Dead Mann Running (9781101596494)

by Petrucha, Stefan

  32

  I ran alongside scores of people, but felt completely alone. Worse, keeping track of Penny was like chasing a new moon, dark against dark, always out of reach, showing only a shy edge if you happened to look at the right spot at the right time. Despite all that, I did see her, often enough to keep heading in the right direction, often enough to call to the others when they, much faster, headed the wrong way.

  If I was leading the way, something was wrong, but it wasn’t until the seventh time I spotted her that I realized what it was. She was waiting for me, letting me catch up. Did it mean there was some hope I could get the vials back, or was she, like her mother, enjoying any little extra pain she could cause?

  Either way, I didn’t slow down.

  The helicopters fanned out ahead, their white eyes riding up the treeless, tiered mounds in front of the main reservoir dam, a hundred feet of stone ending in grassy hills on either side. A walkway, held up by Romanesque arches, water visible beyond their curves, sat astride the stone. In the center was a Gothic tower, the tall windows on its highest floor above the waterline.

  Unless Penny planned to chuck the bottle thirty feet over the wall, and I wasn’t sure she couldn’t, the tower was the only way up. At the ground level, the entrance was sealed by a hinged metal grate. A copter beam flitted across it, revealing a rounded shadow just beyond the tower’s threshold. It was Penny, swinging the grate to show me it was open.

  Satisfied I’d seen her, she moved deeper into the tower. I’d never stopped running, but the guardsmen barreled ahead of me easily. Before they reached the entrance, the grate shut with a loud metallic clunk. A second, lighter click announced that the lock was in place.

  The helicopters steadied over the scene, their beams tracing the spot where the tower met the walkway. They hovered low enough for me to see that the rear hatches were open, snipers in place, bracing themselves against the craft’s jarring movements and the cold.

  Four men reached the gate before I did. Three tried to yank it open. The fourth, the thinker of the group, was on the horn.

  “Get the jaws of life up here, stat!”

  It was the right idea. Invented to free victims from the mangled wreckage of car accidents, the jaws’ gas-powered hydraulics would get through those bars in less than ten minutes. But, given how fast Penny moved, by then the mycoplasma could be in the water, and she in the next state.

  Praying there was a reason she’d waited, I called her name. “Penny, what is it you want to have happen here?”

  The blackness in the tower’s guts sucked away any sense of depth, but the answer came echoing. “Tell those men to back off a few feet.”

  I nodded at them. They hesitated, unsure if it was the right thing to do, not wanting to take orders from a chak. Judging from the row of lights moving toward us, there’d be plenty of livebloods to call the shots in a minute or so, but for now there wasn’t anything else they could do, so they moved back.

  Penny didn’t move, she just appeared, like the shadows had decided to stop covering her. She opened her mouth as if about to speak, so I came closer. She rushed at me with such speed, it looked as if my eyes had suddenly developed the ability to zoom in. I heard the door unlock, felt her pull me in and off my feet, then heard a slam and a locking sound before I hit the floor. By the time I flipped onto my back, she was gone again, and the guards were pulling at the bars.

  “Did you see where she went?” I asked.

  Looking like they’d just seen Big Foot rape Elvis, they shook their heads. Except for me, the space was empty.

  Two stairwells led up into the tower. I took the one on the right and reached a floor with some sort of chugging pump that took up most of the space. By now, I realized I’d see her only if she wanted me to, so when nothing appeared, I headed farther up.

  On the next floor, the damn chopper lights spilled onto the stairs, threatening to blind me. I held my arm over my eyes and kept climbing. The last floor was nothing more than a big open platform, four stone columns holding up a roof. Beyond the edge, it was a ten- or fifteen-foot drop to the water.

  The searchlights wreaked havoc with my vision, making the shadows opaque. I stepped toward the water, only to have a chunk of plaster explode at my feet. As I threw myself behind one of columns, a voice called out.

  “The snipers are very antsy, don’t you think? But if you can’t stay still, who can? Then again I’ve overestimated you before. I didn’t think you were stupid enough to hide the vials in the same place you’d hid your clever decoy. But Misty assured me you were.”

  My flashlight beam was pathetic against the searchlight, but I aimed it toward the sound. I think I caught a glint of blue liquid.

  “You don’t have to see me. All you need to know is that I’m close enough to the water to toss the vials in.”

  “You could have done that before I got here.”

  “I’m not sure I want to. I am surprised you’re trying so hard to stop me. What do you care how many chakz there are?”

  “Because I know what it’s like and wouldn’t wish it on a dog. Thing I can’t figure is, what do you care? You let me in. I’m here. What’s this about?”

  “I want to hire you, Detective.”

  I almost laughed. “Hire me? What for?”

  “To prove my father was murdered.”

  I blinked. “Murdered? Really? Kind of a shame if it wasn’t suicide. It was the only thing he ever did I liked.”

  The rattling sound of a gas engine from below told me the jaws of life were in place. Penny understood what it meant, too.

  “Might want to keep the jokes to a minimum. The moment I hear anyone coming, oops.”

  “Okay. Who do you think killed him?”

  “My mother.”

  “And you want to bring her to justice? I can almost understand that, except for all the corpses.”

  “Fuck justice. I want an excuse to kill her.”

  “Get in line.”

  “Remember what I said about jokes.”

  “Right. As far as I know, she controlled the guy completely. What’s her motive?”

  “I believe my father was on the verge of a breakthrough, a way to bring chakz truly back to life. I think he felt so guilty about his mistakes, he’d decided to give the most valuable secret on earth away for free. Project Birthday was a decoy. He hid the real cure.”

  It sounded like a kid’s fairy tale, but I nodded. “Which would have put it totally out of her control. And she couldn’t stand for that. Got any evidence?”

  “That’s what I need you for. You’re a detective, detect.”

  The words sounded familiar, even the tone. It was something like what Misty said back at the office when we first opened the briefcase. Had Penny been listening even then?

  I put my hands up. “Happy to. Give me the vials and I’ll do everything I can. I’ll even halve my fee. It’ll be easy with your mother in custody.”

  She laughed, but it wasn’t at my joke. “But then killing her wouldn’t be easy—especially since I’m not likely to survive this. You’ll have to solve the case before they get through the gate.”

  I took an angry step toward the voice. “Are you fucking crazy? I have trouble solving cases on a good day! I can’t just…” A sniper shot sent me tumbling back.

  “Tick-tick.”

  How the hell was I going to…? Maruta. She was here at least. Maybe I could get her to confess, or at least lie about killing her husband.

  “Can I have your mother brought over so I can question her?”

  “How you do it is up to you, but the gate stays locked.”

  As I raced down the stairs, I heard the slow groaning snap of the first bar. As soon as I reached the bottom, I waved my arms and shouted, “Stop!”

  I had to say it twice to get them to pay attention. Then, I had to explain the situation three times before they started to understand. Not that I understood it myself.

  “Just get me someone with authority.”


  They looked at one another, confused. “Booth?”

  “He’s still breathing? Get him on a radio, now!”

  A walkie was shoved in my hand. “Tom? Is Misty…?”

  Maybe I should’ve asked how he was. His voice was garbled. It wasn’t easy for him to speak. “With the paramedics, not conscious last I saw. Lucky you got out of there. They’ve got a launcher on the chopper with a thermobaric grenade and orders to fire the second they’ve got a clear shot.”

  “What? That could blast the stuff right into the reservoir. If one drop survives, it’s all over.”

  “That’s what Maruta says, but I’ve got an army general insisting that as long as they hit dead-on, the heat blast will burn it all right up.”

  “And if they miss by a foot? Can you get him to change the order? Delay it at least?”

  “Doubt it. Not unless you got better.”

  I couldn’t believe I was saying it. “Asteria’s my client now.” When I explained, he laughed, but it melted into a cough. Once he stopped hacking, he agreed to bring Rebecca over.

  “Better hope they don’t miss,” was the last thing he said.

  I lowered the walkie, feeling even more hollow than usual. Acid juices bubbled all over my insides. I sat on the concrete floor, wanting to stay there until I rotted. There was always the chance Maruta would hand me a confession, maybe insist on a presidential pardon in exchange for information confirming her guilt, like they did in 24, but something told me it wasn’t going to play that way. And aside from asking if she was guilty, I had nothing to go on. Less than nothing.

  Even if I had any clues, odds were I’d screw things up, adding two and two and getting five, everything crashing down because of it. On the other hand, I did remember that the name of the doctor at the camp was Steven.

  A van drove up, Maruta in the passenger seat, Nell and Jonesey in the back. Jonesey probably insisted, but why was Nell still tagging along? I hope it wasn’t a misplaced sense of loyalty.

  Booth, side patched, arm in a sling, lumbered out. He made a lame but stubborn effort to yank Maruta from her seat, but she eyed him with palpable disdain and exited on her own.

  You don’t even know how to hurt me.

  She marched up to the closed grate. “The situation’s been explained. I’d be happy to lie to her, but there’s only one problem. I didn’t kill him and she wants proof. I can’t give you what doesn’t exist. She’d spot it. Intelligence runs in her genes.”

  “So does a lot of other shit. Why does she think you killed him?”

  “I don’t know, but I understand why she wants me dead. I was the one who kept her locked away.”

  “Once you realized she was a monster.”

  “A monster? Hardly. The child is superhuman. That had nothing to do with it. I hate children. Travis knew that. I’d quoted Mildred Pierce a thousand times: alligators have the right idea—they eat their young.”

  “But…then, why did he…?”

  She gave me the same withering look she’d given Booth. “Must I spell it out, again?” She sighed and closed her eyes. “He wanted to be punished, he wanted me to punish him. So he’d give me…presents he knew would upset me.”

  There was a weird pause before the word presents, but I didn’t know if it meant anything. “And you killed him for it?”

  She sniffed. “No. He often asked to die, but I refused.”

  I bought about half that. Who wouldn’t be suicidal after inventing chakz? And maybe there were rules to their little game, but rules could be broken.

  “You said he crossed a line when he created Asteria. Why shouldn’t I believe you crossed the line with your punishments?”

  “Because, you fool, that’s how it worked! He was weak, he crossed lines. I was not weak. I did not cross lines. It would’ve ruined everything. Death was the ultimate punishment. More than anything, he wanted to deserve it, so of course I couldn’t give it to him.”

  God help me, I was starting to understand. It’s an old joke. The masochist said to the sadist, hit me, and the sadist said, No, I won’t.

  “Not even by accident?”

  “I…don’t…have…accidents. Not like that.”

  “And your daughter’s idea that he planned to give the cure away for free?”

  “Ridiculous. If there even were a cure we wouldn’t be here, would we? The mycoplasma wouldn’t matter.”

  “Then…you’re certain it was suicide?”

  She pursed her lips. “No. Travis never hurt himself. He needed to be punished by someone else, me. I can’t believe he’d do anything like that without my permission.”

  “But he did.”

  “Perhaps.”

  A stronger, younger version of Rebecca’s voice echoed down the stairs.

  “Tick-tock,” Penny said.

  “If you were listening,” I called back, “Then you know she didn’t kill him.”

  “If you were listening, you know someone did.”

  Maruta repeated her daughter’s words, “Someone did. She’s right. He might be naughty and play with someone else a little. That could have gotten out of hand. But he was never even alone with anyone without my say-so.”

  “Who’d you give permission to?”

  She shrugged. “No one with the nerve for anything like that. Wimpy little lab assistants and a rare press interview.”

  “Wait…press interview?”

  I turned toward the van. Nell was leaning against it, listening. She’d managed to be here all along. Past sins. The last piece clicked into place. I wished the hell it hadn’t.

  “Nell?”

  She flashed her green eyes at me. “Should’ve just gone to Canada.”

  “If it were anything less than the end of the world…I’d…”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  Maruta twisted her head. “Parker. The chak with a knack. Colby vouched for you. I did say Travis could be alone with you.”

  Nell looked down at her nails. “Yeah, you did, didn’t you?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? You’re just a chak. A groveling thing less than human.”

  “Your husband and I had a lot in common.”

  I gripped the bars, wishing I could reach her. “Travis Maruta was having an affair with you. That’s why you were so pissed at Colby. What could be worse than turning you over to a serial killer? Forcing you to chak-up with the man who stopped you from resting in peace.”

  She pushed away from the car, walked up to the grate, and stroked my fingers. “You know how Colby loves chakz and chemicals. It was a way for him to snoop on ChemBet. I begged him not to make me do it, but that never did any good. Whenever I was with Maruta I never made it a secret that I hated him as much as any chak would, but that only turned him on more.”

  I held her hand. “It was a masochist’s ultimate thrill, being submissive to a chak. And his wife would never give him the satisfaction of dying, but you didn’t have that problem, did you?”

  “No. The first time he asked me to kill him was the only time I did exactly what he said. I jabbed him with the hypodermic he gave me and pushed the plunger. Now ask if I feel bad about it.”

  I didn’t. I just held her hand.

  “See that?” Nell said. “You’re a much better detective than you think.”

  Rebecca’s face, meanwhile, had turned beet red. She spoke quietly at first, but got louder as she went along. “It’s not right. He wasn’t yours. You can’t own anything. And he…he didn’t have permission! He didn’t belong to you! It’s not right!”

  Cuffed hands held in front of her, she jumped at Nell. I let go of her hand just in time for her to avoid the lunge. Nell pulled back, but Maruta grabbed at her blouse, tore it, then tried to scratch the skin.

  “Not yours! Not yours!” she cried.

  Locked behind the grate, I called, “Tom…”

  He’d been watching so intently it was like he’d forgotten he was there. He grunted and the guardsmen pulled her off.

  Ma
ruta kept screaming. “He wasn’t yours! You had no right! He didn’t make all the naughty presents for you!”

  Presents. The card on the office desk, World’s Best Boss. I thought my brain was having a little ironic moment for itself, but my body put the meaning together before I did. My insides clenched. She wasn’t about to say baby when she was talking about her daughter. She was about to say birthday present.

  “November twelfth, the day he died, probably the same day Asteria was born. Project Birthday. Your birthday. He’s been giving you birthday presents. He designed that blue crap on purpose, to get you to punish him. But that means…”

  Couldn’t be. I didn’t want to believe it, but it was staring me in the face. November twelfth was also the day the RIP was announced to the world.

  Everything spun. I grabbed the bars to keep myself from falling. I was never a pious guy, but there I was, saying, “Oh, my God!” and “Jesus Christ!” over and over. “The RIP. He knew it was faulty when ChemBet released it. He designed it that way. It was part of your game…another one of your birthday presents….”

  I wished it had been greed. I wished it had been stupidity. I wished it had been politics, or even love. I wished it had been anything else. But it wasn’t. I thrust my hands through the bars, screaming: “That’s why we’re all so fucked up! That’s why we’re freaks! Just so he could get you to hurt him!”

  Jonesey, who’d been listening all along, went to his knees, clasped his hands, and started muttering, “Kyua, Kyua, Kyua…”

  Rebecca Maruta was unable to suppress a slight smile. “That was a very naughty gift.”

  I swear I would have pulled her through the grate to get to her, but she stepped back an inch, putting her just out of my reach.

  A pained, abysmal shriek told me Jonesey had stopped praying. He was on all fours, heaving. He picked his head up, moaned, and wasn’t pretending this time. Chakz don’t usually cry, but his cheeks were stained with gray ooze.

  “Hess, man, remember when you were wondering how I could keep from going feral? I think…maybe…all I needed was something like…this.”

  They say that when you go feral, intent vanishes. If it’s true, Jonesey may have had just enough time to point himself. His body bolted to its feet, faster than a chak has a right to, and threw itself into Maruta. A guttural sound erupted from his throat.