“OK,” Mervin says, “we’ve suffered enough. What do you say we clear the dishes and sit down with a beer?”
Hank nods gratefully. “Sounds good. I’ll clean up. You cooked dinner.”
“OK. You don’t need to tell me twice.” Mervin picks up his paper and crosses to the refrigerator to grab a can. He pops the top of his beer and says, “Thanks, son. Appreciate it.” Then he saunters out the room, humming under his breath.
Hank takes his time dealing with the dishes, and when he finally goes through to the front room with his drink, his dad is sitting relaxed in his armchair, watching the evening news.
“Hey,” Mervin says, “before you sit down, could you grab me another beer?”
Hank hesitates. “Are you sure? With your meds, I thought—”
“That’s just it,” Mervin interrupts. “Haven’t taken the damned things for a month. Haven’t needed them.”
They share a smile, and for a second, the weight lifts from Hank’s shoulders.
“I reckon my system should be clean by now,” Mervin says. “So, how about that beer?”
“Sure,” Hank says. “Take this one—I haven’t opened it. I’ll go get another.” He hands his dad the can and turns away, heading for the door. As he walks back to the kitchen, he sighs under his breath. I can’t tell him now, he thinks. I’ll have to wait till tomorrow.
But when Hank returns with the beer in his hand, the TV is off, and Mervin is sitting quietly, his hands in his lap. His can of beer is on the coffee table, unopened.
“Nothing on TV, huh?” Hank says. He sits down heavily on the sofa, opens his beer and takes a long drink. Normally, that first sip hits the spot, but today, the beer is sour and gassy. He swallows it down and stares at the TV’s blank screen.
“So,” Mervin says, “when are you going to tell me what’s got you so worried?”
Hank looks down at the carpet, but he doesn’t say a word.
“You know what?” Mervin goes on. “When I was on my lunch break, I went into town to pick up a couple things for work. I stopped by the diner—thought I might say hi. I was sure you were working the lunch shift today.”
“Yeah. I was running late. I had to stop by and see Diane.”
Mervin nods. “She all right? You’re not taking up too much of her time are you?”
“No. It’s fine. She wanted to see me. She wanted to tell me about my last assignment.” Hank looks up and turns in his seat to face his dad. “I got a B.”
Mervin’s smile is filled with pride. “Hey, that’s great. Well done, son. I knew you could do it.”
Hank shrugs. “Diane helped me a lot.”
“Even so, Hank, you must have worked hard.” Mervin hesitates. “But I don’t get it. You’ve done well, so why are you walking around with a face like a wet weekend?”
“I needed to talk with Diane for a while, so I called up the diner and made a lame excuse. And…and I got fired.” Hank holds his breath and studies his dad’s expression, waiting for the tell-tale flash of anger in his eyes.
But Mervin nods slowly, as if deep in thought.
“Sorry, Dad,” Hank says. “I’ll look for another job in the morning.”
Mervin shakes his head. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“What?”
For a moment, Mervin says nothing, then he puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a crumpled white business card, holding it out toward Hank. “The other day, I found this on the floor in your room.”
Hank stares at the card, taking his time to read the words printed across it, even though he already knows what they will say: Stewart Headingley-Clark.
It’s the card Stewart left behind when he turned up on their doorstep; the card Hank has thrown away and retrieved at least a dozen times. And it’s the last remaining trace of the life Hank fought to leave behind: the life of a gamer.
The blood rushes to Hank’s face. “Dad, you shouldn’t go messing around with—”
But Mervin holds up his hand to cut him off. “Before you fly off the handle, I was just looking for laundry. You know how you leave your dirty clothes on the floor, no matter how many times I tell you not to. Anyhow, I thought you might need a clean shirt for work, and I found this.” He looks at the card, turning it over in his hands. “I was going to put it on your desk, but when I saw who it was from, I figured we ought to talk about it.”
Hank frowns. It’s been three months since the man calling himself Stewart showed up on the doorstep; three months since Hank first saw the jumbled string of letters and numbers on the back of the card. He knew it was hexadecimal almost straightaway, and it hadn’t taken him long to decode the characters into an address for a website: thedownlodetrust.com. I should’ve burned that damned card, he thinks, and slowly, he reaches out and takes the card from his dad’s hand. “When was this?”
“A few weeks back.”
Hank shoots him a look, and Mervin shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I was going to say something at the time, but I saw the code on the back, and it set me thinking.” He pauses and looks down at his hands for a moment. “I guess I just wanted to know what it was all about.”
“It doesn’t matter, Dad. It’s nothing. It doesn’t mean a thing.” Hank shoves the card in the pocket of his jeans, then he sits back and takes a sip of his beer.
“Come on now, Hank—give your old man little credit. You’re not the only one who knows a bit of hex when he sees it.”
Hank freezes, the can halfway to his lips. “You figured it out?”
Mervin lets out a snort. “It wasn’t exactly difficult. It was just a URL. I found the Downlode Trust website and checked it out, just to make sure it was on the level.” He takes a breath, and when he goes on, he speaks slowly, deliberately. “And there’s another thing you ought to know. Since we’re putting our cards on the table, I’d better tell you about the form.”
“What form?”
Mervin moves his lips soundlessly as if searching for the right words.
Hank sits up straight. “Dad, what did you do?”
“It was just a form, that’s all. Nothing important. The website looked good, and there was this form to send off for more information, so I filled it in. There’s nothing to get in a sweat about, Hank. They just sent a brochure, that’s all.”
“I can’t believe this,” Hank says. “You gave them our address? Now we’ll be in their database, and we’ll never hear the end of it.”
“There’s no need to overreact. They already know where we live. That guy came to the door, remember?”
Hank sits in silence for a second, staring at his dad.
“What’s done, is done,” Mervin says. “I’ve been trying to find a good time to talk to you about it—this seems as good as any.”
“All right,” Hank says. “So what happened? Did they contact you?”
Mervin nods. “The brochure came the next day. A courier came to the house. You were at work, so I took a quick look through the brochure, then I put it to one side.”
“Where is it now?”
Mervin stands and crosses to the shelf in the corner. He opens the cardboard box where they keep the bills and receipts, and he pulls out a large, white padded envelope. “Here it is.” He walks over and sits down next to Hank, offering him the envelope.
Slowly, Hank takes it and passes it from one hand to the other.
“Go ahead and open it,” Mervin says.
“All right, all right,” Hank grumbles, but he opens the envelope and slides out a letter printed on thick, cream-colored paper, and a glossy brochure. The brochure’s cover shows a group of smiling students: fresh-faced, clean-cut, and all with shiny hair and perfect teeth. And across the top, embossed in an elegant font, are the words: Discover the Downlode Trust.
A sneer curls his lips. Could they make it look any cheesier? He should just toss the whole thing in the garbage. But when he looks up, his dad is watching him carefully, an eager glint in his eyes.
Mervin nods at t
he brochure. “All very fancy, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Hank turns to the first page and scans the introduction, though the words blur and lose their meaning before his eyes. These things are all the same, he thinks. Corporate, institutional bullshit.
“Did you see where they’re based?” Mervin asks. “They have offices all around the world.”
Hank skips down the page and reads the list aloud: “New York, Washington, Mexico City, London, Tokyo, Berlin, Paris, Beijing.” He pauses. “Mumbai? That’s in India, right?”
“Sure is. And those are just the main ones. If you turn the page, you’ll see they have research and training facilities in just about every country you can think of.”
“I thought you only took a quick look,” Hank says.
Mervin smiles. “I guess I must be a quick study.”
“OK, Dad. I get it. The place looks very impressive. But have you seen this?” He holds up the brochure and points to a small logo, printed discreetly near the bottom of the page.
Mervin leans forward, squinting. “The Downlode Trust is proud to be part of the Advanced Educational Initiative.” He looks at Hank. “So what?”
“Read what it says underneath, Dad.”
Mervin lets out an impatient sigh, but when he sees the next line, his brow furrows. “Oh. Right. It looks like they’re sponsored by Agrippine.” He pushes out his lower lip. “I must’ve skipped over that part somehow.”
Hank puts the brochure down on the couch. “Come on, Dad. It’s Agrippine—the biggest corporation in the world. No wonder this so-called Trust looks so fancy. You don’t have to be a genius to see where the cash comes from.”
Mervin picks the brochure up and smooths the cover. “Maybe, but it says here that the Trust is backed by the government, and they have plenty of money. God knows they’ve had enough tax dollars from me over the years.”
“But Agrippine run the games, Dad. And you know what we agreed.”
Mervin nods solemnly. “Of course I do. But this is different, Hank. Just because Agrippine put some money into this place, it doesn’t make it all bad. And anyhow, the way things are, you’d be a fool to yourself if you didn’t check out all your options.”
They stare at each other in silence for a few long seconds, then Hank growls in frustration. “All right, Dad. So, here’s the thing—Diane told me I should go to college. She says I stand a good chance, and she offered to help me with the application.”
“Good,” Mervin says. “That’s fine.” He hesitates. “Of course, we’ll have to figure out the fees and living expenses. And all the rest of it.”
“I know, Dad. But I can get a job and work my way through college. Plenty of other people do it. I’ll manage somehow.”
“All right. I understand. You’re your own man. You want to stand on your own two feet. I get it. But just wait a minute. Let’s just…” Mervin lets his voice trail away. He takes a breath and scrapes his hand down his face. “Listen, there’s no point us arguing about it until you’ve got the facts. Why don’t you read the letter that came with it? That’s the important part.”
Hank hesitates, then he nods reluctantly and picks up the letter.
Dear Mr. Settler,
We’re very glad that your son, Hank, is considering joining us at the Downlode Trust.
Hank shoots his dad a look. “You gave them my name?”
Mervin holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I had to put something on the form. No point beating about the bush.” He waves his hand at the letter. “Read the rest.”
Hank frowns, but he turns his attention back to the letter.
We are pleased to confirm that Hank’s application has been preapproved by our admissions panel. We understand that you’ll need to know more before making any decision, so please accept this letter as an invitation to our exclusive candidate information event. All the details you need are below, but if you have any questions, please feel free to contact us at any time.
Hank scans the details then looks up. “Dad, this event is only a couple weeks from today.”
“I know. Pretty good timing wouldn’t you say?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Hank shakes his head in disbelief. “This thing is in Austin. Even the trip would cost—”
But Mervin doesn’t let him finish. “Don’t worry about the cost. I can take care of it.”
“Seriously?” Hank stands up. “I don’t get it, Dad. When that guy came to the door and gave me the card, you tried to call the cops. But now, all of a sudden, you think this place is the best thing going.”
“The situation was different then,” Mervin says slowly. “I was different.” He opens his mouth to say more, but he hesitates, pursing his lips. Then, as if making a decision, he nods. “Sit down, son.”
“There’s no point, Dad. I don’t want to—”
“Sit down,” Mervin interrupts. “Please. Let’s talk about this like adults.”
Hank runs a hand through his hair. I should get the hell out of here, he thinks. I need some air. But he sits down and looks his dad in the eye. “All right. Let’s talk. I think I should try for college. Diane thinks I’m ready, and I want to give it a shot.”
“And where’s the money going to come from? Have you thought about that? You’ll be saddling yourself with a ton of debt, and no promise of a job at the end of it.”
Hank shrugs. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But that’s what people do. It’s the same for most everybody, right?”
“Pretty much,” Mervin says carefully. “But you’re not like most people, Hank. You’re a really bright kid. You always were. And I know all parents think their kids are smart, but in your case it’s true. You’ve got a gift. And unlike everybody else, you have an opportunity that most people simply never get.” He leans forward, his eyes locked on Hank’s. “Out of all the people who apply, do you know what percentage they actually accept?”
“According to what? Their shiny brochure?”
Mervin nods earnestly. “Less than one percent. That’s what it says in the brochure, that’s what it says on their website. They reject over ninety-nine percent of the people who apply, and most people never even get to hear about the program in the first place. But you’ve cleared the first hurdle already, without even trying. Do you see what I’m saying?”
Hank looks down at the letter in his hands, and his eyes light on the word: preapproved. There’s something about that word he doesn’t like; it’s like somebody already made the choice for him.
“Listen, son,” Mervin goes on, “opportunities like this won’t come your way often. This is your shot. This is your chance to make something of yourself, to use your skills to build a better life. And it doesn’t even come at a cost. There are no fees to pay. In fact…” Mervin opens brochure and flicks through the pages quickly. “Here it is. They pay you a training allowance, they give you your food and accommodation. And there’s a guaranteed job at the end of it—if you want it.”
“Yeah right,” Hank sneers. “What kind of job exactly—a few months as an intern? Fetching coffee for men in shiny suits? Hell, I could do that now. At least at the diner, I’d get paid for it.”
Mervin sits back. “I don’t know all the details, son. But the point is, if we go to this event, we can ask all the questions we want. Between us, I’m sure we can figure out if these guys are on the level. I may be getting long in the tooth, but I’ve been around. If this scheme isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, we’ll find out soon enough.”
“I don’t know. You said this is a government scheme, but just look at the way they—” Hank bites back his words and looks down at the floor.
Mervin sighs. “I know what you’re thinking. The government let me down, right?”
“You’re damned right, Dad,” Hank blurts out. “They chewed you up and they spat you out. Sure, they gave you a crappy pension, but they didn’t look after you. They just handed you a bottle of pills and told you to get lost.”
&
nbsp; “That was the army, not the government. It’s not the same thing at all. And I should know.”
Hank folds his arms. “I don’t want to argue with you. But this doesn’t feel right, and we just don’t need it. We’re doing OK. I know I need to find another job, but—”
“No,” Mervin interrupts. “I’m doing all right, but you are not. You were throwing your life away in that goddamned diner, and the truth is, it was breaking my heart. You know I want what’s best for you, and I won’t try and run your life. All I want is for you to go to this event and find out as much information as you can. After that, I’ll stand by whatever decision you take. I promise. If you don’t like this place, and you want to go to college instead, then I’ll do what I can to help you. OK?”
“I don’t know, Dad.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Mervin says. “The event is on a Monday. We’ll fly to Austin on the Friday before and make a weekend of it. We’ll take in a movie, we’ll go out for Mexican food. Maybe we can see what else is going on in town. Who knows? It could be fun.”
Hank tries not to show it, but his dad’s enthusiasm is infectious, and the suggestion of a smile twitches at Hank’s lips.
Mervin raises his eyebrows. “Sounds good, doesn’t it? Just the two of us, taking a trip, getting out of this town for a few days.”
Hank laughs. “All right, you got me. I’ll go along for the ride, but I’m not making any promises, Dad.”
“Great!” Mervin stands up and rubs his hands together. “You know what? I’m looking forward to this. I’ll get my laptop and start making plans. I need to buy plane tickets, book a hotel, maybe even hire a car so we can scout around and see what Austin has to offer.”
“Right.” Hank shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I guess…I could always help—if you wanted.”
“OK,” Mervin says as he heads toward the door. “Let me get started. I’ll find the flights, then we’ll take it from there.”
“Dad, wait for a second,” Hank says, and the words come out louder than he intends. “There’s just one thing…”
Mervin halts in the hallway and turns back to face his son. “What’s the problem?”
The Trust (The Downlode Heroes Book 2) Page 3
