Aitch sighed. He’d drive spikes through his eyes if that would fix the symbionts that messed with his brain.
Water puddled under Aitch’s and Jay’s trench coats hanging from the coat rack screwed to the side of their booth. The waitress set Aitch’s fifth and sixth hot turkey sandwiches in front of him. The empty plates for sandwiches one through four sat piled at the edge of the table. Rather than clearing them away, she stood in the thrall of Jay’s charm.
Jay made everyone feel the world existed just for them. He was either an asshole or the sweetest person this side of sainthood. Aitch had long since given up figuring out which. Jay ate his French fries and chatted with the waitress about her kids, the awful weather, working the night shift, and the Red Sox.
Aitch attacked his sandwiches with knife and fork. His stomach still hurt as if he hadn’t eaten at all. Jay’s shirt had him hunch-shouldered, and the pants constricted his thighs. Maybe they’d fit better once the now re-engineered symbionts in his body slimmed him down.
“So how’s your boyfriend?”
It took Aitch a moment to realize Jay was speaking to him. The waitress had gone.
“Simon is not my boyfriend.” Aitch kept his head down, staring at his mashed potatoes.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Jay sounded so damn sincere. “When did you break up?”
“We were never together. He was my climbing partner.”
“I always thought that was a euphemism—”
“It’s not a euphemism. At least once a week, we climbed together, then ate afterwards.”
“No, that doesn’t sound like dating at all.”
“He goes through boyfriends like I go through assassins. We climbed together for years.”
“I’m noting a lot of past tense here.”
“That would be because he doesn’t want to climb with me anymore.” The knife bent in his hand. Gravy and mashed potato skidded across the table. “Damn.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“No.” Aitch straightened out the knife as best as he could. His grip was still too strong. The symbionts were apparently taking their time normalizing him. “What does this have to do with fixing what the symbionts do to my head?”
“They get in the way of your relationships, not to mention any attempt to heal your mind.” Jay grabbed napkins from the dispenser on the table and started sopping the mess onto an empty plate. “You make decisions that would be perfectly rational if you were trying to escape a POW camp.”
Aitch met Jay’s gaze. “I’m not a super-genius like you, but I’m not stupid. Drips really are trying to kill me.”
“Stand down, brother.” Jay held his hands before him. “One, yes, Drips really are trying to kill you. Two, more often than not, you interpret whatever happens as personal attacks. Three, you score off the charts on all the standardized tests. When was the last time you forgot anything?”
“I don’t remember.” Aitch noted Jay hadn’t said anything about their relative intelligence.
Jay went stone-faced for a moment before he burst into a laugh. “Hey, you made a funny that isn’t grim. Simon’s good for you.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” Aitch retreated back into his sandwiches.
“How did you two even meet?” Jay always made his gaze felt even when Aitch was actively avoiding it. “I can’t even get you to pick up the phone.”
Aitch ordered the words in his head. It wouldn’t kill him to tell Jay how he’d met Simon, especially if it’d help fix the symbionts messing with his mind. Slowly, the words spilled out of him.
The day I met Simon, I was studying routes on my favorite rock face. It’s in the middle of New Hampshire. No one else climbs it. That’s why it’s my favorite. Climbers always tromped by, their gear clanging in their backpacks. This once, the clanging stopped right behind me.
“That wall’s blank, you know. I’ve been climbing here for years. No one’s found a climbable route yet.” I didn’t recognize the high, resonant voice. “My partner flaked out on me. I have his shoes and harness. He’s a hefty guy, too. There’s a great route just down the trail.”
I free solo. My hiking boots had a little rubber on the sole. A bag of chalk sat strapped around my waist. I’ve never needed any other gear.
“Wall’s not blank.” I didn’t turn around right away. People going all wide-eyed the first time they see me got old even before I’d escaped from DRP. “You just need a little balance and finesse.”
He walked up behind me. Fortunately, he was still clanging with each step. I managed to face him without also pounding him into the dirt.
“You don’t climb, do you?” He gestured at my torso. “All that upper body muscle is impressive as hell but works against you on the rock.” Simon’s built to climb. Shorts hugged his strong thighs. Hard, diamond-shaped calves grew out of his boots. His T-shirt hung from his lanky body. I come up to about his neck. Callouses covered his long, thin fingers. His sweet, grizzled face held such a warm smile, I almost didn’t find his words insulting. Almost.
“So you think he’s hot.” Jay nibbled on a French fry.
Aitch dropped his knife and fork. “Look, do you want to learn how we met or not?”
“It’s strength to weight ratio that counts.” I stripped him of his backpack. “I’ll set up a top rope for you. Give you some beta if you want the help.”
I climbed the rock face—
“A blank wall while wearing hiking boots? You showed off.” Jay’s smile was so radiant that it was probably cancer-causing. His palm slapped the table. The cups, dishes, and the napkin dispenser all rattled. “Good for you.”
“No, I didn’t. I’d have picked a hard route if I wanted to show off.”
“Brother …” Jay’s voice rose as if what he was really saying was “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Fine.” Aitch rolled his eyes. “I wanted to impress him. Happy?”
Simon looked a little strange when I returned his backpack. His jaw worked soundlessly as his gaze darted between me and the top rope I’d set up.
He held his hand out. “Simon.” The name fumbled from his mouth as if it were the only word he knew and he was trying it out for the first time.
“Aitch.” I shook his hand as gently as I could. “Come on, let’s get you up the wall.”
“And did you get him up the wall?” Jay waved for the waitress.
She materialized before him with a jug of coffee. No one else in the diner got such prompt service. Aitch rolled his eyes at the smiles they traded.
“No.” Aitch pushed a plate scraped clean of mashed potato and gravy away from him. He started on the next.
“And no, I don’t think he’s hot in a T-shirt and shorts. For one thing, he’s far better looking in a tux—”
Aitch stopped, suddenly aware that he wasn’t actually helping his case. Fear gripped his chest. He braced for what he knew was coming.
“When did you see him wear a tux? And how does he look?” Jay, supported by his elbows on the table, leaned towards Aitch. He seemed so damn affable that Aitch wanted to slug him to next Tuesday. “Come clean. Inquiring minds want to know.”
Finishing the sandwich in front of him bought him some time. Jay’s gaze was insistent, though. Aitch, glum, pushed the now empty plate away.
Simon’s a dramatic tenor. He has a voice like a trumpet. It rings for days. Vocally, he’s just right for Samson. A tuxedo does wonders for his body. It makes his shoulders span the stage and presents the illusion of thick arms and a chest as broad as his back. No one attending the concert looked at anyone else on stage.
“So you do think he’s hot.” Jay stacked the dishes, then pushed them to the edge of the table.
“Brother, are you trying to make me hate you?”
Aitch didn’t wake up until his shoulder pounded into the blacktop. The car door rebounded, then slammed shut. Tires squealed as Jay’s car skidded past him. For a moment, he’d been a kid trapped in a cage again and some Drip was about
to discipline him. In reality, he’d been sleeping in Jay’s car on the drive down to Maryland. When Jay had tried to wake him up, he bolted out of the car. That, in his panic, he’d actually opened the door first was a minor miracle. He picked himself up, then waited for his pounding heart to slow back down. Jay’s car swung around. It was probably Aitch’s imagination, but the car seemed to creep up to him like a hunter approaching a skittish fawn.
Trees hid the building and parking lot from the street. The first light of dawn filled in the gray between the parking lot’s light poles. The building looked like any low, unassuming office. Aitch suspected that most of the building really was office space and the actual archive was below ground.
The car stopped. The engine cut out. The parking lot was silent until Jay emerged.
“I’m glad I didn’t wake you up earlier.” Jay’s face betrayed a concern so sincere that Aitch boiled with fury. Given Aitch’s history with enclosed spaces, Jay should have known better. “Are you okay?”
“Next time you want to wake me up, do whatever it is normal people do instead.” Aitch brushed off his shirt. “Just because you can do anything you want to anyone you touch doesn’t mean you know what to do.”
“Drips should arrive any moment.” Jay started onto the sidewalk. “Just buy me enough time to find Mom’s work.”
“I don’t know that I can.”
Jay turned around. He rolled his eyes. “You’re the strongest person on the planet. You’ve trained in all things combat since you were, what, three?”
Aitch’s brow furrowed. Jay was never wrong, so Aitch had to be missing something. “I’m not even the strongest person in this parking lot.”
The ground rumbled. Metal glinted among the trees. Nothing living then, or else Jay would have noticed them first. The most important rule when fighting Jay: Don’t be organic.
“Robots. Clever.” Jay grabbed Aitch by the shoulders. “Look, we don’t have time to work through your self-esteem issues. Despite what you think, when you outlift me—like you always do—it’s not because I’m holding back. Whatever you do will be more than good enough. See you in ten!”
With that, Jay dashed into the building. A dozen metal hulks emerged from the trees. Their bladed upper limbs spun, shredding branches out of their way. Their articulated legs stretched and shrank, keeping their bodies in perfect balance as they climbed onto the blacktop.
The hulks launched hundreds of needles at Aitch. Tiny sonic booms cracked the air.
Aitch jumped out of sheer reflex. The needles whooshed below him. His legs held when he landed. The old him would have shattered his legs when he collapsed onto the pavement. The new him should never have been able to jump that high in the first place. Instead, he was as strong as ever, only now his body could withstand that strength. Aitch groaned.
The odds then weren’t even remotely close. Those hulks never stood a chance.
Metallic limbs and twisted frames littered the pavement. Jay’s car stuck out as the only carcass that wasn’t dented, crushed, or smashed in. Aitch’s clothes had burned off in the scuffle. The flames had hurt like hell but hadn’t damaged him. He stood naked and dismayed surveying the wreckage when Jay emerged from the building.
“Wow.” Jay’s eyebrows rode high on his head. “You even kept them away from my car.”
“Did you find Mom’s research?”
“I’ve committed it all to memory.”
“Good.” Aitch decked Jay. “That’s for lying to me.”
Jay disappeared in a plume of dust. Unexpected chunks of sidewalk showered Aitch. He sped away, maneuvering past twisted limbs and dodging falling chunks of concrete and dirt. Pain lingered in his fist and arm. That was appropriate, Aitch decided. Both brothers deserved some pain, Jay for lying and Aitch for trusting him.
The dust settled to reveal the parking lot’s new canyon. Aitch gaped at it. No one was entering or leaving the building without a climb or a running jump. Jay climbed out, slightly shaken but none too worse for wear.
“When in my entire life, pray tell, have I ever lied to you?” Jay rolled his shoulders, then brushed dust off his sleeves.
“You said you’d make me normal.” Aitch picked up, then tossed a metallic limb. It crashed on the other side of the parking lot. “This is not even in the same universe as normal.”
“Brother, when did I say that? And why would I say that? Even if I knew how, doing that would literally kill you. I said—”
“You said, and I quote, ‘Mom and I have worked out how to make your symbionts give you a body that even you—’” Aitch’s stomach dropped. “Oh. How was I supposed to know you wanted the convoluted interpretation? The English language isn’t meant to be a pretzel. You can hit me back if—”
Aitch never saw the punch. One instant, he was speaking, and the next, he lay in a divot created when he crashed through the blacktop. Before, if anyone could have hit him this hard, he’d have died. Now he only wished he had. Still, Jay should have been able to at least knock him out.
“You can punch more efficiently than that. I know it.” Aitch tried to get up, then decided his symbionts needed more time. “Brother, give me a second, then hit me again. This time, I’ll pay attention to your technique.”
“No. No more hand-to-hand combat lessons.” Jay held his palms out to ward Aitch off. “You teaching me to fight hurt bad enough before I fixed your symbionts.”
Jay went to his car. He grabbed the rear bumper, then gestured Aitch over to the front.
“Brother, how does making me tougher stop Drips from hunting me down?” Aitch obliged, and they repositioned the car for an easier escape. “If anything, I’m a bigger threat now.”
“Too big a threat. I mean, they’re pretty much content to leave me alone. Besides, you’re only a danger when you feel threatened.” Jay unlocked the car doors. “Did you want to kill me after I punched you?”
“That doesn’t mean anything.” Aitch sat in the passenger seat. “There are only two men in the world who could punch me, not that the other one has, and I’d still think they didn’t mean—”
“Two?” Jay started up the car. “And the other one doesn’t want to climb with you anymore?”
“Shut up and drive.” Aitch closed, not slammed, the car door. “If I have to visit Mom, at least you could make it quick.”
So I was in Simon’s bedroom a few nights ago—
“Woohoo!” Jay slapped Aitch’s back. Pride was smeared across Jay’s face.
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” Aitch calibrated the force his fist slammed with against Jay’s shoulder. Jay crashed against the driver side door but didn’t break through. “He’s not interested in me.”
—looking for my trench coat among the pile of jackets on his bed. Simon seemed pleased with the bootleg of the Detroit out-of-town of Pleasures and Palaces I gave him. I’d eaten a piece of birthday cake. My duty acquitted, everyone would be happier if I left now before something stupid happened.
“Simon got you to go to both a concert and a party? There doesn’t seem to be anything he can’t make you do.” The smile faded from Jay’s face. That Aitch’s symbionts turned Simon’s words into unyielding commands was no joke. “Oh, I see. Does he know?”
“I didn’t know until I tried to beat up his boyfriend and couldn’t. Simon told me to stop, and I let the boyfriend hit my head with his bottle of beer. Until then, everything Simon suggested was something I wanted to do anyway, or so I thought.”
“Brother, why were you—”
The boyfriend started it. Simon keeps dating these pretty boys who don’t have the intelligence of a blueberry muffin. If he ever dated anyone who could go toe-to-toe with him intellectually, he might actually sustain a relationship for longer than the half-life of some transuranic element.
Anyway, I bolted. Being in the same room as someone I obey unconditionally has never gone well for me. I was in the middle of New Hampshire before I calmed down.
A team of Drips shot super
sonic micro-darts at me from the trees. They all wore sleek power armor no thicker than a sweatshirt. No clunky power source. It stood up to its own augmented strength and protected the wearer. Much more practical than being me.
After some trial and error, mostly error, I wedged their armor, then ran away. Paralyzing them cost me cracked ribs, mashed hands, a broken arm, and more wounds than I cared to count. If there’s any justice, those Drips are still trapped inside their futuristic suits, baked to death in the sun.
When I stopped running, my favorite rock face loomed before me in the moonlight. I collapsed and curled into a ball. Hunger cramps hurt worse than my broken fingers and ribs. I writhed on the ground trying to get a protein bar out of a pocket and into my mouth. Dirt rubbed against—
“Obviously, you found enough food to heal yourself because otherwise you’d be dead. What does this have to do with Simon?”
Simon showed up with three roast chickens, cornbread, and an ultimatum. He’d expected me to cover hundreds of miles over a few hours on foot. That made him either an idiot or a Drip. Simon’s no idiot. I heard him before I saw him. Damn him and his loud, operatically trained voice.
“Aitch, sit down and be still.” Since it was Simon saying those words, my body sat down, then refused to move. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
He emerged from the dark. His hand gripped large Styrofoam containers. He crouched next to me. I glared.
“Sorry.” He started clearing dirt off my face. “By now, you’ve worked out the score. Can’t take the chance you’ll run away or refuse to eat.” He looked at my broken hands, then began feeding me meat torn from the carcass. By the second roast chicken, my fingers had straightened, and my wounds were healing. I fed myself the third roast chicken. When I ate the bones, too, Simon offered me the first two skeletons. After that and the cornbread, I was the fit, obedient soldier again.
Sunspot Jungle Page 40
