don’t you want to talk to me?” Adam said, his voice taking on a plaintive sadness. “All you have to do is turn on the computer.”

  “Oh, really?” Chet grated. “Well, let’s just see about that, shall we?” He went to the desk and snapped on the Macintosh he’d bought a few months ago. The system booted itself up, and then, almost immediately, the computer beeped as the modem answered a call from outside. A few seconds later the screen cleared and the cursor flashed slowly, almost as if beckoning him. Chet sat down, thought a second, then quickly typed:

  IT’S DAD, JEFF. AND I’M PRETTY MAD ABOUT THIS.

  “It’s not Jeff, Dad,” Adam said from the television set. It’s me.

  Chet hesitated, then typed again:

  DONT GIVE ME THAT CHAP, SON. ALL YOU’RE DOING IS PISSING ME OFF AND HURTING YOUR MOTHER. THIS ISNT FUNNY.

  On the screen Adam’s expression changed. His smile faded away and his eyes glistened with tears. “I’m not trying to hurt anyone,” he said. “I just wanted Mom to know I’m okay, that’s all.”

  On the couch Jeanette’s body was racked by a sob, and Chet groaned silently.

  He typed:

  ADAM IS DEAD. YOU WERE AT HIS FUNERAL, AND SO WERE WE. THIS HAS GONE FAR ENOUGH. I DONT KNOW HOW YOU’RE DOING THIS, BUT BELIEVE ME, I’LL FIND OUT!

  “But it’s really me, Dad,” Adam said, his voice shaking now. “I can prove it. Ask me something. Ask me something I’d know, but that Jeff wouldn’t!”

  “Jesus,” Chet rasped. “That’s it! I’m shutting this thing—”

  “No!” Jeanette turned away from the television, her cheeks stained with tears. “Honey, don’t. What—What if it is Adam?” Her mind was racing as she tried to think of something that Adam would know but that Jeff wouldn’t Before she could think of anything. Adam spoke again.

  “Remember when I was five, Mom? Remember when I came home from school because I wet my pants, and you promised you’d never tell anyone?”

  Jeanette froze.

  She still remembered it perfectly. It had been the middle of the morning, and Adam had come through the back door, sobbing with mortification at the accident he’d had just before recess at kindergarten. He’d waited until everyone else had left the room, then run the three blocks home, praying that no one had seen him. But what he’d been most afraid of was that his brother would find out about it and tease him. “He’ll tell everyone,” the little boy had pleaded.

  Jeanette had known he was right, for ever since they’d learned to talk, Jeff had always taken a strange pleasure in teasing his brother until Adam burst into tears, then laughing at Adam’s fury. So Jeanette had helped the little boy get cleaned up and into fresh clothes, then let him stay home for the rest of the day, explaining to Jeff that Adam had felt sick to his stomach.

  That had been the end of it, and it had never been mentioned again.

  Until now.

  “It’s him,” Jeanette whispered. “Oh, God, Chet, it is!”

  Chefs expression hardened. “It’s not, Jeanette! It’s Jeff, goddamn it! I don’t know how he’s doing this, but you can bet I’m going to find out! And I’m not listening to any more of his crap, either!”

  “I just wanted you to know I’m okay, Mom,” Adam was saying again. “I’m not dead. Really, I’m not. I’m—”

  The screen went dark as Chet snapped off the set. A moment later he took the cassette out of the video recorder and put it into the battered briefcase in which he carried his papers and lecture notes. “First thing in the morning, I’m going to find out why they let Jeff do that,” he said. “And if I discover that he had help from some of the college kids, there are going to be a few expulsions at Barrington. I’ve heard of some cruel pranks, but this one beats them all!”

  Jeanette stared at the darkened television set.

  Chet was right, of course. It had to be a prank.

  And yet, all the time she’d watched him, and listened to him, she’d had the strangest feeling that it wasn’t a prank at all.

  She’d felt that she’d been watching a shadow.

  A shadow of the dead.

  24

  Jeanette Aldrich hesitated in front of George Engersol’s office. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” she asked Chet for at least the fourth time that morning. “Maybe we should talk to Jeff first—”

  “I’m not talking to him until I know how something like this could have happened,” Chet replied, remnants of last night’s fury still evident in his voice. “If Engersol can’t tell me, then I think we both know what has to happen.” Without giving Jeanette time to argue, he pulled the door open and led her inside.

  Half an hour later, George Engersol sat behind his desk watching the tape for the second time. When the Aldriches had arrived—unannounced, and interrupting a discussion neither he nor Hildie had been happy to postpone—he’d listened patiently to them as they explained what had happened early that morning. At first he had assumed it would take no more than a few minutes to brush off what had happened last night as another of Jeff’s pranks. After watching the tape and instantly realizing what Adam had done, he turned to Chet and Jeanette. “I can’t imagine what Jeff was thinking of,” he said smoothly, his face a seamless mask of concern. “I know our youngsters have thought up some pretty sophistic
ated stunts, but this…” He let his voice trail off into a disapproving hiss, then turned to Hildie. “I think you’d better bring young Jeff up here,” he told her.

  “The faster we deal with this, the better for all of us, don’t you think?”

  Hildie had hesitated for a split second, but the look in Engersol’s eyes had told her not to argue with him, and she’d started out of his office. Even before she’d passed through the doorway, he stopped her. “And Hildie, I think you’d probably better tell the rest of my seminar that we won’t be meeting this morning. Tell them they may have the hour off, and then bring Jeff up here.”

  Though her face had flushed when he’d spoken to her as if she were no more than one of his staff—and not a particularly important one, at that—Hildie had nonetheless accepted his orders in silence.

  She hadn’t been gone long, since the seminar was meeting just a floor below his office, and when she came back with Jeff Aldrich in tow, the boy looked angry.

  “How come you’re mad at me?” he’d demanded as soon as Hildie had brought him into the office. He’d planted himself just inside the door and glared at his father. “I didn’t do anything!”

  “Don’t lie to me, Jeff,” Chet had replied, his voice sharp enough that the boy had taken an uncertain step backward. “Play the tape again, Dr. Engersol. He might as well see that this time he’s been caught.”

  Wordlessly, George Engersol had rewound the tape and started playing it again. This time, as he played the tape, he watched Jeff Aldrich’s face. No more than a few seconds into the tape, Jeff’s eyes had darted toward him and an unspoken message had passed between them.

  Jeff, too, had immediately understood what had happened. But how would he handle it?

  The tape came to an end. A heavy silence hung over the room, a silence that Chet finally broke.

  “Well?”

  The word made Jeff turn to look at his father. His eyes narrowed. “Where’d that come from?” he asked.

  Though his face remained impassive, George Engersol felt himself relax. There was just the right amount of defensiveness in Jeff’s voice, just the right amount of guilt. And Chet Aldrich had heard it, too.

  “You know damned well where it came from. Jeff,” Chet said. “The question is, how did you do it?”

  Jeff hesitated just long enough before he replied. “Do what? I don’t know anything about that. It looked like Mam, didn’t it?”

  Jeanette, sitting on a sofa opposite Jeff, shrank away from her son’s words. “Jeff, why are you doing this to me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  “Aw, come on, Mom,” Jeff groaned. “How am I going to do something like that? What do you think I did? Got dressed up in Adam’s clothes and sat in front of a video camera or something?”

  “I think that’s exactly what you did, Jeff,” Chet replied before Jeanette could say anything. “We all know you’re an expert computer hacker. And you’re going to tell us exactly how you managed to get that tape onto the cable coming into our house.”

  Now Jeff’s expression turned belligerent. “What if I don’t?” he demanded. “What if I don’t know anything about it at all?”

  “But you do,” Chet said. “And since you’ve asked the question, I’m going to tell you exactly what I’m going to do. You’re going to go home, Jeff. You’re going to be taken out of school right now. Not this afternoon, not tomorrow. Right now. You’re going home, and you’ll stay there—totally grounded—until you decide to tell us how you did this.”

  “Aw, Jeez, Dad,” Jeff groaned. “That’s not fair! I didn’t do anything!”

  Chet stood up abruptly. “All right, Jeff, that’s it. Come on.” Jeff’s mouth opened, but before he could speak, Chet silenced him with a gesture. “And I don’t want to hear any veiled threats of suicide, either. You hurt your mother with that line yesterday, but it won’t work with me. I know you, Jeff. You’re just not like Mam. Mam kept everything in, and never felt like he was pleasing anyone. But you’re just the opposite. You think you’ve got the world by the tail and everyone’s crazy about you. Well, right now, I’m not crazy about you at all. Got that?”

  Jeff’s face tightened into a mask of fury. He turned to George Engersol, his back to his parents. “Are you going to let them do that?” he demanded. “Are you just going to let them pull me out of school?”

  Engersol shrugged helplessly. “They’re your parents, Jeff. They have the right to take you home. And you might have thought of that before you decided to pull that stunt last night. I’m sorry,” he said, standing up. “I think it might be a good thing for you to go home for a while and think about what you’ve done. And think about what you want to do next.”

  Jeff stood still for a moment, his face still contorted with anger. But just before he turned away from Engersol, he winked.

  It was a wink that Chet and Jeanette Aldrich couldn’t see, but George Engersol understood the gesture perfectly.

  Jeff would play his part.

  As soon as the Aldriches were gone, Engersol accompanied Hildie Kramer back to her office. Then he rode the clattering brass elevator up to his apartment, let himself in, and immediately released the hidden catch on the bookcase. Stepping into the concealed elevator, he pulled the bookcase closed and descended to the laboratory buried deep beneath the basement. Scanning the monitors that displayed every aspect of the physical condition of the two brains submerged in their twin tanks, he stopped for a moment to admire the organs themselves.

  They looked almost artificial in their perfection, the folds of their lobes twisting over upon themselves, expanding their surfaces tenfold over what they might have been without the folds.

  Both brains, released now from the confines of the skulls they had so perfectly filled, seemed to be expanding, the folds loosening slightly, the surface area increasing.

  Adam’s brain, larger than Amy’s, seemed to Engersol to have grown overnight. When he checked its displacement factor in the tank, he found he was right, though the growth wasn’t quite as much as he’d hoped for. Still, Adam’s brain was expanding rapidly, and Amy’s was beginning to grow as well.

  What would happen as the organs continued to grow? Would the intelligence of the two personalities contained within the organs increase, too?

  And what would happen to the personalities themselves? Would they be affected?

  But how could they not, given the circumstances under which they now lived?

  He tried to imagine what it would be like to live without a body, to exist in the world as pure intellect, freed forever from the everyday inconveniences of maintaining a body.

  In a way, he almost wished that he himself could go into one of the tanks, be done with all the annoyances that distracted him from his work all but a few hours a day. But right now it was impossible. Until he’d watched these two brains, and the ones that soon would join them, and understood exactly how they functioned in the artificial environment he had created for them, he dared not risk it.

  After all, these two brains—and possibly many more to follow—might yet die. Indeed, there was a good possibility that he might have to kill Amy Carlson this very afternoon.

  He’d been thinking about the problem of Amy all night, getting only an hour or two of sleep just before dawn, then awakening in the bright sunlight with the answer in his mind.

  By now, undoubtedly, she had calmed down. She was one of the most intelligent children who had ever come to the Academy. Certainly by this morning she would understand that there was nothing she could do about her situation.

  Nor could he, or anyone else.

  It was one thing to remove a living brain from its skull and keep it alive in the nutrient solution.

  It was quite another to put it back into its host body, for the body, of course, had died the moment the brain was removed.

  Surely Amy had figured that out by now, and come to accept her circumstances. Her choice was simple—either cooperate with him, or die.

  And die she wou
ld, for he had already devised a method to circumvent the sabotage she’d planned.

  It was simply a matter of putting her to sleep.

  First, though, he was going to have to deal with Adam Aldrich. He tapped instructions into the keyboard, instructions that would activate the sound system.

  A message appeared on the screen:

  SOUND SYSTEM ALREADY ACTIVATED.

  Engersol frowned. He was certain he’d turned the sound off last night. He and Hildie had been discussing things neither of them wanted Adam or Amy to hear.

  But now it was on.

  How long had it been on?

  “Adam,” he said, his voice quiet, but heavy with the anger he was feeling toward the boy. “I want to talk to you.”

  Instantly the monitor above Adam’s tank flashed on and an image of the boy appeared. His eyes were wide, his expression worried. “Y-You found out, didn’t you?” he asked. “Dad told you what I did.”

  “Yes, he did. And if Jeff hadn’t acted guilty, you could have jeopardized the entire project Do you understand that?”

  “Y-Yes,” Adam stammered. “Are you really mad at me?”

  “Of course I am,” Dr. Engersol replied. “You’ve gotten your brother into a lot of trouble, and you might have gotten all of us into a lot of trouble.”

  On the monitor above the screen, Adam’s chin quivered. “I didn’t mean to get Jeff in—” he began, but Engersol didn’t let him finish.

  “I need Jeff here, Adam. I need him for the project, and he wants to be part of it. I don’t expect you to do anything else to jeopardize it Is that clear?”

  On the screen, Adam’s image nodded. “Yes,” he said.

  “I expect that you’ll be hearing from Jeff soon,” Engersol went on. “I want you to do whatever he asks you to do.”

  “But what if—” Adam began, but once again Engersol didn’t let him finish.

  “Did I make a mistake, Adam?” he asked. “Should I start all over again? I’m sure Jeff would be more than willing to take your place in the project.”