by Tim Lebbon
He wasn’t some guys.
But I waited a few seconds longer than I had to...
Dana stuck her head around his door and smiled uncertainly. She entered, and Holden pointed at the window into her room just as Jules came in, Curt and Marty following her.
“Tan bra,” he said softly.
Jules got it first. She coughed surprised laughter and said, “You have got to be kidding me!”
“That’s just creepy,” Dana said as she caught on.
“It was pioneer days,” Marty said. “People had to make their own interrogation rooms. Out of cornmeal.”
Holden shrugged and ran his hands around the rough one-way mirror frame. “This is from the... seventies, judging by the weathering. Who did your cousin buy this place from, Curt?”
“We should check the rest of the rooms,” Curt said, ignoring the question. “Make sure this is the only one. You know Marty wants to watch me and Jules pounding away.”
“I didn’t even like hearing that,” Marty said, wincing as he turned and left the room.
“Beer,” Curt said, eyebrows rising, false realization dawning on his face. “Beer! Beer is the only answer!” He turned and dashed from the room, Jules rolling her eyes and following him.
“Don’t be an ape, Curt.”
The brief silence after the others left was a little awkward, and it needed more than a smile to break it.
“How about we switch?” Holden asked Dana. “Not that I’d... I mean I’ll put the picture back but you might feel better if we switched rooms.”
“I really would,” Dana said, leaving his room.
Holden cursed silently as he grabbed his bag, following her out into the hallway.
“Thanks for... being decent,” she said over her shoulder.
“Least I could do, since Curt and Jules have sold you to me for marriage.” Holden cringed a little; said too much? Dana cringed, too, but then her soft laughter made it all right.
“They’re not subtle,” she agreed ruefully.
“I’m just here to relax. And so can you.”
“Yeah, I’m not looking for... But I’m still grateful that you’re not a creep.”
“Hey, let’s not jump to any conclusions there,” Holden said.
“Tan bra?” Dana said softly, and though he couldn’t see her face he knew that she was smiling.
Don’t want to play this too cool, he thought, and on the back of that, So am I a creep after all?
“I had kind of an internal debate about showing you the mirror,” he said. “Shouting on both sides, blood was spilled... ”
They entered Dana’s room—his room now—and he dumped his stuff on the bed.
“So you’re bleeding internally,” she asked, mock-serious. “Pretty bad.”
“Well, Jules is the doctor-in-training. You should probably talk to her.”
“Yeah.” He smiled, Dana grabbed her bag, and as she turned and left he saw an expression on her face that he thought was similar to his own. Cursing herself, he thought. She wishes this chat had gone one step further.
Smiling as the door swung shut behind her, Holden thought that he and Dana would get on very well indeed.
•••
Shit shit shit that was lame, Dana thought. But she couldn’t help smiling. Even with a closed door between them, she could sense Holden behind her. Unsubtle though Jules and Curt had been about her and Holden, it seemed as if they might yet finish this weekend pleased with their powers of matchmaking.
In her new room she closed the door and dropped her bag onto the bed, wincing at the creaking of springs. Hope Curt’s and Jules’s bed isn’t that bad, she thought. Then she picked up the picture Holden had removed from the wall, turned it around... and it was unbelievably gross. She had no idea why someone would want that hanging above them in bed. Maybe there was more to it. The artist might have been a local celebrity, or something. But though she looked closely for a signature she could find none, and it had the sort of paint-by-numbers feel of a mass-produced image. It was spooky, but she had to re-hang it.
Otherwise—
She saw Holden in the next room, her view darkened just a little by dust on the one-way mirror. He wore an enigmatic smile, and was slowly pacing back and forth at the foot of his bed. Distracted, he pulled his shirt over his head and then stood there again, apparently unmindful of the fact that he was now in the viewable room.
He was in pretty good shape, for sure. Dana was holding her breath. The moment seemed to stretch, and then Holden dropped his shirt on the bed and pulled his swimming shorts from his bag, and began unbuttoning his jeans.
“Uhhh... ah!” Dana muttered. “God!” She was where he had been and, though she could stay here for another ten seconds to see what he had, he had only watched for so long.
Long enough to see my bra, she thought, and as she caught sight of Holden’s briefs she hung the picture, obscuring the window and making sure it banged against the wall. He’d hear it and know that she’d covered the one-way mirror again... but he’d also know that she’d paused just for those few seconds, watching him strip off his shirt.
“Fair’s fair,” she said softly, grinning.
She took one last look at the grim print, and on the wall it seemed even worse. But it was part of her room now.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” she said, plucking a knitted throw from the bed and hanging it over the picture.
That was better.
Now, time to strip in private and slip into that sexy red bikini.
•••
Their whole world in my hands, Sitterson thought. Their every private moment under my scrutiny. And he giggled to himself, because he was starting to sound like that crazy fuck Mordecai.
“What’s so funny?” Hadley asked. He was working at his own control panel, sugar from a recent doughnut speckling the skin around his mouth.
“You,” Sitterson said with as much seriousness as he could muster, “and the joke that is your life.”
Hadley muttered something as he turned away smiling, and Sitterson pushed his chair back so that he could view every display at once.
On the bedroom monitors, the college kids were all changing into their swimming costumes. He’d seen this enough times before, but the voyeuristic delight had never quite left him, and neither would he wish it to. He regarded it as a perk of the job, and knew that Hadley did as well. They didn’t make it obvious, but neither did they purposely look away from the screens.
There was no privacy here; that had been denied these kids the second they drove through the tunnel, and in some ways long before that. So while he checked readouts on his laptop and tweaked a few settings here and there, he also glanced frequently at the bank of monitors.
Just to... monitor.
The cute brunette—and damn, was she cute!— turned her back on the covered painting as she changed, which gave him a perfect view. Sweet, pert breasts, as yet defiant of gravity and not weighed down with the responsibility of childbirth. Strong limbs, long legs, a flat stomach rippled with the subtle evidence of running and other exercise. And she shaved. Most college kids her age did, he’d come to learn. That didn’t do it for Sitterson, but he knew that Hadley was a fan of baldies.
Glancing across, he grinned to see his companion’s gaze fixed on the screen.
“Cute,” he said.
“Yeah,” Hadley agreed, smiling softly. “But it doesn’t matter.”
Sitterson looked at the other screens that showed activity. The Fool was sitting on the end of his bed staring at the far wall, a joint hanging from the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t bothered changing, and most likely wouldn’t join his friends in the lake. Which was a shame, because it would necessitate a slight change from Story. But it was also allowed for.
The jock and his blonde girlfriend were fooling around naked, whipping at each other’s butts with twisted towels, wrestling, but Sitterson knew that she was teasing, putting everything on view but not making anything available. Not yet, at lea
st. The jock didn’t seem aware of this, and when his interest started showing Sitterson turned away and checked some more readouts. Even though he had the audio turned most of the way down, he still heard the guy’s complaining voice, and the girl’s admonishment, full of control and manipulation.
Poor fuck. Didn’t he know they were all insane?
Rolling his chair back again, he checked out the other feeds: cabin, dock, lake, the RV, several views of the kitchen and dining area, four for the living room, basement, bathroom... it all seemed well, and when the kids started leaving their rooms he tracked their progress from screen to screen.
“All right,” Sitterson said, “places everyone. We are live.”
“Engineering,” Hadley said, voice calm and almost bored. “We’ve got a room change. Polk is now in two, McCrea’s in four. Story department—you copy? We’ll need a scenario adjustment... ”
Moments later a voice came over the control room’s PA.
“Have it back to you in fifteen... ”
“Oh, and the Fool’s not swimming.”
“Got that covered,” the same voice confirmed.
It’s all under control, Sitterson thought, and control was what pleased him. Outside this place he was a mess—his bachelor’s home, his history of relationships, his life—but he more than made up for it with his work. He was, Hadley had told him more than once, a pain-in-the-ass perfectionist. Who the fuck else would you want working here? That was his stock reply. And Hadley had never argued.
Footsteps sounded on the metal staircase and Sitterson glanced up.
“Ms. Lin!”
She carried a clipboard under her arm, as ever. An affectation, he knew, because everything she needed for the weekend’s activities was stored on the palm-top she carried in her lab coat pocket. He wasn’t sure whether the clipboard made her look more sexy or more terrifying, and the fact that he found both alluring sometimes unsettled him.
“We’ve got blood work back on Louden,” she said without any preamble. “Her levels are good, but we’re recommending a fifty milligram increase of Rohyptase to boost libido.”
“Sold,” Sitterson said. He always favored a bit of hot sex action before things kicked off. Another perk of the job.
“Do we pipe it in or do you wanna do it orally?” Lin asked.
Sitterson held in his laughter, closed his eyes and sighed. “Ask me that again, only slower.”
“You’re a pig,” she said. The tone of her voice didn’t change at all, and sometimes he seriously considered Hadley’s assertion that she was a robot. “Guess how we’re slowing down her cognition.”
Sitterson kept his eyes closed, knowing she’d tell him anyway.
“The hair dye.” And was that a slight smugness to her voice? He opened his eyes, impressed.
“The dumb blonde. That’s artistic.”
“Works into the blood through the scalp, very gradual.” She looked past him at Hadley, her eternal doubter. “The Chem department keeps their end up.” “I’ll see it when I believe it,” he drawled without looking away from his control board.
Sitterson started shrugging, but halfway through the PA sounded again.
“Control?”
“Go ahead,” Hadley said.
“I have the Harbinger on line two.”
Hadley looked across, but Sitterson held up his hands, shaking his head.
“Christ,” Hadley said. “Can you take a message?” “Uh... I don’t think so. He’s really pushy. And... to be honest, he’s kinda freaking me out.”
Hadley gave a defeated sigh.
“Yeaaaahh. Okay, put him through.” He hit a button on his panel and threw Sitterson one last, cutting glare: You owe me.
Sitterson finished his shrug and smiled.
“Mordecai!” Hadley said into his microphone, suddenly more upbeat and animated. “How’s the weather up top?”
“The lambs have passed through the gate,” a voice said, grizzled and grumbling—Sitterson always had been impressed by the guy’s performance. He was a true method actor—the bloodshot eye never needed encouraging, and he really was a smelly bastard. Where the hell the Story guys had found him, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. “They are come to the killing floor,” Mordecai’s voice continued, echoing around the control room.
Hadley nodded, hand hovering above the disconnect button. But Sitterson had taken enough calls from Mordecai before to know that this was far from over.
“Yeah, you did great out there. By the numbers. Started us off right. We’ll talk to you later, oka—” “Their blind eyes see nothing of the horrors to come. Their ears are stopped; they are God’s fools.” “Well, that’s how it works.” Hadley hung his head. His voice sounded with defeat. Sitterson chuckled.
“Cleanse them. Cleanse the world of their ignorance and sin. Bathe them in the crimson of—” He paused, then asked, “Am I on speaker phone?”
“No, no of course not!”
“Yes I am,” Mordecai said. His voice raised, from subterranean grumble to eighteen-wheeler roar. “I can hear the echo. Take me off. Now.”
Sitterson started laughing, clamping his hands over his mouth to try and hold in the mirth. Beside him Lin, ever the ice queen, was maintaining her cool. Mostly. But even her features were warmed by the subtlest precursor of a smile.
“Okay,” Hadley said. “Sorry.”
“I’m not kidding,” Mordecai’s voice grated through the speakers. “It’s rude. I don’t know who’s in the room.” “Fine.” Hadley tapped the microphone. “There, you’re off speaker phone.” “Thank you.”
Sitterson was trying not to cry, but the more he held his laughter the greater the pressure built. Hysteria is a sign of the loss of control, Lin had told him once, and he’d roared with laughter as she’d left the control room. He hadn’t disagreed; he’d merely laughed. He wished he knew how she stayed so calm. Perhaps she took some of her own chemical creations, though such indulgence was strictly forbidden.
“Don’t take this lightly, boy,” Mordecai continued from the gas station. “It wasn’t all by your ‘numbers’; the Fool nearly derailed the invocation with his insolence. Your futures are murky; you’d do well to heed my—” He paused again, then his voice lightened to a whisper; gravel on concrete. “I’m still on speaker phone, aren’t I?”
That was it. Sitterson couldn’t hold it anymore, the laughter bursting from him in an explosive cough of air. Even Lin was smiling, and from down the curved staircase Sitterson heard Truman, the stiff soldier, coughing as he tried to contain his own hilarity.
“No,” Hadley said, “you’re not. I promise.”
“Yes I am! Who is that? Who’s laughing?”
Sitterson felt tears running down his cheeks and he leaned forward in his chair, pounding his head on his console. Hysteria is the sign of the loss of control. As he glanced up at one monitor and saw two of the kids soundlessly running along the wooden dock toward the lake, he wondered how mirthful each tear really was.
•••
Holden was racing her. It was simple fun, but for Dana, there was still that competitive edge that was a hangover from all the athletics she did in her early teens. So she ran hard, feeling the boards flexing and creaking beneath her feet, and sensing Holden’s shadow just behind to her left.
“No way you win,” he gasped, and she cried out in delight as she put on a final burst of speed, launching herself from the end of the dock and feeling one of those moments of unadulterated, ecstatic glee that comes only rarely, and never for long. She pinwheeled her arms and legs, trying to crawl further through the air before the calm waters of the lake drew her down.
She tried to take a deep breath before she entered the water, but she was laughing too much. Beside her she sensed Holden flying with her, and then the water closed completely around her. And it was colder than she had ever felt before.
Surfacing, gasping, spitting water from her mouth, it took her several seconds to find her breath.
&nb
sp; “OH! Cold! That’s what cold feels like—”
“Fight through the pain,” Holden gasped, treading water beside her. “It’s worth it. I’m nearly convinced it’s worth it.”
Dana found her breath at last, the cold quickly numbing her senses. She turned in the water and looked back toward the cabin, where the others were approaching at a more leisurely pace along the dock. Curt and Jules were wearing their bathing suits, while Marty was still in his tee-shirt and shorts. He had a towel slung casually around his neck, but he seemed to have no intention of joining them.
Right then, she could hardly blame him.
“Does it seem fresh?” Jules asked, voice etched with concern. “Lotta funky diseases sitting in stagnant lake water.”
“What?” Dana asked, “this water?” And to emphasize her point she took a deep gulp of it, swilling it around her mouth before spitting it out in an arc. Cool and fresh, it was tinted with a tang of something wonderful. “This water’s delicious.”
“Oh my god, she’s right!” Holden gasped. He took a mouthful too, spitting it in an arc toward Dana. She flinched back and it splashed her shoulder. “It tastes like... vitamins. And hope.”
“C’mon Jules,” Dana called. “Life is risk!”
“Yeah, I might just risk lying out in the sun for a while.” She paused a few steps back from the edge, uncertain.
Curt stepped to the edge of the dock, face falling as he looked down.
“What is that?” he asked, almost to himself.
Dana, treading water, edged back from the dock and further into the lake. She could sense the depth increasing beneath her as she moved, and it was thrilling.
“What?” she asked, a hint of concern tickling the back of her neck.
“In the lake,” Curt said. “I swear to god I...” “Yeah, right,” Dana said, not willing to admit that he had her spooked. He looked so damn serious, and— But then she glanced sidelong at Holden, saw his smile, and knew that it was a game.
“No, seriously!” Curt said dramatically. Jules edged forward and stood beside him, looking nervously down at the rippling surface. “Right there. Don’t you see it? There. It looks just like—” He put his hands firmly on Jules’s back, and as he pushed and she squealed in terror, he said, “My girlfriend!”
