by Jake Devlin
“Oh, okay; right. Or how about 'flavore d'elegance'?”
“Oh, cute.”
“Oh, Gordy, you know when you were asking Dagi for some help with the German accent?”
“Yeah, Ro. I've made most of those changes.”
“I was thinking it might be funny if you also gave him a lisp or a”--
“Already did the lisp, in the Amish epilogue in 'Deception.'”
“Oh, right.
“How about an Elmer Fudd kind of thing, 'w' for 'r'?”
“Oh, god, Ro, that'd be way too confusing. I'm having enough trouble with the stuff I've got in there.”
“Okay; just a thought.
“What's that book?”
“This one, Ro? On my cooler?”
“Well, yeah; duh.”
“Some of Vonnegut's short stories.”
“Kewl. Read him back in college, centuries ago. Have you read the one about the cheap travel agency?”
“Nope; just started it. What's the name of it?”
“Oh, god, I can't remember; so long ago. But that story stuck. It's about a travel agency in Manhattan that offered cheap vacations, like two weeks in London for some ridiculously low price, like forty bucks.”
“Forty bucks?”
“Something like that; back in the '50s or '60s, that was a fair amount of money, but really cheap for a two-week vacation.”
“So maybe like eight or nine hundred today.”
“Yeah, in that neighborhood, I guess.”
“Okay. And?”
“So you'd pay your money and they'd take you into a back room, drug you up, hypnotize you and show you films of London, a couple of plays and touristy stuff, and when the two weeks were over, they'd wake you up, give you a cigar box with some ticket stubs and a bunch of other souvenir-type stuff and send you home. So when you walked out the front door, you'd have exactly what somebody who'd been there for real would have: some souvenirs and a memory of having been there.”
“Hmm. Isn't that all any of us have of anything, our memories and maybe some souvenirs?”
“And that was his point. So now you ready for some more?”
“Thanks, Ro, I'm full. But it was delicious.”
- 115 -
June 26, 2014
11:57 a.m. local time
Near Paris, France
“Easy now, easy; don't rush it. Just five more steps and then you rest. One ... good ... two … three … four … and five. No, no, no, that's enough. Sit your butt down in the chair.”
“I can do more.”
“Not yet. Twenty at a time; next week we go up to thirty.”
“I'm ready for fifty.”
“No, you're not. Now wheel yourself over to the barbells; twenty reps with the ten-pounders.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Now, now, Mr. Barnett, no need for that tone.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Mr. Barnett!”
“Ah, c'mon, Mercedes, you know I'm just kidding.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And I keep telling you – one, two – you can call me Paul.”
“And I keep telling you that's not appropriate.”
“Four, five. It's been what, eight weeks you've been working with me?”
“Seven weeks, sir.”
“Four, five. So you” –
“No cheating, sir. That was seven and eight.”
“Damn; caught me.”
“Again. I know you want to make it go faster, but your body just doesn't work that way. We need to build you back at the right pace.”
“'Cause I'm an old fart?”
“Only in part. Dr. Logan set the schedule, and it's my job to follow it precisely. Thirteen ... fourteen.”
“I didn't know you were German. Eleven, twelve.”
“I'm not, sir. Greek, Swedish, Italian and Scottish. Sixteen, seventeen.”
“Ah. Perhaps it's the Swedish. Fifteen, sixteen.”
“No, sir. Nineteen and twenty. Put them down now.”
“Seventee” –
“Now, Mr. Barnett.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Now we are done for today. Your lunch should be ready in your room. I will see you at ten tomorrow morning” –
“Precisely; I know.”
“Have a good day, Mr. Barnett.”
“Give us a kiss, Mercedes.”
“Have a good day, Mr. Barnett.”
“Damn. Okay. You, too, Mercedes.”
“Ah, Mrs. Barnett. He's all yours, and he's being feisty again.”
“Of course he is, Mercedes.”
“Have a good day, Mrs. Barnett.”
“You, too. Bye.
“'Give us a kiss, Mercedes'?”
“I like teasing her; she's so uptight.”
“It's her job, Paul.”
“Give us a kiss, love.”
“Gladly.”
“Mmm. Delicious. And again?”
“Mm-hmm. Mm.”
“Mmm.
“Okay. Lunchtime.”
“How about a quick roll in the hay first?”
“Love to, but how about after? You're usually starving after your workouts.”
“Okay. We'll save it for dessert. No, no, I've got it. Just get the door, okay?”
“So how'd it go today?”
“Same as usual. I want to do more, Mercedes plays the Nazi and holds me back. She's very good, passed all my tests again.”
“Doc says he's lucky to have her.”
“Yup; someday maybe we might invite her into the business. She'd make a good bodyguard.”
“She is intimidating.”
“And yet deferential, especially to you.”
“Woman to woman, I guess.”
“Not so much to me. Good balance in a BG.”
“Agreed. Oh, that smells good!”
“Mm-hmm. Jean-Claude always sends over a good spread.”
“Oh, yeah, he does.
“I've got the files on Putin's latest aggression in Ukraine, that ISIS or ISIL group and the Al Qaeda spinoff in Syria that Amber sent over. Do you wanna see 'em now or after we eat?”
“Lemme glance at 'em now, Pam, and we can go over 'em in detail after lunch.”
“You mean after dessert, don't you, Jake?”
“Oh, right; of course.”
“Mm.”
- 116 -
July 28, 2014
3:27 a.m. local time
Ballarat, Victoria, Australia
“Vive l'ordre! Vive le nouveau monde! Vive l'ordre! Long live the New World Order!
“The New World Order arrived before the masses realized their society had changed.
“Our commander is strong. Our leader is fearless. His punishment is just.
“The NWO had turned the world to shit in two short years. No one escaped its forceful nature.
“It’s why we have those camps. We need to start again – purify our species.
“The NWO: Scan here, stamp there, now fill in the form and please proceed to the next counter.
“The Rebellion...The New World Order. A war is raging. The Militia will stop at nothing to gain the Seer.
“This is war. People get killed in wars, it's what war's about. Killing, dying, death and the one left standing, wins.
“Resistance was futile, but he’d play the game all the same. He’d play it the way he knew best—he’d cheat.
“It seems you pissed off the new government. Vive le New World Order and all of that.
“Do we fear our enemies more than we love our children?
“He cradled the infant, staining her white dress with his red handprints.
“'Shit,' he thought. 'In for a penny, in for a pound, and tonight I've got a pocket full of quarters.'
“At least I didn't kill anyone today. No extra notches on my blade.
“She screams. She runs along the alleyway, past the symbols of the Militia lining the rotting brick walls of the sectors.
“Sh
e needs to run, needs to keep moving, but the voices hold her in their grasp, slowing her down to a reluctant jog, with a weight she can’t shake, until her feet stumble over each other, and she collapses in exhaustion. Julianna waits for her predators to arrive.
“Caden started down the hallway, waving his arms high above his head. 'All hail the Commander of Bitches.'
“She held her ground and waited, knowing if the door opened, he'd pounce and rip her apart.
“From now on, I will not jump feet first into the fire; I will not act before I think; I will stop being impulsive … yeah, who am I kidding?
“I'm a watcher and watchers are forsaken in love.
“Us watchers were cast out with the hand of God and thrown into the lap of the Devil himself.
“By all means, Guild Master, I wouldn't have my back turned to you in a flickering heartbeat.
“I believe there's a vacancy at his camp for Human Services Technician.
“Geez, Cade. Lighten up before you start pouncing. I hate it when you go all cat-like on me.
“Bloodlust, headaches...hate to see a pretty girl go wild.
“Hope you don’t mind me undressing you without the formal introductions, but you were covered in blood.
“Ain't no point baring my soul to the devil himself. All men are pricks.
“Maybe your principles are so low that you're neighboring with the Devil himself.
“His bloodied prints remained while his hands slipped to a lower grip.
“'Would you like me to bathe for this evening, or will you take me any filthy way you can?
“His finger lingered. Only when it flicked her knee playfully did she remember the crowds.
“They understood the change that was happening. They understood her confusion and lust. They understood her need for survival.
“You expect my embrace and a kiss after labeling me a traitor to the cause?”
“Good Militia are dead Militia.
“You totally wipe me every time. You take more energy from me than shape-shifting on a bad day.
“Where was the 'I missed you and I love you and I'm sorry?'
“Julianna's frayed mind endured his constant tugging. He reached deep into her psyche to disturb and taunt.
“Delta to base….ready the drones, and have two squads meet me at the gates.
“Don’t bullshit me, General. I’m a little past that tonight.
“Keep them for the trials, for interrogation, kill them. I don't really care.
“You're a shitty General, with all due respect, asshole.
“We have the location of Julianna Rae’s IDM chip traced, Sir.
“Sector Four borders weren’t kind tonight, forcing her down a derelict fire escape as the drones sensed her heat signature.
“All I want is Julianna and the safe house location in Sector Three.
“The front title painted across the cover in bold, red capitals screamed, THE BULLETIN. She glanced over the contents with her heart in her throat.
”No surrender. The thought caressed her mind while she lay pressed against the hard floor.
“All the times I went to the Club with patrols on my ass. The times I was shot at, chased --
“Her delusions were becoming worse, and her stomach, where the bullet had left fragments, and where the knife had stabbed her, was red and swollen from infection, despite his efforts to heal her again. Julianna screamed.”
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”
“Wha- – Aral, Aral, wake up! What's wrong?”
“Mmf. Wha- – oh. They're back.”
“Who's back?”
“Not who, what. The visions, the voices. Oh, god, Peter! It was so real, like I was her again.”
“The – Julianna?”
“Yeah, and all the New World Order shit, like I was really there, but it was all jumbled and disconnected. This time there was a guy there, odd name, uh – oh, crap! What was – oh, right. Caden. And a general and drones, and I'd been shot and stabbed and – shit! I gotta get that down before it's all gone.”
“Aral, it's just a nightmare.”
“No, no, no, Peter; it's more than that. It's so real, like a whole different world, like – I don't know – like reincarnation or something. Maybe that weird Swiss guy on Twutter was right and I am a – what'd he call it? – a crossover. But that's impossible. Am I going crazy?”
“Oh, Aral, don't say that. Don't even think it. No! Something is going on, and I don't understand it, but you are NOT crazy.”
“Oh, Peter, I” –
“But if you want to, I can set up an appointment with Dr. Taris, and maybe” –
“Taris? Taris? Absolutely not! No!”
“Aral, I” –
“No, no, no, no, no!”
- 117 -
August 28, 2014
8:24 a.m. local time
St. Tropez, France
“So good to be home, Pam.”
“And I'm so relieved to have you back.”
“Me, too. Hey, lemme carry you across the threshold.”
“Oh, no; you're not that strong yet.”
“I feel like it.”
“But thank you; the thought counts.”
“It looks the same.”
“Yeah; Kimberly and Candi did a good job.”
“They sure did. It's sparkly.”
“What's that?”
“What?”
“That – that thing on the counter.”
“That? Looks like the 4D gizmo Greg and Julie and Dr. Fren- – ah, Ford worked on, a big advance on the one we had on 'Defiance'; seems like years ago now.”
“Oh, right, with the 3D printer?”
“Yup.”
“But you didn't believe it worked, I thought?”
“Back then, I didn't. But Amber sent me the data on their latest experiments, and I'm convinced now. It still doesn't make sense to me, but it works. Somehow.”
“That whole idea scares me.”
“Me, too. The bad guys could use it as a weapon way too easily.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But while I was lying there, listening to all the pain you were going through – and I heard everything -- I wished there was a way to ease it, and I thought about that gizmo. Or maybe I just dreamed about it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. And I thought maybe once I got well – and I wasn't all that sure I would – I could send a note back so you'd know I survived. Maybe just saying, 'I'm baack; love you' and the date, or maybe something more.”
“Oh, Jake, that's – that's – oh, crap; can't find the word.”
“Silly?”
“Oh, no, no, no. Nicer.”
“Thoughtful?”
“Good, but way beyond that.”
“Caring?”
“Yeah, but even more.”
“Narcissistic? Rectangular? Triangular? Oblong?”
“Oh, he's back, f'sure.”
“Astrophysical?”
“Oh, don't worry about it; I get the idea.”
“Good, 'cause now I'm stuck.
“I could get Greg and Julie here by tomorrow. D'you think I should do it?”
“Send a note back to me?”
“Yeah.”
“Uh, I – uh – no, please don't.”
“No? Why not?”
“I don't – I can't – I'm not – not sure I can explain it, but somehow I got much closer to you through all that, in spite of the worry and pain. And I'd lose that right along with the bad stuff. And it's all over and done and you're okay now. Does that make any sense?”
“I – uh, I think so. No point messing around with the past when the outcome is okay?”
“Well, kind of. And then there's the possibility that finding that note might have made me or Doc Logan or somebody do something that would screw up the outcome, maybe make us complacent or something. Then you might have really died.”
“Ah-ha. But then the note would never be sent, would it?”
“Ah, no. No. Right. Hmm.”
“It gets circular. Very tricky. Perflutzing.”
“Y'know what, Jake? Let's leave it this way. We're here, now, with the memories we have, and I'm okay with that. I'm just happy with things just as they are.”
“So leave the past alone?”
“Yeah, please.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you, thank you.”
“Woah! Easy, Pam, easy. Remember, I'm still recovering.”
“Oops; sorry. Got a little carried away, didn't I?”
“Just pulling your leg. I'm fine. Hug away.”
“Oh, you! I love you so much.”
“And I love you, Pam.”
“I know, Jake, I know.”
“And I'm gonna show you how much in so many ways.”
“Ohh.”
“Well, after all that time in the coma, I owe you a whole lot of big O's, don't I?”
“I'm not keeping score.”
“Maybe we could start right here.”
“On the counter? Yeah, sure – oops. Lemme move the giz- – wait. What's that? A note?”
“Lemme see. 'Hi, Paul and Evelyn, from Greg, Julie and Dr. Ford. Read ALL instructions before use. October 5, 2015.' What the hell?”
- 118 -
August 28, 2014
10:27 a.m. local time
Bonita Beach, Florida
“Hey, Gordy, what's with the camouflage hat?”
“What, you can see me?”
“Of course I can see you.”
“Aw, shit. Five hundred bucks down the drain.”
“What?”
“And so much for hiding from the CIA.”
“What? Are you kidding?”
“Yes, Potzz, he is; he's been pulling that joke all morning.”
“And Ro's been very tolerant of me pulling it.”
“Nine times so far today. But that's the first time you've put the CIA line in there.”
“Just popped into my head.
“So, Potzz, how's the art going?”
“Great. Had a show in Naples last weekend, sold out every last piece.”
“Oh, bravo!”
“Kewl.”
“Thank you, thank you very much, both of you.
“So, Gordy, written my scene yet?”
“Where you're married to Elvis?”
“Yeah.”
“Yup, but it's just a quick mention, no dialogue.”
