He understood that fear was a galvanizing force and that frightened people do desperate, dreadful things that would horrify them at any other time. But usually, afterwards, when it’s all over and the dust has settled, most of them apologize with a lot more sincerity than Nathan was managing to muster.
“You said you didn’t think I was human,” said Sam, quietly.
Nathan didn’t say anything, but Sam could’ve sworn he saw him smile—just for a split second. He shifted in his seat and pressed down hard on the accelerator. He needed to think. Something was wrong. This wasn’t the Nathan he’d thought he’d known.
After about fifteen minutes, he decided to try again.
“So,” he said. “Are we going back to the household stuff or something new?”
Nathan looked at him like he had no idea what Sam was talking about, then shrugged.
“Dunno,” he said. “Is the chick coming?”
“You mean Alma?”
That was the second time in as many hours that Nathan had used the word “chick.” Sam tried to remember if he’d ever heard him use it before.
“Yeah.”
“Maybe. It’s up to her.”
Nathan made a kind of grunting sound and went back to staring out of the window.
“What?” said Sam.
“I don’t like her,” muttered Nathan. “She kills people.”
“Really?” said Sam, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re going to go there? She kills people?”
Nathan shrugged. Sam could feel himself getting angry again.
“Okay,” he said. “Tell you what. I’ll drop you off in Fresno, you should be able to get a ride there.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Nathan. “But I want my stuff out of the trunk. Those things are worth money and, like you said, the pocket generators are solid gold.”
Sam hit the brakes, pulled to the side of the road and glowered at Nathan.
“Fine,” he said. “How about you take them now and wait for the next idiot stupid enough to give you a lift?”
He got out and started to walk toward the back of the car, but before he’d gone three paces his simmering headache flared up again, sending a searing pain through his temples. He staggered backwards before steadying himself on the trunk of the car.
“Sam!” yelled Nathan, jumping out of the car. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter.”
Sam waited for the pain to subside before he opened his eyes. Nathan was looking genuinely concerned.
“Want me to drive?” he asked, smiling.
“No,” said Sam, laughing, and straightening up. “I’m fine. Just give me a moment.”
Nathan got back into the car while Sam walked up and down by the side of the road, breathing deeply and trying to stop shaking. He wasn’t fit to drive, of course, but there was no way he was letting Nathan into the driver’s seat.
After a few minutes, the shaking had stopped and most of the dancing lights in front of his eyes had disappeared. He got back into the car and started the engine. Nathan looked tense.
“It’s okay,” said Sam, smiling. “After all, what am I going to hit?”
Not many people liked to travel by night at the best of times, even if they had vehicles with functioning headlights, but since Carolyn Bast’s little war, the few who had ventured out preferred to do so in daylight. Now, just before dawn, the great highway was nothing but a barren, grey, pock-marked ribbon of road. The GTO roared through the mountains that encircled the Los Angeles basin, past the customs and immigration checkpoint and through the winding Grapevine to the flatlands of the Central Valley.
Nathan fell asleep somewhere between Tejon and Gorman and Sam was able to relax and enjoy the drive, feeling every nuance of the old car’s engine as it sped through the grey light toward Wheeler’s Ridge.
Once or twice, he glanced at Nathan, wondering how he could ever have imagined that things would be the same, that they could just return to the Wilds and go back to selling junk out of the back of the car. For a while, after he released him from the cage, Sam had still sort of clung on to the idea. Nathan would apologize, Sam would graciously accept and all would be as it was.
If it was a story in one of his books, it would have been exactly like that. But real life was never so neat. Nathan wasn’t really sorry, and now that Sam suspected he’d do exactly the same thing again if he felt he had to, it was pretty impossible to do the magnanimous forgiveness thing either. Never mind the whole bit about Sam not really being human.
“Where are we?”
“Nowhere,” said Sam, truthfully.
The flat valley stretched away in front and on every side, dry scrub with white patches where salt had broken the surface of the crusting earth. The outline of distant hills could just be made out in the distance through the heat addled air, but the overwhelming impression was of yellow ground giving way to yellow sky.
“No,” said Nathan, sitting up. “It’s just ahead! Take this road here.”
Sam turned off the highway and headed toward a long-broken gate and the unmistakable scarred, abraded rock of an abandoned quarry. After about two hundred yards, he left the road and followed a wide dirt track to the remains of some low-lying buildings, then continued on up to the top of a red rock outcropping and switched off the engine.
He got out and walked to the edge, examining the dusty highway for any sign of Alma’s bike. He heard Nathan’s door open and close, but didn’t turn around. He felt apprehensive and nervous, though everything seemed to be going according to plan. He glanced back at Nathan, who was leaning against the car and smiling.
The smile didn’t look like Nathan’s, despite the fact that it was definitely his face that was doing it.
He turned away and examined the highway again. Nothing.
Where could she be?
He put his hand in his right hand pocket and felt the now-familiar sharp outline of the key to the Paradigm Device. It still had Bast’s chain on it. He took it out and looked at it.
“Hey, Sam,” said Nathan. “Look at this. We’ve got some new stock.”
Sam turned around. The trunk was open and Nathan was staring at the contents, smiling slightly. There was a brief moment when Sam wondered if Nathan had decided that maybe they would go back on the road after all, but then it dawned on him.
The trunk was open.
He felt in his pocket for the keys, even though he knew they were there.
So Nathan had the other set. He sighed. This was bad. Beyond bad.
But even as he tried to think of a way out, he was overwhelmed by feelings of sorrow and regret. He hoped it hadn’t been painful, although judging from what Bast had said to Matheson, it almost certainly had.
He glanced at the paradigm key in his hand, wrapped the chain around it and hurled it as far away as he could.
“Seriously, Sam,” said Nathan. “Where’d this shit come from?”
Sam walked back to the car slowly, making sure that Nathan was always in sight and never too close. He looked at the trunk. It was full of heavy weapons. Nathan grinned and pulled out some kind of shoulder held rocket launcher.
Sam didn’t hesitate. He spun around and made for the driver’s seat.
This time the pain exploded through his head like a flash of white heat. He stumbled, clawing at the door, but found only hard dirt and rock.
“What d’you think the range is on these things, Sammy?”
Sam struggled to stand. He looked up. Nathan had the rocket launcher on his shoulder and had walked to the edge of the rise. He was smiling, but not speaking. Except he was.
“Like, d’you think I could hit that?”
“You’re not Nathan,” gasped Sam.
“I am, in a way.” Now he was speaking again. “I have access to all of his memories, for example. So, to return to the point, d’you think I could hit that?”
“What?”
Sam staggered to the edge of the rock. Far below them, speedi
ng along the old highway, was a bike. Even from this distance there was no mistaking it. It was Alma’s Norton Commando.
“Nathan wouldn’t be able to hit it, of course. But I’ve got just about every guidance system known to man inside my matrices. I think I probably could.”
“Don’t. Please.”
“That’s better,” said Nathan, smiling. “Politeness always helps. Would I be correct in thinking you just threw away the key to the box?”
Sam nodded. He thought about rushing him, but no sooner did the thought occur than there was another explosion in his head.
“Please stop making me do this, Sam. I don’t want to damage you and it does limit the lifespan of this shell.”
“Tough,” gasped Sam.
Nathan lowered the weapon and retrieved the box from the car.
“Open it.”
“What? How?”
“Don’t play games, Sammy. I know you have a few special skills of your own.”
“Why don’t you…?”
“I’m a bit limited by the shell at the moment. This one’s better than the others, though. Or maybe I’m learning how to preserve them for longer. It’s hard to tell. Now open the box.”
“Is he still in there?” he asked.
“What?”
“Nathan. Is he…is there anything of him still there…in his head?”
The thing that was no longer Nathan cocked its head on one side as if he was looking at a painting, or rummaging through an old bag.
“No,” he said, finally. “Some memories racketing about, but that’s pretty much it. Why do you ask?”
“I thought there might be a chance.”
“Did you?” Nathan grinned and shook his head. “I thought you were the pessimistic one, Sam. Wasn’t it Nathan who always saw the sunny side of things?”
Sam glared at him.
The thing that had been Nathan laid the box at his feet and picked up the rocket launcher again.
“Open it.”
Sam shook his head and braced himself, but the flash of pain didn’t come. He looked up. Nathan was staring at him with an expression that was both quizzical and impressed.
“Well done!” he said.
“What?”
“You’ve shut me out.”
Sam stood up. He still felt shaky, but for the first time in days he had no headache at all.
“I knew the experiments were successful, but I had no idea it had gone as well as this. Ha! No wonder those idiots at Hermes tried to shut the whole thing down.”
“Hermes didn’t know about it, though, did they?”
Sam was playing for time, hoping that Alma would turn off the road.
“Head office didn’t, no. I convinced Matheson…well, his dad…It’s so hard to keep the characters clear when human beings grow old and die so quickly. You’re nothing but mayflies, really. Anyway, I convinced him that it would be wiser to withhold the information until they were sure the technology worked.”
“Because you’d already tried it with Seattle.”
“You see?” said Nathan, grinning with delight. “This is what I’m talking about! They were worried that the locules would be defective. Mentally defective. But you’re just smart as a whip. I can’t wait to get in there! Yes, of course I’d proposed it to head office. The thing about scientists, though…the really great thing…is that they’re curious. They always want to know more, to see if something really can be done.”
Sam stared at him. The disconnect between the way it spoke and the fact that it looked like Nathan was more disturbing than he could have anticipated.
“How long have you been in there?”
He could see Alma approaching the turn-off out of the corner of his eye. It wouldn’t be long now.
“About fifty hours. The shell tried to do some ridiculous deal with Carolyn, but she just locked him up and waited until she heard you’d taken the bait. Then she let me in, locked me in the cages and waited.”
“But why didn’t she let you out when she got me?”
“Sam, her back-up plans have back-up plans. She’s amazing. Once I’m safely in your locule we are going to have a wonderful time. So well matched. Open the box. Now.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself.”
Nathan hoisted the rocket-launcher onto his shoulder again and pivoted toward the road. Sam felt a nanosecond of stunned disbelief before every nerve in his body went into overdrive and he lunged across the narrow gap between himself and Nathan, knocking him to the ground and kicking the launcher aside.
But it was too late. The missile had been fired.
Sam watched, frozen, as it arced through the air, covering the ground between the quarry and the road in seconds before hitting its target. For a moment, it seemed as if nothing had happened, that it was a dud and everything would be alright.
But it wasn’t. There was a white flash before there was a sound, then the rolling thunder of the explosion, orange fire, black smoke, a huge crater in the road, a few pieces of metal, and a single tire rolling away down the road before slowing, tipping and falling.
Then silence.
Sam stared, stunned. He felt numb and cold. He could feel the tears on his face, though he was unaware of crying. He was unaware of anything. It was as if he were suddenly empty. A void. A hollow black space where once there had been something solid, full of hope and plans and the future.
“That broke down your little barrier, didn’t it, boy?”
The thing that had been Nathan was sitting up and grinning.
“Now open my box.”
Sam didn’t think. He just sprang onto Nathan, straddling him and raining blows onto his face, battering the smug bastard thing that was within. His head was aching again, but he didn’t care. He just hit and hit and hit, his fists becoming bloody with a dark ruby emulsion of his own blood and that of the thing that had once been Nathan.
And then something hit him. On the back of his head. Something sharp and heavy and full of purpose.
And the blackness reached up with grasping claws, pulled him down and swallowed him.
Chapter 34
THE LIGHT RETURNED SLOWLY. The first thing he noticed was his mouth. Dry and parched. Then the throbbing of the bruise on the back of his head. Then the rumble and the fact that he couldn’t move at all.
He opened his eyes. He was hog-tied on the back seat of his own car.
And then he remembered.
He closed his eyes again, but it didn’t help. It was like a movie playing in a constant loop in his head. Alma on the Norton speeding toward him, then the awful suspension of time between Nathan firing and the missile wiping her from the face of the earth. And then that feeling…no not a feeling, that wasn’t the right word. Disease. Yes, that was it. The emptiness inside him was like a disease—something real and solid, pushing against his heart, a black metastasis of love and loss and sorrow and pain and the incurable desolation of despair. His breath came in gasps and he wished that whoever had hit him had done the job right.
“How are you feeling, Sammy?”
Sam looked up. He could see the top half of Nathan’s face in the rear-view and was pleased to discover that he’d done a fairly comprehensive job with his fists. Both eyes were black and swollen and his nose looked broken in at least two places.
“We were gonna sling you in the jeep, but I thought you’d be less likely to release a pulse in your own car.”
“Talk to me out loud or shut up,” said Sam.
“Yeah, well, that’s a bit of a problem, Sammy. You knocked a couple of my teeth out and I think I bit my tongue.”
Sam closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He wanted it out of his head, for a while at least. But he was almost immediately hit with another searing flash of pain that made his whole body arc in agony.
“No, no, no. Can’t let you do that.”
Sam breathed deeply until the throbbing subsided, then lay back and stared up out of the window at the yellow sky. It l
ooked like midday.
“How come you’re still functioning?” he asked. “Bast said the shells last thirty-six hours max.”
“No idea. This has been a good one. I’ll be kind of sorry to see him go. He had some great memories. Some really weird ones too. One seriously messed up kid.”
“D’you think he’ll make it?”
“Make it where?”
“Wherever we’re going.”
“It’s not far. Just a few minutes.”
“Huh. Bakersfield City.”
He closed his eyes again, but all he saw was Alma and the Norton. He opened them.
“Hey, Nathan…”
“I’m not Nathan.”
“Yeah, well, if you think I’m calling you ‘Mutha,’ you’re crazy. I was wondering…How come they’re all boys?”
“The locules? It looked like more fun. Of course, that was before Carolyn Bast arrived on the planet. I think I’d mix it up a little, if I had to do it again.”
Sam watched the sky. There were traces of smoke now. They must be getting close. And there was something else. A noise. Probably the jeep. It was behind them—he could hear the engine under the roar of the GTO. He’d have to be quick. He turned his head.
“What are you—? No! Stop!”
The pain crashed through his brain again, but it was too late. The jeep engine was fried and it was skidding to a stop. Nathan pulled over and jumped out. There was a great deal of yelling before he got back in. Then the sound of heavy boots on the other side of the car before Setzen climbed into the passenger seat.
“Did he do that? Did he?” Carolyn Bast’s right hand man was seriously pissed off.
“Yes, I did,” said Sam. “You should’ve been in front. I guess the great brain ain’t all that great. Or maybe the shell’s failing after all, huh, Nathan?”
“Shut up.”
Sam smiled. He could see Setzen’s hand curling into a fist, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered any more.
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