by Jon Steele
They’d been in the garden earlier, where Katherine was trying to calm down from the firing range fiasco. She’d stormed off the range, telling Officer Jannsen to go fuck herself with a two-by-four from the Carson lumberyard. The sun in the garden calmed her down, and she laughed watching Max walk in circles, arms out from his sides to find his balance, before falling on his butt and giggling with delight because, for some reason, he found the idea of falling on his butt amusing.
Molly came by with some of her tofu pizza at lunchtime. It was the special at the diner that day, and she knew Max loved it. Molly also heard the house was running low on her homemade apple juice and she brought a jug of the fresh stuff. Max was very happy to see her, and the pizza, and the apple juice. He quickly made a mess of his face and hands. Molly couldn’t stay, had to get back to the diner and work on dinner. She gave Max a big hug.
“Why, you’re just the cutest little bug in the yard,” she said.
“Boogy bug, Mowy.”
“You betcha.”
On the way out, Molly saw Katherine looking unlike her chipper self. Told her to come to town for some huckleberry pie. Picked the berries herself, Molly said.
Katherine smiled.
“Thanks, Molly. That sounds really good.”
“Good? Girl, I make the best huckleberry pie in the American Northwest. Good ain’t got nothing on me.”
“Yeah, well, if Anne ever lets me out of prison, I’ll do that.”
“Now what are you talking about? Trouble on the home front?”
“That’s a nice way of putting it.”
“Oh c’mon, sweetie. There isn’t a couple on the planet that doesn’t have its ups and downs. And don’t forget, Annie-girl loves you to bits.”
“You think?”
“I know so, girl. I’ll be seeing you.”
Molly left, and Katherine sat in the back garden with Max. She watched him crawl over the grass as if searching for four-leaf clovers. Knowing Max, he probably was.
Clouds rolled in, then the rain.
Katherine picked up Max.
“Nap time for you, buster. And I think I just might join you. I’m beat.”
She carried him into the house and up the stairs. She laid him on the changing table, changed his diaper. She carried him into the bathroom, parked him on the floor, ran a washcloth in warm water, and washed his face and hands.
“Stay put a sec. I need to clean my teeth.”
No sooner had she started brushing than Max made a break for it and crawled into her bedroom. She called after him with her mouth full of toothpaste.
“Come back here, you. Don’t you know we’re in a lockdown drill?”
She finished brushing her teeth, splashed water on her face, grabbed a hand towel. She stood in the doorway of her bedroom patting her face with the towel. She watched Max crawl straight for the cardboard boxes of things left to her by Marc Rochat. He reached up, grabbed hold of the rim of the nearest box, and pulled himself to his feet. He looked at his mother, bounced up and down on his bowed legs.
“What’s on your mind, Max?”
“Goog.”
Monsieur Booty appeared from nowhere, walked to where Max was standing. The beast stood on its rear legs, front legs on the rim, looked inside the box, and sniffed.
Mew.
“So it’s the both of you up to no good, huh?”
Katherine tossed the towel back to the bathroom sink. She walked across the room, looked down into the box. Marc Rochat’s sketchbooks lay atop boxes of candles. She saw the lettering on the cover of the top book:
piratz
Une histoire drôle de Marc Rochat
pour Mademoiselle Katherine Taylor
She looked at the two of them.
“You two are starting to scare the crap out of me. You know that?” She looked at the book. “Or maybe I’m just scaring the crap out of myself. You, fuzzface . . .”
Mew.
“. . . you were there in the cathedral. So you I give a lot of room to be nutty.”
She looked at Max, remembering she was already pregnant while hiding in the cathedral.
“Come to think of it, so were you, Max.”
She looked out the window. It was raining hard now.
“And it feels like none of us ever left.”
She walked into Max’s bedroom, spread a blanket and pillow on the floor. Max and Monsieur Booty watched her through the connecting door. She came back into her own room, put on the black floppy hat and lit the lantern. She headed back to Max’s room, lantern in hand, bending down to grab piratz from the cardboard box along the way.
“C’mon, gang, let’s take a spin through beforetimes. See what happens.”
She stood the lantern on the stool, sat on the blanket, and made herself comfy. She rested the sketchbook on her lap, looked back through the connecting door. Max and Monsieur Booty were still standing with paws on the rim of the cardboard box, looking at her, looking at each other.
“Well, c’mon,” Katherine said. “Beforetimes waits for nobody.”
Max dropped on his butt, rolled to his hands and knees, and charged. Monsieur Booty brought up the rear, taking swipes at the fuzzy slippers on Max’s feet. Max climbed onto Katherine’s lap, shoved his hand in her mouth.
“Oh, thank you very much. Here, turn around and sit. Here’s some apple juice.”
She handed Max his sippy cup and he went at it. Monsieur Booty looked for space on Katherine’s lap, found none, and made like the Sphinx at her feet. The more she read from piratz, the more Katherine felt as if she were back in the little room between the bells.
“And an evil wizard named Screechy lived in an ice castle and wore a pointy hat with a rooster on top and stole a big diamond that was a future-teller. And there was a band of funny pirates with wooden swords and paper hats, riding on Pompidou’s back and flying just above the waves of the Boiling Seas of Doom on their way to the land of Saskatoon where—”
A red lamp in the high corner of the room flashed in threes.
“Shit.”
She lifted Max from her lap, set him on her shoulder as she jumped to her feet. The book tumbled to the floor. Max pointed to it.
“Lune moon.”
“Not now, honey, we have to go somewhere, but don’t worry. It’ll be here when we get back. Here, be a big boy, hold your sippy cup.”
She hurried to her bedroom and the door to the hall. Max tried to jump from her arms, reaching back for the book.
“Lune! Moon!”
“Crap, you want moon, we’ll take moon.”
Katherine ran back, grabbed the book, ran for the door.
“Boo!”
“Oh, Jesus.”
She ran back to Max’s room, reached for the cat. He darted away.
“Goddammit!”
The door to Katherine’s room opened. Officer Jannsen in the doorway, stopwatch hanging around her neck, along with a small machine gun. She spoke calmly, but seriously.
“Now, Kat.”
“He wants the cat.”
“Forget the cat.”
“I can’t—”
Officer Jannsen dashed into the room, pulled Max from Katherine’s arms, and headed for the door.
“Jesus, what are you doing?”
Officer Jannsen was already down the hall and down the stairs. She heard Max crying.
“Hey, hey!”
Katherine ran for the door, dropped the sketchbook, flew down the stairs. She got to the kitchen, saw Officer Jannsen going out the door.
“Dammit! Come back here!”
In the garden she saw four of the Swiss Guards running into the trees, their Brügger & Thomets raised, firing . . . blamblam, blam!
“Fuck! Max!”
She ran for Control, two guards were inside w
ith headsets, one watching the monitors as black shapes moved through the trees, approaching the house.
“Intruders 220 and 146 degrees. Two squad, engage and destroy 146 degrees. Repeat, engage and destroy at 146. Three squad, intruders have you on the flank from 220. Reposition firing line.”
Katherine yelled, “What the fuck is happening?”
The Swiss Guard at the monitors saw her.
“Downstairs, Madame Taylor, now!”
Katherine ran down the hall. The false wall at the end of the hall had been slid open. She jumped through it and down a narrow stairwell. Something under her feet, tripping, grabbing the handrail.
“Max!”
She heard him shriek. She ran through a series of connecting passages. She went left, then right, turned right again. She stopped; she’d come to a dead end. Heard Max’s voice again.
“Fuck it! Anne, you fucking bitch!”
She ran back to where she’d started. Ran through the drill in her head.
“Left, right, left, and left,” she mumbled to herself.
She ran, found another set of steep stairs going down. She jumped, hitting the concrete floor hard. She looked ahead. Officer Jannsen was inside the safe room and the vault door was closing. There was no stopping it once it started to close.
“No! Max!”
She ran ahead.
Officer Jannsen jumped from the room, handed Max to Katherine. Max twisted and screamed. His face was contorted with panic.
“Jesus, is this real?”
“Get in.”
“They’re fucking shooting!”
“Get in!”
Katherine ducked in the safe room, the massive vault door sealed, and hydraulic bolts slammed into sockets like bullets: BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Max jumped, was rendered silent for a second, but there was a terrified look in his eyes.
“It’s okay, honey, it’s okay. You’re with Mommy, it’s okay.”
A fearful cry gushed from his mouth, and he swung his fists. His sippy cup was still in his right hand, and it caught Katherine on the side of the head.
“Shit!”
Katherine sat on the small bed, sat him on her lap, pulled at his hands, took the sippy cup.
“No, honey, it’s okay. It’s only a game, it’s okay. Please, Max, it’s okay.”
Max thrashed about in her arms. She wrapped her arms tight around him.
“Jesus, please stop, Max. Stop. Listen to me, stop.”
He shrieked, his whole body trembling.
“Max, please . . . please . . . please . . .” she whispered again and again.
Max shuddered, gasped for air, caught his breath. Katherine wrapped the sleeve of her sweatshirt around her hand, wiped Max’s eye and nose.
“Shhhh, honey, there you go. See, it’s all okay now.”
Max looked around the room.
“Yeah, you’ve never been here before, have you? Maman always had to carry that dumb old doll. You want to see where we are?”
Max took a breath. He was settling. Katherine picked him up and stood in the center of the room. She felt her own body trembling.
“See, there’s Maman’s bed. Isn’t that a funny bed? It’s so tiny. And there’s a computer and a TV where we can watch ‘Shaun the Sheep.’ And over there is a little bed for you to go night-night.”
“Nnnnnight.”
“That’s right. And here’s a box of toys over here, and over here there’s a little table where we can eat, and here’s our little tiny kitchen. All the things we need. And behind the door is our little bathroom. See, there’s a shower and a potty and a—”
“Boo!” Max said.
She looked at Max; he was looking toward Katherine’s bed. Under the bed was Monsieur Booty, cowering with his tail curled around him. Katherine saw herself coming down the stairs, tripping . . . It was Monsieur Booty. Of course, from the other drills the cat learned to chase after Katherine into the safe room. Seeing him under the bed, and the smile on Max’s face, tears rushed to her eyes.
“Yes, see? It’s that silly old Monsieur Booty.”
She walked close to the bed, sat Max on the floor. The cat emerged from his hiding place, sniffed Max’s nose, rubbed his head against his belly. Max giggled. Katherine sat on the bed, put her face in her hands, bit her lip to keep from crying. She looked up at the ceiling. Concrete. Like the walls, like the floor. Reinforced with iron bars and surrounded by sections of six-inch steel. Not a window, and only one way out; through the vault door. She heard the sound of an exhaust fan and felt a stream of fresh air. “Fresh” wasn’t quite it, she remembered. There was a supply of breathable air, figured on their body weight. That’s what she was told. It was the same system used on submarines trapped under the sea. The air was reoxygenated and scrubbers removed traces of carbon dioxide. The more she looked around the safe room, the more she felt as if she were on a submarine, trapped, deep beneath the sea.
She looked at Max and Monsieur Booty. They’d been watching her, sensing her panic.
“I know, let’s sing something.”
Max tipped his head.
“Well, we’re down here, let’s have some fun.”
“Fnnnn.”
“Yeah. Tell you what, let’s sing Max’s favorite song.” She took her son’s small hands in her own, clapped them softly together, and sang.
“In the town where I was born,
Lived a man who sailed to sea.”
Katherine stopped, crinkled her forehead.
“What do you think, bustercakes?”
Max stared at his mother, listened to her voice. He knew the word buster, and he knew when his mother said it, she was talking to him. But bustercakes was a new word, and it sounded very funny. Even funnier when he realized it meant him, too. He shook his hands and giggled.
“Yeah, let’s get to the really fun part.”
She clapped his hands again.
“We all live in a yellow submarine.”
Clunk, clunk, pshhhhhh.
Katherine looked at the vault door.
The hydraulic bolts were easing from their sockets.
“. . . a yellow submarine.”
The door opened on its hinges. Officer Jannsen came into the safe room.
“Nnnn,” Max said.
“Bonjour, Max.” She looked at Katherine. “That was about as sloppy as your performance on the firing range this morning.”
“I was rattled. Max was upset, then the bullets.”
“Blanks, Kat, we were firing blanks. It was an exercise.”
“How the hell was I supposed to know?”
“That’s not the point. The point is you panicked and screwed up.”
Katherine took a second to think. She sighed.
“I know. I screwed up. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just know that if it comes to it, I’ll be in here with Max and you’ll be on the outside with the killers.”
Katherine combed Max’s hair with her fingers.
“I understand.”
“Bon. We’re done upstairs. You can come out now.”
Officer Jannsen turned to leave. Katherine had a feeling she was never coming back.
“Anne?”
“Yes?”
“Molly said she has homemade huckleberry pie at the diner. Maybe when the drills are over, you, me, and Max can go stuff ourselves.”
Officer Jannsen folded her arms under her breasts, looked down to the floor.
“There are some things you should know, Kat. The killers have been looking for you all over the world. And you were right; it is Max they want. And you were right about this house. It can’t be found on Google Earth; it’s in a security zone. It exists for one reason: to protect you and Max. And yes, we’ve been keeping your emotions and memories under control with the teas
. But it’s not for the reasons you think. You’re not a prisoner here, and we’re not trying to turn you into a zombie; we’re trying to prevent you from falling back into madness. You want to leave this place, we can’t stop you. You want to stop drinking the teas, go ahead. In two months, you’ll be certifiably insane. On the way, you’ll forget you have a son. But that would be for the best, because by then Max will be gone. But before you check out of here and lose your mind for real, remember what the killers did to you, remember what they did to Marc Rochat. Remember what they did all over Lausanne. Torturing people, flaying them alive, rape, beheadings, slaughter. Can you imagine it? Can you see it in beforetimes?”
Katherine nodded.
“Good. Now imagine what they’ll do to Max if they get their hands on him.”
Katherine looked at Max, combed his black hair with her fingers.
“Is he normal?”
“Pardon?”
“Are you giving him anything?”
“Outside the usual inoculations any child gets, no.”
“Nothing in his apple juice?”
“Nothing but freshly pressed apples.”
Katherine looked at Officer Jannsen.
“Then he’s okay, yeah?”
“He’s more than okay. Max is perfect.”
Katherine felt her throat tighten; she bit her lip. She stood up, rested Max’s butt on her hip, and gently bounced him up and down.
“I know, Max, let’s go upstairs. You can help crazy Mommy make a cup of tea.”
TWENTY-TWO
I
HARPER REACHED THE TOP OF THE TRAIL AND STOPPED. THE SUN had cleared the Pyrenees, and the stone walls of the fortress glowed in the morning light. He looked down the steep cliffs. Far below, in the Field of the Burned, was the white dot of the dog who’d led him from the house. Two hours earlier, Harper had come out the kitchen door and seen stars fading from the sky. He’d turned to grab the walking staff he’d left by the door, and when he’d turned back, the slobbering Shiva was standing before him. Harper looked at the animal.
