The Year's Best Science Fiction: Twenty-Fourth Annual Collection

by Gardner Dozois

  Ethan sipped at his glass but didn’t drink much, toying with his food. Leaning close to her, he murmured wry summaries of various family members that required her to invoke all her self control in order to keep from sputtering laughter into her glass.

  “You’re going to get me in trouble,” she murmured, giving him a sideways glance.

  “Not from great-aunt-whatever, I’ll wager.” He winked at her. “She never thought much of the whole bunch of us.” He drank some of the cabernet the server had just poured to accompany the rack of lamb being dramatically carved and served. “I still wonder that she would do this. You ... chameleons, as you call yourselves ... are supposed to be highly empathetic to your clients.” He arched an eyebrow. “Can’t you tell me? Why she wants this?”

  “I really don’t know.” Which was the truth. That was what had been bothering her, she realized. “Usually I can figure it out, but not this time.” She lifted her glass. Smiled into his eyes, catching a full front view with just the right shadows and highlights. “I suspect your ... commentary ... will really delight her.”

  “I hope so.” He touched the rim of his glass to hers, a smile glimmering in his eyes. “I like her style.”

  The interminable dinner wound to its appointed end. Ethan wanted to make love to her. She could feel it. She wanted him to, she realized with a twinge of regret that centered between her legs.

  Jeruna Nesmith looked over their shoulders.

  And ... in a handful of days ... she would relinquish the nano to An Yi’s filters, deliver it to her client and ... all memory of Ethan would be gone. Oh, maybe a glimpse of hazel eyes on some sultry summer afternoon would touch a chord, and she’d wonder idly where that memory had come from. She’d have his name in her diary--but only as a big question. Why him?

  She said good night to him at the door of her cottage and they looked into each other’s eyes across a gulf as vast as the damn sea. She turned away first, banging the door closed behind her, not caring that Ms. Nesmith would get to remember this, stalked across the expensive, elegant, lovely room to the wet bar, poured herself a double shot of very expensive brandy, downed it and went to bed.

  * * * *

  The wedding was everything it promised to be. Lots of wealthy people, lots of expensive, designer clothing, lots of show, pomp, circumstance, flowers, fine food, expensive booze.... She had dressed to blend in, in a long sari-styled dress of silk voile, but felt a moment of panic as she entered the huge chapel with the red velvet carpet down the aisle, the ropes of tropical flowers draping the pews. Ethan wasn’t here, and her client might well read between the lines ... or glimpses ... and guess that the silent end of last night might have something to do with it.

  But then she spotted him way down the aisle on the groom’s side. Very formal and erect. Caught a good three-quarter shot of him, oblivious, his expression closed and unreadable. Then, as if he had felt the touch of her eyes, he looked directly at her. He didn’t smile, but his eyes caught hers and for a few moments, her client ceased to exist. Kayla shook herself, gave him a small, rueful smile, and seated herself on the bride’s side of the aisle, where she’d have a good view of him.

  The ceremony was very traditional and she did the high points: the procession, the vows, ring, all that stuff. But she kept cutting back to Ethan’s three-quarter profile. He might as well have been carved out of acrylic. But she kept looking over at him, giving the old girl what she’d paid for.

  The ceremony ended and everybody milled about, trickling eventually to the reception. She didn’t see Ethan, circulated through the crowd, noticing the family details that her client would want to see--the little tiffs, the sniping, the white-knuckled grasp on the martini glass. Oh yes, Kayla thought as she did the glazed-eyes look and really saw. I know what you think of these people and what you would notice if you were really here. Ethan was right. She really didn’t think much of any of them. Except him.

  Ethan was nowhere to be seen.

  She took a table with a good pan-view of the garden where the reception had been laid out. Palms cast thin shade and bowers fragrant with flowering vines offered private nooks. Long buffet tables, decorated with ice sculptures and piles of tropical fruit and flowers, offered fresh seafood, fruit, elegant bites of elegant food, and an open bar. The towering wedding cake occupied its own flower-roped table flanked by champagne buckets and trays of flutes. The sun stung her face and she turned her back to it, and there was Ethan, seating an elderly guest.

  So she was looking right at it when the little jump jet roared in low over the grounds just beyond him. It hovered, landed straight down, engines whining. Figures in camo leaped from it, masked and armed with automatic weapons. One fired a short burst into the palms, shredding the leaves. “Down.” An amplified voice bellowed. “Everybody down, now!”

  Oh, crap. A kidnap raid.

  Women shrieked, voices rose, and, for a frozen instant, chaos reigned. One of the camoed figures fired a small handgun and a waiter clapped a hand to his neck as the stun dart hit, and fell. Shredded bits of palm drifted down onto his white-clad sprawl. The first of the guests began to lie down on the grass and it was as if a potent gas had swept the garden as everyone went prone. Kayla had already flattened herself on the grass, her eyes fixed on Ethan, who still stood. Don’t be a hero, she thought, willing him to lie down, because they wouldn’t want him. What had happened to the security force? One of the raiders shoved a waiter and Ethan stepped forward. No, Kayla shrieked silently as the raider swung his rifle butt and flattened Ethan. Kayle tensed, her eyes on his limp body, straining to see movement.

  “Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt,” the loudspeaker blared. Australian accent, Kayla noticed. A lot of the professional kidnap-for-hire gangs were Aussie. The top ones. From the corner of her eye she saw the figures striding through the guests, snatching a necklace here or a watch there, but not really looting. They were looking for someone specific. That’s where the money lay. They’d take that person and leave.

  A hand closed on her arm and yanked her to her feet as if she weighed nothing. Breathless, her heart pounding, Kayla stared into cold gray eyes behind a green face mask. “Move,” the man said.

  “You made a mistake. I’m not...” Kayla broke off with a gasp as he whipped her arm behind her and pain knifed through her. She stumbled along, losing her balance, as he shoved her forward. “I’m not anyone,” she gasped, but he only twisted her arm higher, so that tears gathered in her eyes and the pain choked her. More hands grabbed her, someone slapped a drug patch against her throat and blackness began to seep into her vision. The sky wheeled past and a fading part of her mind whispered that they were loading her onto the jet.

  Then ... nothing.

  * * * *

  She woke to a headache and thought for a moment she had just gotten a dose. Then the oppressive humidity and the thick scent of tropics brought her back to the island, the kidnappers’ assault. She sat up, eyes wide, straining to see in utter darkness. Blind? Had that drug the kidnappers had given her interacted with the nano? Blinded her?

  “It’s all right. I’m here.”

  Familiar voice, familiar arms around her. “Ethan?” Her voice shook and she leaned against him as he pulled her close. She could make him out ... just barely. She wasn’t blind. “Where are we? What happened?”

  “A great big mistake happened.” Ethan laughed a harsh note. “It was a kidnap by the Yellow Roo clan. I recognized the uniforms. They’ve hit the family before. Business as usual when you get to the right income bracket.”

  “I know, but ... why me?” Kayla swallowed. She felt a mattress beneath her, made out walls, a couple of plastic bins, a porta-potty. “I’m not part of your family.”

  “And I might as well not be.” Ethan let his breath out in a long sigh. “That’s the mistake. The fools grabbed maybe the only two individuals in the entire damn reception who can’t make a decent ransom. Or can you?”

  “Oh, gods, I wouldn’t be a chameleon if I h
ad money.” Kayla closed her eyes, her head pounding. “They can go look. There’s not enough in my account to make it worth their while.” She shivered because kidnap was an accepted career choice and the rules were very civilized ... unless you really couldn’t pay. Then they were not civilized at all.

  Ethan stroked the hair back from her face. “Maybe Jeruna will pay for you,” he said.

  She shook her head. No, she was a chameleon because she could read people. Jeruna Nesmith was not going to pay ransom on a paid contractor.

  “Well, we’d better start making plans.” Ethan did that harsh laugh again. “I’ve got no better ransom prospects than you do.”

  “You’re family. Inside.”

  “Yeah, and some kidnap clan grabbed my older brother back when I was a baby. I think he was maybe seven. The family didn’t pay up. Their attitude was “you want to walk your own path, do it.”

  Kayla didn’t ask him what happened to his brother. She heard that answer in the razored edge of his tone. She scanned the walls. They were in some kind of crude hut. Dawn must be close because she could make out slender poles woven into walls. Sheet plastic made up the roof, stiff stuff ... she tried it. Fastened securely to the top pole of the walls. A door of chain link fit neatly into its metal-rimmed frame and was chained shut. But...

  “They really don’t expect us to try too hard.” Kayla murmured the words like a lover’s breath into Ethan’s ear. Because they were probably listening.

  “Of course not. This is just a place to wait out negotiations. You don’t try to escape. It’s usually safer to stay put. That’s how the game works.”

  “Look there.” Kayla pointed. “See how wide?” she whispered. “We could get through there. Maybe. The poles are thin and we could probably pry ‘em out. Then the gap between those big ones might be just wide enough.”

  Ethan was at the wall before she finished speaking. She joined him and grabbed one of the slender poles. In unison, they pulled on it. Felt it give. Not much ... just a hair. He changed position, his hands next to hers and they pulled together. Got a centimeter or two of give this time. Did it again. And again. By the time they worked the two slender poles free, the pole was slippery with blood from their hands. Kayla helped Ethan lay them on the floor and wiped her hands on her torn dress. The gap was narrow ... a couple of handwidths. But she was skinny. She pulled the long hem of her skirt up between her legs, tied it to form a crude pair of shorts. Then she turned to Ethan, took his face in her hands, kissed him. Hard. “Wish me luck,” she said.

  “Honey, we’re both in on this.” He kissed her back, fiercely.

  “No.” She pushed him away. “You need to stay here.”

  “I told you...”

  “She wanted you.” Kayla gripped his arms, willing him to understand. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but there it is. That’s why she hired me. To look at you at the wedding.”

  “Jeruna?” He looked stunned. “Why the hell would she care? She was already on Mars when I was born. I’m barely related to her.”

  “I have no idea.” Kayla turned away. “But she does. She’ll pay your ransom. I guarantee it. So you’re safe.” She let go of him, pushing him away from her, threw one leg over the lower pole. The two thick poles that framed the gap squeezed her, pressing on her spine and breast bone, squeezing her lungs so that she fought suffocation panic as she squirmed her body through the gap, her thin dress shredding, rough bark scraping skin. Fell to the dry ground on the other side, bruising her hip and scraping her knee. Scrambled to her feet.

  “Hold it.” Ethan leaned through after her. “The bins are full of water and food. I checked while you were out. Wait a minute and I’ll hand some stuff through. They don’t plant these drop boxes close to anything civilized. Might be a long hike.”

  He disappeared and a few moments later began to hand bottles of water through the gap. Too many to carry. “That’s plenty,” Kayla said, and took the bags of something dry and leathery he handed down. As she retied her skirt to hold the food and as much of the water as she could carry, she glanced up to see Ethan squirming through the opening after her. “No,” she said, heard him gasp, stuck, and suddenly he popped through, falling hard onto the ground in front of her.

  “You idiot,” she said, holding out her hand to help him up.

  “If you’re right about Jeruna, I probably am.” He scrambled to his feet and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I’m not going to sit there and wait to find out if you are or not.” He grabbed her hand. “And besides, I’ll worry about you out here. Let’s go.”

  The sky had lightened just enough so that she could make out the tall trees and tangle of underbrush. Behind them, their prison seemed to be nothing more than a box built of the woven poles, hidden from the sky by the tall trees. Soaring trunks surrounded them, black against the feeble light. Huge, fern-like leaves brushed her and a million tiny voices creaked, croaked, buzzed, and burbled. Kayla started as something feathery brushed her cheek, her heart sinking. Jungle? The thick air and dense growth woke a slow sense of claustrophobia. “Sweet.” She looked up at distant patches of gray sky. “Where are we?” A thunderous howling suddenly split the graying dawn and Kayla whirled, heart pounding, searching the twined branches overhead for something, anything as the sound crescendoed.

  “That answers your question. It’s okay. Those are howler monkeys.” Ethan actually laughed as he wiped hair out of his eyes. “They only live in the Amazon Preserve. I thought that might be where we were. It smelled right.”

  “How nice. Glad you’re enjoying it.” Kayla tried to remember details about the preserve. Big. Very big. Something bit her and she flinched, slapped at it. In the trees above them, sinuous black shapes leaped in a torrent from tree to tree. Leaves and twigs showered down in their wake. The howler monkeys? She wanted to cover her ears. “I guess we just walk,” she said, “and hope we find a road or something.”

  “Oh, there are plenty of roads. It’s a giant eco-laboratory. It’s just not real likely that anyone will be on them. Permits to work here are hard to come by.” Ethan took off his shirt, began to tie the sleeves together. “We’d better bring all the water we can.”

  Something small and brown buzzed down to land on his bare shoulder. He yelped and slapped it, leaving a smear of blood and squashed bug.

  “Better wear your shirt.” Kayla unknotted her skirt. “I have lots of extra cloth here.” It was not easy to tear the fabric without a knife, but they finally managed to fashion a sling for the water and food. By the time Ethan shouldered it, a lot of biting things had dined on them. Jeruna was going to get far more than she paid for, Kayla thought grimly as they started off.

  They pushed aside the ferns, clambering over the thick vines and low plants that covered the ground in the dim light. The humid heat wrapped them like a blanket and Kayla struggled with a sense of drowning as she fought her way through the tangle in Ethan’s wake. Her dress sandals didn’t do much to protect her feet, but they were better than nothing. Before long, however, she was trying not to limp.

  It never really got light. In the yellow-green twilight, flying things bit or buzzed. Kayla leaped back as a looped vine turned out to be a brown and copper banded snake.

  “Common Lancehead,” Ethan said, guiding her warily past it. “Pretty poisonous. We mostly need to watch out for the ground dwellers. They’re harder to spot. The South American Coral snake is the worst, but you can see it. Usually. The Bushmaster is hard to spot ... it blends right in.” He gave her a crooked smile. “That’s why I’ve been going first. I’m partially desensitized to both. If they bite me, I probably won’t die.”

  “Gods, what do you do?” Kayla eyed the ground warily. “I thought you said you played jazz. What are you? A snake charmer?”

  “I do play jazz. And I have a Ph.D. in Tropical Ecology.” Ethan shrugged. “Totally useless degree, according to the family, but I spend a lot of time here.”

  They didn’t see any more snakes, although Kay
la kept nervous eyes on every shadow. The going got easier when they stumbled onto a game trail, a narrow track that wound between the trunks and beneath the thick vines. The damp heat seemed to suck moisture from Kayla’s body, and, in spite of frequent sips of precious water, thirst began to torment her. Now and again they stopped and Kayla strained her ears, heard nothing but the constant hum of insects, the occasional shriek of birds or monkeys, and once a deep cough that made Ethan narrow his eyes. “Jaguar,” he said. He gave her a strained smile. “They pick the place for their boxes on purpose. Make it worth your while to stay put.”