The Beautiful Land

by Alan Averill

  “Are they coming?” pants Samira. “Do they see us?”

  “They know something’s up, but…yeah. I think we’re okay for now.”

  “We should hurry.”

  “Yeah, Sam. I think we should.”

  She clambers to her feet and rubs her shoulder, which took the brunt of the force when she fell. Finding nothing broken, she gives Tak a quick, frozen smile. He waves at her with the tips of his fingers, then motions toward the back of the station. They open the swinging door between the lobby and the duty officer’s desk and make their way farther inside the building.

  “Where is she?” asks Samira, as they move past a row of battered brown desks. One of them has an old manual typewriter on it, a touch that she finds almost unbelievable in the age of DNA and other modern law-enforcement tools.

  “I don’t know. I was hoping she’d be in the lobby.”

  “What if she’s not here?”

  “Then we’re pretty well fucked.”

  Tak was expecting to find more bodies, but the station seems deserted. He hopes the officers had the good sense to desert their civic duty and run like hell but thinks it likely they went down fighting. And screaming, he thinks as they come to a fork in the hallway. Don’t forget the screaming.

  “What do you think?” asks Tak as he scans the hall. “Left?”

  “Yeah, sure. Left.”

  One large steel door later, they encounter the cells. There are a dozen or so in all, and Tak takes a moment to peer inside each one. When he finds them empty, he turns back to find Samira leaning against the wall and scratching ragged lines into her arm.

  “Hey, Sam,” says Tak. “Come on. Let’s rest for a minute.” He wanders over to Samira and pulls her hand away, expecting her to protest. Instead, she just gets an expression of weary resignation and drops her arm to her side. If this gets much worse, I’m going to lose her for good, thinks Tak. She’ll just check out, and that will be that…. I have to get her somewhere safe.

  He shelves this idea for the moment—although in the back of his head he is already working on a plan—and brushes a stray bit of dirt from Samira’s forehead. She smiles faintly at his touch, but the gesture stops below her eyes.

  “Hey, come on,” he says. “Seriously. Let’s take five.”

  She shakes her head vigorously. “No. Let’s find this woman and get out of here. I just want this to be over.”

  He takes her hand and quickly explores the rest of the station. They find empty bathrooms, more cubicles, and the office of the watch commander, but no Judith. Finally, when despair is beginning to lock its claws around his heart, he notices a door that he didn’t see before. It’s constructed of old, solid wood, and contains the word interrogation in faded gold letters.

  “Hey, we haven’t checked in there yet,” says Tak with forced hopefulness.

  “Yeah, okay,” says Samira distantly.

  Tak leaves her leaning against a cubicle wall and jogs over to the door. It doesn’t want to open at first, but then he leans his shoulder into the jamb and shoves, and it pops open. The room is dark, save for a dim green glow in the corner, and it takes Tak a few moments to get his eyesight back. When he does, he sees a limp, bloody figure in the corner of the room.

  “Oh, no,” he murmurs.

  “What is it?” asks Samira from just over his shoulder.

  “It’s Judith.”

  “Is she dead?”

  “Not yet,” says a faint voice. “But you better get over here now, or this is going to be a pretty short conversation.”

  chapter thirty-two

  “What happened?” asks Tak as he uses a damp paper towel to clean blood from Judith’s face.

  “Birds,” she responds in a weakened voice. “When I got here, they were everywhere. I fought my way here but got attacked on the way.”

  “You survived a bird attack?”

  “No. People did this.”

  Judith’s main wound is a massive gash that runs across her stomach and around her back. She wrapped it as best she could with the remains of an old police uniform, but it’s a temporary solution at best. Whenever Tak raises the cloth to see the extent of the damage, blood gushes onto his outstretched hands. He’s shocked that his friend is still alive at all.

  “Goddamn people,” she says quietly. “I never did like ’em.”

  A long strand of wires runs from the back of Judith’s head and into the briefcase, then again from there to her laptop. The briefcase is acting as a kind of temporary pacemaker, sending a small electrical pulse through Judith’s body every few seconds to remind her heart to keep pumping. But this is a tenuous arrangement; the briefcase is using up the last of its charge to keep her alive. The single glowing light on its row of five is barely visible, even in the gathering darkness of the powerless police station.

  “I’m sorry,” says Tak as he wipes sweat from her forehead. “I tried to hurry.”

  “It’s okay,” she responds. “Knew it was a long shot anyway.”

  Behind him, Samira is spinning a single bullet on the floor. There is a tired, distant look in her eyes, and Tak is growing increasingly concerned that her mind won’t be able to take much more of this madness. “Hey, Sam?” he calls out.

  “Yeah?” she responds.

  “Nothing. Just seeing if you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine. Just get her stable, and let’s get out of here.”

  Tak turns back to Judith and gives her a weak smile. “You ready for a road trip?”

  “I won’t make it,” says Judith flatly. “The briefcase will run out of power before we get there.”

  “Okay, but maybe we can…I don’t know, hook it up to a battery or something?”

  “Won’t work.”

  “Goddammit, we have to do something! We’ve come too far to lose it now.”

  Tak expects an argument from Judith, but she just shrugs her shoulders. This movement causes her to cough loudly, which makes the spots of blood on her stomach grow larger.

  “So, what’s the deal then?” asks Tak. “We’re all screwed? Is that it?”

  “We only have one copy of the fail-safe. When I die, it dies with me.”

  Tak leans forward and puts his fingers together. “Yeah, but can’t we…I don’t know, transfer it or something?”

  “I’d have to drill holes in your cerebellum,” replies Judith with a chuckle. “Don’t think I’m up for that.

  “Wait, there’s gotta be a hospital around here,” says Tak. “We could go there, find the tools you need—”

  “No time.”

  “Well, I’m not just going to sit here and whack off until some bird comes in and punches a fucking hole in my eye!”

  “I can carry it,” says Samira without looking up.

  “You should leave, Tak,” says Judith. “Find somewhere to hide.”

  “Why? So I can watch the world end in style? No thanks. I’d rather find a service pistol and eat the barrel.”

  “I can carry it,” says Samira again, louder.

  Tak and Judith stop talking and turn to her. Tak blinks slowly a few times as Judith clears her throat. “You can what?” she says.

  “I have that thing,” Samira says without lifting her eyes from the floor. “The one in the back of my head. So that means I can carry the fail-safe…. Right?”

  “No,” says Tak firmly. “No way. Sam’s already holding a timeline; we can’t give her another one.”

  Judith lifts her head and eyes the young woman in the doorway. Then she reaches out, grabs Tak’s arm, and slowly pulls herself to a sitting position. Tak can almost feel the force of will this action takes—it burns off of her in waves. “That’s not possible,” she says, staring at Samira. “Yates killed the conduits. Why would he leave you alive?”

  “Because he gave me the Beautiful Land.”

  Judith crinkles her forehead and raises her eyebrows. She stares at Tak as if he just suggested they all go bungee jumping over hot lava, then slowly shifts her gaze from him
to Samira and back again. The only sound in the room is the metallic whirring of Samira’s bullet spinning on the cold floor tiles.

  “So what’s the problem?” asks Samira. “Give me the timeline and let’s go.”

  “Sam, no,” replies Tak. “You don’t understand. You can’t put two timelines in the same person.”

  Judith’s head suddenly rolls forward, but she manages to keep her balance. “Actually, you can, but…”

  “But what?” asks Samira. She snatches the spinning bullet off the floor and looks up at Judith. “What happens?”

  “You lose your goddamn mind,” says Tak. “Axon tried it a few times when this project was first getting off the ground, and it never ended well.”

  “But I can do it,” says Samira. “The timeline will still work even if I go crazy, right?”

  “Sam, no. It’s not even an option.”

  “It’s the only option.”

  Tak leaps up and kicks a nearby wooden chair. It goes flying across the room and smashes into the wall, knocking a chip of wood from the doorframe. “Goddammit, NO! No. Not happening, no way, no. We’re not doing this.”

  Samira clambers to her feet and puts a hand on Tak’s arm, then glances down at Judith. “Give us a minute?”

  Judith nods slowly and wipes a small trickle of blood from her nose. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Samira pulls Tak out of the room and down the hall, then places a hand on his cheek. He shakes her off and turns away, staring out of a bank of tall windows at the ruined city beyond. “It’s okay,” she says. “I’ll be fine.”

  Tak runs his fingers through his hair and turns in a small, angry circle. “Sam, if we put a second timeline in you, you’ll lose your grip on reality. Then if we don’t get it out of you in a goddamn hurry, you’ll die. And it’s a bad death, Sam. I’ve seen it. It’s a bad fucking death.”

  “What happened to saving the world?”

  “Fuck the world!” screams Tak. “I don’t care about the world! I care about you!”

  “We don’t have another choice.”

  “You know what? Yeah. We do. How about you and me get the hell out of here and go to the Beautiful Land? We can stay there, we can make it whatever we want, we can…”

  He trails off. Samira shakes her head slowly, then holds her hands out to Tak. The skin around the knuckles is ragged and bloody, the nails chewed down past the quick. “See my fingers, Tak? I do things like this because I spent the last years of my life engaged in some really bad business…. Just like you.”

  Tak feels shame creep across his face and finds he can’t look at his friend anymore. He releases her and turns around again, this time staring at the darkened interrogation room. Damn you, Judith Halford, he thinks in an unfair flash of anger. Why couldn’t you stay alive?

  “Remember the diner?” asks Samira. “How you told me this whole crazy quest was our chance at amends? Well, at the time I thought you were nuts, but I went with you anyway because I was just happy to have company.” She giggles slightly and slides her arms around his waist. “But you were right. This is our chance, and we have to take it. We can’t let everyone die while we go on existing, Tak. We wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves.”

  Tak feels hot tears forming behind his eyes and quickly forces them back. “Goddammit,” he mutters. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “It never is,” replies Sam, releasing him. “Go tell her to get ready. I want to pee.”

  Samira scampers off down the hallway in search of a bathroom. Tak watches her go, then moves back to Judith, who seems to be getting worse by the minute. Her breath is coming in short, ragged gasps, and the stain on her blouse seems much wider than before.

  “We good?” she asks quietly.

  “No, but we’re going to do it anyway. Listen, I need to move you; it’s too dark in here for detail work.”

  Tak puts an arm under her shoulder and helps her to her feet, then grabs the briefcase and laptop, stacking them on top of each other. He can feel Judith’s legs trembling, but she sets her mouth into a grim line and begins limping forward, leaning on Tak occasionally for support.

  “Christ, Judith,” he says, as they shuffle into the hallway. “I had no idea you were such a hard-ass.”

  “Where are we going?” she says by way of response.

  “There’s a bank of windows in the lobby. Should be enough sunlight left for me to get the wires hooked up.”

  Judith nods and continues shuffling. The two of them move down the hall and hang a left, ducking around desks and cubicles as they head for the entrance. Twenty feet or so before they reach their destination, Tak notices Samira standing at the end of the hallway with fear in her eyes.

  “Sam?” he says. “Sam, what is it?”

  She doesn’t respond, and rather than ask again, Tak decides to just move forward and see for himself. Seconds later, he and Judith round the corner and stop. Though the sun is threatening to drop below the horizon, enough light remains for them to see what has Samira so concerned.

  The birds are amassing, thousands of them, lining up as far as the eye can see. They perch on the edge of buildings and grip the hoods of cars and make telephone lines sag almost to the ground, a swelling sea of black that grows by the second. Save for the occasional fluttering of wings or the heavy sound of a companion coming to rest somewhere nearby, the creatures are completely silent. They just stare at the police station as if waiting for a grim party to start.

  “Well, crap,” mutters Tak. “That’s not good.”

  “They know we’re here,” whispers Sam.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” says Judith. “We used the Machine. They shouldn’t be paying this much attention to us.”

  As they watch, the ocean of birds begins to move. Like the Red Sea parting, the birds shuffle to either side of the street, giving the three people inside the station a perfect view of the new terror that’s approaching.

  “What the hell is that?” asks Judith.

  In the distance, perhaps three blocks away, a twisted, terrible creature is slowly shuffling toward them. Clad in the remnants of a dirty white lab coat and a torn argyle sweater, its legs are pale and knobby things, while its arms are longer and more human than those of the other birds. But the face leaves no doubt of what the monster used to be. There are the faint suggestions of a nose, the shriveled remains of ears, a pair of thin, wrinkled lips from which protrude the nub of a beak. But worst of all are the eyes; unlike the dead black pits of the other birds, these are blue and intelligent and terribly alive.

  “It’s Yates,” says Tak finally.

  “Please tell me that’s not true,” whispers Judith.

  “No, it’s true. I saw him in Australia…. Christ, he looks terrible.”

  The three of them stand in front of the windows, transfixed, as Yates slouches up the street. When he is little more than a block away, he tilts his head an impossible distance to the side and looks inside the police station with one shimmering eye.

  “Judith…” he says in a bubbling, raspy voice that’s somehow audible through the panes of glass. “So nice…to see you….”

  “Jesus,” says Judith. “What does he want?”

  “He wants me,” says Samira, who is busy wrapping strands of hair around her finger and pulling them out of her head. “He wants the Beautiful Land.”

  Judith stumbles away from the window with a look of terror on her face and ends up crashing to the floor. “We have to run,” she says. “We have to run right now.”

  “No,” says Samira, who stops pulling on her hair long enough to lock eyes with Judith. “You have to give me the fail-safe.”

  For an eternity, no one moves. But then Yates takes another step toward them and lets out a shrieking caw of laughter, and the spell is broken. Samira drops to her knees next to Judith as Tak begins to examine the holes in her head.

  “We’ll need about a minute to complete the transfer,” says Judith. “So, Tak, if Yates gets insid
e, you’ll have to distract him.”

  “Oh, that’s great,” mutters Tak as he plugs a new set of wires into the laptop. “Maybe I’ll tell him a few stories about my childhood, see if he’s interested.” He kneels next to Samira, pushes her curly hair out of the way, and rubs one thumb across the four metal ports embedded in her neck. Samira feels his hesitation and grabs his free hand with her own.

  “Hey, Tak?” she says.

  “Yeah, Sam?” responds Tak, his voice trembling.

  “I don’t think I’m gonna see you again, so remember me, okay? Remember how I used to be.”

  “I’m gonna see you again, Sam. I promise.”

  She smiles at this, a thin, brave thing that causes Tak to lose what little faith he had in this plan. But before he has a chance to change his mind, he picks up the free set of wires, plugs them into Samira’s skull, and flips the switch.

  Samira opens her mouth and emits a shrill scream that echoes through the empty corridors of the station. To her left, Judith’s eyes fly wide. She makes a strange grunting sound, almost like a noise of realization, before arching her back and digging her fingers into the floor. Tak feels hot tears forming in his eyes yet again, but he brushes them aside and reaches for the briefcase, twisting dials as numbers begin to flash across the keyboard screen. Samira produces a sharp intake of breath, then screams again.

  “Fuck!” screams Tak as he types. “Fuck, fuck, fuck it all!”

  The wires seem to come alive, moving and pulsing across the floor like snakes. Tak can hear the birds milling around but refuses to look at them. Samira screams again, and this time Judith joins her; their voices mingling together before suddenly falling silent. For a brief moment, there is no sound at all, but then Tak hears something large and angry throw itself at the lobby windows. Rather than look, he focuses his attention on the numbers flashing across the laptop screen. Moments later, the computer emits a cheery ding, and the numbers stop.

  “We good?” asks Judith quietly.