Faller

by Will McIntosh

  Penny fished a key out of the back pocket of the baggy pants she was wearing and unlocked the door.

  Her apartment was packed with useless things. Rows of dolls lined the shelves of one bookcase, some of them soiled and worn, one—a man dressed in a black tuxedo sitting beside the shelf—was life-sized. There were stuffed animals of every size, and shelf after shelf of books. The walls were covered with paintings of nothing more than blotches of color.

  “Will you be all right here?” Faller was eager to look around, find some food and water, plus materials to fashion a parachute.

  “No,” Penny nearly shouted. More calmly, she added, “Please don’t go. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a day or two, but right now I can barely walk.”

  “Don’t you have a friend who could help you?” Storm asked.

  Penny looked slightly embarrassed as she answered. “That depends on what you mean by a friend.”

  Faller looked at the others, not sure what to do.

  “I have food,” Penny offered.

  Faller wasn’t sure he had the heart to leave Penny in any case, but the promise of a meal clinched it for them. While Snakebite went to the kitchen to get a meal started, Faller stepped onto the outside landing with Storm.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I can stay with Penny while she recovers, so there’s no chance of me bumping into my newest twin.” It was clear the prospect of yet another look-alike didn’t sit well with Storm. Faller could relate. “We’re near the edge, so if we run into problems we can leave in a hurry. You and Snakebite could see about restocking our food supply.”

  “Plus, we need to make a parachute for you. Not more than a couple of days, though.”

  “No, two or three at most,” Storm said.

  * * *

  THEY MADE two new parachutes—one for Storm, plus an emergency backup in case one got damaged. With the chutes safely stashed in their packs, they sat in Penny’s living room as the light faded.

  “You’ve got an interesting apartment. The decorations, I mean,” Faller said, working to keep the conversation on innocuous things that would avoid exposing their ignorance of her world.

  Rubbing her sore ankle, Penny looked around the room. “They’re all carnival prizes. They were just lying around in bins inside the games. I went around and collected a bunch.” She shrugged. “They’re comforting to me. I don’t know why.”

  “They’re soft and innocent,” Storm said, smiling. “I think we all craved friendly faces, especially in the early days.”

  “What about the books?” Faller asked. One of the first things he’d done when he claimed his room on Day One was dump all the books out the window.

  “Oh, they were already here.” Penny waved dismissively.

  They kept the conversation light and vague—their greatest food discoveries in the early days, speculations about the origins of Day One. Penny told them about her Day One experience: she woke in the park, huddled on a bench by the elephants. She told them what elephants had been like, and giraffes, and zebra. She didn’t ask them any hard questions that might expose their ignorance of the world, probably eager to please so they’d stick around until her ankle healed. She was nervous, constantly twirling her hair, or biting her nails, but quick to laugh.

  “So, are you and Snakebite planning to go back to the other end when you leave here?” she asked Faller when the light had almost completely drained from the room. “It’s safer here in the park.”

  Faller looked at Snakebite. “We’re not sure what our plans are. We tend to move around a lot.”

  “The reason I ask,” Penny said, “is because I could really use some friends, and I like you. All of you.” She looked at each of them in turn. “I feel like I can trust you.”

  Faller gave Penny a warm smile, feeling like shit, as Storm muttered something vague about seeing how things unfolded.

  When it was so dark they couldn’t see each other’s faces, Penny announced that she was spending the night right where she was, on the couch, and they were welcome to the bed in her bedroom. Snakebite grabbed his pack and unrolled his blanket on the floor in the kitchen. Storm headed toward the bedroom. At the door she turned to Faller. “Are you coming?”

  35

  “STOP GRINNING. It makes people suspicious,” Snakebite said.

  He couldn’t help it. Whenever he wasn’t thinking about his mouth, it immediately formed a wide smile. He’d never felt so light and warm. It was as if he’d now emptied two thirds of the objects he’d found in his pocket on Day One. He’d gotten off his world, and had reunited with the woman he’d lost. Only the map was left to weigh him down.

  Snakebite whacked his chest, not hard, but hard enough. “Stop grinning.”

  Snakebite was always looking around, scanning in every direction. Faller thought he must be watching for threats, but then another explanation occurred to him.

  “You’re watching for your children.”

  Snakebite went on scanning. “Only way I’m going to find them.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out, too.” When they had some privacy, he’d have to take a closer look at their photos, although he thought he’d recognize them from their complexions and angular faces.

  The market was, if anything, busier than the previous day. The old woman with the herbs and vegetables was there. So was the man selling shoes, his merchandise looking no worse for wear.

  The thing was, all Faller and Snakebite had to offer in trade were guns and ammunition. Even if they kept two guns for each of them, they had two to spare. If this world was anything like his, or Storm’s, a gun was worth a great deal of food, but it wasn’t something you simply pulled out in a marketplace. It would draw unwanted attention.

  As it was, people kept eyeing Snakebite. He was the sort of man you didn’t forget, and suddenly everyone on this world was seeing him for the first time.

  “I think our best bet is to find a rough neighborhood, assuming this world has one.” Faller looked at Snakebite. “You didn’t have a rough part of town on your world, did you?”

  “My house was the rough part of town.”

  Faller laughed.

  “Hold on a minute. I’ve got an idea.” Faller paused as they reached the old woman’s table, gave her his brightest smile. “I’m wondering if you’ve seen my friend today—the woman I was with yesterday?”

  “Melissa? Nope. Have you checked if she’s working?”

  Faller set his hands on the table, leaned in, lowered his voice. “To be honest, I don’t know her that well. I just met her yesterday, and she took off after helping Snakebite and me take Penny home.”

  The woman smiled slyly. “And you’re hoping to bump into her again.”

  Faller covered his eyes, feigning embarrassment. “You caught me. Can you blame me, though?”

  The woman put a hand on Faller’s shoulder. “If you don’t know where Melissa works, you need to get out more.” She gave him directions to a theater on the edge of the amusement park.

  “You going to go up and introduce yourself?” Snakebite asked as they walked.

  Faller laughed. “Just a little reconnaissance. If there’s another Storm on this world, I want to see her with my own eyes. The look-alikes are the only clue we seem to have about what’s going on.”

  They passed a group of seven men, three carrying rifles. The men slowed and eyed them as they passed. Faller smiled and nodded; Snakebite acted as if he didn’t notice them, even as they had to leave the path to let the men by.

  Faller heard a voice in the distance, clear and strident, almost singing, but not quite. They were on the paved walk; the open-air pavilion the merchant woman had directed them to was just ahead.

  “Where are you, Robert? Turn your back on your people, or if you won’t, tell me you love me and I’ll turn my back on mine.” Her voice was unmistakable as she all but shouted the words with such eloquence, such passion. It set his heart racing to hear it.

  Faller picked up his pace
as a male voice called out, “Tell me more. Or should I answer now?”

  “What is a clan, really?” Melissa replied. “It’s not a hand or a foot. It’s just a word. What’s a word, really? If you called a rose by any other name, it would smell just as sweet.”

  The pavilion—nothing but a wide roof supported by posts—was packed. The perimeter was roped off. Faller lifted the rope, and he and Snakebite ducked under. A tall man with a machete intercepted them.

  “You have to pay first.” The man gestured toward a little white booth just outside the pavilion.

  “You would be just as perfect—” Melissa stopped speaking, mid-sentence.

  Faller looked toward Melissa. She was staring right at him, her lovely face filled with such shock, such horror. Her mouth was moving, but no words came.

  The man on the stage with her stammered some line, trying to cover for her, but Melissa went on staring as the audience began to rumble.

  She leaped from the low stage and ran, as if she were running for her life.

  XIX

  THERE WERE so many bombers, so perfectly spaced, that it looked as if there were a steel mesh curtain gliding over Boston. Peter could barely breathe as skyscrapers crumpled in on themselves.

  “I can’t take this,” Harry said, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyeballs. “I can’t take this anymore. Holy Christ.”

  Peter put a hand on Harry’s neck, gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know. Hang on, buddy.”

  The North Korean bombers just kept coming. The same image was echoed on each of the big screens mounted along the factory wall. While the rest of the East Coast was dealing with rolling blackouts every three hours, they could watch as many TVs as they cared to, could light the factory floor like it was Christmastime, because their generators were fueled by the singularity. If they would just give him time, he could do it for everyone on Earth.

  Jill Sanders was sobbing. She’d grown up in Boston.

  “We’re not going to be done in time,” Harry said.

  “Then we have to get it done faster.” Maybe he should turn it over to the feds. Their resources were almost endless; his were anything but.

  “Dr. Sandoval?” Peter turned to find Denny De Rosa, one of his other physicists, running toward him. “The prototype arrived.”

  Peter turned his face to the ceiling and shouted with joy and relief. Finally.

  “They’re loading it onto the winch at the south end of the building,” De Rosa said. “It should be down here in half an hour.”

  Peter’s phone rang: it was Kathleen.

  “How’s your progress?” she asked with no preamble.

  Someone on the floor called Peter’s name. He gestured to Harry to go see what whoever it was wanted, then headed upstairs, to make sure the prototype made it down safely. “Better, now. I don’t want to jinx us, but I think we’re a month away. Work on eighty of the platforms is under way, with the other fifty-six scheduled to begin this week. Our engineers in Germany just delivered the fuel cell prototype, and if our test charge is successful they’re ready to start manufacturing them immediately.”

  “There’s something you need to be aware of.”

  Kathleen’s tone made Peter’s stomach clench. “What’s that?”

  “Secretary of Defense Elba and her Joint Chiefs—Perez, Holland … and Ugo Woolcoff—tried to issue a press release stating Aspen was unfit to serve as commander in chief. Aspen blocked the release.”

  Ugo. How had that bastard suddenly become a Joint Chief? “Are they strong enough to push her out?” Peter asked as he climbed a dank, dimly lit staircase.

  “At this point it’s hard to say who holds more power—Aspen or the military. You’re going to get a call from the president in a little while. She’s going to ask you to provide her with the means to manufacture her own duplicator.”

  “What? No. There’s no time.” He lowered his voice as he pushed open the heavy door, stepped out into the hallway leading to the main lab. “What if she finds out about the singularity? No.”

  “Just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

  “I appreciate it. I won’t ever forget this.”

  Hands on hips, Peter surveyed the lab. It looked like a marine barracks. “Security” people—his own private army, really—were communicating with others outside the campus perimeter with headsets. A few techs weaved among them, going about their own business, oblivious to what was going on belowground. There were so many pieces of this to keep track of, so many details. Peter hated details, but he needed to get them all right. So much depended on it.

  36

  FALLER RACED around the edge of the pavilion with Snakebite on his heels. He spotted Melissa running down the walkway, the way they’d come. She cut onto a narrower path behind a toy elephant ride, glanced over her shoulder.

  “Wait,” Faller shouted. “I want to talk to you.” Why was she running? She must recognize him, or someone who looked like him. There must be someone on this world who looked like him, someone Penny didn’t know. They were closing on her. She hadn’t gotten much of a lead, and her long, flowing white dress and matching shoes weren’t conducive to speed. Seeing them close behind, Melissa raced up a half-dozen steps and disappeared through a wide doorway.

  Barreling through the doorway, Faller slammed into a pane of glass and fell on his ass as a dozen Melissas fanned out in different directions.

  “Are you all right?” Snakebite gripped his armpits and helped him to his feet.

  He’d struck the window with the side of his face, which throbbed. His cheek stung when he touched it; his fingertips came away somewhat bloody.

  “I guess so. Come on.” Faller headed into the maze more carefully, his arms outstretched. It was a baffling mix of windows and mirrors, all coated in a relatively uniform layer of dust and grime. Melissa was in fifty places at once. He had no idea how to reach her.

  “Melissa?” All of the Melissas’ heads turned when she heard her name. “Melissa, I’m not sure I understand what’s going on, but I promise you, I’m not out to hurt you.” He glanced at Snakebite. “And my friend Snakebite looks scary, but he’s harmless, too.”

  “I know who you are,” Melissa said.

  “Who am I? I’m dying to know.”

  “Melissa?” a voice near the entrance shouted. “Are you all right?” Reflections of five or six men filled a dozen mirrors. One was the man who’d been onstage with Melissa.

  “Planter?” Melissa called. “Help me.”

  “Help you? I just told you, we just want to talk. You don’t need help.” Faller’s words were partially drowned by shouts as the men bulled their way into the maze. Two came around a corner, spotted Faller and Snakebite.

  Suddenly Snakebite was pointing a handgun at the oncoming men. “Everyone calm down.”

  The men froze.

  “Melissa, stand still.” Snakebite eyed Melissa through the maze, his threat unspoken.

  Melissa froze.

  Faller didn’t think Snakebite was the sort of man who’d shoot people who weren’t pointing guns at him, but he sure looked like the sort who would. “Now, Faller is going to come to you. He’d like to ask you a few questions. Then he and I are going to leave. No one is going to get hurt. All right?”

  After a pause, Melissa said, “Yes.”

  “Thanks,” Faller muttered to Snakebite.

  “So much for keeping a low profile.”

  Faller slid his hands along the glass, worked his way through the maze until the flesh-and-blood Melissa was standing in front of him, her back against a mirror.

  “Please. Just explain who you think I am.”

  Melissa was quivering, as if she were sure Faller was about to kill her.

  He’d forgotten about the photograph. He took it from his pocket and held it out. “Can you make any sense of this?”

  Melissa came off the glass, took a half-step toward Faller, looked into his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She took the photo from him, turne
d it over, then back again.

  “You recognize it?”

  “How the hell did you get here?” she whispered.

  Faller took the toy paratrooper out of his pocket.

  Melissa pressed her palms over her eyes and started to laugh. It wasn’t happy, joyful laughter; more the sort of laughter Faller associated with lunatics. “I can’t get rid of you. You’re like a disease that keeps coming back.” She dropped her hands. “I thought you were one of Ugo’s assassins, coming to get me. Jill and I decided to hide on the same island. They caught her. They almost caught me.” She kept her voice low, evidently so the others couldn’t hear.

  Melissa studied him. “Jill Sanders? Your colleague?”

  Faller shook his head.

  All of the hostile bravado drained from Melissa’s face. “Oh, no.” She covered her mouth with one hand. “The virus got you.”

  “The virus? It was a disease?”

  She was crying. “Yes and no. A disease and a weapon.” She shook her head. “Shit, Peter.”

  “My name is Faller,” he insisted, although he was getting a terrible sinking feeling. He almost didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. “Is that you in the picture?”

  “Yeah. Mm-hm. That was taken on our honeymoon. Costa Rica. We asked a local to take it.”

  “We’re married?”

  Melissa’s laughter was bitter. “No, sweetie. We’re divorced.”

  Faller felt his heart break. He thought of Storm, waiting back at Penny’s apartment. “That can’t be. You’re lying.”

  “I’m lying?” She held up her left hand, wiggled her finger. “Where’s your ring?” She held up the photo, tapped the image of Faller’s hand around her waist. “You have it on in the photo.”

  Faller had no idea what a ring had to do with any of this. “Why do you remember, and I don’t?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  He motioned toward the front. “Come on, you can tell me over a meal.”

  She didn’t move. “You’re going to get us both killed. Ugo’s looking for us—for you, especially—and you’re moving from place to place like an idiot.”