John froze for a minute, blinking.
“Please, there’s been quite enough unnecessary bloodshed already.”
John placed the gun on an end table and stood there, dripping.
“Thank you, Shaggy.”
“I don’t work for you anymore, Stone. You can call me John.”
Stone leaned forward on his cane and said, “I have two guns pointed at you. I think I can call you anything that strikes my fancy.”
John stayed silent, one hand holding his towel. Stone waved to a free chair. “Please, sit down. There’s no reason for this to be unpleasant. You know Fred, he was a field agent when you were with us, and the man to my right is Dino.”
John looked into Dino’s thick glasses, shook his head, and muttered, “Figures.” John glanced back at the door to the hotel room.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re too valuable to shoot, Shag,” Dino said.
“Dino’s correct,” Stone said. “Please, sit.” Hardness crept into Stone’s voice with that one word.
John sat. “How did you find me?”
“Does it matter?” Stone made a dismissive gesture with the cane. “You were found because I wanted you found. First, as the security chief who somehow overlooked Carolyn Boyle’s child. Second, as the child’s father.”
John’s intake of breath was audible.
Stone smiled. “Yes we uncovered that. Like dominos, really.” He held up an open hand, fingers spread. “The first deception falls—” He closed his index finger. “— and the remainder fall in short order.” Stone’s fingers collapsed into a fist. “You did an admirable job of covering Allison’s existence. Falsifying your common address with Carolyn Boyle. Engineering a six-month leave for her pregnancy. Your personal handling of the surveillance after she ran out on her job.” The skin on Stone’s hand whitened, and his fist vibrated slightly. “I trusted you.” Stone said in a harsh whisper.
“What do you want from me?” John said in a voice only slightly above Stone’s whisper.
Stone unclenched his fist. “In the end I can understand all that.” He looked up and smiled. “You were protecting your child. Any farther worth the air he breathes would do anything to protect his child. Isn’t that right, Fred? Dino?”
The two gunmen nodded, Dino a little uncertainly.
“Prometheus is my child, John. Do you understand that?”
John looked at Stone and repeated, “What do you want?”
“Because of your daughter’s talent, she’s potentially a great asset to the Institute. She might be the most powerful voluntary psychokinetic we’ve ever seen. The last thing science wants to do is harm her in any way.” Stone paused.
“But?” John asked.
“But,” Stone said, “— and this is largely your fault, John— she presents a potential threat to Prometheus that is just as great. Maybe greater. I cannot allow that potential to be fulfilled.”
“I won’t let you hurt her.”
“A valiant sentiment, but please consider your options. You have two.” Stone held up a finger. “One, you will help us bring in your daughter with a minimum of collateral damage.” Stone held up a second finger. “Two, Fred and Dino shoot you and I concentrate on protecting my child.”
“You said you didn’t want to hurt her.”
“John, I would have the president shot if he threatened Prometheus.” Stone leaned back and smiled. “Think it over. We have time.”
WASHINGTON, DC: Friday October 29, 1999
1:15 PM
Once Allison woke, she spent over two hours on the phone to various airlines. She sat on one of the motel’s twin beds, surrounded by phone books. She spent most of that time leaning against the headboard, staring at a TV showing CNN with the sound off, listing to elevator music every time she was put on hold.
Again and again she had to say, no, she didn’t want to buy a ticket. She just wanted to know if they had a flight from Atlanta arriving around seven o’clock today. Fishing out any information, with the few facts she had, was a major production. To add to it, every single operator insisted on offering alternate flights.
Macy had already gotten up, showered, and had gone on a food run by the time Allison had finally gotten the right flight, the right airline, and the right airport.
Macy sat on the twin bed across from Allison. When Allison hung up, Macy offered her a chocolate donut. “What’s the good word?”
“Washington National Airport, 7:05,” Allison said, biting into the donut and collapsing back into the bed.
“Good, we have time to figure out how to get there…”
Allison sighed.
“Now what’s the problem?”
What isn’t? “What if I’m wrong? What if my Dad never shows?”
“Kinda late to worry about that.”
“But…” Allison’s head swarmed with doubts. She just wanted it to be over with, one way or another. Waiting was beginning to eat at her.
Macy tapped her shoulder and said, “It’s an airport Allie. If no one shows, we just get the next available ticket to anywhere.”
“Anywhere? Like?”
“Well, maybe Canada is out of these ASI creeps’ jurisdiction.”
After a moment consideration, Allison nodded. There certainly should be enough of Nate and Company’s cash left to buy a couple of tickets. “Good thought,” she said. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. It felt like she was abandoning Mom already. Flying away would feel like she was abandoning both Mom and Dad.
“So,” Macy asked, “since we ditched the drugmoblie, how do we get there?”
◆◆◆
It didn’t take too long for them to learn that Washington DC had one of the best public transportation systems in the country. By six Allison and Macy were riding under the streets of Washington on the Metro subway system.
The DC subways were clean, efficient, and did nothing to help Allison’s state of mind. The sheer depth of the subway system was oppressive. They had to descend an escalator down a concrete tube that was close to five stories deep. From the bottom, Allison couldn’t see the entrance. And the stops themselves were antiseptic concrete spaces the size of aircraft hangars. The unpainted concrete, the security cameras everywhere, all made Allison feel that she’d stepped into a movie set in some totalitarian dystopia.
The cameras were the most oppressive detail, especially for someone who had reason to be paranoid. Allison was briefly relieved when they emerged from the underground and entered the airport.
The feeling didn’t last. After the sterile blankness of the subway, the terminal was a blaring assault. As soon as they walked into the main building Allison felt a press of humanity more claustrophobic than the tons of earth pressing down on the Metro system.
Macy walked up and stared at one of the computer screens that dotted the terminal entrance. Allison stayed close by, staring out at the people surrounding them. The police she saw scattered about made her nervous. So did the men with dark suits and briefcases. So did the raggedy denim man at the ticket counter trying to get a steel-frame backpack checked.
What scared Allison more than the people was the way they affected her. She was looking at a mass of normal people, people with lives, children, homes, maybe even cats— and she couldn’t look at any of them without thinking of them as a threat.
“Your flight’s on time,” Macy said, making her jump. Macy patted her shoulder. “Come on, the gate’s this way.”
Macy walked off into the terminal building, past gift shops and fast food places whose prices were much too high. Allison noticed her friend limping. “How’re your feet?”
“Good enough to get me there.”
They passed through the metal detectors and X-ray without incident, despite the fact that it brought her much closer to airport security than she was comfortable with. By the time they reached the gate, Macy’s limp was pronounced. Allison felt glad for her when they finally sat down to wait.
They sat in silence fo
r a while. The gate they were at was nearly empty. The flight wasn’t due for another forty minutes or so. “Will you recognize him?” Macy asked.
“I don’t know.” Allison sighed. “I think so.”
Macy nodded. “Kinda funny, you’re running to your dad, and I’m running away from mine.”
Allison looked at Macy over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”
Macy fumbled with the straps on her backpack. “Never mind.”
Allison shivered. She had never met Macy’s dad, but every time Macy had referred to the man it was about him being angry at something. “Dad’s going to cream me,” or words to that effect. Allison suddenly hoped that all was exaggeration.
“First time I had the guts to get this far,” Macy said.
Allison found it hard thinking of Macy having a shortage of guts. “You never said anything.”
“What’s to say? Dad throws fits. It’s not like he’s put anyone in the hospital.”
Allison put her arm around Macy and hugged her. Here we are, Allison Boyle’s dysfunction parade.
“What you going to do, Allie? When this is over?”
Allison shook her head. “I don’t know, I really don’t. I’ve had problems thinking six hours ahead.”
“I don’t think I’m going back.”
“What are we going to do with the rest of our screwed up lives?”
“Hey,” Macy said, “at least you got something. That teek of yours, you could live on that.”
“I don’t know I want to.”
“You could get that check from that Amazing whoever guy you told me about.”
Allison sighed. “Being a scientific curiosity? I have nightmares about dissection trays.” Dissection trays and knitting needles.
“What do you want to do with your life, then?”
Allison said. “I still want to be a writer.” However, what I end up writing after all this is over may be something different from what I intended. “What about you?”
“Don’t laugh.”
Allison shook her head.
“I want to be a singer—”
“Oh shit.” Allison said in a harsh whisper.
“It wasn’t that funn—”
“No. Look. Two gates over.”
Macy looked and made a little gasp. Right there, leaning against a wall with an unobstructed view of their gate, was Barney and another, unfamiliar-looking man. She could tell Barney from his ponytail and the cast on his right hand.
“Do they see us?”
“I don’t know,” Allison whispered back. Allison and Macy were seated, huddled together, back by the edge of a window. The two men didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the gate. Allison couldn’t tell if they had seen them or not.
“How long have they been there?”
“I don’t know.”
Dad, where are you?
“Girl, I think we in trouble.”
Behind them, the window began to vibrate with a subsonic hum, as if someone was warming up God’s own TV set. Allison looked over Macy’s shoulder and out on to the tarmac. An American Airlines DC 10 taxied up to the gate. The flight was early.
Dad, you were supposed to meet us, weren’t you? Please Dad, if you don’t show I don’t know what I’m going to do—
“They saw us, Allie. The bastard smiled right at me.”
“Oh God. Why don’t they do anything?”
“Maybe they don’t want to cause a scene in the terminal.”
The PA made an indecipherable announcement with an airport accent that would have been at home in Cleveland. It was probably announcing the arrival of the Atlanta flight.
In response, Barney’s companion folded the paper he was reading.
Why don’t you do something? She thought at them. You got Mom, and Barney is smiling and nodding at us like we’re old friends.
“Allie, I really don’t like this.”
“They’re not going to do anything yet. They’re waiting for something.”
“I don’t think we should wait around for it too.”
The PA made another fuzzy announcement, something about old people and folks with young children.
“I want to see my dad.” Allison said in a harsh whisper.
“Girl, I hate to say this, but with the Doublemint twins here, they probably have your dad.”
No, I am not going to believe that.
The door to the walkway opened, and people began exiting. They pooled between them and their two observers. Macy stood up. “Come on, here’s our chance to get out of here.”
“Macy—”
Macy grabbed her arm and yanked her upright. Allison raised her hand as if to slap Macy, or push her away, or something…
“God damn it, Macy! I’ve come here for my father. I am not—”
Macy tugged. “Allie.”
Allison just stared across the streaming crowd.
“Oh my God.”
Macy let go of her arm. “Allie?”
“Is that him?” Allison whispered.
Across the aisle of exiting passengers, Allison saw a new face watching them intently. His hair had bleached a little lighter, and he’d grown a mustache. But his eyes were the same.
“Dad?” Allison mouthed the word without actually saying it.
Dad was standing on the same side of the gate, a little to the left and behind Barney and his friend. All of them watched Allison and Macy.
For what?
Who cares?
“You see him?” Macy whispered at her.
Allison nodded and started toward the trio.
“Girl?” Macy said, grabbing at her arm. Allison shook it off and waded into the crowd exiting the plane, working her way across. People bumped into her and cursed. When she was about halfway through the crowd, Macy caught up with her and grabbed her shoulder. “What the hell you doing? That guy shot a gun at you!”
They stopped and the off-loading crowd flowed around them. “But—” Allison began to say. She looked helplessly at her Dad, and noticed that half the people at that gate had folded their papers and were watching the two of them expectantly.
Allison swallowed.
“Oh Dad, no.”
Allison turned to Macy and someone grabbed her arm from behind. “Hello, Miss Boyle.”
Allison turned her head and saw Fred Jackson. One hand was holding her arm, the other in his pocket. Fred began ushering her toward Barney and her Dad while shielding her from the other passengers with his body.
“Allie—” Macy began to yell, but her shout was cut short.
Allison tried to turn to see what happened to Macy, but Fred held her tightly. Allison was about to scream something, anything to get attention. But Fred had something in his pocket, and he was pressing it against her side. “Please cooperate.” He said.
Allison thought he was pressing a gun into her side— How’d they get a gun in here? — but then there was a barely audible hiss and an insect-like sting in her side.
Oh no.
I’m.
In.
Trouble…
Whatever it was, the effect was immediate. The world ground to a halt. Allison was wrapped in a not-unpleasant floating sensation. She felt bloated with helium and Fred was tugging her along by one of her tie ropes.
A big parade it was, and her four captors seemed to take on the likeness of their cartoon namesakes. When she looked at Barney’s friend, she said, much too loudly, “Why, Bamm-Bamm, of course!”
They were all just big balloons, and it was the Homecoming parade.
The parade was riding down Maple, toward the school, and she was the center of attention. The crowds lining the street were staring at her, and the floats accompanying her. The crowd looked terrified. Allison saw Macy and Mr. Counter staring at her. Mr. Geraldi and his trunk-clad swim team were trying to escape down a side street. Mr. Franklin tried to comfort David Greenbaum’s mom, who was screaming hysterically. Allison looked around, dumbfounded, at the Homecoming crowd and tri
ed to figure what was wrong.
Somehow the Euclid Heights Homecoming had blended in with Allison’s memories of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. Inflated Flintstones were bobbing around her. The Barney balloon grabbed at her. She seemed to float down the street, surrounded by a cartoon entourage.
It began to seep into her mind that she was drugged, and what she was seeing wasn’t quite one of her nightmares.
In fact, that gun Barney was waving might be quite real. Barney waved his weapon— disarmingly small in a gigantic inflated vinyl hand. Allison looked up into Barney’s face and only saw two little black circles drawn on a flat cartoony surface where his eyes should be.
“I guess I’m not going to be Homecoming queen.” Allison mumbled. No one seemed to hear her.
◆◆◆
Allison walked through the halls of Euclid Heights High looking for people, and found the rooms empty. The school seemed to have been abandoned for years. She wandered the halls, brushing away cobwebs, scattering mice. At first she thought it was night-time. Then she saw that the windows were boarded up. It was bright daylight outside.
As she wandered through hallways of chipped plaster, rusty lockers, and collapsing ceilings, Allison hugged herself. This was the worst dream of them all. She felt the stifling heat, the dust on her skin. She breathed in a cobweb and felt it tickle the back of her throat.
She stared at the disintegrating hallway and told herself, “It’s only a dream.”
“Yes, it is,” came a familiar voice from behind her.
Allison spun around and saw Chuck standing there.
She wanted to scream, but her voice caught on the cobwebs in her throat.
Chuck held up his hands, both uninjured. “Peace, sweetcakes. I mean you no harm. Besides, you said yourself, this is a dream. What can I do?”
“You can—” the words caught in Allison’s throat again. She began to cry.
Chuck ran a hand through his hair. He looked exactly as he always had in school. Checked shirt, blue jeans, boots. “Look, stop cryin’ will you? This ain’t easy for me.”
Allison looked up at Chuck and saw an expression on his face somewhere between disgust and embarrassment.
“Look,” Chuck said, “we’ve both done nasty by each other. Can we call it even for a few minutes so I can talk to you? Fuck that’s all I ever wanted.”
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