STASIS: Part 3: Restart

by E. W. Osborne

  A wave of guilt washed over her the second Jamie and Christopher returned home. It was like when she was little and had stolen loose change off the top of her mother’s dresser. She jumped at every look and comment, expecting her guilt to be laid bare. She’d spent the entire day poking around the house, trying to figure out every secret nook and cranny. There must’ve been redundant camera systems watching each square inch of the place, but until confronted, she’d act normal. She forced herself to look Jamie in the eye and smile. Nothing’s wrong. Everything is normal. Don’t even think about me in any other capacity than cook and future sister-in-law.

  “There are my conquering heroes,” she gushed, setting her tablet aside and wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

  “There’s my lovely housewife,” Christopher beamed.

  She bit back a snappy comment about being barefoot and in the kitchen. She also had to restrain herself from pointing out how impeccably clean they were for fixing a generator on a dairy farm.

  I can’t tell if they’re just terrible liars or have such little respect in my powers of observation, she thought, turning back to the boiling pot at her back.

  “I’m gonna grab a quick shower,” Christopher declared after giving her a quick kiss.

  “Sounds good. There’s a real bite to the air. I’ll build a fire.”

  Kristine beamed at them as if they were her two favorite men in the world. “Dinner will be about a half an hour.”

  Inside, she wondered what Jamie would do if and when he discovered her poking around the house. She watched him from the corner of her eye, Penelope’s warning echoing in her mind. I wouldn’t trust him if I were you. She didn’t need to be told to be wary of him. The more time she spent around him, the more uncomfortable he made her. There was a fakeness, a thin veneer that was easy to see through after a few days. Did he ever take the mask off?

  As she needlessly fussed with dinner, making herself look busy, he was swiping through news channels on the Smart Wall. He arranged a few in a grid, only turning on the volume to the one in the center. A single reporter sat at the news desk, tired but professional, reading through the events of the day. Even the media was beginning to show wear and tear.

  Jamie began building the fire. Methodically, deliberately, he stacked the wood in the fireplace stopping only to switch the main video.

  Kristine’s skin prickled. Her breathing shallowed. All it would take would be a casual flick a little too far and he’d find footage from her day in the house. She’d found the local network feed, each camera beaming directly to the wall live and in high definition. Rewind a couple hours, and the truth of her snooping would be plain to see.

  The heat of the kitchen suddenly felt a little too much. Every sound was amplified but distant, like she was listening from the end of a long tunnel. She gripped the counter for balance, sure she was about to fall over.

  “I think I might need a little more wood,” Jamie said from her left. Before she could cover her moment of weakness, Christopher appeared almost out of nowhere, offering to help. As they walked past he gave her a concerned side-eye.

  “Are you okay?”

  She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and forced a smile. “Yeah, of course. Just a little hot. Don’t be too long.” She held the smile until the door shut. With a fast rush of air, she spun and slid down the cabinets to the floor. The cool tile felt amazing under her ass. She pressed her palms flat on the floor and breathed deeply.

  How am I going to get through tonight let alone the next few months?

  Kristine had always prided herself on being able to read people. It was a skill she’d always had, one that she’d managed to use and shift into a career. But after discovering Christopher’s lies, at least someone of them, she found herself doubting every instinct and inclination.

  When they sat down at the table to eat, she couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. Both men were strangely quiet, polite and civil, but noticeably different from before they went to collect the wood. She figured it was probably a projection of her own anxiety and guilt, and chose to ignore it.

  “So! Did you have enough hot water for your shower?” she asked Christopher, choosing not to point out his hair was still completely dry.

  “Uh, yeah. It was fine,” he mumbled. He reached for the broccoli chicken casserole, slapping two big spoonfuls onto his plate.

  “This looks amazing,” Jamie said with perfect politeness. “Thank you so much for making dinner.”

  Kristine waved away the compliment. “It’s nothing.”

  “And I noticed you tidied up as well.” Maybe it was her imagination, but it felt like he held her gaze a little longer than normal. She looked away to pass him the plate of garlic bread, breaking their connection.

  “I think I’m nesting. All the books say it’s normal,” she replied with a perky nod.

  He picked a few slices off the plate and crunched into one. “How are you feeling, anyway?”

  “Oh, you know. A little more tired than normal, but that could just be from stress.”

  Jamie chewed, not breaking eye contact for a moment. “And the baby? The baby is feeling well?”

  “The baby is fine,” Christopher snapped.

  Even with her doubts, there was no way Kristine could ignore the tension between them now. She defaulted to the role of peacekeeper. It was better for everyone involved if the house remained as calm as possible.

  She laughed, touching Jamie’s wrist. The two men glowered at each other, looking like a couple animals ready to launch themselves over the table. “Your niece or nephew is just fine. But it’s not like he sends me updates.”

  “No, I suppose not,” he replied with a tight tone.

  “Maybe in the form of morning sickness,” she added.

  As much as she tried to keep the mood buoyant, the silences between the sporadic conversation grew longer. Kristine’s hunger and emotional exhaustion soon had her paying more attention to her dinner and the audio of the news broadcast coming from the Smart Wall. Bill Thatcher, an idol of hers, was going through the events of the day. His neutral air and measured tone was comforting, a trait she’d always admired and tried to emulate in her work.

  “There was more trouble at the pumps today. As gas prices surge and deliveries are delayed, many Americans are worried these temporary shortages may become the new normal. Fist fights broke out in several cities as customers fought to fill any container they could with the precious commodity.”

  Kristine forked a floret of broccoli into her mouth, ignoring the conversation at the table. But something Jamie said caught her ear.

  “I forgot to say. If things don’t work out at the farm overnight, we’ll have to go in early.”

  Christopher’s response was tight. “But that’s not going to happen, is it? We got everything working this afternoon.”

  “Things break. Maybe we weren’t as thorough as we thought,” he shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

  Kristine kept her head down, watching them through her eyebrows. Jamie was obviously unconcerned but Christopher looked like he was about to blow up. She continued shoveling food into her mouth, hoping they’d forget her presence and dinner could end soon.

  “If things do break overnight, maybe we can bring Kristine with us tomorrow,” Christopher replied. His jaw was set, eyes blazing.

  She couldn’t watch directly, but peripherally she noticed Jamie’s body language shift. “I still don’t think that’s a great idea.”

  “Sure it is. She’s got a great eye for things like that, don’t ya babe?” Kristine pretended to not hear him at first. Head down, tucked into dinner, ears on the broadcast. It wasn’t until he touched her arm did she acknowledge him.

  With a full mouth, she mumbled a surprised response. “Hmm? What? Sorry, I was listening to the—”

  “I was just saying how good you are at working out problems. If the generator breaks overnight, which apparently might happen, I pointed out that you might be
able to help us fix it.”

  Buying time, she pointed to her mouth and dramatically chewed. He gave her a look he usually reserved for parties he was trying to leave early, the come-on-play-along-with-my-lie face.

  “And I was saying, perhaps you wouldn’t feel comfortable coming out to a dangerous farm, especially in your condition.”

  Kristine made herself meet his gaze and almost choked. With a sputter, she coughed and took a sip of water. She was sure she didn’t cover very well, but Jamie didn’t acknowledge it.

  His pupils were so dilated, his eyes were nearly jet black. His long-sleeved shirt was spotted with sweat stains and he had a definite jittery air about him. Of course, he was sitting close to the fire and he might’ve been worked up from their little argument, but this was something else.

  “I would love to help out however I can,” she said, trying to keep the peace. “If you think I can do something, I’d—”

  The breaking news bulletin sound interrupted her train of thought. The sound now triggered a Pavlovian response in the three of them, turning to look. It set her mind whirring about any number of horrible things that could happen. As they delayed the normal broadcast long enough to give the reporter the new information, she kept her eyes on Jamie. If there was another episode, he was already showing signs of being under control. What if…

  “A man has been shot dead. Reports are still unclear as to the reasons why, but only a few moments ago a man scaled the gates of the White House. He was armed and shouting threats directed toward the President and his family.”

  The feed showed a chaotic scene on the front lawn. Red, white, and blue lights flashing, illuminating the white facade of the Presidential residence. Swarms of uniformed and casually-dressed officers patrolled the gates and lawn.

  “Good to know there’s still a police presence out there,” Christopher muttered, turning back to his plate. “This is really good, by the way.”

  “Thank you.” Kristine suspected the report was exactly that, a way to reassure people that law and order still existed. She returned to her nearly finished meal, happy for the distraction and that the report wasn’t about another round of violence.

  The report continued. “Witnesses say the man calmly set down his bag, scaled the fence, and managed to get a few dozen yards down the lawn before secret service opened fire. The man has been identified as Doctor Sanjay Lal, pictured here.”

  Kristine’s heart stopped. She forced herself to cast a disinterested eye up to the wall, fearing Christopher might recognize the name. The face on the screen was the exact photo he’d used on his hospital badge, probably pulled off their website quickly so they could be the first to break the story.

  “Why does that name sound so familiar to me?” Christopher said, squinting from the broadcast to her. Jamie’s gaze flicked between them passively, but his massive pupils made her incredibly uneasy.

  She scraped her plate and licked her fork clean. “No idea, babe,” she replied. She reached for his plate, already standing. “You all finished? I need to get the pans soaking.”

  He followed her to the sink. “Let me at least do the dishes. You’ve cooked and cleaned all day.”

  “No, it’s fine. Really! I just want to get it done and maybe take a bath in a little bit,” she said. She could hear the tremble of fear in her own voice, but couldn’t stop it. She jumped when Christopher touched her shoulder.

  He pulled her around to face him, dipping his head low to catch her eye. “You sure you’re okay? That’s the second time you’ve nearly crawled out of your own skin when I touched you today.”

  “I guess I’m just hypersensitive. They say because of the baby, my nerves are changing all the time, acclimating to the new changes.” It was a complete lie. She had no idea if the human body actually did that, but she was positive he didn’t know either. She sold it with a pretty passionate, promising kiss. “You and Jamie should grab a couple beers, go play a few games, and relax. I feel like you two should spend some time together. I’ll take a bath and we can go to bed early tonight,” she finished with a wink.

  He perked up, glancing back to the table thoughtfully. Whatever had originally bothered him at dinner was now gone. “Oh yeah? Are you sure? This isn’t some kind of guilt trip?”

  To show how serious she was, she grabbed two bottles from the fridge and handed them over. “Go. Have fun. Bond with your bro. You worked hard today, obviously, and it sounds like you might have more tomorrow.”

  She couldn’t help the little dig, just to see the shadow cross his eyes. But he covered it well. With a kiss on the cheek, he was all too eager to get his brother alone.

  Jamie gave her a passing wave as Christopher practically dragged him away. “Thank you again for dinner.”

  She knew she was risking Christopher’s life by putting them in the same room. It was harsh, but if something was going to be triggered, she’d rather it happen to him than her.

  Once they were safely out of earshot, she crept to the front door and silently slipped out. She didn’t shut the door, only propped it open so the latch wouldn’t make a sound. The cold air felt amazing against her hot skin. She imagined she was so hot, curls of steam were rising in the darkness. She considered sending a message, but decided to risk a call. It was too important to leave a simple message. To her surprise, Penelope picked up on the second ring.

  “That was quick.”

  Her voice sounded distant and crackly, but clear enough to understand. “Was it? We rigged the car to tell us when a call was coming in, since signal is so spotty now.”

  “That’s good. Listen, I—”

  “I feel like I summoned you somehow. We were just watching a video of yours.”

  She peeped through the window. “That’s weird. What one?”

  “How to disable your Seed. Were were supposed to talk tonight?”

  “No. I don’t have long either, but there’s two things.”

  “Okay, go.”

  “Doctor Lal is dead. He apparently tried to kill the President and he was shot dead. It’s on the news. Just happened.”

  “Jesus,” Penelope hissed. “Cam is gonna be all over that one. What’s the second thing?”

  Kristine looked around, making sure she was alone. “I think Jamie is being controlled. Or he’s on drugs, I can’t tell. But all those things you told me the—”

  “Wait. You think he’s being controlled? But he doesn’t have an implant either. None of us do.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. Sweating, pupils, twitchy… and I can’t be sure, but I think they might’ve done something big today. They’re talking about—”

  Penelope cut in before Kristine could finish. “Does he know about the video you sent out? The one we just saw? The man I know wouldn’t have ever tolerated that, even in the best of times.”

  “He’s been nothing but nice to me,” she replied with a shrug. A stone settled in the bottom of her stomach, the weight making her feel a little sick. “Maybe overly nice. I don’t know.”

  “And you’re sure about the symptoms? You’re sure he is the one being controlled? Not Chris?”

  Kristine felt too exposed to reassure her over and over. “Yes, but I have to go. Please, be careful.” She hung up without waiting for a response. She took a deep breath and released with a rush, the faint cloud dissolving into the darkness.

  She looked up the sky hoping to see stars, but found only a dark, blank canvas. Out of habit, she checked her messages quickly. When one from Alex popped up, she quickly openned it. With spotty international communications, she hadn’t heard anything from him in weeks.

  The text of the message was a garbled mess. The form of it looked to be two or three sentences, but each letter had been swapped for an odd character making it completely illegible. Given the nature of the message, she hesitated to open the attachment, but decided to anyway. He wouldn’t knowingly send her something malicious. She had to take a chance.

  The photo was of a young man
looking up at the camera. A woman was at his side, her head turned and face obscured. She brought the photo closer, zooming in on his face. Their beautiful and young faces were touched with a hint of confusion. Why would he send me something like this? What is this supposed to mean?

  She was so focused, she didn’t hear the footsteps approach from behind. The brightness of the screen blinded her to the darkness for a moment, making her jump when a voice spoke right by her ear.

  “Why do you have a photo of my half-brother?” Jamie asked with a touch of malice.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  South Lake Tahoe, CA

  The humid heat was unrelenting. All the windows in the cabin were open but there was no breeze outside or in. Insects and moths bounced off the screens, attracted by the lights.

  It was a typical night in their new normal. Penelope, Cameron, Wesley, and the teenager Trevor had carved out their private little spaces in the main room, alone but together. The machines in the center, Wesley’s creations, whirred and ticked with the regularity of an old clock. Their conversation stretched, as if pliable and flexible with the heat. A comment here, a response minutes later. Without an over-dependance on technology, time had slowed.

  Penelope sat at the island of tables and desks opposite the old scientist. Cameron was flat on his back, shirtless, arms splayed out in his best imitation of a corpse. The boy was folded into a chair in the far corner. In the distance, she could hear Joey’s feet scraping and scratching on the floor, a repetitive tick from captivity. After taking a few days to recover, Joey hadn’t shown any adverse effects from the last episode. Restraining him to the chair had kicked off the beginning stages of bedsores, so they’d had to find another way. Now, her husband was secured with dozens of feet of nylon rope, connected to a thick metal hook on the wall. Cameron had melted the ends of a length of paracord around his wrists and ankles while Joey placidly sat still.