Napier's Bones

by Derryl Murphy

  “You wanted to learn.” Dom forced the eye closed again. “You’re in now, like it or not, and school it ain’t. This is going to be a trial by fire.”

  Jenna tapped the steering wheel in a familiar pattern. “Since I’m learning, maybe it’s time for another lesson. What was that you were doing with the phone’s keypad?”

  Dom nodded. She was tapping the same beat that he had kept when he’d faked up the Mingus tune. “Time was,” he said, “you could play musical notes on a phone’s buttons. Not anymore, but there’s still a residual numeracy there. I was playing a rough estimation of a piece by Charlie Mingus.”

  “Why him?”

  “The same day that Mingus died in Mexico at age 56, 56 sperm whales beached themselves nearby.”

  Jenna blinked, then glanced at Dom with her right eyebrow raised. “So?”

  “So there are some hints in numerate literature that whenever whales beach themselves it’s because they’ve come to collect the shadow of a person who has died,” said Billy. “Of course, we can’t talk to whales, so we can’t say for sure, but they are numerate creatures. Whether or not you need to die by the sea, well, nobody knows.” Billy shrugged. “But it does seem that it’s always the same number of whales as it is years the person, or even persons, has lived.”

  “What’s also interesting is that sometimes they seem to take shadows that want to go, and sometimes they take them against their will. Mingus, I think he was voluntary.” Dom leaned his seat back, turned his head to the right, feeling exhausted from the heat and all the action. “Wake me up when you want me to spell you for driving.”

  Jenna turned on the radio. A distant classic rock station was tuned in, ELO’s “Telephone Line” playing, accompanied by the hiss and static of interference, and, Dom could swear, harmony by the man from the phone call. But before he could say anything, Jenna slipped a CD into the stereo, and he drifted off to the sounds of Coltrane.

  5

  Jenna woke Dom a few hours later and he drove on until he came to a town with a store big enough to outfit the both of them. Again, he decided to bankroll her, and an hour later they walked out with a couple days worth of clothes, toiletries, and two small wheeled suitcases to carry everything. Jenna also bought some new sneakers, having noted that she was finding the long drive in her sandals uncomfortable.

  He gassed up the car again, nervously listening for ringing pay phones, then drove on. They stopped for supper, and when they were back in the car Jenna fell asleep, Dom insisting that he had plenty of energy and that she should bank her sleep now, in case it was suddenly in short supply.

  After a search showed that Jenna listened mostly to pop and hip hop with a sprinkling of house music, he kept the Coltrane disc on, volume low and in the background, but enjoying the numbers that wafted from the player with each note. He’d never listened much to the jazz performer before, having focused most of his energy on discerning the mojo that Mingus was able to give, but he was pleased to find there was a lot of numerate subtlety here as well.

  Jazz musicians, like baseball players, also had it. In spades. Classical composers too, and of course musicians who played other styles, like rock and bluegrass and reggae. But the intricacies of good jazz worked well in Dom’s world, and knowledge of how a musician had constructed a tune, not by notes, but by numbers, was a handy tool to have when working through that world.

  Billy was silent, probably aware that Dom was feeling quiet himself. So he just sat back and let himself enjoy the drive, once again able to relax, even though his ass was being ridden by someone with numerate ability he’d never dreamed possible.

  And that was the biggest problem he had. Dom was strong, even if he was relatively new at this. Until this latest stretch of fear and bad luck, he had felt pretty confident that he was the strongest numerate around, maybe not in the world, but at least in the circles he had travelled. He had plenty of natural talent, and not only was he a quick study, he worked hard at learning what he needed, and once the world of numbers had changed for him, opened up beyond his confused youthful awareness of numbers and formulae and algorithms that floated through his everyday life, he had been able to grab hold of every treasured piece of mojo he had sought.

  Sometimes he was given a bit of a fight, but even so, the hardest time he’d had retrieving an item had really been simple. He had talent, he used it well, if selfishly, and life up until the past few days had gone fairly well, if a bit lonely. He’d been on a smooth ride to the top, and the trip down to the desert had been another step on the way to his ultimate target, a goal that was likely shared by every numerate person on Earth. He knew that he would have some trouble if someone got there first, but had frankly been unprepared for just how much power would be involved.

  Just as obvious, Billy and his former host had also been unprepared; while they had carried more experience into their duel, Dom felt sure from the numbers he’d seen that he held more innate ability. With some new mojo and perhaps a bit more research, and with Billy along for the ride to give solid advice, he’d be able to figure out this mystery person and get what he was after.

  The thought made him smile.

  “What?” asked Billy.

  “Hmmph. Just thinking about this gal and the shadow she carries. Do you suppose she was this strong before she got to whatever was sitting in the desert?”

  Billy shrugged; it was funny how natural the motion now felt. “I don’t know. She would already have had to be very good, just making out the trail like we did. But to have that much power before she got there, and for us not to have had any idea that he existed, it seems a bit of a reach.”

  “What if it was the big gun itself?”

  Billy shook his head. “If she had held that, we would not be sitting here talking to each other.”

  Dom nodded and chewed on his lower lip. “I guess it’s not like it would have been in the middle of the fucking desert, either.”

  “True enough, although all sorts of powerful artefacts have somehow slipped the bonds of the British Isles.”

  “Well, there were plenty that started out away from Britain in the first place, right?”

  Billy nodded his head. “Yes, but by far the majority came from there. Something there has always been conducive to the creation of all this mojo.” In the passenger seat Jenna snorted in her sleep and turned her head. Billy chuckled. “There are plenty of items still sprinkled throughout the world, Dom. As a matter of fact, the way I’ve seen things play out in the time I can remember, I’m pretty sure that there are still a dozen or more of my own still lying around, even, ones without my essence, but still fairly powerful artefacts.”

  Dom cocked an eyebrow. “If you found one do you suppose it would kick-start your memory?”

  Billy made a face, scrunched up his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow. The feeling Dom got from the face was consternation, even though he wasn’t looking in a mirror. “I hadn’t thought about that. The odds would be extremely long against finding anything, but it might be a reason to go looking some day.”

  Dom blinked. “Must be hell knowing more about your host than yourself.”

  Billy shrugged again. “I live with it. And in the meantime, I even have a theory about why I’m like this.”

  “Which is?”

  “Being numerate doesn’t preclude anyone making a tiny mistake in the numbers, Dom.” Billy turned the music down to a distant background whisper. “Think of the numbers I laid out as the equivalent of DNA.”

  “Um, okay.” It occurred to Dom that he was now having a discussion about genetics with someone who had died long before that particular science had come into existence.

  “When Watson and Crick first announced their discovery, my host did a fair amount of reading on the subject, searching for more numerate possibilities in the building blocks of life. Since then I have made an effort to keep up with the field, as a layman, in case anything rears its head.

  “Not long ago it struck me that perhaps the reas
on I can’t remember who I am is the same reason some people are born with genetic defects; a switch is thrown in the wrong place or, more aptly, information is translated incorrectly. It’s there, but for whatever reason it does not come across as intended. A birth defect, a handicap, or in my case, numbers that either mean nothing or else mean something other than intended.”

  Dom chewed on this for a minute. “So what you’re saying is that it’s possible that other people made the same mistake in processing their numbers.”

  “Probable, even.”

  “Okay, probable. And so there’s lots of shit lying around that no one has any idea where it is.”

  “Indeed,” replied Billy. “Certainly some of it has been destroyed over the decades or centuries or even millennia, in wars, even in hunts for witches, but much of it has just been . . . misplaced. And there’s no accounting for those unfortunate souls whose numbers were wrong and whose shadows ended up either lost forever or else mistranslated worse than my own were.”

  “What happens then?”

  Billy grimaced. “Empty husk without a spark is the description that has been used.”

  Dom shuddered, then squinted his eyes at an upcoming sign. Bozeman was soon. He leaned over and tapped Jenna on the shoulder. “Hey. Time to wake up.”

  She grunted and stretched her arms as best she could in the car. “There yet?”

  “Soon. I just wanna stop and gas up in case we have to blow town as fast as last time.” He signalled and hit an exit way too fast, kicking up rocks and grabbing hard at the steering wheel to correct as he tapped the brakes. “Plus, I have to make a call, considering how early we are. See if we can get in before things open.”

  “I’ll fill it up,” said Jenna as they pulled up to the gas pumps. “You make the call.”

  “Right.” Dom got out, thought about pocketing the keys to keep Jenna from suddenly getting cold feet and booking while he still needed her and her wheels, but then just sprinkled a few numbers over the hood to keep the thing from starting until he came back. He headed for the pay phone, arms folded across his chest against the cold.

  “I don’t think you want to risk using your own change,” said Billy.

  Dom stood and looked at the phone for a few seconds, thinking, then said, “Yeah. I don’t know if I can cover up anything that’s been on my person when I haven’t been carrying mojo.”

  “But you may also not want to use numbers to make the call.”

  Dom rolled his eyes. “Look, Billy, we were found last time because it was Jenna who made the call. I’m a hell of a lot better at this than she is, especially right now.”

  In answer, Billy leaned against the phone and reached behind, came out with change for the call. “Old traveller’s trick,” he said. “Leave money behind when you can, take it when you need it.”

  Dom blinked. “Jesus. Can’t believe I’ve never seen that before.”

  “It doesn’t always work, my friend. Especially when times are tough.”

  Dom dropped the money into the slot, blew on his finger, then dialled the number. “It’s not even five in the fucking morning,” said the voice on the other end; it had taken eight rings before the phone had been picked up.

  “I know. Sorry about the time, Sy.”

  There was some shuffling and grunting. “Dom? That you?”

  “Is too. Sorry to do this to you, man, but I’m in urgent need of some stuff. Are you able to meet me down at the library?”

  “No can do, Dom. Got a circular yesterday telling us that you’re a suspected book thief.”

  Dom closed his eyes. “Sonofabitch. Sy, you know that isn’t true. Hell, I’m the guy who made it pretty much impossible for anyone to walk out from your area with anything.”

  There was the click of a lighter on the other end of the line, followed by a deep breath and coughing. “Jesus,” said Sy. “I’ve gotta shake this nasty habit. Can’t even keep myself from grabbing a puff at five a.m.”

  “Sy.”

  “I know, I know. Dom, I trust you completely. But you know we have cameras everywhere, and the memo said that you might be headed this way, so there are gonna be people watching specifically for you.”

  “I can take care of the cameras, Sy.”

  There was a sharp laugh, followed by more coughing. “Listen, I don’t pretend to understand everything there is to know about this special ability you have, but just the fact that word has gotten out about you, right or wrong, tells me that you’ve gone and gotten yourself good and fucked.”

  Dom took a breath, unsure what to say. Sy remained quiet on the other end, except for the distant sounds of sucking on his cigarette. Finally, Dom just shook his head. “Don’t believe any of the shit you might end up hearing, okay?”

  “Oh, no doubt about that, Dom. I hope you manage to get out of whatever scrape you’re in, and I know that I’ll always trust you, but you’ll have to take it somewhere where you don’t put me or my books in any danger.”

  “Right. Take it easy.”

  “Done. You too.”

  Dom hung up and leaned against the wall. “Well, it looks like this fucker is getting ahead of us now.”

  “I don’t think so,” replied Billy. “If he or she really was, then they would have responded to our presence here in town with more than just a piece of paper. No, I think that perhaps they managed to pick up some numerical spoor that you left behind, maybe when you were unconscious, and is just sending out small packets of search numbers wherever that scent leads. One of those packets found an old scent of you here and created an alert that it had been programmed for.”

  Dom thought about this for a moment. “Makes sense. Let’s go get breakfast and then hope that my other stop in town remains unsullied.” He walked over to the booth to pay for the gas, then back to the car. Before climbing back in he brushed the numbers from the hood, then drove off.

  “Couldn’t trust me?” asked Jenna.

  “What?”

  “The numbers on the hood. Were you afraid I was going to drive off and leave you standing in the middle of nowhere?”

  Dom grinned, a little sheepishly. “Too late for you to get cold feet now, Jenna. I need your wheels, and you’re in deep enough that you need to stick with me. So to preclude rash decisions, I did it for both of us.”

  “All three of us,” interjected Billy.

  “Right. All three of us. Let’s find us a Denny’s.”

  6

  Both had a large breakfast, although where Dom consumed several cups of black coffee, Jenna got by with only orange juice. “I don’t belong to the church anymore,” she said, when he asked her about this, “but sometimes I think parts of it still belong to me.”

  When they were finished, and after two trips to the toilet for each of them, Dom settled the bill and they walked out into the day, thin high clouds beginning to slide in and blank out the blue sky and sun. “Where to now?” asked Jenna, as they climbed back into the car.

  Dom checked his watch. “A mailbox about five blocks away from here, and then the bank. Here’s hoping that my trail there had better cover than the one to the library.”

  At the mailbox he told Jenna to wait in the car and ran across the street, waving his fingers in the air and watching where the numbers fell. It had been a long time since he’d been here, and he was hoping to hell that things were still in place. Happily, the numbers eventually and casually drifted in a small cloud over to the box, which shook violently for several seconds after they covered it. Dom opened the little door, pulled out an envelope and ran back to the car, the numbers behind him falling to the sidewalk and slipping in between the cracks or drifting down the gutter towards the sewer.

  “What’s that?”

  Dom ripped open the envelope and shook out a small key, which he pocketed, a passport, and a Montana driver’s license with his picture and the name Eric Wood on it. “ID.”

  Jenna made a face. “Now how did you do that?”

  He tucked the license into hi
s wallet and the passport into a pocket and then shrugged. “Not hard, really. I have stuff like this seeded all around the continent, in places I’ve already been or else in places where I have a friend willing to do the mail drop.” He held out the envelope and let Jenna take it. “See how it only has a one-cent stamp? I pilfered a few hundred of those from the home of a mildly numerate fat guy.”

  “A what?”

  “A fat guy. Shoulda seen him, he was fucking huge. When he died he weighed 733 pounds, and they had to cut a hole in the wall of his apartment building to get his body out and into a truck, since a hearse wasn’t big enough. Had to use a crane to get him down, too.”

  Jenna shook her head. “What does him being so large have to do with anything?”

  “I find myself rather curious as well,” said Billy.

  Dom grinned. He realized he rather liked telling tales like this, after so many years of keeping to himself. “His name was Randall Morgenstern, and he lived in upstate New York. The best I could figure out, when whatever part of his mind that does the job realized his numeracy, he’d been gaining so much weight already that it just kept pushing him up until it found a nice prime number where his weight could hover. He was actually pretty happy with that, the last couple of years he was alive; he couldn’t lose any weight, but he could eat as much as he wanted and not gain any, also.”

  “The stamps, Dom,” pleaded Jenna. “Please tell us what this has to do with the stamps.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Randall, I met him when I was in New York for the 9/11 attacks, and I decided even I couldn’t stomach picking through the detritus like a ghoul, looking for all the mojo that rained down out of the sky that day.” Jenna looked stricken at this, and Dom reached out and put a hand on her arm. “You asked to get into this. I could tell you stories that would really raise the hairs on the back of your neck, but I won’t. At least not right now. In the meantime, I should finish, right?”